"Umma," I began with a hint of frustration while meticulously folding my clothes into the suitcase, "I still don't understand why you won't let me stay here alone. I am going to be eighteen soon."
Anticipation surged within me for the upcoming two weeks, albeit for a specific reason - Aesira. My resolve was unwavering; I was determined to win her heart before our high school journey concluded. Aesira possessed an extraordinary spirit, one that matched my own unwavering determination. I knew I had my methods of achieving my desires, and these two weeks presented a golden opportunity. However, a longing for the comforts of home gnawed at me.
Umma chuckled, her laughter filling the room, as she replied, "Because I wouldn't have a house to come back to. God knows what would happen if I left the house in your hands."
With a wry smile, I retorted sarcastically, "Thanks, Umma. I appreciate you trusting me."
Her response was lighthearted yet stern, "Sorry, kook, but I know what you are like."
I couldn't blame her for her skepticism; she had, after all, taken away the keys to the house. If I were left to my own devices, I'd likely skip school altogether, have girls over every night, and host parties on a nightly basis. Graduating required me to tread carefully in the realm of academics, despite my aversion to it.
"Fine," I grumbled in reluctant agreement.
"Maybe it will give you and Aesira a chance to sort things out," Umma suggested optimistically.
"Umma, me and Aesira will probably never be friends again," I confessed, a tinge of sadness in my voice. "I'm sure she hates me and wishes me dead."
She sighed, shaking her head, and uttered, "I will never understand what happened between you two."
The truth was painful but undeniable; I had transformed into a complete jackass, treating Aesira poorly, and she despised individuals like that. It was my fault that we were no longer friends, but revealing that to my mother was out of the question.
"That doesn't mean you can't ever be friends again," she sighed again. "I always thought you two would end up together, I mean, Minsi and I always thought you guys would."
Quickly dispelling her notion, I replied, "Nope! She's not my type, and I'm pretty sure I'm not her type."
This was a blatant lie; Aesira was everyone's type. She possessed an exquisite beauty, a tantalizing figure, and confidence that radiated from her. Aesira was friendly and accepting of all, be it jocks, cheerleaders, geeks, or bad boys and girls. She harbored no judgments and was quick to defend anyone facing mistreatment. Her reputation spanned all grades, from freshmen to seniors. Aesira was no angel, but her wild side only added to her allure.
"You're definitely lying now," Umma laughed. "You're pretty foolish not to be attracted to her."
I shrugged, explaining, "I prefer girls with short hair."
Aesira sported long hair, but I truly didn't care about a girl's hairstyle; if she was up for some fun, that was sufficient for me.
"Well, if you insist, now hurry up and finish packing," she teased. "Dinner will be ready soon."
Umma exited the room and headed downstairs. I couldn't help but laugh at myself; I held deep affection for my mother. She was an extraordinary woman. I had expected her to crumble when Appa left, particularly since I had been so callous during that tumultuous period. I had even unfairly placed blame on her.
Yet, she had persevered, managing her job and maintaining the household while still making time for me. My respect for her was immense. Oddly enough, though, my attitude towards other girls differed greatly, as I had a reputation for being a jerk, which some inexplicably seemed to find appealing.
I ensured that I had everything I needed for the upcoming weeks, despite Umma's hint that it might extend beyond that. Letting out a groan, I dropped my bag on the floor and descended to join Umma for dinner.
"Can I help?" I offered upon entering the kitchen.
"Could you get that plate, please, kook?" Umma requested.
"Sure thing," I replied, retrieving plates from the cabinets.
"Are you going out tonight, or can you stay in and spend the night with your Umma?" she inquired.
Smiling, I answered, "Yeah, sure thing, I can stay in for the night."
"Good, because I won't see you for a couple of weeks," she revealed.
"I know, Umma," I said, the thought of spending quality time with her for the night growing on me. I don't mind staying in for one night if it makes my Umma happy. I'll sneak out later.
We settled down for dinner, a ritual that Umma cherished, attempting to bring us together every night. I complied on some occasions, recognizing her desire to keep tabs on my life.
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