At first he didn’t know what awoke him, either the scent of the morning brew tempting him to rush down stairs, or the rowdy bark Cyra as usual loves to make every five in the morning.
Turns out what actually made him crawl out of the sheets was the firm vibration buzzing from his phone.
He picked it up beside the digital alarm clock he’s clueless of keeping (since he wakes up way earlier before it rings) and found the familiar envelope icon displayed on his plain lock screen wallpaper, just below the time of 5:10 AM.
No, not yet, he sagely refused as he resisted the urge to open the lone notification. Looking at it already sends shivers down his spine, so he calmed himself and hopped off from the lumpy mattress to brush his teeth and take a quick shower.
Soon he stepped out of the bathroom, cold beads dripping off from the tips of his black locks and carelessly to the floor. After drying his hair, spraying deodorant, and trying to wink proudly at himself before the mirror, he paused in front of the dresser and picked out something casual.
Slipping on his black flip flops, he walked past the threshold and ran down the stairs, making sure to give the ecstatic Charles Spaniel a pat on her furry head before proceeding to pull out a chair behind the table and sitting like his spine was stiff.
The noisy clang discharging from the plate filled with pancakes knocked him out of his stupor. Brows slightly furrowed and Citrine-brown eyes narrowed and lips quirked in a frown, Helena shot her son a worried look.
“I could have been fooled you were a sculpture who looks like my son.”
“I’m just anxious,” He blurted.
“I understand you are hun, but that doesn’t mean you can overdo it,” She took a seat beside him and pushed her hair back to refresh herself, “Relax. You wouldn’t want your shoulders freezing that way.”
“You could’ve told me to eat like a normal person, mom,” Aiden rolled his eyes playfully, grabbing the syrup from the fridge, “We can never know. What if I–”
“Oh, here you are again,” Helena chuckled, “Aiden, love. Every morning why don’t you remind yourself, you’re Aiden Antoine Laurant. You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re too smart for your own good.”
“Seriously?”
“Not the point. Finish up and let’s get everything over with,” Helena stuffed a fluffy piece of the breakfast into his mouth, “Trust me, we’ve got better luck now without a human embodiment of bad omen around.”
Aiden mentally cringed at his mother’s choice of words. Even without entirely mentioning HIS very name, as long as Aiden can verify who his mother is describing, he’ll consider the rest of the sentence taboo.
The eerie sound of an alcohol bottle shattering into murderous fractals still haunted him to this day, alongside the tortured whimpers of the middle aged woman beside him had expelled.
He can still hear an eight-year-old’s screams filled with unheeded pleas, too.
“Coffee before the big reveal?” She offered a steaming mug with a reassuring smile.
“You know just what I need,” He responded and accepted the drink, taking the ceramic cup gingerly from her hands, and he hummed contentedly after the first sip.
“... I mean, son, shame on them if they didn’t accept you. It’s their loss. I can even go as far as thinking you’re too handsome for that company.”
“Mama, this is Arendelle Co. We’re talking about,” Aiden gasped over dramatically, “I’ve been browsing through Time and Vogue more often now and this company I’m applying for is one of the largest companies in the world. It extends far beyond than just luxury fashion.”
“Like I don’t know that,” Helena shrugs casually, “I’ve always dreamt of having one of their clothes, even one lone scarf. I heard one can cost at least a fine amount of bucks.”
Aiden’s smile was faltering. “I’ll buy you one someday, mom.”
Someday, I’ll buy you a closet of what you want. A rack of what you are worthy of.
“Ooh, you don’t have to,” Helena dismissively waved her hand, “That aside, your application is impressive and son I’m not biased before you even get to say I am.”
Aiden blankly stared at his now empty cup. And then to his phone. And back to his mother, who has Cyra nestled between her arms.
It’s now or never.
Placing a ringless hand on top of his, Helena gave him a supportive smile that can almost be called a grin. He could spot the damp stains that decorated her dowdy bright yellow apron, but instead he saw no one but an independent woman who looked up to her son more than anyone else in the world.
How I wish I can give you more.
“Come on, son,” She softly urged, “Have a little faith in yourself. You’ll be okay.”
Aiden took a deep breath, but still appeared shaky. The dark haired twenty-four-year-old swept up his disheveled hair back, his fingers trembling as his hand instinctively approached the awaiting phone.
It felt like an agonizing eternity; every nerve of his body inflamed with anticipation. The droplets of sweat rolling down the moist slope of his cheek already signifies how terrified he is.
The pad of his thumb reached the power button, then to the blue icon that holds his unknown fate.
With an exasperated huff, Helena reflexively snatched the iPhone from her son’s sweaty palms and eagerly pressed the deserted notification.
Helena had to remind herself that she just cannot afford to buy her son another gadget after leaving this one in tatters on the floor, when she saw what she’s always been expecting.
“Mom, that reaction is hardly helping my nerves,” Aiden grumbled next to her, “I told you, it was useless–”
“Looks like we’re going to the steakhouse tonight.”
“H-huh? What do you mean?”
“Congratulations, son. You got the job.”
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He strictly made a mental note to himself to go to the gym after that eventful night of victory, eating mashed potatoes, steak and splitting the bill. Ridiculously sounds like a successful date night, but what the hell, that doesn’t matter.
So when he went home with apple cider dawdling in his breaths, he technically dumped himself to the company of pillows after preparing the gray suit his mother had gleefully bought him from the mall downtown.
This might be the first time his alarm clock outsmarted him—thanks to last night’s celebration that became a blur to his head.
Rough hands silenced the mechanic ruckus. Aiden gathered all the ounces of nonexistent energy in his body and managed to slide off the bed, but his bum landed on the ice cold floor in exchange.
Staggering to the bathroom, Aiden’s heart was nearly ripped out of his chest when he realized today is his first day.
The next time he hurriedly stepped out of the bathroom, he was bathed, scrubbed and perfumed, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Putting on the tight, black trousers took him a minute (his muscles showed no mercy) but fitting into everything else thankfully took him less.
He deliriously made his way to the garage after plucking the keys from his mother who is not too far behind him in tow. Soon enough the shiny red Kia loudly sputtered and rumbled, and he rolled down his window for his awaiting mother.
“Have a good day, son. You’ll do great, l just know it.”
“Thanks,” His cheeks bloomed.
“Bring home a girl!”
“Don’t you think groceries work better?” He raised an unamused brow.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Helena shook her head, “Drive safely, go now. Clock’s ticking.”
After finally giving a last minute wave, the garage became hollow and empty.
To be continued
on the next chapter...