~~~~~
"Is he asleep now, Mary Clare?"
I almost jumped in fright when I spotted a figure standing outside the door to my brother's room wearing a white, flowing nightgown. I tightened my grip on the tray of empty dishes I was carrying and let out a breath of relief when I realized it was just mom.
"Gosh, mum, don't sneak up on me like that! I thought you were a ghost!"
She snorted softly. "I wasn't sneaking, I'm just standing here motionlessly. There's a huge difference."
"Yeah, yeah." I just nodded in acquiescence to cut the topic short (she could discuss all the differences all night if she wanted to), then answered her question. "H.D.'s sleeping now, thankfully he finished his food without any more fuss."
Harold had been a real stubborn brat as soon as we got home. For all his tough, I-don't-feel-hurt-at-all-stop-crying-sis-it's-just-a-small-scratch act earlier at school, it had been a real challenge to get him to eat so he could take his medicine. Of course, our parents had been quite alarmed when we came in the door, H.D.'s arm slung over my shoulder for support, and they took a good look at the condition he was in. They instantly drove to the nearest drugstore to buy his prescriptions so my brother could take them before sleeping, but the brat, being the big baby he was, refused to eat dinner and said he just wanted to go to bed already because he was so tired. The problem was, he wasn't supposed to take his medicine without any food in his stomach so even when he was begging through gritted teeth to give him the freaking painkillers already, I didn't give in. Instead, I explained it to him in a language he would most likely understand.
"If you don't eat food, pain stays. But if you eat food, pain goes away. Understand? Now, which scenario can you live with? Choose one."
My brother grumbled for a long time, but in the end, because the pain was becoming too much, he grudgingly ate the food mom prepared for him, which I brought to his room so he didn't have to go downstairs anymore. Then when the last morsel was cleaned up from his plate I handed him the pills with a smug grin on my face which he returned with a grimace. But deep down inside, I knew he was grateful, it's just that he didn't like to admit when he was wrong, especially when the right one was me.
What a childish brother I have.
"Oh, thank goodness." Mom was nodding her head, obviously relieved as we descended the stairs together. "Your brother can be so hard-headed sometimes I don't know whether I should comfort him or scream at him at times like these."
"Sometimes? You mean most of the time, mom, admit it."
"Yep. That, too."
I chuckled at her perky response and proceeded to the kitchen sink to clean up so I could go back to my own room and finish the darned Physics homework which I was only halfway through. I was washing the plate and forcing my brain to recall what principles Mr. Belarmy had mentioned to quote for the plus points, when mom cleared her throat behind me.
She was still here?
"Mary Clare, can I ask you a question?"
Okayyyy, why did I have a feeling it wasn't going to be a good question?
"Um, sure, mom," I said anyway. "What is it?"
"Be honest with me."
"Uh, okay...?"
"Did Harold really get in an accident or did you have anything to do with it?"
I whirled on her, a drinking glass covered with suds gripped tightly in my hands and a look of pure disbelief on my face. "Wha... Seriously, mom? You think I can do that to H.D.? Me? His own sister?!"
"Keep your voice down, Mary Clare. You'll wake everybody up."
"Because you're asking a ridiculous question," I said through gritted teeth to keep myself from shouting. "Why would I want to hurt my own brother?!"
"You can't blame me for wanting to know, dear," mom said wryly, and the amusement in her eyes was the only thing that tamped down the insult I felt. "You have to remember that you left the house this morning, vowing that I'm going to lose a son today. You said you were going to make him regret ever being born. Or have you forgotten your own words already?"
The offended feeling was completely gone as fast as it had come, and a sheepish smile broke on my face. Crap. She was right. I did say those things out of anger. I really couldn't blame her, could I?
I shifted from foot to foot, not able to meet her steady gaze. "Uh, yeah, I did say them. But I swear—"
"No swearing in this house!"
"—I promise I didn't do anything. I didn't even see him until after classes this afternoon and when I did, he was already in a cast." I sighed. "I'm sorry, mom, I was too harsh this morning, indeed. I can't blame you for thinking the worst."
"Aw, Clare-bear, it's okay." Mom straightened up from her perch on the island counter and walked over to me then hugged me. "If you say you didn't do it, then I believe you. I was just really shocked when you came in through the door with a limping Harold leaning on you for support—God, I really thought you hit him with a baseball bat or something!" I felt her chuckle shake my entire body. "But now that it's all cleared up, I can go to sleep peacefully. Good night, darling. I love you."
She placed a kiss on the top of my head and before long she was gone, and I was alone in the kitchen.
I let out a long sigh and finished the dishes, feeling a wave of hysteria bubbling in my chest. I wanted to laugh out loud at that conversation I've just had with my mother. As much as I wanted to hold on to the offended feeling, I could now see the humor in the situation.
Mom thought I hit H.D. with a baseball bat that's why he got injured?
Gosh, my mom really had such a colorful imagination, didn't she? The bookworm that she was, I shouldn't be surprised, but I ended up chuckling every now and then in the darkness of my room a few hours later while I was typing my essay and quoting as many principles as I could.
Who's the gangster now? I thought with another suppressed laugh as I got ready for bed. To think I was the one who almost bolted earlier when Marga had pranked me about France and the baseball bat.
How ironic life was sometimes.
At around one AM, I finally settled in my bed, a million different thoughts running through my mind all at once. But weirdly enough, the last image I saw before sleep completely took over my consciousness was a pair of eyes, smiling and winking at me.
But they weren't Darell's.
No, they definitely weren't Darell's, because Darell had hazel eyes. And these ones were the shade of dark chocolate with a hint of gold in them...totally not Darell's.
I was sure of it.
~~~~~