Evening came much too soon for my taste. I feel like I'm playing that whacking game where you whack the mole that is coming from the million holes that are present on the board. Except, here the mole is my family member's wrath. I cooled down mom's at the cost of my brother's. Uhh...don't even start with nana. She gave a new meaning to working under a stressful environment.
I dressed in one of my many printed tee shirts and jeans, tying my hair in my signature look-ponytail and sneakers, my favourite one. Sad, I know, 23 years old and still wearing college-wear, only what can a baker do? I can only stretch my salary so far. In the name of family, my nana uses me so much that by the end of paying bills, rent and food every month, I'm left with pittance. This is right out slavery, I tell you. And I even fall for it. Every effing time. Just like my mom.
I scanned my one-bedroom apartment one last time before going to my parents' home. I live in one of those apartments, rented of course, where everyone is doing job- in other words a normal middle class. I rented this place only for the kitchen plan. It has an open kitchen with a kitchen island in the middle to work on my pastries and a lot of kitchen cabinets for all the pots and pans I buy at Walmart. I tend to use a lot of sticky notes while working in the kitchen to note down recipes. As a result, you can hardly see the colour of my refrigerator on the top side. Some go ga-ga at clothes, my friend Amanda at shoes...and me...I drool at the cookware. Seriously, have you seen these beauties? You don't want to leave them behind once you saw them. My precious. Other than the kitchen, it is fully furnished standard living room that connects to the bedroom and bathroom, with a porch in the front.
I took mom's favourite red velvet cupcakes with me as a peace offering just in case if my diversion fails. I should have packed Scott's too, but then he will eat whatever he can put his giant hands on.
I hop on my baby- a used 2009 Volvo S40, which has already covered a six-digit mileage- a present my dad gave me on my graduation. It is not pretty or stylish, but it takes me from point A to point B. One of these days, it's going to choke and die on me, that's for sure. I parked my car very carefully. You never know who is watching your misshaped parking. My parent's home is similar to one of those many cardboard houses with a front yard. Once parked, I knocked on the front door with my peace offering in my hand. Hopefully, it doesn't come to that.
Scott opened it with a forlorn look that stated a clear retribution in future for what I pulled. I mustered a sheepish smile and wavered my offerings in front of his nose. He snatched them from me without checking what they are. Of course, from the sweet smell that's coming from my package, he doesn't need to.
'Still not learned how to park, I see', Scott said as a matter of greeting while devouring my cupcakes at an alarming speed. I thought of snatching back my treats, but we made a pact when I was a kid. You see, I was only 10-year-old then and my brother was 17, a step away from being adult, that fraud. As we came to know the fate of our bakery, my brother took the opportunity to extort a promise from me that- no matter what, when and where I always provide treats to him if I have any with me. Me being stupid me, felt he got cheated from the inheritance and agreed to that silly one.
'I know how to do it thank you very much. Anyway, how would you know about it? You almost never visit me anymore', I complained, trying my best to divert the topic from my embarrassment.
Scott being Scott didn't stop stuffing his mouth, just pointed towards the window where the curtains are open. Shoot! I should have parked in the last block. A small tidbit about me, really it's just teeny tiny- My reverse parking...well...let's just say, I do it at a snail's pace. You can say I got lucky during my assessment. Unfortunately, not so lucky when you get a car and still not achieved that feat of smooth reverse parking. Not that I don't know how, only I need practice...like lots. It's added in my long list of 'one-of-these-days'.
Anyway, meet Scott James- a pain in my backside brother. Height- 6'.2''. He is 30 years old with a dark brown hair that is cropped on both sides and grey eyes that are more pronounced than mine. He works two jobs. One as a proficient lawyer in a famous company and the other as a big bad bully who irritates me. Let me tell you a few fun facts about him-
1. He thinks-emphasis here, he is a boon to the women in the world. Not that it helps when he looks like Jamie Scott, the English singer and songwriter. This his womanising ways.
2. He helps dad in chasing away any potential suitors I tried to find.
3. No matter how much he eats, he is always toned and muscled with a six pack-so not fair. Not that I peeked. Eww. It only happens that he practically walks shirtless when he is not working. Good thing he has his own place.
4. He has a golden heart. Shh. Don't tell that in front of him, his ego will have no bounds.
'Ya...was little busy with a recent case', my brother clarified in between his devouring.
'Were you starving at your place? Slow down. And don't say that bullshit about workload. It never comes in the way of your 'dates'', I sit quoted that word as we both know it's the code word for one-night stand.
'Really Bells! Now you keep track of my night life? Day-by-day you are becoming like mom', he says as he finally moves from the front door.
'Is that a good thing or a bad one?' I asked him, confused by his context.
'Asking about it right there shows you in which way I'm referring', he shots back, throwing the now empty box in the trash can. Hearing your brother say you sound like mom is not a good thing to boost your non-existing confidence.
'Fifibel, is that you?' says mom from the kitchen. I look at my brother who throws a smirk at me. Uhh... it seems she is not that clueless as I give her credit to.