The dinner had ended and I can't get over how good the chicken marsala was.
Despite the absence of Papà, the table didn't stay quiet because Mamma asked me about how ready I am for the upcoming semester opening this Monday, which was something I had to answer with lies.
I lied when I said I'm excited. I lied when I said I can't wait to meet new friends other than Laikyn. I lied when I said I'm going to adjust in the easiest way I could. I lied the entire dinner. The only thing I didn't lie about was the taste of the chicken marsala she cooked for the first time. It was a fact. She's the best cook I know. Other than that, the rest were all lies. And that's because I'm the worst liar she knows.
Mamma reaches for the plates to take them to the kitchen sink, and hands over me my vitamins when she gets back. I sometimes wonder what would happen if I skip taking my meds for a day. Skipping vitamins, I think, would be okay. But skipping my ACE inhibitors, I think it's another matter to discuss.
It's turning eight when I leave the kitchen to walk past the see-through room divider towards the living room to take a rest on the couch. Mamma had served the dinner earlier than usual because she has some errands to attend to early tomorrow.
I snag the remote on the other side of the couch and start the television. I don't care about what's the show flashing in front of me, for as long as there's any noise other than Mamma's popcorn pot, I'm okay with it.
Popcorn. After dinner. Before going to bed. Wait, for what?
The popping sound of the corn kernels isn't included in my list of weird noises I love. It's like a battlefield. A war of rifles and cannons. Something I wouldn't dare to listen to.
I try to turn on the television to its highest volume, but it's not good enough to take over the sonorous booming of the corn kernels. I haven't warmed my ass on the couch yet, but I have to go back to the kitchen to check what makes the popcorn pot this disturbing.
With my two pointing fingers tucking inside my ears, I stomp towards the kitchen ready to scold Mamma.
"Why are you making that much popcorn?" I hit up and grab a bowlful of dehydrated corn with my eyes catching a pot of another batch.
This popcorn madness is confusing me.
Mamma lays her left hand on the hot pad and removes the stainless pot from the stove. She sets it aside and waits for the popping sound to wind up before she could open and transfer it to the same bowl together with the first ones.
"I thought you're having a movie marathon tonight?" She asks, hanging the hot pads back to where they came from.
"Movie marathon? I can't even stand watching a single movie completely, what more for a movie marathon?" I say, a bit discombobulated when she said I'm having a movie night.
Geez. Movies. The only movie I had done watching was Romeo and Juliet and it was long ago when I watched it.
Mamma turns off the stove, washes her hands, and wipes them with her apron. My eyes go after her as she walks toward the refrigerator to grab her phone on it. She lowers her glasses until it rests on the peak of her nose, and scrolls through her phone with her mouth partly open.
She flickers her eyelids. "Laikyn talked to me this afternoon. She said she'll be staying the night here until her dad comes home." Her finger runs further on the screen. "She had prepared some movies for you to watch, and the least I could do is to partner them with popcorn."
I actually didn't pay attention to what Callie texted her. I paid more attention to the fact that Callie just texted her, which means they got in contact with each other without me knowing. It's amazing to know they are that close.
"She has your number? Since when?" I bite my lips, hands on my hips as I wait for her response.
"No, not my number. I wonder if Laikyn does texting. It's very rare to see teenagers your age sending messages through numbers." Mamma restores her attention back on the screen and lets her finger browse once more. "Here," she says, turning over the gadget to me. "She commented it at my recent picture on Instagram."
Instagram? Never heard of it before.
I snatch the phone out of her hand and have it a look. What I see right now is a picture of Mamma wearing a big smile while taking herself a photo after she's done making dinner. The angle is a little upward, so it shows the chicken marsala on the table beside her. There are some hashtags below the photo and a short caption. I read it.
"#MissingMyArturito."
"#ChickenMarsalaForDinner."
"#ForCallieAndMe."
"Not bad for my first attempt. Uploading my cooking tutorial on YouTube soon!"
I'm laughing and I don't know why. Maybe because I understand none of these things. Maybe because I'm years behind of time. Maybe because Mamma's more active on social media than me.
I give her phone back and twiddle my thumbs. "Wow. Great."
Mamma waggles her head with a smile sailing on her face. "I think it's time for you to engage yourself in social media. Give your phone some use. You don't charge it only to make it your alarm."
I speak in hushed tones, "Whatever."
She's about to dump her phone down her apron's pocket when it rings suddenly. She has to open it again and check it.
"Your friend sent me a DM."
"Like I know what DM means." I shrug.
"Direct Message, Callie." She opens her phone again, goes back to that Instagram, Ingarstam-whatever they call it, and checks what's new.
"What?" I ask. Finally getting a little interest on how this damn application works, and how it works so cool.
"They are on their way here." She squeaks in crescendo with a hint of excitement in her voice.
"I thought it's just Callie?" My mind can't handle being bamboozled once more.
"I thought, too. But she said she invited someone to come along and I think that's better. You would surely enjoy the night."
The thought of allowing Laikyn to spend the night here with someone I don't know creeps me out. Movie marathon-which at least consists of two movies with more than an hour each-is already a pain in the neck for me. I can't imagine how much pain and boredom would I have to go through if I spend it with a popcorn and a random stranger.
I walk out of the kitchen, a little relief when the cacophony of corn kernels finally disappears on the face of the earth. It's fifteen minutes after eight and I should've been on my bed by this time, but no. . . I'm staying on the couch, and will be waiting for my unwanted visitors to arrive only to tell them they're not welcome. Or they're supposedly not welcome.
Being under the same roof with someone who's like a walking contradiction has no difference as living a life stuck in a maze full of twists and turns. It sucks that I am an introvert and Mamma is not. I can't be alone when I want to, because she has always been very welcoming and hospitable that she lets strangers, or people she barely even know to go inside the house.
I stay on the couch watching a show I don't understand, while waiting for Laikyn and her friend to come over. It's nearly eight and I can feel my eyes getting heavier everytime I let go a yawn. I yawned more than five times already and it's a sign that my bed is calling me to sleep.
I lay on the couch, my head pointing the direction of the door, and my feet towards the kitchen. I watch Mamma as she vacuums the floor.
She is on the back of the couch when she says, "The popcorn is on the table. I did not add flavorings to it because I'm not sure what flavor you and your friends want. But I prepared three different flavors and it's up to you if you use them or not."
"Okay, Mamma." I look up to her. I rise from my position and sit with my legs crossed. "Anyways, do you know when will Papà return home?" I ask, grab the remote and turn the television off.
Mamma stops her vacuum cleaner. "I don't know. He must be very busy these days. I talked to him the other day and he said he won't make it back this week and maybe next week. They've been doing a lot lately, as I see on my Instagram feed," she explains. She turns on the vacuum cleaner again and continues cleaning.
Just in time when Mamma is almost done, we hear a knock on the door. She stashes the vacuum behind the tv cabinet and walks barefoot to the door. She twists the handgrip wide open and two familiar figures show off.
On Mamma's right is a girl wearing a bright yellow oversized shirt tucked inside a high-waisted jeans with ripped parts on its legs. She wears no make up, so the freckles on top of her nose down to both of her cheeks are visible. Oil spreads all over her face and it shines when it catches the light. Her curly spirally hazelnut hair falls on her shoulder and covers her ears. She wears a silver heart-shaped locket and a silver thin metal bracelet. A smile remains wide on her face as she stands still, pressing compact discs on her chest.