"Sure, wait a sec sweetie, I'll get you your salt. How much do you need?" Mrs. Ali asked.
She lives next door in the apartment we live. She's always so sweet, she lives alone with her four cats.
"Oh, just two tablespoons would be fine Mrs. Ali. I just forgot to add salt to the grocery list yesterday."
I was so distracted I forgot to buy salt. I badly needed it, as I'm cooking Jake's favorite, Fettucine Alfredo. Although Jake likes any dish that deals with pasta, I just noticed he eats more when it's a white sauce pasta.
The door of Mrs. Ali opens again, she holds out a small plastic with salt. "Here you go sweetie. What are you cooking?" she asks.
"Oh, Jake's favorite pasta dish. I can give you some later when it's cooked. Do you eat pasta?"
"That's so nice of you! And yes of course, I love pasta!"
"Okay Mrs. Ali, I'll hand it to you later before dinner. Thanks again for the salt." I smiled holding the small plastic in my hand. Mrs. Ali then closed her door, and I went back to my apartment. I checked my phone, it's already 5:30 P.M. Jake will be here soon.
I put a teaspoon of salt in the pasta sauce, and some more of the spices. I only realizes I didn't have salt when I was already cooking the sauce, good thing neighbors were invented. I tasted my sauce, it's good, Jake will love this. I should start boiling the pasta now.
Jake is my only son, well they were meant to be twins, but he ate his supposed twin brother. Doctors said it's common in twins to sometimes eat the other inside the womb.
It wasn't that hard to accept him as an only child back then, maybe because his twin was never actually alive outside my stomach so there was no hard attachment with the baby. But in the first three months of my pregnancy, my ex-husband and I was expecting for twins not until Jake ate his brother.
It was disappointing for me at first, I was so excited for twin babies, but it happened, and I love my Jake.
I drained the pasta and rinse it with cold water so it wouldn't be overcooked and soggy pasta. I heard a knock on the door. It's Jake. We have these different knocks for different days. I'm a little bit paranoid about intruders, so just to be safe, Jake and I agreed with these knocks. We knock once for Sunday, twice for Monday, and so on. Since today's Thursday, Jake's knocks were five. When I opened the door, Jake's holding a kitten.
"Where'd you get that Jakey?"
"Stop calling me Jakey, mom." Jake said. "I got this kitten from the side of the road down the street."
He doesn't like being called Jakey; I always forget it. I used to call him that when he was little, and now he's 17, and refuses to be called Jakey.
"I thought you hate cats?"
"No, I don't." he said. That's weird. He killed a kitten when he was a kid, he said he didn't do it, but my eyes saw a different story.
"Okay honey, you get that kitten a small box to put it temporarily. We'll get your pet a cage tomorrow." I'm thinking maybe having a cat can (?) be a good thing.
"I cooked you your favorite." I smiled. And Jake's face lit up with just that one sentence.
I asked him to bring Mrs. Ali some of the food before we eat, and we just talked about school. I've been a little worried of him since the day I knew he has psychopathic tendencies, but it wasn't as severe as others where they don't develop any remorse at all and affection or love towards others. My Jake is still loving, to me at least. I never told him that I got him checked when he was young, I firmly believe that being a full-on psychopath can be avoided, especially in his case. I just wish nobody triggers him to be violent. I don't know whether it was hereditary, but I left my husband as soon as he started to lose his temper over small silly things.
I started my writing career early, before I was pregnant. I now have a series of novels and thankfully it's getting known, and I somehow receive a good amount of income. Jake's scholarship helped for us to earn for his college too, so I asked him to do good in school, and I can tell that he gladly follows.
"I'm so full mom, thanks for the meal. You're the best cook." Jake smiles.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Just don't bake," he blurted out. I laughed, I can never bake, I mean I tried but it's just not for me.
Jake stands up holding our used plates, he starts washing the dishes. He's just such a good kid. "Mom I'm gonna get one of our canned tunas, to feed the kitted I got from the road." He says staring at me while rinsing the plates. "Sure honey no problem."
"I'll be writing all night, don't be too loud, okay?" I told Jake.
"Mhm okay" he prepares the tuna and puts the food near the kitten, I watch him while he watches the kitten eats. I'm having high hopes.