Bad Intentions

Fifty-Nine

Jace

"What's that smell?" I heard a voice rang clear into the kitchen. I turned around to be met with the eyes of my mother. "You're cooking?" She asked incredulously almost as if her eyes were deceiving her.

She placed her purse on the counter and walked over to the stove to see what I was making.

"Just whipping up something small." I answered stirring the pot with bubbling sauce. "I thought you could use it after a long day at work."

My mom grinned ear to ear as she reached up and pinched my cheek affectionately. "Aww honey. Thank you."

"Mom." I whined and rubbed my aching cheek as she released it.

"What are you making?" She inquired looking into the pots and pans.

"Chicken and shrimp alfredo with a fresh garden salad and homemade breadsticks." I said taking the pot of cooked pasta to the sink to drain.

"Tell me you made your alfredo sauce from scratch." She pleaded her eyes staring into the sauce pot.

I scoffed. "Mom, come on." I told her as I strained the pasta. "Homemade is the way to go. Those store bought ones are trash."

"I have taught you well." She patted my shoulder pleased with my dinner. I shook my head towards her, but couldn't help the smile that landed on my lips.

"Dinner is almost ready." Just as I was about to grab the plates to set at the table, she beat me to it.

That's my mom for you. Always willing to help no matter the circumstances.

Right as I finished dinner, she had finished setting the table. I placed the serving dish filled with the chicken and shrimp alfredo in the center of the table along with the salad and fresh breadsticks.

"Sam!" She called out to my little brother. I heard his small footsteps cascade down the steps and into the dining room.

Sam slid into his chair, but his eyes were still trained on his device in front of him. He was captured into whatever he was watching.

Kids, I swear.

I reached over and snagged it out of his hands. "Hey!" He whined as he looked up from his empty hands. I gave him a pointed look that made him zip his lips in an instant.

He knew better then to argue with me.

He muttered some words under his breathe. I couldn't quite make sense of what he was saying. So I let him slide this time.

"This looks great, sweetie." My mom compliment as she took the utensils and place some of the pasta into each of our plates.

I smiled at her actions. We haven't had a family dinner in a bit. "I hope it taste good. I haven't cooked in awhile." I honestly told her as my hand rubbed the back of neck nervously.

Although my mother was sweet and kind, when it came to cooking she was a tough critic. She never lied about the things she liked or didn't. She was brutally honest.

I'll never forget the time we went to a restaurant and the entrée she had ordered was too bland for her taste. She actually asked for the chef and lectured him on how to make it flavorful. From spices to technique. Let's just say we haven't been back.