26- Strawberry Tart

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//Jamil

My finger traced round the rim of the mug. A smile was glued to my face as I stared at the steam rising from the chocolatey goodness. Tariq and Said both stuffed marshmallows into their mouths, having a competition on how much they could fit in their mouth.

"Said, stop it," I said with a laugh. He looked at me with his mouth full of marshmallows. Tariq was somehow fitting some into his mouth. "Tariq, stop it." I leaned over and pulled the bowl towards me. They both stared at me wide eyed, shocked I would take it away.

Aneel pulled up the chair beside me followed by Aisha. She smiled at the boys and took out her phone to take a picture.

"How long do you think till one of them pukes?"

"Oi, don't jinx my son."

Said came and sat beside me. I smiled at him and he waved since he still hadn't swallowed the marshmallows yet. Tariq was there munching away as if he was eating normally. I ruffled Said's hair and placed an empty plate in front of his mouth. It didn't take that long till he spat it all out. He rubbed his jaw with his hand and I chuckled.

"Are you gonna marry Amma?" he asked innocently. Priya looked over at us and even from where I was sitting I could tell she was blushing.

"I don't know, buddy. It's up to your Mummy."

He frowned. "I want you to. You make her smile. Abbu doesn't make her smile." I sadly smiled and watched Priya look away.

"Tell me about your Abbu."

Said shook his head. "I don't want to." A minute or so later, he sipped from his hot chocolate. "He wants me to call him Dad but I want to call him Abbu or Baba. He tells me that's not what white people call their dads. What does that mean?" He looked up at me innocently and it took everything in me to not laugh. Instead, I just ruffled his hair and sighed.

"Doesn't matter, kiddo. Don't worry about things like that."

"Okay. Well he doesn't play with me much anyways. When I go to his house, he only gives me his phone and watches...it's the box...tel-no and wait." He huffed and took another sip of his hot chocolate. "How do you say it?"

"Say what?"

He looked around the kitchen and sighed. "The one in the sitting room. The screen. I have one too but I forgot the name of it." He quickly raised his hand in the air as if he was in class. "It's television."

"It is. See, you knew it."

"Thank you for not telling me the answer. Amma always tells me the answer and then I can't guess myself." I looked over at Priya who was shaking her head with a smile.

"Because your Mummy isn't as smart as boys. Boys are the best."

"I heard that!" Said sniggered as he leaned down to sip from his mug. "I'll see who's smart when we go home, Said. Betraying your own mother." I watched his eyes go wide and let out a laugh.

"Stop scaring the kid. Get back to what you're doing. I want a strawberry tart!"

"Oi, don't talk to her like that," Amma said. She kissed Priya's cheek as she walked past. "I'll just tell her not to make you a tart."

"But I'm your son, you can't do that to me."

"More like her daughter," Aisha mumbled.

Aneel snickered and pulled his jumper up to his lips. "Then you must be her son," he muttered. Aisha gasped and looked around at everyone.

"That's not funny!" she screamed. I watched as she stormed away with a laugh.

"Aisha! Come back!"

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