Dinah Jane Hansen.
"Who the fuck?" I groan and roll over, picking up my phone. I try to rub the sand out of my eyes so that I can see the caller ID and whether or not the phone is worth picking up, but I still can't see and decide to fight against the rude thought and pick up the phone.
"What?"
I said I was fighting against the rude thought, not the thought of being rude.
"Excuse me?"
"Mom." I wake up easily and sit up, still holding the phone to my ear.
"Dinah Jane." My mother retorts, and I instantly feel shivers being sent down my spine. "Where are the pictures?"
"Right." I breathe in relief and lay back down. "I sent them to you, didn't I?"
"iPhone camera pictures?"
"I was late, okay." I whine, trying to defend myself. "It's kinda your fault for keeping me."
"My fault?" She snorts and then laughs a bit. "My fault? You were the one who insisted on staying for lunch and early dinner!"
"It's your fault for knowing how to make good food, okay?" I defend myself, and my mother chuckles some more on the other end.
"Speaking of good food..." She trails off, causing me to smile. "You missed church." She begins, causing that smile to drop. "But that's okay, I understand that you must still be tired and probably a bit hungover." Now I'm frowning. "But you're still my kid and although you're turning twenty this year, I still have to look after and out for your stupid ess. So you bring your little housemate and come over."
Now my throat is dry. Nobody is more embarrassing than my parents. Normani is a cool person, I don't wanna chase her off or something.
"Mom-"
"-girl, don't even try to object." She cuts me off, knowing that I'm going to decline her offer. "She's been living with you for what, like two or so weeks, maybe three and I've known you for all of your existence. And not once between the second that you came out of my vijayjay and now, have you proved that you are capable of looking after yourself food wise."
"You're so mean." I pout. "We'll be there. I mean if she's not opposed."
"You will make sure she gets here." My mother growls. "You hear me?"
"I'll try, okay." I whine. "She's a bit... reserved. So I'll try."
"Okay sweetie, I love you." She says sweetly, and that was something that I never understood. My mother could yell at me one second and disown me, and ten seconds later she'd claim me when she needed someone to make her some tea. Bipolar ess.
"Love you too Ma." I reply, a small smile on my face. "See you soon."
"Yeah, yeah."
I end the call and look up at the ceiling, trying to find some motivation to get out of bed. Then I remember that my mother is cooking, and suddenly that's motivation enough.
When I moved out of the house a few months ago, I promised myself, my mother and my family that I would come eat at home on a Sunday. Not to see them, no, but because my mother could really throw it down in the kitchen. That's all.
I haul myself up out of the bed and make my way over to the bathroom to clean myself. I make sure that I'm squeaky clean before my mother yells at me or something. She's the type to be scratching in the fridge one moment, and then the next moment swipe a finger behind my ear or something and then slap the back of my head.
