Welcome to Heaven | ✓

15-1: Chocolate Covered Strawberries

"Kotori, I've had enough."

The words from my mother first thing Saturday morning were like a sword piercing through my heart.

"Are you throwing me out?"

"I will if you don't get a part-time job."

She kept out a firm arm to block the entrance to the kitchen—my destination before she'd intercepted me. Her curly bangs draped her cheeks quite messily, the rest of her hair pulled back in a loose bun. Her office clothes and overall formal appeal only made her stern scowl more intimidating.

"You keep wasting the groceries I buy, ruining my dishes, and expect me to go shopping every day for your needs. If you're really serious about this whole baking thing, you need to be able to support yourself."

My jaw had fallen, the gears in my mind twisting to digest this foreign lecture. Clean your room, wash the dishes, focus on your studies—it was menial, everyday tasks such as those that she loved to berate me on. I was the easily distracted type, so a little reminder here and there helped me get things done. But this...

"You want me to get a... job?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes at the way I'd said it, folding her arms across her blazer. "That thing that is perfectly normal in a society? The thing Miko manages just fine?"

All at once, the dots connected, and I was hit with another pan to the face. "But Miko's Miko!"

"That is not an argument. Miko is your age and works to support herself and her needs. It's very admirable."

"But—"

"I'm serious," she stressed, in her 'end-of-discussion' tone. "Find a part-time job or you're not baking in this house again."

I could only blankly gawp as she slipped right by me and into the living room, up to Sota plopped in front of the TV, watching his favourite ninja show.

"Come on," she prodded, reaching for his hand to get him up on his stubby legs. "We have to go."

Once standing, Sota emitted a tiny giggle as he shielded his mouth with his hand. "Koto got yelled at."

I childishly stuck out my tongue.

He gasped, all amusement vanishing from his features. His head jerked up. "M-Mommy, Koto stuck her tongue out at me."

"Kotori, leave your brother alone."

Of course I was the victim. Why did something like that hurt his feelings when he was the one mocking me a second ago? Children had weird standards.

"Anyway, I'm taking Sota to the daycare," she told me after slipping on her heels and Sota fastened on his sneakers at the door. "Spend today searching for some jobs online. And don't forget to lock the door if you're going out. When I come home, I can help you apply. Also, if you have some free time—which you definitely will—bring in the mail."

My heart sunk in my chest. She was serious? I dashed after her but she was already down the hall, hand in hand with my little brother.

I knew her concerns were reasonable. That I'd been nothing but a bother since I took up baking and nearly burnt down the house every morning since. I'd wasted countless dishes—ingredients—and endured even more hours of lecture after lecture. She'd also insisted plenty that I return to doing drama or do something less... "dangerous."

My mom was doing her best to raise Sota and me because my dad lived in another city and had his own life to take care of. Deep down I understood how hard it was on her. But she was like me—the type to bury any hardship behind a smile. Even when her and Dad decided to get a divorce, she kept reassuring me that everything would be all right—that nothing between us would change.