44

493 17 25
                                    

[Lamarr]

The syrupy smell of maple lingered below my nose, waking me up from a nine hour slumber glutted with nothing but a bunch of wack ass dreams. They were the same dreams that'd been harassing me for the last two nights and every time I woke up from them I was left disgruntle as hell. I'd turn over on my side only to stare at my phone for some minutes, right before checking my lock screen to see if the latest person I was at odds with had called. Every morning though there were zero; only texts and email alerts all linked to business or Mike Shaw. That alone would have my mood shot before 12 P.M. and stood as a warning that the rest of my day would dwindle from there.

Today, however, was already catching me by surprise with its choice to unfold a bit differently. Starting with the shades in my bedroom that had been opened wide, allowing the radiant beams of the sun to tear through my eyelids until I couldn't bare it any longer. And that sweet scent, it had me kicking my legs over the edge of the bed and from the comfort of my tousled sheets, completely ignoring my phone as I followed it to its source: the kitchen. 

Just like the array of appetizing aromas that bone rushed me as soon as I stepped foot out of my bedroom's doorway suggested, she busy was cooking up a storm. One that was awakening a rumble in my stomach with every step I took down the hall, only to find her hunched over the stove with her hair pinned up and glasses resting at the tip of her nose.

The image reminded me of when I was a kid. My brother and I would race each other to the dining room table and wait patiently to see what mama had stirred up this time, even if we knew it was bound to be the same meal from yesterday. Seeing her ripping and running from the fridge and to the oven like superwoman was exciting to us, but not as much as the connecting we did when she finally placed the dishes of food onto her favorite floral placemats and sat down to ease herself. Our little family and the moments she shared when we literally had nothing meant a lot to me, and this big ass state of the art loft that lacked that closeness we once shared wouldn't change that either.

"Woman, what are you doing?" I said dazedly as I walked over to my mama's side, pecking her cheek as a smile broke her lips.

"Just making use of what little groceries I'm sure goes to waste every week." she began as she dipped two slices of bread into her infamous 'Kay Kustard' for French toast. "You have a dozen of eggs in there and only two have been used. You also have a pack of unthawed and open bacon, that should actually be frozen and in a Ziploc, spoiling away. What's the purpose of shopping for food if it's going straight to the trash, Lamarr?"

"In my defense, that's the second dozen. The first one I bought with it the other day is gone. Gotta eat boiled eggs for the protein, ma." I claimed with a weak stretch of my arm, giving her a good view of my muscles as I bent it back and flexed. "The bacon however I can't explain."

"Mhm, and how is that protein diet going for you?" she quizzed as her eyes wandered aside to me, peaking over her lenses as she observed the lack of I was busy showcasing. "Never mind sweetie, I've found my answer."

"Aw, dang, That's cold, ma. Real Cold."

"Cole world, right?" The smirk etched into her face combined with her perfectly executed mockery killed my ego and had me shaking my head as I put my arm down and treaded toward the open cabinet with dishes stacked high inside it.

"Clever, very cute, but no." I shot back and grabbed two plates to place aside the stove. "It's crazy though, because I eat a lot yet I have not one clue why I'm slimming down rather than bulking up. I stay dribbling a ball every chance I get too, so these results aren't matching up or making sense to me."

"Do you lift weights?"

"Occasionally."

"Well I see where your problem resides." she tittered as she lowered each piece of toast into the skillet, letting either side marinate in all the excess cinnamon and vanilla before she sprinkled brown sugar like she always used to do.

WhirlwindWhere stories live. Discover now