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I quietly place it back on the plate.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Mom asks.
Oh…I knew this brunch had an agenda.
“There it is.”
“There what is?” Mom asks innocently, taking a sip of her mimosa.
“The real reason you summoned me.”
“I invited you to brunch, Artemis. I did not summon you. You are not a demon.” She sounds deeply wounded.
I sigh.
She then reaches for a sandwhichito de mezcla and offers it to me
That, I happily accept. My mother’s miniature food is one of the many foods I can’t get enough of.
“So…” she says.
“So?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“That’s not a feeling.”
“It absolutely is.”
“No.”
I inherited many things from my parents but patience was unfortunately not one of them.
“Mother.”
“Artemis Lively.”
“What exactly are you asking?”
Her smile softens. “Are you happy?”
What an odd question. Why would she ask that?
Am I happy?
I guess I am happy enough.
I’ve never understood why people expect emotions to arrive loudly.
Mine don’t.
They never have.
Most feelings seem to happen to other people.
Not me.
