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She put her hand on my shoulder and massaged it, communicating all the love in the world. That was what she did. She was as hard as they came when raising us. No tears. Harsh punishments. She was heavy-handed with the spankings. But when she put her hand on our shoulder and looked down into our eyes, we knew. All the words she never said because of the hard life she’d lived alongside Father, and all the things she had to keep silent on because my father had done this family a disservice, had marred her. Scarred her like it had all of us.
But that one ge
sture reassured me that she was there.
Our mother.
Strong. Mature. Dominant. Protective. A guiding light in our family.
Julia had reminded me of her last night.
“Now you boys eat up,” Mom said. “You’ve got long days ahead of you.”
“Yep. A long day of napping before my shift starts at seven,” Antony said.
“I have to get out of here within the hour,” I said.
“See? Ten o’clock is useless for a chef,” my mother said.
I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my eggs before I felt my mother looming over me.
“Did you roll your eyes at me?” she asked.
Antony chuckled and shook his head as I wiped my mouth off with my napkin.
“Never,” I said with a grin. “I love you too much.”
“Uh-huh. Eat. You’re a big boy. Nourish yourself.”
And I did as ordered as Antony shot me a look.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Not here.”
I furrowed my brow and squinted my eyes as Antony got up from the table.
“Thank you for breakfast, Mom. But it’s time I take a shower.”
“Good. You stink,” she said.
“Love you too, Mom.”
“And grab a biscuit to go! I made too many of them.”
“You want me to eat a biscuit in the shower?” he asked.
“She’s going to kill you,” I said.
“Take a biscuit and get yourself cleaned up,” she said. “I’ll take care of this mess.”
“Have you eaten, Mom?” Antony asked.
I turned around and watched my mother pause.
