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“Mom!” I startle her, and she drops the spoon inside the bowl.
“What? Isn’t it a good thing I’m eating?” she says, indignant.
“Mom, what did I tell you?” I go to her and take the spoon from her hand.
“Oh, Joyce, go make that man your boyfriend so you can take care of him instead of me!” she says in a single breath.
My face goes red again and I feel horrible for lying to my mom about who I have a crush on.
Chapter Six
LOGAN
MondaytoFriday,morningsare all the same: I wake up at 7 AM, shower, get dressed, have a quick breakfast, then head out to work.
But today, things are different. Today my day starts one hour earlier because I am jolted awake by the voice of a stranger echoing through the halls of my house.
I get out of bed, angry, and from the top of the staircase I see Mary, walking past Joyce and a pre-teen, the former pleading for the silence of the latter.
“Joyce?” I call for her attention, “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Bardin!” she says.
“Is that the creep?” the girl asks with a death stare, arms crossed.
“Sophia,shush!” Joyce raises a finger to her lips. “Follow Mary to the kitchen. I’ll be right there.”
She says it all in loud whispers and I can tell how on edge and anxious she is.
Joyce climbs the stairs quickly and silently, then grabs me by the shoulders and starts to beg, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bardin! I had no one to take care of Sophia. She has no classes today and my aunt is at work!”
I’m surprised to feel a pleasant warmth go through me when Joyce touches me, but I quickly shake it off. I look her in the eye, “We did not agree on this, Joyce.”
“I know!” Even though my voice is calm, she’s so exasperated she is acting as if I just yelled at her.
“I… I can find someone to watch her. Just give me time.”
Before I can say anything, she leaves in silence. I'm left here, feeling like the uptight boss who doesn’t let any fun happen around the house, and I'm hating myself for it.
Knowing that I will not be able to fall asleep again, I go jump in a cold shower.
I’m down in the kitchen one hour earlier, but the food is already being made, and my stomach growls appreciatively. Mary, her auburn dyed hair hidden under her hairnet, is busy with the food. I smell coffee, oatmeal, eggs, bacon, and hot toast.
Joyce, on the other hand, is busy on her cellphone, her face looking so alarmed that I want to do something to ease her anxiety, but I am not sure what.
She leaves the kitchen to speak in more privacy, and just me and the pre-teen are left sitting at the table.
“Are you Joyce’s sister?” I ask after a sigh, trying to make small talk.
She just nods, looking mistrustful of me. I don’t really blame her, since apparently, she thinks I’m the reason behind Joyce being so stressed out.
“No classes today, huh?” I try again.
And she nods again, but this time, a few words come along, “Parent-teacher conference.”
I nod back at her, “Who went there for you?”
“No one,” she shrugs, moody. “My mom is in the hospital, my aunt can’t lose her job or we lose health insurance, and Joyce is here.”
