During dinner (a draft of something)
June 28, 2006
"You look sick," my Ma told me during dinner. She’s been saying the same thing for the last two days already.
"No, I’m not sick, Ma. Why would I lie if I’m sick?"
"I don’t know. You’ve been lying about the small things even when you’re young."
Ha! Small things, eh?
"No I don’t."
My Ma reached for my forehead, but I pushed her hand away.
"I told you, I’m not sick!"
"Well there’s no need to shout, honey." She stood up and took the empty bowl and went to the kitchen.
Victory!
"By the way, a friend of yours came over yesterday. Asked me if you still live here," she said, loudly, while scraping the last of the reheated rice.
"Who?"
"Oh, I didn’t ask."
Typical.
She came back with a bowlful of burnt rice.
I took some and continued eating. "Anyway, what’s up with grandma these days? She’s been acting a bit odd."
"Huh?"
"You know, always grumpy and all."
Ma shrugged. "Don’t mind her."
Typical. Yeah, don’t mind everybody. Don’t mind everything.
I guess she read my mind. She seemed upset, though.
"We had a fight yesterday. Now, no more questions. Go to sleep."
Tell that to a 10-year-old.
