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“How can I offer again? I still have my wrist brace on and my appointment with the doctor isn’t until this afternoon. And what if he says I have to stay like this for another week?” I lift my injured arm.
“Whether or not you take that thing off doesn’t matter, because you’re not the one who’ll be cooking.”
I stare at my mother in shock.
She nods.
My excitement soars but, after a moment of contemplation, I shake my head and sink my chin against the counter. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. You’d have to do too much work alone.”
“Who taught you all you know about running food stalls?” Mom asks, her chin tipped up proudly.
“You only did it for two months. You said it was too hard.”
“Yes, but I paid all your and Josiah’s school fees from that short go at the business, didn’t I? And people were begging me to come back and sell my rice and beans.”
“This isn’t about how good your food is, mom. I know it’s great. But you didn’t come here to work.”
“I came here to see my babies and help out in any way I can. How long have you been taking care of Josiah by yourself without complaint?”
“That’s different. Josiah’s my brother.”
“And I am your mother. His too. But I haven’t been able to take care of either of you.”
“That’s not true at all. You send us half of your entire pay check every month.”
“That piddly money barely covers anything. You’re the one who makes him breakfast, wakes him up for school, clothes him, takes care of all his extra curricular activities, nurses him when he’s sick?—”
Emotions roil in my chest. I take her dark, weathered hand and squeeze. “Mom.”
“You’re practically a single mother to a son you didn’t birth. You can’t date and have fun like other young women your age. You completely lost your freedom and you didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“I did have a choice, remember? I sent for Josiah to come to the States. I love my life and I love having him here. It was so lonely without family, mama.”
“I know, but it’s also a burden.” She pats my hand. “Let me do this for you, Nardi. Let me be your mother for once.”
As the tears press against the back of my eyes, I wrap my arms around my mother and hug her tight. I won’t ever admit to her, but thereweretimes when I felt resentful of my responsibility to my brother. There were times when mom called and it seemed like all she cared about was Josiah. And other times, when I felt like she was scolding me for not taking better care of her baby.
The wounds I didn’t allow myself to acknowledge are starting to heal right here in this kitchen.
“Thank you for coming, mom,” I whisper.
“Of course, baby. But can we hug another time? The oil is going to burn if I don’t put another fry jack in.”
“Oh, right.” I back off sheepishly as mom continues with breakfast.
Not one to waste time, I call Sunny right away to ask if she still needs a caterer, but she doesn’t answer so I make a note to call back later.
Josiah wakes up, lured by the tempting smells coming from the kitchen.
I check my watch after we finish breakfast, “Jos, you need to get ready or you’ll be late for the fundraiser. The PTA moms planned all kinds of cool things.”
I may hate their attitudes, but I will admit that those moms know how to throw a fancy party.
“When are you getting your cast off?” Josiah asks.
Both me and mom freeze.
“At two,” I tell him.