“You are a hopeless romantic, Evelyn.” Miles shook his head as he started cleaning the milk machine.
“I told you she does not come to this shop so much for only the tea. She comes looking for you every time, and every time she comes becomes more specific as she narrows your hours down.”
“That cannot be true. It sounds so crazy.”
“What sounds crazy?” Will questioned as he walked through the French doors of the shop in long strides. He took off his cotton cap as he scratched the top of his shaven head.
“Miles does not believe Wanda comes to the shop looking for him all the time,” Evelyn smiled as she greeted her partner. Miles blanched as Will shook his head with a smile.
“Miles, you need to learn that women have a second sense about these things,” Will warned as he washed his hands, getting ready to take over for Miles. Miles’ mother would be off tonight, which happens every couple of weeks, so Evelyn, Will and Miles try to plan around her schedule. It gave his mother a chance to have family time with all her children since her jobs’ schedules did not always allow for it.
“Alright, pass the apron and get on out of here.” Will held out his hand as Miles untied the apron behind his back and gave it to Will. Miles grabbed his backpack from behind the counter.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow then,” Miles smiled at them as he walked out of the shop and down the hallway. Once he reached the outside doors, he opened them to find the wind was snappier and the clouds were closing in more, closing off any thought of sun, like it would rain soon. Miles paced himself more as to make sure he would beat the rain. He did not feel like getting wet since he did not think to bring an umbrella. The only umbrella he might have been able to use though was Molly’s, and it was only pink. He mourned the idea of the people at school seeing him with a pink umbrella.
Close to when he was home, he felt the first drop of water hit his cheek. It would not be long until others accompanied the cool drip now running off his face. He ran in a hurry down the block to his house that was now in sight. He felt more raindrops wash around him, and he knew it would be pouring soon. Just as he entered the front door of the house, the skies seemed to open fully, and the rain crackled on the cement of the pavement. He shut the wooden front door to make sure no water came in and then went through the process of taking off his shoes.
“Mom, I’m home,” Miles shouted as was habit whenever Saturday nights came around.
“MILES,” Molly yelled as she ran down the hallway, her footsteps light but rumbling as her pace was fast. She came around the corner and closed the short distance for a hug. “I wish I could have gone to see Evelyn tonight, but mom said no. It was so unfair that you were able to go!”
“Molly, remember, it is my job,” Miles smiled as he rubbed his hand on top of her curly locks. She huffed as she tried to straighten them out as quickly as she could to avoid fraying. It was a hassle if anything touched her hair.
“Hey, sweetie,” Miles’ mother came from in the kitchen to give him a hug. Miles saw she carried her wooden spoons she used for stirring and wondered what there was to eat. He noticed it was stained red, but then red was hard to wash out. The aroma from the kitchen was heavenly, and Miles always liked his mom’s cooking. “I got spaghetti going right now, and it should be done soon. Why don’t you set the table, Molly, while Miles put his stuff away.”
“But, mom! I did it last time; why can’t Claude do it,” Molly complained as she stomped the ground. Occasionally, she felt like acting younger than she looked—which was not hard as she still looked like she was 10.
“No, buts, missy. The sooner we get done with it, the sooner we are going to eat. Let’s work as a team, shall we?” Miles’ mother knew just how to defuse the situation. “Now, honey, go put your stuff in your room and wash up. It won’t be long now.”
“Alright, mom,” Miles agreed as he trudged down the hallway to his room. He opened his door, which hung a sign of “Keep Out” to ward off his brother and sister, to find his room clean. His mom occasionally would pick up the little things Miles would throw to the floor. His pile of clothes was gone, so she must have come in for laundry. He threw his backpack onto his smooth leather chair which he bought for sitting in while he played his games. He preferred to play computer games over using a console. He felt more mature that way. He surveyed the popcorn plastered walls which hung posters of his favorite bands like Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance. He sighed as he looked longingly at his queen-sized bed, but Miles knew better than throw himself on there now. His mother would be waiting by the time he got out of it with the same spoon he saw her with earlier. He decided it was better to exit the room and close his door to his sanctuary at home.
Once he exited the hallway and into the dining room, he saw his sister put the last glass on the table. There was a silky, red table cloth underneath the ceramic plates and silverware. In the middle of the table, it looked like his mother had put down pot holders to let the pots sit on. Miles went into the kitchen to see if she needed any help.
“How’s it going, mom?” Miles asked as he surveyed the smaller area of the house. The checker patterned tiles glistened, showing that his mother cleaned today.
“Oh, pretty good. Dinner is almost ready,” Miles’ mother replied as she stirred the pot. Miles hugged her from behind as he watched her add a little seasoning to the spaghetti sauce. “Do you want to put some pot holders out on the table? We’ll just spoon things up there.”
“Sure, mom.” Miles went into the drawer with the towels and pulled two pot holders out to put them on the table. They liked to spoon things out there for spaghetti night as as a way of keeping the noodles and the sauce separate. That way, they could choose how much noodle-to-sauce ratio to have. Once Miles put the pot holders on the table, he heard his mother draining the noodles as the water slurped down the drain. He turned to watch the steam rise slowly and caress the cool air above the noodles. Miles’ mother had taken out a bowl for the noodles to be dumped into, so Miles grabbed the sauce and brought the pan over. He heard his mother’s footsteps shuffle behind him, ready to put the noodles on the table as well.
“Claude! Molly! Dinner is ready,” Miles’ mother yelled once she surveyed the table to see everything was set. Miles and his siblings were used to how their mother liked the table set since they have been practicing for years. Miles always felt like he was fine dining with his mother as she always put out the silverware neatly and the plates and glasses were perfectly set in between.
