“And what is that ‘bringing snacks for us’ means?” The voice almost makes me jump in fright but I try to ease my heart that it is only Mom standing by the kitchen doorway with her arms cross across her chest and a smile on her face. Her hair is a complete ringlet of copper tied in its usual messy bun, and her silvery eyes look at me expectantly behind glasses that sit near to dropping by the bridge of her nose. She walks next to me and waves in front of the camera to see Airin, greeting, “What’s that I’ve heard about, Airin?”
I almost laugh when I could actually swear that Airin blush in complete embarrassment. To hide my amusement, I lean my lips by my mother’s cheek, murmuring close to her ear, “You almost kill me with a heart attack, Mom.”
“Tá brón orm, mo leanbh,” she replies, giving me a quick kiss on my cheek as well.
I giggle. “Leithscéal glactha.”
Mom then turns to look at Airin again as I turn away and start placing the steak and sauce in one platter, placing steamed vegetables as well by its side. She asks her again, “So, Airin, what is that I’ve heard about?”
“Well, auntie, I am asking Ada for a Star Wars movie marathon,” admits Airin, almost stammering.
Mom turns to me and the two of share a look that is completely questioning. I and Mom clearly love Star Wars, while Dad is a fan of Star Trek. Dad always says that he has no supporter, becoming emotional about that, which I and Mom just laugh about every single time he does. That’s why, Mom knows as well that Star Wars is completely not Airin’s type.
“Before one watch it, he must know the sign of Star Wars.”
I so love my mother. There’s really no sign when it comes to Star Wars; it is Star Trek that has a hand sign. For Mom, before one watches Star Wars, he must understand first the difference it has with Star Trek. She considers and values Star Wars so much to an absolute freaky way.
I peek an eye at the monitor to see Airin completely in the edge of giving up. And all of a sudden, she does the Spock sign of Star Trek. And I cover my mouth to contain my laughter.
Mom instantly laughs and says, “I love you, Airin. You have my approval to sleepover tomorrow and have a movie marathon of Star Wars.” She then moves away from the chair and heads to the fridge to fetch herself some water.
I move in front of my laptop again and tell Airin, “Hey! Star Wars don’t have a sign; just flashy laser swords called as lightsabers. That hand signal’s for Star Trek, Airin. I’ll call you later.”
Before she could say another word, I end the call and put my laptop in a sleep mode, just right in time for Mom to help me out in preparing the dinner table. I ask her few seconds later, “How long have you been standing by the doorframe, Mom?”
“Oh, just enough for you to violate one of the house rules.”
“Go hifre—”
She instantly draws a finger right in front of my face, stopping me. “Curses are not expressions. Remember that, Ada. I don’t like you swearing, especially when you are at home.”
I smile. “Yeah. I know, Mom.” I sigh. “Probably you’ve already heard as well that Airin’s interest for Star Wars roots with the fact that news spread so quickly that Brión Siadhail was casted for a role in the upcoming franchise.”
“Had Sam talked about it already with you?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, lowering my eyes as I arrange the utensils down. “He told me that you were the one that told him where I am.”
“Yes. I realized that he needs a friend to talk to. I can sense that he was clearly in the middle of complete dilemma. Does something happen to him? Except for the fact that he got casted to the franchise he so wished? What got him to be like that?”
I bite my lower lip, clearly in the midst of asking myself if I shall tell her the truth or what. That time last week, I and Dad agreed that we’ll not tell Mom that Sam went here completely in such a state since Dad came home early that time and he saw Sam sleeping on the couch with his head on my lap. Dad and Mom understand how close I and Sam are that we are almost like siblings, so they never thought of anything malicious going on between us, or even asked us if we are dating; though they are pursuing that we are perfect once seen together, with Airin supporting them with that as well. I finally decide that I won’t.
Instead, I tell her, “Well, you know General Beltrami. He won’t simply allow Sam to enter the Hollywood industry.”
“Oh, that,” she muses. “Darien seems to be so uptight with it.”
It seems strange hearing the General of the Irish Air Force and Baron Beltrami, or Sam’s father, being called by his first name. How natural it is to see him then as a person instead of being address by his title.
“I understand that even if he is a baron, one of the lowest eloquent part of British nobility, there are limitations and barriers. I am actually surprised that he allowed Sam to enter the industry even though it might cause a stir in the upper aristocracy, resulting for Sam to have a false name and hide all things about his identity, and keep on holding onto that secrecy. If Sam enters Hollywood, accepting the Star Wars’ proposal, which will completely put an edge. But it will be a complete waste if he won’t take it. After all, Sam is one great actor of today’s generation.”
“You’re right, Mom,” I agree softly with a small smile. “Sam is a great actor. The only problem is that he chose a life that is completely not applicable for someone bind with the rules of aristocracy. The nobility is not all about loyalty, it’s also about appearance.”
She smiles at me as she reaches across the table to tousle my hair, lucky her that Airin is the one that busies herself on braiding a portion of hair while letting the rest down in its usual waves. “Believe me, even Lauren’s greatness in acting and modeling was tarnished by the strict rules of court etiquettes. It will be a waste as well for you.”
“What?”
“You and Sam are dating, right? You know that if ever you tell us that you two wanted to marry already, we won’t even object it. Me and your Dad, and Sam’s parents as well. Though there’s surely going to be a very strict preposition with his father being the complete traditionalist.”
“Mom!”
She giggles, “Of course, I’m just kidding. But it’s not that I am matching you two, but I could somehow predict that you’ll end up together.”
“Mom, Sam is my best and childhood friend.”
“Sweetheart, darling. Sweetheart, not simply friends,” she corrects. Well, there’s my mother playing Cupid’s love-matching.
“Mom…” I roll my eyes at her with an exasperate sigh.
She chuckles, but suddenly interrupted when her phone rings. She fetches her phone from her artist pants’ pocket and answer it right away with barely batting an eye at the screen to see the caller. She greets right away, “Dia dhuit.” Her smile returns, almost blushing at this point that completely gives away the fact that it is Dad at the other end of the line.
I continue on setting the table onward, moving from the kitchen to the dining, from a cupboard or the fridge to the table, that I only catch a snippet of Mom’s replies to Dad. But adjoining them all together is a clear implication that he’ll be home late again. That had been common for a double degree doctor, but for my whole life, he hadn’t been at all this busy. It’s almost a week already since he’d been coming home almost two or three hours late than the usual.
“Of course, my dear. I’ll ensure that you’ll got your portion of Ada’s cooking as usual. But don’t be so late, okay? Yeah, yeah. Gráim thú,” Mom says before she ends the call and I finally take my usual seat on the head table’s left corner.
Dad always sit at the head table, and Mom sits across from me. It had always been the three of us so in times that either Dad or Mom is away because of their works, it always feel so incomplete. It is not an unusual occurrence, but I don’t know why it feels so different for today.
“So… again?” I inquire my mother even if I already know the end of the discussion.
Her smile turns softly and a little bit longing. I know how my parents love each other so much, but I always think that my mother loves my father way much more. I guess, in love, there’s always one who loves much greater than the other could give. She then remarks, “You better understand his work, Ada. If you love someone, you must love them fully. Until the very end of their limitations.”
For some reasons, I wonder if Mom could clearly read my mind. Because the only reason I can think of is that she can read what’s going on inside my head; that if she purges on much deeper, she’ll realize how many questions litter my brain, and a deep worry not only for Dad, but for Sam as well with currently what’s going on.
“Let’s eat,” Mom tells me with that smile that I could clearly understand to be not completely genuine.
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