'Mama, are you a workaholic?'

It was night-time and that was signalled by the owls hooting nearby and frogs croaking in our drain. I can't stand them with their little slimy legs and large eyes. I walked around my room in circles. It's a way I understand or at least understand anything that's going on in life.

I think I was a bit absurd for asking Mama this question. I knew she wasn't, I just wanted that confirmed.

'Brooke, what makes you-.... What exactly do you mean...oh Jésus' Mama responds ending with a laugh knowing me and my usual antics.

'You first think I'm a raging alcoholic and now a workaholic? What's next drug addict?'

I smirk. ' Je sais (I know) being a doctor means that a regular sleep schedule becomes non-existent. I still want you around though'

Silence ensures and I knew she wanted to relax with me as much as I wanted to relax with her. I barely see Mama at any time, once in a blue moon? That feels like an exaggeration.

'Brooke, are you going to continue to sit in silence?' Mama asks me in French, a tone that sounded playful.

I panic, am embarrassed and say the first thing on my mind. 'I was thinking of Father.'

Excellent work Brooke. Change the playful conversation to a serious one, ruining the mood.

'What about Father.' She asks me, half French, half English. Her voice changed to a mix of sadness and seriousness.

'Where is he exactly?'

'Well, you and I know about your father's arrogance. He hasn't shared anything with me and last I checked you either.' Mama sighs afterwards.

'Well, when you ever get in contact with him, Mama, let me know. I have so much to show him.'

Years of working in the culinary club are all to get that title and show Father my potential to become a head chef of a real restaurant. He'll be so proud and would come back to live with me and Mama.

That's what he would do...right?

But then again, I don't even have the position, so why would he come back? Plus, I have his number right in my possession but I'm too much of a coward to confront him.

'Well, if you think a head chef title is all you need for your father's approval that's not true. Both he and I know that you are the most capable woman for anything.'

'Thanks, Mama.'

I think back to my childhood back when Father was around, and we regularly went camping and out to places. Father is more on the extroverted side with everything which explains the abundance amount of vacations we took overseas. He would teach me everything from cooking techniques to running a marathon to setting up a tent.

'Mama, thanks for talking with me today. Je taime.' (I love you)

'Je taime, sweetie.'

The phone line cuts off and I end the call before lying-in bed.

'Why does Father have to be so stubborn?' I ask myself.

Maybe one day that stubbornness will die down and bring him back home. Till then, I'm forced to deal with possibly divorced parents.

I force myself out of bed looking at my bags set on the side for the camping trip. One of them was a duffel bag that Father gave me for my 12th birthday. A small but quite useful bag. Well, may as well start packing...