Chapter Fourteen: Red flags

She placed the plate in front of me and I thanked her but a part of me still couldn't shake off the feeling that something had taken over my mother. I hadn't seen her hum like this since… since ever.

Unless…

"Mother," I said.

"Yes, honey." She answered calmly, turning to give me her full attention. She immediately stopped everything that she was doing on the first call. She didn't have a look of annoyance or irritation.

She genuinely looked at me with a look of puppy love.

First red flag.

"If I said I had to leave in three days, what would you say?" I tested.

Her brows furrowed as she thought about it for a second but then she gave me a full-blown smile again as if I had given her the best news of her life. If I had told her this before she would have said something like,

'You're shitting me right?'

But no, this is what this woman says,

"I would say that we would have to spend as much time as we could and tell you to make sure to come to see me again soon."

She continued to stare at me calmly as though her second name was patience with actual patience. She gave me a small sigh then went back to her task at hand and continued humming.

Second red flag

Someone broke my mom

"Mom," I called out again and without getting annoyed she looked at me the same as she had the first time. Unprovoked, unirritated, unbothered, in fact, she seemed genuinely happy.

"Yes, love." She answered.

"Can you please pass me the milk?" I requested, the milk was only across the table. I could easily bend, reach and grab it but no I sent her. any sane mother would say no or make a savage comment.

You know what she did.

She put her stuff down without an issue, grabbed the milk for me, and brought it to me. she then placed a kiss on my forehead, went back to her task, and continued her humming.

The devil truly exists.

Three red flags…

"Mom."

"Yes, honey." She responded, still unbothered or unphased.

"Who is he?" I asked, silence has walked into the group chat and he is a bad boy who loves the attention.

"Wh-at do you mean?" she stuttered, keeping her attention on her task.

Bingo.

"Okay spill mom, I want to know who he is and where he lives. What he does for a living and all the tea. Otherwise, I will find him myself, and trust me it won't be a pretty sight." I said as I took a bite of the muffin.

I nearly groaned in happiness at the taste, I hadn't tasted anything this good baked by her since I was ten. I should thank him after I figure out if he's a good guy…

"I don't know what you're talking about." She squeaked, then tensed.

I laughed, "You see, even your body figured out you did something wrong. You are a horrible liar. Just tell me who he is, otherwise, I'll do it myself." I said.

My mother and I had gone through this before, where she hides the person she's dating and it turns into trouble. This had happened twice and let's just say, that had damaged my interest in men.

So when she got into a relationship, I always made sure to investigate who they were and what they did. I needed to see if they were married or just man looking to have fun without attachments.

Sometimes they knew that the women wanted attachments, so they told them what they needed to hear so that they didn't have to be denied. Sometimes it led to messy incidents, especially ones that involved a woman who was extremely angry and hurt because her time was wasted.

Don't believe me?

Once, my mother dated a man called John. John was a dark-haired man, 5'9 and with a voice that seemed to draw every single mother in. He had the charm and persuasion of every bad character in a cartoon movie, that for some reason still seemed to work.

When I first met him, mom had invited me to join them for dinner at some expensive restaurant in town. He answered my questions with ease as if he was used to receiving them as if they were a hobby.

It annoyed me, I hate perfectionists, they unnerve me. They seem to have a response for anything and everything. He could read me like a book and then I realized that he was responding to my questions because he was a pro at them.

See, John was dating six other women, all in different parts of town, and John was married to a woman out of town. John had six kids, all with different mothers who all stayed in the same town.

I would've never found out if I hadn't been offered to continue dancing at San Diego. The town was literally a neighboring town, I remember I had stopped there to get fuel and the only thing I could hear across me was a man being shouted at by his wife.

When I turned to the side, I found John sitting in the driver's seat miserable while his wife, loudly complained about how unfair it was for him to work on their anniversary date. I recorded a video and sent it to my mom.

Let's just say I got called several times to bail my mother out of prison.

She was charged for breaking and entering. Damage. Weapon of destruction and attempted murder.

Why the judge gave her bail instead of jail time, is beyond me.