Miss Nail Techie | ✓

13 | My Name Is Lila

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I settled back on the couch. My eyes followed from the TV screen to my mother hobbling in the kitchen, I lean over to grab a hold of the remote. "Má, nhanh lên, [Mom, hurry up.]" I rushed, causing her to dance out of the kitchen with both her hands in the air.

"Tới liền, tới liền. [Coming, coming.]" She moves around the living room, settling down to a seat next to me. She hands me the item in her hands, which was a box of Pocky. It's been a while since I had it.

"Yay!" I take the box from her hands, ripped open the top as I dig my fingers in the strawberry-flavored snack. I take one stick, placing it between my teeth and taking a bite. My mother clears her throat, and as a biscuit stick stuck out between my lips. "Right." I mumble, finishing the piece before picking up the TV remote once more.

"Quay phim gì? [What movie are we watching?]" She asks, leaning over to take a piece of my Pocky from the box. I give her a playful glare, to which she ignores; her eyes glued to the screen.

"Phim ma. [A horror movie.]" I answer nonchalantly, having always supplying her the same answer. My mother doesn't enjoy many other genres; not romance, not comedy—and it's mainly because she never understood the language. But horror, and action, she gets. It's pictures. Motions. She can get the gist of it, or ask me what the hell is going on. I can't explain a sex scene to her.

"Coi thử có cá mập không. [Check if there's any shark movies.]" She declares, jabbing an elbow in my side. I roll my eyes, pulling up the channels before transitioning over to Netflix. I knew my mother enjoyed the showing of shark attacks than paranormal demons, but like the last time I checked, shark movies are pulled to a halt. We watched all of them.

Even the bad ones.

I shook my head, knowing the result to be the same as before. "Không có." I answer, as my mother pulled to a sight frown before nodding her head. She leans over to grab another Pocky from the box.

"Con chọn phim đi. [You pick the movie, then.]" My mother gestures to the tv and I nod, scrolling down to the classic horror movies and switching from the newly released and the cult favorites. I knew my mother likes modernised films—better quality—but sometimes she enjoys the old ones too.

Chucky, Scream, and Halloween.

"Học sao rồi? [How's school?]" My mother asks nonchalantly, causing me to chuckle. I picked a movie, pressing play before turning to her.

"Bình thường. [Normal.]" I said, reminiscing on last week. I wanted to tell her about my crush on Beckham but she wouldn't approve. Despite how my mother is, she doesn't believe in relationships with white people. In general, relationship is a no-no for her during high school. Relationship with a white guy—getting married with a white guy—is definite no. She doesn't believe American men is like Asians; she doesn't believe they hold the same belief in marriage versus Asians. They divorce too fast, they break up too early, and loses feeling for each other too quick. She doesn't like that.

"Con đang nghĩ gì vậy? [What are you thinking about?]" My mother asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn to her, her soft brown eyes laid on me and I frown.

"Không có gì, [Nothing.]" I decline, "chỉ... chỉ học thôi. [Just... just school.]"

"Con biết là người mẹ biết khi nào đứa con nó láo? [You do know that a mother knows when a child is lying, right?]" She announces softly, tucking her toes underneath her seat. Her eyes waiting on me, as I cracked underneath my mother stare and needed a reply for her.

My mind racked from the real reason I'm disconnected, and I decided to add on another lie. "Con đang nhớ Ba. [I miss dad.]" I explained, and that took my mother off-guard. We don't usually talk about my father—having always voided that conversation—but I knew it was something that would make her back off.

Despite using my father as an excuse—as poorly as it was executed—I did in fact miss him. Having brought him up brought a cold air into the environment and my mother's soft smile wiped from her face. She shifted back into her seat a bit more comfortable and adds. "Sao vậy? [Why?]"

"Con chị nhớ thôi. Đôi khi có ở nhà hồi còn chỗ trường, con chị nhớ bà thôi. [I just miss him. Sometimes, I'm at home or at school, I just miss him.]"

My mother doesn't reply and hooks an arm around my shoulders. I knew she didn't know how to respond to that, and instead, pulls me closer as I lean my head against her shoulder. "Thôi. Goi phim đi. [Let's just watch the movie.]" She said, comfortably pulling me closer as she gives me a peck on my forehead and we return back to the movie that has been playing a bit over fifteen minutes now.