Queen of the track

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Chapter 10.

Gray

Since my mom's car is parked on the driveway when I get home, I pull my car up against the curb next to it instead of blocking her in, just in case she gets called in for an emergency surgery. It's rare, but it has happened.

The front lawn looks like it's seen better days, clearly the previous owner didn't bother to maintain it. I take a mental note of it, knowing it'll make my mom happy if she sees me trying to make our new life here a little nicer.

The screen door creaks when it opens, so I take a mental note of that as well. Honestly, this entire place could do with a touch-up.

The first thing that hits me when I walk inside—and I mean literally hits me—is a piece of pasta, staining my white t-shirt, then falling to the floor.

"Jesus ma," I say to her, startled, "easy with that thing."

"Oh, God!" Her eyes grow wide as she looks at my stained shirt and the food on the floor. "Sorry, hon."

The second thing that hits me—figuratively this time—is that my mom is cooking. Her version of dinner is usually either take-out or microwavable, so the sight before me is rare and very unnerving.

I try not to frown too much at the suspicious smell floating around the room. "What's going on?"

"I'm making dinner," she says to me, stirring something in a pot.

"I can see that." I step closer and peer over her shoulder, grimacing at the sight. "What's the occasion?"

"I've been working a lot of night-shifts lately," she shrugs then smiles at me. "But I've got the night off, so I thought it'd be nice."

I internally kick myself for being a dick, knowing how hard she works and how many shifts she piles on so that we don't drown in bills. Not to mention the impact I know this move has had on her.

She got pregnant me when she was seventeen, but luckily her mom was supportive and helped to look after me whilst mom finished school and trained to be a surgical nurse. She's always told me how lucky she was, having a mother who respected her decisions and helped her to keep her life on track. It's why I think she's got such high hopes for our move here to Mountview, she wants me to forget about my past and focus on my future.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, I give her a small smile. "Thanks, mom. It smells ... great."

She then sighs and lets the ladle hit the side of the pot, "no, it doesn't. It smells like shit."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise and laugh, nodding at her. "Yeah, actually it does. What is it?"

"Carbonara."

I wince, "I'm pretty sure carbonara is not supposed to look like that, never mind the smell."

My grandma passed away when I was eleven and her cooking skills skipped a generation with my mom.

She places her hands on her waist defeatedly and turns to me, "pizza?"

"Pizza." I smile.

"Go change your shirt, I'll look up the nearest delivery place."

I nod then walk down the hall to my bedroom, leaving mom to open all of the windows and light some scented candles to get rid of the abominable smell she created.

Our apartment in Boston was a lot more cramped and had a lot less windows than this one-storey house, so this place is definitely a step up from there, despite the creaky screen door and overgrown lawn.