It's FRIDAY! That means it's update day! Did I not mention that? Yes, updates will be on Friday, because I realize that sometimes I update like a lunatic, and it leaves no suspense for you guys. Not that you like cliff hangers. Mee hee hee…
I toss the keys onto the front table and stare at the perky little flowers in the vase. Mom must have been walking today. I quickly whirl my head around and look apprehensively into the apartment.
"Mom? I'm home," I call, a little worried. She can't have gotten that far...
"Hi, Gippy!" Mom yells from the other room. I breathe a sigh of relief, rubbing the back of my neck. Always happy to see me. I walk into the small living room and smile at her.
"Hi," I say, leaning down and kissing her forehead from her spot on the couch. She gives me a small smile and shifts her shoulders into a more comfortable position, then turns the TV off.
"How was your day, sweetie?" she asks when the buzz of electricity from the TV dies away. She pushes a fuzzy, pink knit blanket off of her legs. I just shrug. "Did Mr. Lohor not give you anything?" she asks with concern in her eyes.
"Uh, no… he wasn't there," I say, not really wanting to get into that. "Are you okay, do you need anything?" I ask. I look down at Mom's broken body as she lays the blanket over the top of the couch neatly. Her legs have been getting thinner and thinner lately, probably from not using them. I tear my face away from her legs and look into her eyes. It only lasted for half a second, but I'm sure she knew I was staring. I feel ashamed of myself and look away from her all together, staring out the window. We're lucky. We have an apartment with a window. Not that there's much to see outside. We can watch sand dunes change.
"No, I'm okay, thank you," she says with a smile. "I just need a little company! I've been all alone all day!" I know she's kidding, because when I try to stay home with her for the day, she tells me that I need to enjoy my summer vacation with my friends.
"I think I can manage that," I say. "What do you want for dinner?"
"Whatever's good for you," she says. I hate when she does that, because now, I'm afraid I'll choose something that she doesn't want. I walk over to the cabinet and open it. It's starting to get bare. I'm going to have to go down to the grocery store soon. Good thing Cid agreed to have some money still sent to us when Mom was taken out of work. If only Cid's girl knew… I mean, it's not like we could technically see eye-to-eye. But machina goes crazy all the time. Just… never thought it would happen to us.
"Well… we've got pasta in here," I say, taking out a box of linguine pasta and looking at the box. Whole grain. That's good, right? The doctor said she should eat healthy, since her weight was going to be receding. "I could make some tomato sauce with a little too much tomato, your faaaavorite." I grin as I say it. Mom loves her tomatoes. She could eat them with anything. She likes to pair it with even more tomatoes.
"But you like it with a little too much salt," she calls from the living room. I get a crooked smile on my face.
"How about I put in too many tomatoes, and too much salt," I say. I open the refrigerator and realize we only have enough tomatoes for 'just enough tomato'. Oh well. I'll just put in a little less salt then.
"Deal," she says. I nod and take out the tomatoes, olive oil, everything I need for tomato sauce. I've got it memorized by now. I fill the pot with water and start that up on the stove, hoping to possibly get everything ready at the same time. Even though it never happens. "You don't have to cook for me every night, Gippy," Mom says quietly. I start to cut up the tomatoes absentmindedly, even though that's probably a bad idea. She says this every day. And lately, it's been getting to me. It used to be easy to just brush it off and tell her I was fine with it, but today… I put the knife down and walk into the other room. Her blonde hair hangs around her, completely lifeless. I sit down at the bottom of the couch, where there's room. It's not a very big couch, but Mom's not very tall. Five foot two or three.
It's only been a few months like this. A few months ago, I would be lying here, staring at the TV, while Mom made me tomato sauce with too much salt. And one day, it was all reversed.
"Mom…" I say. She just tilts her head and waits for me to continue, with that normal good-natured half-smile on her face. "I don't mind one bit staying with you."
"But you've got your friends," she says. I hang my head down, and get ready to try to explain to her one more time that she's more important to me than my friends. "Gippy, I was a teenager once too, believe me." I look up at her. "I know you want to… hang out with the guys, and get a girlfriend." I just smile shyly at her. "And when you get a girlfriend, I don't even have to meet her right away! We'll wait until I get better," she says. When she gets better. When she gets better. I chew the inside of my cheek and get up from the couch.
"I better go make sure nothing burns," I say. I start to heat up the skillet for the tomato sauce, pressing my palms against the edges of the counter to hold myself up.
"So, Gippy, do you like anyone?" I laugh loud enough for her to hear.
"Not in particular," I answer, starting to cut up the tomatoes again.
"Yes, every girl on this island isn't good enough for my boy," she says proudly. Mom… I lick some tomato juice off my thumb and keep cutting, not replying to her.
"Everything's ready," I say. I walk over to her with my arms out.
"Oh, wait, wait, wait!" she yelps, holding her arms out at me. I put them up by my head in surrender. "Look, I can get there myself!" She pushes herself to the edge of the couch slowly and reaches for her walker. I push it towards her a bit. She gets a flicker of annoyance on her face, but immediately turns it into a smile. I feel a dark, painful feeling in my chest right away. She wants to do things on her own. I know that. But I've grown so accustomed to helping her out, especially after that month…
She grips the handles of the walker and pushes her weight on it, standing up shakily. It slides out a bit, and I immediately grab onto it until she gets up. She doesn't say anything. But she looks up at me with a triumphant smile. I give her a wide smile back, then hold my arm out towards the table, set up for the both of us. I had set the vase of pink flowers in the middle of the table for a homey effect, but put my plate on the side adjacent to hers so we could still talk to each other. I bowed to her, and she laughed quietly and started to walk step by step to the table. She was about halfway there when she stopped and let out a breath that she had probably been holding since she had started walking. She was panting, and she laughed… in self-pity.
"Oh, all that walking this afternoon," she said. I frowned. So she had been walking. "Those flowers you put there," she said, pointing to the vase with a shaky finger. "I put those over there," she pointed to the front table, where the keys to the house were sitting, lonely. "They used to be in my room."
"Yeah?" I ask.
"Mm hm," she says, nodding. "It was looking dull by the front door. But… I guess I wore myself out," she finishes.
"That's okay," I say. I duck down and lift her up carefully, carrying her easily over to the table.
"How embarrassing… my son has to carry me to dinner."
"I don't mind," I answer. I set her down in her chair and sit down myself. I wait until she starts eating to start on mine.
"You didn't put enough salt in it," she stated. I shrug.
"I was more in the mood for tomato-y sauce tonight," I say, eating a huge mouthful of pasta. She laughs as the sauce drips down my face.
There's a knock at the door. Mom and I turn our heads from Spira's Funniest Videos.
"I'll get it," I say, hopping up from the couch. I take bouncy steps across the apartment. I open up the door and feel my heart jump-start when I see Cid standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets. Cid's an open book. Something's wrong. And he's not even trying to hide it.
"Hello, sir," I say, opening the door up wider. He just nods in greeting.
"Hi, Cid!" Mom calls when she sees who it is.
"Hi, Nazu," Cid says, holding his hand up in a wave. "Gippal," he says, all seriousness. I look at him. "Could I have a word with y' out here for a moment?" I nod slowly, looking over my shoulder at Mom. "I only need 'im for a few minutes, Nazu," Cid assures her. She smiles. I go out into the hall, quietly closing the door with a click. "Gippal… I know these have been a hard few months for y'…" Cid starts off. I stare at the floor and nod a bit, trying to avoid eye-contact. "And I just wan' to tell y'again how sorry I am."
"Thanks," I say quietly. Cut to the chase. Cid clears his throat loudly.
"Anyway, I… I have to tell y' somethin'," he starts. I look up at him, waiting. "Y' know how your mom's old company is still payin' her, on disability leave." I nod. A blessing from… whoever's up there. "Well… they can't keep doin' that forever. They need that money. And… well, you know." Yeah. I know the details. I think I know what's coming, but… I want to hope for just a few more seconds. "All I'm sayin' is that once you turn eighteen… you've got to get a job. The company told me today that once you're eighteen, they ain't payin' her no more."
I feel… Ugh, what do I say? I feel… anger. A storm. I can feel it making my joints creak. How could they just say something like that? My heart is pounding in rhythm with my head. So many things to say… to ask… After all her years of working for them, they just tell her that they can't waste money on her. When it was their machina that…
"So… you're saying I'm going to have to get a job right out of high school? I can't go to college?" I ask. It really is a shame. I could've gone for machina. Research, and things like that. Make my own someday. Now, when I get that excavation trip, it's not even going to count for anything.
"I'm sorry, son. I only wish there was more that I could do for y'," Cid says. Yeah, right. He practically owns the business. He can do anything for us. He could send us on a getaway to Besaid Island, or Kilika. Not that we'd be very welcome, seeing as we stick out like sore thumbs as 'enemies of society'. "Truth is, the economy is really goin' down lately, and they can't spare the money if they don't have her workin'."
"It's okay… I know how it is," I say. Cid shuffles his feet uncomfortably. He never was one for words, really. I wonder sometimes how he managed to organize all the Al Bhed and stick them on this island like a cattle herder.
"The world's forced y' to grow up so fast…" he says quietly. I look at him and shrug, trying to make it seem like this news has not affected my plans at all.
"I had to eventually. Might as well be for my mom's sake," I say. He claps me on the shoulder.
"Spoken like a true man," he says. I just stare at him. Usually I would be ecstatic for someone to say something like that to me. But… now was not one of those times. "Now, when y' turn eighteen, and y' need some help findin' that job, don't hesitate to ask me for help. I'm sure I can set somethin' up for y', somethin' good for the both of y'," Cid says. I relax a little. Cid probably can't do anything about the company dropping my mom's payroll in two years. I'm surprised they even agreed to the next two years. Especially after they found out… Besides, the economy is going down. "Anyway, I'm goin' to let y' get back to your mom," he says. I nod and slowly turn back to my door, opening it. "Oh, and, Gippal," Cid says.
"Yeah?" I ask, turning back to him.
"Good luck on that… that, uh, whatever thing it is you were nominated for," Cid says, waving his hand in the air as he tries to remember the name of the program. Honestly, the name is so long, no one remembers what it's actually called. They just know what it's for. I manage to smile in the bleakness of the moment.
"Thanks," I say. I go back into the apartment, and mom's sitting peacefully on the couch. I sit down next to her again.
"What did Cid want?" she asks. I pinch my mouth up, trying to decide what to say.
"He just wanted to congratulate me on being nominated," I say after what felt like ages, but what was really only one or two seconds.
"Oh, that was nice of him," she says.
"Yeah," I answer. We both turn back to the TV in silence. She has a right to know. It's her job. She's the one who will be dependant on me. She's the one who will be stuck here the rest of her life.
But I can't tell her. Not right now.