Before I get to the kitchen, I hear whimpers and words muffled by tears. It’s my mother’s voice. I lighten my step in hopes of seeming invisible, take two more steps until I’m at the wall separating the living room from the kitchen so I can hear more clearly my mother’s words. I peek through the door and see that she’s standing with my older brother and our cousin. I try to move in closer but instead I accidentally hit my knee on the coffee table that rests against the wall. Who puts a coffee table there anyway? I go inside the kitchen, pretending I had just gotten downstairs and had no idea what was going on, which I guess had a great amount of truth to it.
“Honey, I didn’t realize you’d be getting up before tomorrow morning. Do you need anything?”
My mother asks, turning around towards the oven, clearly trying to conceal her tears from me. My brother pretends to be helping her and my cousin stands there awkwardly.