A storm of pots and pans crashed around me.
“Shoot Bobbi, be careful what you-er doin’ .” I slowly brought down my arms once I was convinced that nothing else was about to rain out of the cupboard. “By the way,” Mother continued, “your father is going to be over tonight.”
I plucked the can opener out of the sink and fastened it on a can of cranberry sauce before I replied, “Which one?” In my eyes they were both runaways; the only difference being how recent.
“And what does he want?” I creaked through gritted teeth as I forced the opener around.
“I would hope to apologize. It seems most like him to do so.” Months later and she still fancied him, I rolled my eyes.
“I thought it was pretty clear that it wasn’t my fault. Sorry mother, but if it were you who were knocked up I could somewhat see it… commitment problems.” I left the can half open as I pulled up my shirt and turned to my mother. “It’s even started to show. It’s not like I have the choice to run away from what happened.”