C3 Chapter Three

Later at noon, I'm alone in the house, so I picked a book which I borrowed from the school library, The Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer, and read it on the couch.

A few moments later, when I'm at the part where Bella and Edward are making love, I heard someone knocking on the door. I stood up to check who it was. When I opened the door, I saw Clark standing right in front of me.

"Hey, sir Clark. What are you doing here?" I asked, trying my best not to sound weird.

"Is your mom inside?" he replied, looking behind me.

"I don't think so. She's at work today. Do you need anything from her?" I asked.

"Nothing," he replied, though his voice says the opposite. "I, um, can I have some water? I'm really thirsty and it's so hot outside."

"Yeah, sure. Come in." I let him inside the house. It's not that I don't trust him, but this time feels different. I don't know why. Perhaps because I'm alone with someone I admire a lot? Someone who I wish to be my boyfriend but is impossible due to the fact that he's for my mother?

"You can have a seat. I'll be back in a jiffy." I went into the kitchen, leaving Clark in the living room. I took a glass of water and went back. I'm surprised when I found him sitting on the couch half-naked. He looks so damn hot—hotter than the current weather.

"Here's your water, sir." I handed him the glass.

I did my best to prevent my hand from shaking. I don't know why I feel so nervous, but this man in front of me is super hot and I can't get my eyes off him. I'm spellbound. I wonder if I'm just daydreaming or fantasizing again, probably from reading and watching too many romance novels and movies. I accidentally spilled the water on him.

"God! I'm really sorry," I apologized immediately.

"No, it's okay. Did I make you feel uncomfortable?" he asked, taking the glass of water from my hand. He accidentally touched my hand and we looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Time seems to slow down between us. "I, uh, the weather's so hot today, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so hot," I muttered, watching as he drank the water. I admired the way his Adam's apple bobbed.

I swallowed hard. My face turned red in embarrassment. I don't know what I was thinking. Clark is kind, and he and Mom are getting married soon, so I shouldn't think of him as more than a soon-to-be stepfather.

Clark stood up and put the empty glass on the table. "I know you're interested in me, Marty," he whispered behind my back.

"H—huh? Wh—what are you talking about?" I stuttered.

"Stop playing dumb, Marty. I can see it with the way you look at me. I don't really mind if you have a crush on me, or fantasize about us. I just want to be clear with you, I and your mom are getting married soon, and you'll be my stepdaughter," he said.

"Uh, yeah," I said. I can feel him breathing heavily behind me. My heart is pounding in my chest as I knew he's an inch away from me. I don't know what he's trying to say. Did he want me to just fuck with my feelings?

Clark sat down on the couch. He picked his shirt and used it to wipe his wet, hairy chest and abdomen. He's leaning on the back of the couch, looking at me flirtatiously. Just what the fuck is he doing? Is he seducing me?

"Come here, baby," he whispered.

Slowly, I stepped toward him as if I'm not in my own mind. I extended my hand and was about to touch him, but I stopped when I heard someone knocking on the door, as if I had awakened from my fantasies. It must be Mom. I left Clark, opened the door, and saw Mom.

"Hey, guys, what are you doing?" Mom asked.

"Oh, hey, Charlotte." Clark stood up. He's still half-naked. He helped Mom with her bag. "I came to see you but you weren't around, and the weather's so hot today."

"It really is," Mom agreed. "The climate is changing rapidly. By the way, have you two eaten already?"

"Nope," Clark and I said the same thing.

"Shall we go out or eat here?" Mom asked.

Clark's phone suddenly rang. He pulled it out from the pocket of his jeans and answered the call. "I'm sorry, guys, but I have to go now. Something happened to my mother," he said.

"Is she alright?" Mom asked, worried.

"She fell down the stairs. I'm really sorry, I have to go now." He kissed Mom on the cheek and grabbed his wet shirt from the couch before rushing out.

Mom looked at me and asked, "Want some omelette?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," I replied. "I'll help."

I helped Mom cook for lunch. I broke the eggs and stirred them in a bowl. I sliced the eggplants and coated them with the eggs. I added some salt. My tears came out from my eyes as I cut the onions on the chopping board using a sharp knife.

"You okay?" Mom asked while cleaning the pan. "You're sensitive to onions. Let me do that."

I let Mom do the chopping. I cleaned the pan and put it on the stove. I took a bottle of vegetable oil and poured some on the pan. My mind wandered to what happened a while ago while doing it, and I poured too much oil.

"You okay, dear?" Mom asked. "You seem oblivious. Did something happen?"

"I... I'm sorry, Mom," I apologized, realizing what I've done. "I just remembered something."

"Here." Mom handed me a glass. "Pour some of the oil here. We can still use it."

I poured some of the oil from the pan into the glass. Mom poured the minced garlic and onions into the pan and waited for them to turn brown. Then she added the sliced eggplants coated with eggs.

It feels good cooking with my mom. I wish I could spend some time like this with Dad too. I really miss him. He was a really cool man—a cop. He died from a shootout during a bank robbery. Sometimes I wonder why the kindest and nicest people are usually the ones who die soon.

"Mom, can I ask you something?" I asked.

"What is it, sweetie?" Mom replied, turning the eggplant using a big wooden spoon.

"Do you miss Dad?" I asked.

"I do. I miss him a lot. But sometimes we have to let things go and move on. We're not supposed to live in the past. My mother used to tell me that life is like a book—we won't know what's waiting for us if we don't have the courage to turn the page," Mom said.

"Is sir Clark part of your next chapter?" I asked.

"Maybe yes, maybe no. We don't really know what's going to happen next. Life is like a box of chocolates—it's full of surprises, but that's what makes it wonderful," Mom replied. "Oh, the omelette's done. Pass me the plate."

I took the plate and passed it to Mom. She turned off the stove, took the omelette from the pan, put it on the plate, and brought it to the table. I got another big plate, scooped rice from the cooker, and laid it on the table.

We had lunch together. After lunch, Mom offered to drive me to school. Sometimes life feels boring—it's not always a box of chocolates, especially when there's nothing new to do. It feels like a series of monotonous days and nights.