"Yeah, baby." I pulled Sofia close to my side, uncaring about the show of affection I was putting on in front of my parents. She squeaked in protest, but I kept my arm wrapped around her. "Everything's all good."
Chapter 26
Sofia
"Thatwasanicesermon." I held my mom's arm as I helped her enter the house.
I kicked off my heels and immediately sighed in relief. I wasn't a frequent churchgoer, but when I did go, I was always itching to kick off my church shoes and remove the pins in my hair. Some things haven't changed since I was a kid.
Mom took off to her bedroom to change, taking off her church hat in the process. I walked through the short hallway to wait for her in the living room.
A sense of warmth and comfort filled me when I entered, like an old familiar blanket. I loved this room.
It contained so many happy memories.
My mom always kept it like a typical Samoan family room. The walls were decorated with photos of our family members, from our immediate back to great-grandparents.
There was also an embarrassingly large photo of myself with a riot of mass curls. I was wearing a big smile and missing two front teeth. Simon took great delight in that image, snapping a photo and cheekily making it his wallpaper.
I got him back, though. At dinner with his parents, I snapped a photo of him as a cherub-faced twelve-year-old in a Darth Vadar costume. I went one step further by posting it on Instagram with the caption:
Guess who?#babydarthvadar #hisnamestartswiths
Simon had fun punishing me for that.
I heard my mom come down the hall, so I moved to put the kettle on.
"Shall I order food?" After Sunday service, it was customary to have a big feast for lunch. After dad died, Ryan, Eden, and Barron used to come around for it. Now that everyone had their own lives, mom and I usually ordered in or cooked something small.
"Leai," my mom clucked. "Don't waste your money. I will warm up some chicken soup."
"Yum. I'll cut the bread."
"No, sit. Let me do it." I sighed but listened to her. There was no point in arguing anyway; mom wouldn't have it. She enjoyed taking care of people and coddling them. It was one of the reasons why she loved Simon. Even though I had housebroken him a little by teaching him how to do his laundry, he still loved being doted on by her. He was so spoiled.
I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs as I obediently waited to be served. I gave a small smile as I allowed my eyes to drift to the large painting hanging with pride in the front of the room.
After dad died, mom put a picture of him in his academic dress on the mantle. She lovingly decorated it with a lei, rosary beads, and a few candles.
When I became more proficient and confident in my art, I decided to paint a blown-up copy of the photo. It took me two months to perfect it. I wanted it to be as good, if not better, than the photo. When my mom uncovered the portrait, she burst into tears. Up it went, pride of place beside a picture of Jesus and Mother Mary.
I ran my eyes over my dad's handsome features and familiar crooked smile. I wondered if he would be proud of me. He always encouraged my art, a talent I picked up from him. He used to draw funny pictures for me in church when I was bored - something my mom always told us off for. He also decorated all my birthday cakes after mom baked them.
What would he have thought of Simon? Mom loved him, but women loved Simon in general.
Would dad see the same thing I did? A flawed man with a good heart? I'd like to think they'd get on like a house on fire. My dad was a generous soul. He forgave his parents and church for turning their backs on him and mom. He always preached forgiveness and second chances.
"Here, be careful; it's hot." My mom carefully placed a tray on my lap. The delicious aroma of her chicken noodle soup made my stomach grumble. She also generously buttered two slices of sourdough bread.
"Fa'afetai, Mom." I stirred the soup for a bit, allowing it to cool down before tearing off a piece of bread.
As we ate our soup, she caught me up on the latest family gossip before I updated her about work and the funny things my kids said and did in class. She always got a kick out of that.
After she cleaned up, I finally forced her to sit down and relax. I scooped up two bowls of Koko Alaisa that mom always seemed to have warming on the stove.
I observed my mom as we slurped the chocolatey rice pudding in silence. She looked tired and seemed distracted today, more so than usual. She had a troubled expression, and a few times, I caught her staring off at dad's picture in deep thought.
I put my spoon in the bowl and set it aside. "Mom. Are you okay?"
