Paradox of Being - Sukani's Return

She let out a nervous laugh, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the edges, and absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair again.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was one of those little habits of hers that I noticed more and more.

"Why do you always do this?" I asked, still smiling.

She looked at me, confused. "Do what?"

"This," I said, mimicking her movement, running my fingers dramatically through my hair and closing my eyes like I was in a cheesy movie.

She burst into laughter, her cheeks turning pink. "Well, I don’t know. I guess I’ve always been like that."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me. "Well, it makes you look a hundred million times more beautiful."

At that, she seemed to go quiet, shifting a little as she sat back in her chair, her eyes dropping to her plate.

I wondered for a moment if I’d said too much, but there was a soft smile tugging at her lips, and I knew she wasn’t upset.The rest of the day went by in a blur. School ended quickly, and before I knew it, I was back home, my backpack slung on the floor, my shoes kicked off by the door.

I wanted to pin down everything that had happened—every little detail of the day. I felt like I needed to capture it all before the memories faded.

But when I stepped into the kitchen and saw Mom there, I ended up getting caught in a conversation with her.

By the time I was done helping her clean up and get dinner ready, I was too exhausted to write.

"Wake up!" my mom yelled from the doorway, her voice cutting through my sleep like a knife.

I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my tired eyes.

"Talk about waking up late," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.

I yawned again, blinking groggily.

"Remind me why you like sleeping in your underwear again?" she asked, eyeing my bare chest with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

I glanced down at myself, barely managing to suppress another yawn. "Mom, we've talked about this. I came out of you. There's nothing on me you haven’t seen before," I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

My mom shook her head, clearly unimpressed.

"I could sleep naked if I wanted to. This is my room," I added, hoping to win this argument.

"Chester," she began, her tone signaling that the conversation was about to shift, "Aunt Marlo’s coming over."

"No!" I exclaimed, punching my pillow in frustration.

"And she's gonna need you to babysit," my mom continued, unfazed by my dramatic reaction.

I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. "Mom, really? You guys just don’t care about me," I muttered, my thoughts drifting to Aunt Marlo.

"Come on, Chester. She's your aunt, and it’s just for a day," my mom said, trying to soothe me.

"Mom, Mom, Momo and Jojo are literally the worst things that ever happened to the human race," I protested, my voice rising. My mom’s eyes widened in shock. "Chester!"

"Momo sleeps on my balls. Jojo steals from restaurants. They have no regard for privacy," I yelled, feeling my frustration boil over.

Mom folded her arms across her chest, looking stern. "Well, maybe we’ll talk about the first one, but please, Chester, it’s just for a day. Marlo has something very important to take care of."

I blew out a frustrated breath, feeling like I was losing this battle. "Fine," I finally conceded.

"Thanks, baby," my mom said, leaning in to kiss my forehead. "Now, freshen up and come have breakfast. Your dad and I are going out."

I raised an eyebrow. "Where to?"

"Somewhere," she replied with a smile that was a bit too bright. Her eyebrows narrowed as if she was trying to remember something.

That’s when it hit me. It was my parents' anniversary. "Oh my God, how could I forget?" I blurted out. "Mom, happy anniversary. I’m so sorry."

She smiled warmly. "Thanks, honey. Now go get ready."

I was holding my Chronicle, scribbling down random thoughts as I shoveled cereal into my mouth. Just then, Kimberly’s name flashed across my screen, and I paused mid-chew.

It wasn’t like her to call me this early on a Saturday morning. Something felt off. I quickly swallowed and picked up the call.

“Hey, Chester,” she said. Her voice was distant, almost hollow, like something was weighing her down.

My stomach twisted. I could tell something was wrong.

"Hi, what's up?" I replied, trying to sound casual but already feeling my heartbeat pick up.

"Can I see you real quick?" she asked abruptly, the urgency in her voice catching me off guard.

My mind raced. Was she outside my house? Why did she want to see me so suddenly? What on earth was going on?Before I could respond, I felt my dad’s eyes on me.

“No phones at the table,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow.

I shot him a pleading look and mouthed, one second.

"I really need to talk to you about something important," Kimberly continued, her voice almost cracking.

I hesitated, glancing at my dad. "I don’t know, Kimberly… like, right now?"

"Yes, right now," she said, her tone a mix of urgency and vulnerability. But then, almost as quickly, she added, "But it's okay if you can’t make it."

"No, no, it's fine. I can make it," I said, feeling a strange pull to be there for her. "Where are you?"

"There's this coffee shop near my house. Mikey’s? We could meet there."

"Okay," I said, pushing my half-finished bowl aside. "I’ll be there in thirty."

As I hung up, my dad was still staring at me, looking both confused and slightly amused. I could feel his gaze burn into me as I hurriedly finished my cereal. I couldn’t ignore him anymore.

“What was that?” he asked, still giving me that stern-but-soft dad look.

“What is going on with you?”

I sighed and quickly blurted out, “It’s Kimberly, Dad. You know, the really pretty girl in my class? The one I’ve been talking about? Well, she needs to see me, like, now. It’s important.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept watching me. I braced myself for the inevitable lecture about running off or being too young to deal with this stuff. I rushed on,

“Look, I know I’m too young to—”

“Be careful,” he said gently, cutting me off.

I froze, my spoon hovering over the bowl. “What?” I stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Be careful, Chester,” he repeated, this time with a soft smile.

My jaw dropped. Where was the usual parental freak-out? The interrogation? But instead, he just seemed so… chill. Too chill, honestly.

“So… it’s okay?” I asked, still waiting for the outburst that never came.

“Yes, be careful,” he repeated. “And don’t be late.”

I blinked at him, speechless.