Open My Eyes

Fourteen: Home

"Keep the news a SECRET!!!"

          I stared at the orange sticky note on the counter with a quirked brow. I had a few questions strolling through my mind, the first the most obvious: What news? And why was it a secret? If Mom wanted to keep this secret, why did she write it on something so conspicuous and put it on the kitchen counter? Did she want me to find it on purpose?

          Shaking my head, I hung my purse off the back of a chair and ripped the sticky note from the counter. I entered the back room in search of my mom. I held the orange square up and put a hand on my hip.

          She turned off the saw and stared at the note for a while. When she looked at my face, she noticed the demanding questions in my eyes and sighed. She removed her gloves and goggles, and faced me directly, bracing herself.

          "What is this?" I commanded, tossing the sticky note onto the table beside her.

          She realized my tone was more curious than angry, so she released a breath of relief. She answered, "A secret."

          "Mom!" I groaned. "That's not fair. What news?"

          "If it's a secret, I can't very well tell you, now can I?" she pointed out cheekily, her attention on her latest sculpture, which was not the metal swan but rather a hot air balloon made out of copper wires.

          My eyes narrowed. Crossing my arms in silent challenge, I retorted, "If you don't tell me, I'm gonna blow it completely out of proportion. I may have some very unsettling thoughts."

          She waved my comment away dismissively. "It's good news."

          I leaned towards her, putting my hands on the table. Wiggling my eyebrows, I inquired suggestively, "What's his name?"

          She gave a barking laugh, like it was totally ridiculous to think she had a date. With a shake of her head, she told me firmly, but as gently as a mother could, "Angie, no matter how much you plead and pester and guess, I'm not saying a word. A secret is a secret, after all."

          "A secret you're keeping from your daughter," I muttered, pouting. Mom sent me a glare. I continued my interrogation. "Why did you put it in such an obvious place, then, if you didn't want me to see it?"

          Mom was already twisting wires on her sculpture, her attention now divided. Maybe with the distraction, I could get more information out of her. She replied, "Because I happened to be in the kitchen when I received the news. I took the sticky notes from the drawer, wrote myself a reminder, and stuck it on the counter."

          Hoping to pry more clues from her, I queried, "And were you on the phone when you received the news?"

          She set down the pliers and sent me a look. She replied vaguely, "It could've been a phone call, an email, or a letter." She returned to the wire in her hand. "Now, I'm not going to waste my time and I'm going to work on my art. You can go right ahead in your pointless interrogation, but you'll get nothing from me." 

          I glared at her, but I knew it was hopeless. This must have been some pretty serious news to keep even Mom's mouth shut, which meant it was also important. What could it possibly be?

          "I suggest," Mom began, breaking my thoughts, "you find something to distract yourself from this mystery before you drive yourself mad."

          I gave her another irritated look. "I wouldn't go insane if someone told me this little secret." I stuck my tongue out at her (which caused her to chuckle and roll her eyes at me) and stomped out of the room.