An Awkward Conversation

I hear dishes clattering in the kitchen. Mom's fixing breakfast.

“Can I help with anything?” A harmless question to break the ice and calm my nerves. Actually, I want to ask her something completely different.

I've been thinking nonstop about what last night's observation means for our family. “Do you still love Dad?” “Are you going to separate?” “Are you going to leave with this Dirk guy?” “Will this apartment remain our home?” And above all: “What will become of me?”

These are the existential questions I should be asking.

I can't bring myself to voice them. The possible answers are too terrible for me to bear.

She looks up and, surprisingly, blushes. Apparently, she was expecting something else from me. She opens her mouth but can't get a sound out. Is she embarrassed that I know she's sleeping with a man other than my father?

“Hey, Mom, you don't have to be ashamed of that,” I think, without being able to say it out loud. We live in the twenty-first century. No one is judged anymore for who and how they love. If you're happy with Dirk, I wish you all the best. Even if it would hurt me if it broke up our family, you and Dad will always be my parents.

I go to the fridge and take out butter and jam. Not because I have to, but to give my hands something to do. Mom sets the dishes and cups on the dining table. The coffee maker is bubbling.

The pause allows my brain to grasp another thought that has been occupying me since I got dressed and has also led me to my mother.

“Um, Mom...” I clear my throat. Why am I suddenly embarrassed to say what I want to know? It's perfectly normal to ask your mother for clean laundry. “Do you know where my underwear is? I can't find any in my closet.”

She drops a glass and it shatters on the floor.

“Oh, damn it!” She runs agitatedly to the broom closet. “Be careful not to step in it, there are splinters everywhere.”

Perplexed, I watch her as she concentrates on sweeping up the shards as if there were nothing more important in the world. I don't want to press her for an answer. On the other hand, I feel uncomfortable walking around without panties. With every step, my shorts rub against sensitive areas and remind me that I'm not wearing anything underneath.

With the full dustpan, Mom goes to the trash can and says as she walks past, without looking at me, “They were probably already worn out. Just buy new ones.”

I frown. She usually gets upset when I buy new things instead of wearing the old ones.

“Good idea, I'll come with you.”

We both jump when we hear the words behind us. Neither Mom nor I noticed Dirk approaching and apparently overhearing our conversation.

“That's not necessary. Sina can go shopping on her own.” Mom's voice is almost cracking.

Dirk waves her off.

“I'm happy to. No problem at all. Besides, I told her I owe her for letting me use her room. Maybe she'll find something fancy to wear.” He turns to me. “How 'bout it? You pick, I'll pay.”

“Deal.”

I grin at him and think, “You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Dirk. This is going to be an expensive shopping trip for you.”