I lean my head back onto the sofa. I can't believe the call went as well as it did. Sure, things got a little mean there, but that's nothing new when dealing with a woman like my mother. I notice that the ceiling is covered in that gauche rough textured look. Pebbling, maybe. Tough to clean, especially with such a high clearance. Easily twelve feet. Maybe Sam can clean it when, if, he stops growing. Should be easy for him.
My attention snaps back to the television. Even muted, the bright colors of the cartoon make the screen hard to miss. Looks like PJ Masks, which means I'm on Disney Jr. instead of regular Disney. Was it my mistake, or was this the channel it was already on? Still, the cartoon isn't that bad. Really a good take on superheroes, if aimed to toddlers and such. Okay, there are few problems with child superheroes. How did they get their powers? Why are they only out at night? Where are their parents? And most of all, why isn't there anyone else at night? Only heroes and villains, almost exclusively.
I think it is based on some European book series, but I could never confirm it. I do have a theory, though. The kids' parents are actually superheroes too, and have passed down a portion of their powers to the kids. While they are out saving the world and universe from the really big messes, their kids are protecting the town/city from the wannabes. In my defense, I doubt anyone else could come up with any better reasons. I mean, they can't be more than six or seven. Who else but other superheroes would allow their kids to stay out all night and solve crimes, even if perpetrated by the second-rate losers they deal with. Heck, the shows weird mix of super-science and mystic mumbo-jumbo can barely keep itself together.
I turn the sound back on and watch the rest of the episode. Not that bad, but I think I have seen it before. That feels so weird coming from someone my age, at least for someone at my age without young children. Almost eleven. How many young kids would even be watching this late, even on a Saturday night? Even if you take in a national or even global audience, they are pushing the limits. I turn of the set. It still feels early, but I need to do something before going to bed.
I walk to the kitchen, turning the lights on and off as I pass through each room. By the time I get to the kitchen, any feelings of hunger have slipped away. I wasn't really hungry to begin with. I close my eyes and try to feel it again. Nope. Definitely not hungry.
I get a glass of water instead. I don't drink it all either. Not really thirsty, but I need some more time to think, calm down my brain before going to bed. I notice a faint lemony scent in the kitchen that I am pretty sure wasn't here earlier in the night. Maybe it was here, and I just didn't notice, from trying to hear, what's-her-name-again, speaking to me or the time spent eating. No, didn't have anything with lemon for the snack. Maybe it's the polish or cleaning solution I'm smelling? Haven't been here long enough to do either, but what else cold have been.
I don't want to think about it anymore. It was probably something that woman was wearing. (Who would ever wear a lemon-scented perfume, anyway?). I leave the glass on the counter, for tomorrow. Everything else, I had cleaned up earlier. Did I? There wasn't much, but that's what I did. Maybe the scent is coming from that.
I take the pantry door and head to the rear hallway, passing through it to the short connector to the front stairs. I almost take the rear stairs, but I am pretty sure I couldn't get around the cabinet blocking the entrance. Maybe it's mom's story, but I feel a chill in the air as I walk along. Just enough moonlight is wafting in so I don't need to turn on the lights until I reach the connector. I can see why mom hated this place, though. While the rooms are inviting, at least through the day, a creeping chill permeates everywhere at night. The pictures just heighten the effect. I quickly pass the garden collage, turn out the hall lights, and reach the front entrance and the main stairs.
The quiet is broken only by the faint trace of an electric hum coming through the chandelier overhead. At least all the bulbs appear to be working. I would dread having to climb a ladder to change one. Maybe Sam will grow tall enough to reach it without a ladder. Heh. He might not be even living here by the time he gets that tall. Maybe neither will I.
I stretch as I yawn. Time to get upstairs and try to sleep. I look at the hidden doorway to the back stairs as I reach the first landing. Why would she do that? There is plenty of room here to show that thing off here, without having to block the way. It would save at least a few seconds just by allowing to use the back stairs. I climb the rest of the way up, and turn off the lights.
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