Page 8 of Coming Home for Love

I jumped up out of my sleep just as Osiris gripped my hair. Since Nicki brought up his sister and the conversation I had with my mom, I’d been dreaming about Osiris. It had been three years since I’d seen him, so why was I suddenly dreaming about him? The shit was getting on my nerves already.

I was sure he wasn’t thinking about me. I grabbed my phone from the table near my bed to silence my alarm. Feeling hot and bothered, I got out of bed. I needed to get in the shower, but I had to lay eyes on my baby first because he was likely already awake.

I put on my slippers and robe and headed down the short hallway to his bedroom.

When I opened his room door, his head popped up. “Good morning, Mommy.”

I walked over to his bed and kissed his forehead. He had his tablet propped up watching Bluey.

He loved Bluey so much, his room was Bluey themed.

“Good morning, O. Did you use the bathroom already?”

He nodded and stuck his thumb in his mouth. I’d been trying to break that habit but had no such luck yet.

He looked just like his father, and I hated they were missing out on each other’s life, but I felt like I was doing the right thing.

“Okay. Mommy is going to get ready for the day, then I’ll come back and get you. I have to go to work today, so you’ll be going to GG’s house.”

“Yay!” He clapped then returned to his show with his thumb in his mouth again.

I left out of his room and went to the hallway bathroom to shower.

Thoughts of Osiris crept back into my mind as I showered, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. I probably could have searched for him on social media, but every time the thought crossed my mind, I chickened out. I just didn’t know what to say after all this time had passed.

I had to push that shit to the back of my mind because I needed to get ready for work. My boss had sent me an email to confirm that Olivia was definitely coming at some point this week, and I needed to be on my A-game. I didn’t need any issues with her when she came, and I needed the food to be perfect. My career was riding on her review, and I couldn’t jeopardize it for anything.

From the moment my mother had me in the kitchen at four years old, I knew I wanted to be a chef. I even asked for a cuttingboard for Christmas when I was five. Every year after that, I asked for some type of cooking utensil. It wasn’t normal for a kid that young, but my mother got it all for me. She was a firm believer in feeding a child’s dream.

She taught me the basics, but when I got older, I learned to play around with different dishes, and going to culinary school helped me learn better techniques. Realistically, culinary school wasn’t essential, because I’d met plenty of great chefs over the years who didn’t go to culinary school and were better than some professional chefs. It was just harder to get certain jobs without the proper training. I wanted to own a restaurant one day, so I wanted all the training I could get.

Cooking was life for me, and I didn’t know what I would do without it. Being a chef was not only my passion but it helped me provide a stable life and environment for my son. I wanted my son to have all the benefits I had as a child. I wanted to be able to send him to the best schools and take family vacations. The only thing he was missing was a father, but my father filled in when he could.

I made up a story about why his father wasn’t around but showed him a couple of pictures I had on my phone. I didn’t want to paint Osiris out to be a bad guy, if and when they met each other.

After I got dressed, I went into Little Osiris’s room to help him get dressed for the day. He was learning how to properly dress himself, but I helped him whenever he needed it. It was mainly to tie his shoes since that took a little longer to learn.

While he’d gotten himself together, I packed an extra set of clothes for him, as well as the charger for his tablet, and his favorite blanket. He was a big boy, according to him, but he wouldn’t leave the house without his Bluey blanket.

“GG said she would make apple cinnamon pancakes for you,” I told Osiris when we got in the car.

“Yay!”

Yay was his new favorite, and that child used it for everything.

He loved apple cinnamon pancakes, but only when my mother made them, even though I was the one who taught her how to make them.

As I drove, I thought about some of the dishes I could make for the week. Since I wasn’t sure what day she was coming, I had to make something special every day, along with the usual things on the menu.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at my parents’ house.

I grabbed his bag and helped him out of the car.

He held my hand as we walked up the walkway to the front door.

My mother opened the door before I could ring the bell or pull the key out.

“I heard you pull up. I just came from getting the mail,” she said.

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