Chapter 30: A little too salty!

I sat with my mother in the dining room as we waited for Amelia Rosewood to bring the food from the kitchen. Mom still haven't said a word of why she's here, and I really wanted to ask but don't know how to start. She had earlier wanted to help her bring the meal from the kitchen but I held her back. Now, we were both waiting for her and I quietly wondered what she had been cooking that almost caused a homicide, I didn't tell mom about it yet, though.
She finally walked into the dining room from the short-cut door near the kitchen. She was carrying a tray and was walking gingerly with calculated steps. *Tsk! Does she wanna act like she's from a royal family or what?*
Mother's smile could be seen on her face once again as Amelia put down her definition of "food" on the dining table. To another person's eyes, it might seem enticing, but definitely not to mine. It was rice and chicken with some side salads and mashed potatoes. I suspiciously looked at the food and then at my mother to see if I could guess that she had asked her to prepare the food and she didn't do it on her own will. The fried chicken looked too brownish, *Don't tell me that was the thing she burnt!*
I carefully watched her expressions as she dished down the food, I brought down my eyes and wondered if they were any additions but I didn't see any. Not a single fruit in sight, and I love to eat them in the evenings for some unknown reason. The dining room was quiet for what seemed like an eternity but was probably a few minutes. She was finally done with serving the meal in three plates before she walked to shift back the third chair so she could sit.
"Stop!" I commanded her, trying really hard to suppress my irritation.
She turned back to face me with a questioning look on her face, she had long lost her blush, but her hair was still tied and she looked at my whitish-grey eyes, hers which was blue was evident with an emotion that looked like shock. I continuously stare at her face, still not telling her the reason I asked her to stop.
"Lucian?" Mom called me with an irritated tone. I finally turned to look at her and noticed that her face was clouded with disbelief and confusion. I turned back my gaze to the girl and said, "Don't sit on that chair! It was my late fathers'." I didn't turn to look at mom when I said it, I couldn't bear to see her hurt expression. There was nothing really wrong with the chair, it's just that even I myself didn't sit on it once since my father passed. And a voice in my head found it disrespectful even though I didn't.
A strange silence enveloped the room, she stood still where she was like she was a statue who couldn't move. I finally got the courage to look at mom, she looked very much like a person who wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Her questioning eyes penetrated mine, and I was suddenly wishing that I could reverse the time and unsay what I said. Nobody said anything for a while, and I felt a strange heat in my body even when I had showered and changed my clothes before I came to the dining room.
"It's okay." She finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence.
Mom turned to look at her in horror, and I half heartedly wondered what she had expected her to say. *She probably expected the girl to walk out of the dining room and out of our house.*
"I understand," She continued, looking around to see if there was another place she could sit since the dining chairs were three. I stood up from where I sat and walked to the sitting room before I came back to the dining room with a plastic chair in my possession. Amelia stared at my steps carefully and it was obvious with her facial expressions that she thought I had gone to bring the chair for her. But instead, I walked to where I was sitting earlier and carried the chair to her after shifting back the one I told her not to sit on. I put my chair in the empty space and walked back to sit on the plastic one I brought from the sitting room. It was a little far from the top of the dining table, but I didn't mind as long as she was no longer sitting on Dad's chair.
She sat down on the chair before she muttered, "Thanks." Mom looked at her and forced a smile, then she turned her gaze to me like she also expected me to say something.
"You're welcome." I forced myself to say before I dragged my food to myself and took a taste of the rice. I saw from the corner of my eyes that she was looking at me, probably to see my expressions when the food landed on my tongue. I suddenly pouted my face so it could look very well that the food taste destroyed my mouth. I made the top of my lips touch my nose so I would look like I smelled a fart. I wasn't seeing my face but I knew that my expression at that moment would be able to convince even the dullest person that the food tasted terrible.
Amelia's face looked green like somebody who wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, her eyes darted around like she was embarrassed and mom looked at me and then at her again. Mom hadn't taken a taste of the food but I wasn't sure of Amelia, she hadn't eaten since she came here but heaven knows she could have tasted the food in the kitchen.
Mom scooped some of the rice into her fork and added some of the mashed potatoes to it, she put the food in her mouth and chewed with an expression that said, *Let me see for myself if the taste is really that terrible to merit Lucian's expression.* Her expression once she finished chewing the food didn't change at all, it showed that the part of the food she'd tasted was perfectly fine.
"Lucian," she called, "Is there anything wrong with the food?"
I looked at Amelia's expression for a moment before I said, "Nah…It's okay."
I saw Amelia's face filled with relief and her cheeks turned pink before I added, "But it's a little too salty!"
Mom turned to look at me in protest, Amelia bent down her head and pouted like a kid who was promised something and refused to be given at last.
"Cut the crap, Lucain." Mom said, jokingly trying to try out the American accent though she was clearly Korean, just that she was born and brought up in New York and now looked like an American.
"We should eat!" She finished. Amelia finally faced up and took her cutleries to eat. I secretly stared at her without her knowing, checking to see if she ate without manners. But instead, her eating was just like her walking. Princess like.
We were halfway into the meal before I decided to take a bite of chicken, and when I did, I had no choice but to spit it out on the floor and ask, "What the fuck! Was this fried for a year?"