Chapter 5: Mom’s stockings

After coming out of the elevator, I stood at the door and took two deep breaths before inserting the key into the lock.

When I pushed the door open and went in, I saw Mom leaning on the sofa with an expressionless face. She raised her eyelids and looked at me, looking intimidating without anger.

I stood there hesitantly, not sure of Mom’s current temper, and dared not speak.

For a long while, when I was about to lose my footing in one position, I was about to admit my mistake and explain to Mom.

“Have you eaten?”

Mom still had that calm tone, but in her calm tone, she revealed a strong concern.

Hearing this, I subconsciously replied: “I ate...” Perhaps I was afraid of disappointing my mother’s concern, so my heart tightened, and I followed it with a sentence: “I didn’t eat.”

Upon hearing my vague answer, my mother immediately raised her eyebrows and said word by word: “Did you eat?”

I lowered my head, drooped my head, and whispered: “I ate, but I didn’t eat enough.” It sounded as aggrieved as I could, as if I was bullied outside and ran to my mother’s arms to cry.

My mother held her forehead with her hand and said helplessly: “You, you spent money outside and still can’t eat enough, just starve to death.”

I stood aside and didn’t refute a word. Anyway, I was just scolded a few times, and I didn’t feel any pain. If my mother had a few more words, the anger in my heart would disappear. I wished that my mother would scold me for a while.

However, although my mother said ruthlessly, she got up and walked towards the kitchen. She said, “Go to wash my hands.” “You order.” I ran into the bathroom happily, and then hummed the soap while rubbing my hands. The more you think about it, even the toilet is much more serious than usual. When I came out of the bathroom, my mother was already sitting on the sofa. There was a small bowl of rice and three dishes on the table. The potato shreds, tomato fried eggs and braised pork, the dishes in the plate, seemed to have no movement, and more than half, and at first glance, my mother was ready before I came back. Although my mother looks strict on the surface, she is actually very concerned about my son. Whether in terms of learning or life, they are all in the same way. They are a bit cold, do not like to talk more, and can make it clear in one sentence. I will never say a second sentence. Because of my growth, I have a big appetite this year. I didn’t eat much at the hot pot restaurant at noon. Besides, the food my mother cooked is more to my taste. I feel that I can eat another small bowl of rice.

In the living room, except for the sound of the bowl and chopsticks in my hands, it was as quiet as usual.

I sat on the stool restlessly. Although I wanted to break the silence and chat with my mother, I couldn’t find a topic.

After a while, I had eaten most of the rice in the bowl. I tried to act casually, “Mom, where is my dad? He hasn’t come back yet?” I asked while eating.

Mom leaned lazily on the sofa, with a pillow on her legs, her hands on the pillow holding the mobile phone, and said without raising her head: “On duty.”

“It’s been a day and a night, right? Can my dad hold it? The hospital is really, and my dad is not the only doctor.” I picked at the rice and muttered a few words in dissatisfaction.

Hearing this, my mother looked up at me suspiciously, with some doubt in her eyes, and hesitated for a moment: “Are you my son?”

Seeing that my mother rarely joked with me, I became bolder, put down my chopsticks and laughed foolishly, and then said seriously: “No.”

Seeing that I was joking so seriously, my mother’s serious face was not tense, and she burst out laughing, scolding: “Go away, nonsense.”

“Who told you to doubt your own son.”

My mother stared at me for a long time, and then she muttered slowly: “You care about others, so I can’t doubt.”

“Oh, my dear mother, I care about my father and I have problems. I am really wronged.” I looked heartbroken and very sad.

My mother ignored my pretended grievance, but snorted twice and said in a bad mood: “You don’t care about me? I made you lunch at noon but you didn’t come back to eat.”

I finally had a heart-to-heart chat with my mother. I didn’t shrink back anymore, but said confidently: “Who makes you look cold every day, as if someone owes you five million. How dare I care about you?”

“Do I dare...” As I said this, my voice gradually became smaller, my head lowered, and I was restlessly looking at my mother’s reaction, and I suddenly felt uneasy. Who made you unable to control yourself and blurt out everything? Now it’s good, the originally good mother-son atmosphere is gone.

After waiting for a long time, I didn’t see my mother get angry, nor did she scold me, but sat back on the sofa and looked at her mobile phone.

“Mom?” I raised my head and whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you scold me?”

“Why should I scold you?” Mom glanced at me, then lowered her head and continued to look at her phone.

Suddenly, I couldn’t figure out what Mom was thinking. I scratched my head and asked carefully again: “I just said that to you, aren’t you angry?”

“You are right, why should I be angry?” Mom asked back, and glanced at me in confusion.

Ah? This, this, this? Did Mom suddenly change her temper? Or is this the rigor of people who teach mathematics? Right is right, wrong is wrong? I really don’t understand.

However, if I don’t find out why Mom has always had a stern face, I really feel a little uncomfortable in my heart. Driven by curiosity, my heart is like a cat scratching.

I mustered up my courage, looked nervous, and asked carefully: “Mom, you ... why do you always have a stern face?” Under the deterrence of my mother, I stuttered a little when I spoke.

I saw my mother put down her phone, put the pillow on the side of her legs, and held a corner of the pillow in her hand, looking at me calmly.

When I saw the pillow my mother was holding, my body tensed up. Would my mother throw the pillow at me?

“Mom, I’m full. I’ll go back to the bedroom to correct the papers first.” Her words were full of panic, and I got up and wanted to escape back to the bedroom.

“Sit down.” My mother’s voice echoed in the valley, constantly circling in my ears.

“Hey.” I stumbled and sat opposite my mother, not daring to get too close to her.

Do you have to beat me up to vent your anger? Oh, it’s time for me to sacrifice myself again.

However, before the pillow fell on me, my mother spoke.

“You said that your mother always has a stern face and a cold face?” I couldn’t hear any fluctuations in my mother’s tone.

So did I say it or not? I probably didn’t say it? ·····

Seeing that I didn’t respond, my mother didn’t care and continued to talk to herself: “Mom is a teacher and has three high school classes. If I smile every day when I see everyone, how can I teach you mischievous students?”

As she said that, my mother turned her eyes to me and looked at me directly, as if asking me if she was right? I think, probably right·····

However, I suddenly thought of a counterexample and immediately raised my head to refute: “Mom, our English teacher also has three high school classes, isn’t she smiling every day?”

“She won’t teach you next semester.” Mom said coldly.

“Ah?” I looked at my mother in disbelief and confirmed again: “Then why doesn’t she teach us?”

“Don’t you look at your class’s English grades? Where are they ranked in the whole grade? They are almost out of the average score line. Is this the result that an excellent class should have?” Mom’s words seemed to pour a basin of cold water on me, making me understand that grades are the standard for judging a good teacher.

Thinking of the young, beautiful and graceful female teacher, who will not teach our class next semester, I feel a sense of loss in my heart.

She should be the best teacher I have ever seen. She is intelligent, generous, smiling, amiable, and full of patience with students. She never yells at us like other teachers. Moreover, she is also the most beautiful teacher I have ever seen, of course, except for my mother.

However, I am always terrified when I take my mother’s class. I am always afraid that my mother will call me up to answer questions on the stage, but the English teacher’s class does not have that kind of pressure and troubles, only relaxation and calmness.

Probably, all students will like such an English female teacher like me.

“Okay, go back to the bedroom to take out the test paper and correct the wrong questions.” My mother stood up and ordered, then she cleaned up the dishes on the table and went to the kitchen.