Tamara.
I could see the way mom's face lit up as I said that.
God, what the fuckk have I done?
“I will prepare his favorite,” I heard my mom say as I stood up. What was I thinking?
I walk over to the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe, my mind racing with thoughts.
“You know you're not so great at lying right?” Hilda's voice jolts me out of my trance.
I roll my eyes, stepping towards the kitchen island. “What are you talking about?”
She drops her cooking spoon and turned to face me. “You look burdened Tammy,” her voice tinges with concern. “You don't look happy, is anything bothering you?”
I debate whether or not to be honest with Hilda, she's done so much for mom, and I really do not want to bother her with my marital issues. So I choose something in-between.
“I'm — I'm just tire
