Bus Stop Portrait #2

He knew it. She knew it. They both had heard it.

This coming weekend they were supposed to be headed to the beach. Slowly but surely, over the last month, their mother had been collecting the chairs, towels, buckets and shovels - everything they'd need for their mini vacation. That was, until they had acted up.

To them, it didn't seem like such a big deal. They were brother and sister. It was inevitable that they were going to bicker. About who was taller. Who was older. Who had more friends. Which toy belonged to who. Their mother had heard it all before, so they assumed that her threats about canceling the weekend trip didn't mean much. Sure, she had warned them plenty. Work had been tough. Her boss was demanding her to log extra hours during the late shift. Their meals were prepared early in the week, with notes left on them instructing them how long each should be in the microwave for, that there was desert in the freezer, to be in bed by nine.

Yet, throughout all this, she was always there in the morning, leaning over them, the smell of her shampoo gently waking them up before she'd kiss them on the forehead, welcoming them to the day. They could see it under her eyes - work was stealing her energy. She moved slowly, more calculated, trying to save what she could for the office. But everyday, she'd have their lunches ready, walking them to the bus stop for school. They weren't quite sure how she did it.

But they still pushed it. And today, it finally snapped. What had seemed like a harmless argument over who's bowl of cereal had more marshmallows in it, turned into an avalanche. They couldn't remember the last time she had gotten so loud. Her voice bellowed from deep within her chest, shaking the glasses in the cabinets. It was short and sweet. She was tired. It wasn't the first time she had asked them to stop - to be civil with one another. There were to be no and's, if's, or but's. The weekend was off.

They were shocked. Speechless. It had been years since last time she had yelled at them, taken something away. Neither had any idea how to react. Of course tears welled up in the corners of their eyes, sliding down their cheeks, but they didn't help. Her face was a stone mask. She wasn't going to have any of it. They had made their beds and they were going to sleep in them.

So here they stood. Looking up at her - puppy eyes in full glory. There were only two days left before they were scheduled to leave. They'd have to be on their best behavior until then - knowing that she was easy to persuade. Maybe surprising her with dinner would be a nice start.

The only problem was they couldn't reach the microwave.

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