So many pretty patterns on all of the eggs! If there was something she could appreciate, it was the colors. They all came in different sizes, different colors, but all were about the same basic shape. Rounded oval. It wouldn’t occur to her until later on that day that these eggs still might have had a chance at life, and that they had been rather expensive to obtain. So, she cracked each one open and onto the frying pan, tossing a plethora of rainbow shell pieces into the trash bin during her time at the stove. Save the plain, white eggs for her mother, every other egg had been a beauty.
It had actually been a pretty color of purple egg that had helped spark her decision of primary color. Most Kecleon did it a little later, but she had decided very early on that her color was purple. Her parents joked (but not really) that it meant she had a little of both of them in her: the swift temper from her father, and the sense of wonder at the world from her mother. Lately, she didn’t think her mother really had much wonder left in her, but she kept their little quip in the back of her mind regardless. It was easy to take what parents said for fact, even if it was sort of a non-serious comment.
Finally, all the eggs had been cooked, all the plates served. Normally they had some sort of fruit, and sometimes another source of protein, but not this morning. Well, if Anana got back in time, there’d at least be juice. “Dad! Come get your plate! Is Anana back yet?”
“No she ain’t, and hold yer Ponytas, I’m comin! Gimme a minute girl,” he shouted from... somewhere in the back room. She didn’t really care what he was up to, but did care that he ate his eggs before they got cold. She didn’t prefer another incident with a smashed plate because he came to his food late, forgetting it had been his fault the meal had turned cold.
“No! It’s hot ‘n ready now
, Dad! Come on! I picked a cool egg!”
A few seconds later, he finally emerged. “Alright, alright... well, go wake yer mom. She’s sleepin in. As usual,” he snorted.
Payapa, who had already adjusted herself and her seat at the table, was loathe to go fetch her mother. However, the consequences of not doing so would be worse. The entire family’s day would become pretty terrible if she didn’t wake her mom up pronto. Still... she was really irritated that her own
food had the chance of becoming cold. It ruined the enjoyment of the eggs! “But Dad, I--” was all she could muster before she got a lash to the face. She fought back warm tears, hardly realizing what had happened before her eyes reacted. She tentatively placed a hand to her stinging cheek, and averted her gaze from his harsh glare.
“Dad, I just want to eat my eggs...”
“I betcha do. We’ll be havin a talk about that later, anyway. It’s about time. Go fetch your mother.”
She pawed at her cheek a little more, considering her options. She really just wanted to enjoy her breakfast at its best, but wasn’t sure she wanted to take a lashing to the bottom that morning for the sake of being defiant. It was a tough choice. Either way, she wasn’t going to get to eat warm eggs. Her mother was notoriously hard to wake from a deep slumber, and often seemed to use naps as a way to escape reality. Payapa’s heart sank a little, wondering what the rest of the day had in store.
Finally, after moments more of deliberation, she decided that today was not a day to stand up to her dad. On previous occasions, she had argued with him and ended up in trouble over the most mundane of things, taking lashings for refusing to apologize for the way she’d said this or that (and still never having apologized for such follies). As a tiny child, it was as if she couldn’t fathom why she might be asked to do these things, and was offended at the proposition. As she got older, she started to understand that sometimes you had to fake it in order to get along. Payapa thought her sister had picked up on this much earlier than she herself had.
So, for the rare chance of playing with Anana later that day, she had made the equally rare decision to swallow her pride. She scooted her chair out and hopped out of her seat without much enthusiasm.
Part 7 of "Complementaries"