Page 104 of Tangled Emotions

“What kind of oil did you use?”

“Well, the magazine article said to use essential oil, and the only essential one we had in the house was olive oil.”

“Essential oil?”

“Duh, Mom. You use them to help make your skin moister, and not dry. So I got the rose petals and mixed with the olive oil.”

Hard to be irritated with that logic.

“That is super sweet of you, baby.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’m almost done with my kitchen prep when I am, then you can shower off and get dressed for your surprise!”

How the hell am I going to get all this oil off me?

Shaking my head, I finished drinking my grape juice and focused on the sweetness of what my son did for me. Laying my head back, I closed my eyes, only to be startled by a knock at the door.

I strained my ears to hear who was here; but I couldn’t hear anything, and Matt wasn’t running through the house.

“Matt?”

“Hang on, Mom!”

A moment later, he knocked on the bathroom door. “You can shower now. I put your new outfit on your bed. When you’re dressed, come on into the kitchen.”

“Mattie? Is someone here?”

“Mom, dinner is gonna burn if you keep asking questions.”

“Alright!” Rolling my eyes, I unplugged the drain and collected all the flower petals. I grabbed a nearby washcloth and put them all on there for later and then shower off.

My hands were so greasy from the olive oil that I couldn’t hold on to anything. I’m dropping bottles everywhere, and no amount of scrubbing seems to help.

Great, I’m going to need to bathe with Dawn.

This felt like the longest shower of my life as I scrubbed my skin hard, and finally cut through the oil, so I could wash my hair and get out of the tub.

Drying off, I skipped the lotion. I was relatively confident my skin had more than enough moisture.

I wrapped my hair up and then wrapped my body in my favorite fluffy towel; I peeked into the living room and didn’t see anyone.

Maybe it was one of those ads people stuck on your door?

Going into my room there was an outfit on my bed, and … oh my god, it’s … bizarre.

The skirt was this odd shade of puke yellow-green, and the top wasn’t much better. It was a deep purple button up. Neither were something I would’ve picked. And just by looking at them, I can tell he picked them all on his own,

Grabbing my phone, I texted my mom.

Did you see what he picked?

Yep

Why didn’t you help him?

I did.

That’s how you got those

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