Jasmine knew she wanted more the moment she had finished. She sank back in her seat and pushed the bowl with the last creamy drops of her chocolate chip ice cream away from her, the spoon clattering in the bowl. It slid from her end of the table top until it reached the other end, grazing her mother’s arm.
“Jasmine!” her mother growled at her, while her eyes remained glued to the book she was reading. “Don’t you see? I’m a child pining for attention, Mom,” Jasmine responded and pouted her lips. Her mother turned a page of her cheap paperback and sighed.
“I wonder when you’ll begin to act your age. You’re a twenty-five year old woman. It must be all the kids you surround yourself with all the time,” she said, without lifting her head to look at her daughter.
She could be right, Jasmine thought. The only real conversations she had on a daily basis were with five-year-old tiny humans at the kindergarten where she worked. Her mother, Camilla Kiberd, had made it obvious that she didn’t approve. The unanimous dream of both her parents had been that their only child would grow up to become a doctor or an engineer; a profession that would reel in the money, in any case.
Jasmine had chosen teaching and she had chosen kids. Not for a second did she regret her decision, especially when she walked into the classroom to find a dozen shiny happy faces staring up at her. Her mother, on the other hand, never failed to remind her how disappointed she was with her daughter’s life choices.
“Your father would have been so disappointed!” is the line she threw at Jasmine from time to time; just to really rub it in.
Jasmine tore her exhausted gaze away from her mother and turned in her seat to catch the waitress’ eye again.
“What are you doing?” she heard her mother remark.
“I want some more ice cream,” Jasmine said, while she waved furiously to the waitress who still had not noticed her.
“Your sweet tooth will be the death of you,” Camilla admonished, her attention was diverted from the book finally. In fact, she always had time to throw caustic remarks at Jasmine.
“Relax, Mom. We’re on a holiday,” Jasmine said, and smiled broadly as the waitress finally began walking over to their table.
“Another one of those delicious cups of chocolate chip ice cream, please. And, Mom, anything for you?” Jasmine turned to her mother at the last minute.
“Just some coffee please. Black,” her mother spoke to the waitress curtly and smoothed the lapel of her grey jacket. She was every inch the properly dressed woman.
Jasmine watched her mother as she went back to concentrating on her book again. She had no idea where she had gotten her own looks from. While Camilla’s most striking features were her sky-high cheek bones, her straight and slim, somber lips, and a head of thick, straight hair which she now, like any proper sixty year old Englishwoman, chose to cut into a neat greying bob; Jasmine was an apple from a completely different tree. In fact, she was more of an orange. Her oval face barely gave away the hint of cheekbones; her lips were wide and in a perpetual pout, while her auburn curls were constantly unmanageable. Her mother was tall and slender, where Jasmine was petite with an ample chest – more than ample in most cases. Her father, too, had looked more like her mother than he did like Jasmine.
Jasmine sighed as she watched her mother read and gazed out of the smooth, cool glass panes that they were sitting next to. She could hear the seagulls in the sky and when she looked at it, it was bright blue and clear. She didn’t need to step outside to know that the sun would beat down on them, and yet, her mother was in a business suit. Well, she was always in a business suit.
“Aren’t you warm in that thing, Mom?” she asked.
“Don’t be silly, Jasmine.” That haughty tone in her mother’s voice which Jasmine knew so well had returned. “I couldn’t possibly have worn anything else,” she said while glaring at her daughter through narrowed eyes.
“Mom. It’s not a business meeting. It’s only a property viewing,” Jasmine suggested just as the waitress came back with the cup of coffee for her mother and a paper cup with two scoops of ice cream.
“Exactly. It is a business meeting. It’s a meeting between two individuals who will be embarking on a business contract,” her mother replied, as she gingerly pinched the handle of the cup with her forefinger and thumb. She even put her pinky finger out like only those who were royalty – or true snobs – did.
“He’s going to buy the house. You don’t need to impress him,” Jasmine said as she scooped a large spoon of ice cream into her mouth and relished the sensation of it melting in her throat. The feeling of it trickling down the heated skin on her lip was heavenly. Her tongue whipped out quickly to catch it before it fell down her chin.
“Well, if I don’t impress him and the house doesn’t sell, then I’m stuck with that place. And it’s falling apart with nobody else making any offers,” her mother’s voice had risen by a few decibels and Jasmine looked up with a raised eyebrow.
“Okay, okay,” Jasmine said, her voice muffled by the big dollop of ice cream in her mouth.
“I just can’t afford to have the property lying around anymore. At this rate it will never sell,” Camilla added and shut her book with an audible ‘swoosh’. Jasmine had never been able to develop the skill of consoling her mother. She was always too distant, too self-aware to betray the need to be consoled or allow anybody else to comfort her. So Jasmine didn’t try anymore.
“It’ll sell, Mom. The man is the wealthiest man in this town, you said yourself that he is a billionaire. This purchase will be pocket-change for him. He is clearly interested in it, and didn’t you say he knew Grandfather?” Jasmine offered instead, avoiding eye contact with her mother since she had mentioned the grandfather she never knew. Whom her mother despised.
“Yeah, apparently my father encouraged his stamp collection when he visited here on his holidays. You know, when he was shacking up with that woman,” Jasmine’s mother said through gritted teeth, her anger being vented on her molars. “At least, that is what he says in his letters. Anyway, I suppose we’ll simply have to wait and watch,” she added and opened her book again.
Jasmine couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She still couldn’t forgive herself for agreeing to accompany her mother on this trip. At least it has the potential of being a much needed holiday, Jasmine said to herself as she looked out through the window again, her gaze settling on the sprawling golden sand and the greenish blue waves crashing gently somewhere in the distance.