Oil and Tobacco

“Oil, Jack, you forgot the oil,” His mother stated through gritted teeth. “How am I supposed to cook anything without oil? You can’t do a simple shopping errand correctly -”

He let the front door slam behind him but he still heard her words from the porch. He came to his mother’s house once a week to help around the house and pick up the groceries because he was a good son.

It always ended the same way.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket and lit his first offender of the morning. His mother’s ranting wafted through the open window and Jack took a deep breath of tobacco.

“Where did you get off too? You better be going to get me oil and not poisoning the lungs that I gave you after hours and hours of birth, young man.”

Jack had turned fifty this year but somethings never changed.

The early morning chill hit his skin as he walked down the steps. He should probably go back and get his coat but he’d rather face the cold weather. The store was nearby anyway and purchasing the oil only took twenty minutes.

His mother’s voice greeted from the porch again. “The wrong soda water, under ripe bananas, what’s the point of procreating if they’re constantly disappointing you?”

He took that as his cue to enter the house again, another slammed door behind him.

“Here’s your oil, ma.”

Jack watched as she fought the smile from her face. He wished it all went differently between them even as she spat, “bout time.”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Ingredients.”

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