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"There." Gia presses the button on the coffee maker. Reaches into the cabinet for two mugs. Lucky girl is five foot five. She never struggles to reach a high shelf.
She looks like Mom—round eyes, wavy hair, angled features.
She passes as white.
I don't. I take after Dad.
I'm proud of my heritage, but the what are you questions? I'd happily part with those forever.
Gia taps her fingers against the counter as she waits
for the carafe to fill.
Dad's car pulls into the garage. The door opens and slams shut. Then he's in the hallway and the garage door is whirring closed.
"Do I smell coffee?" he asks.
Gia beams. "Hey Daddy!" Even at twenty-six, she's pure Daddy's girl.
He moves into the kitchen and hugs her hello.
"Go. Sit. I'll fix your coffee," she says.
His dark eyes pass over the counter. "Did you rob a bakery?"
"I'll bring them to work Monday." Or not. There's no food allowed at the shop. But I can wrap everything in plastic. Insist people eat it outside.
He takes a seat next to me. "You should have come to the movie."
"You know I don't like action." I tear off another chunk of brownie. Toss it in my mouth. Let it dissolve on my tongue.
He reaches for one, but Gia stops him.
"Careful, they're Earl Grey," she says.
He ignores her warning. Takes a bite. Shoots me a thumbs-up. "It was thinky. You'd like it."
"Thinky how?" I laugh. Dad loves movies. Great ones and terrible ones. "Did the spy have to outsmart the Russian super villains?"
"She's impossible, huh?" Gia teases.
"Oh?" I stare down my sister. "You want to see it—" I try and fail to recall the name of the weekend's latest spy thriller.
"Well…" She turns to the coffee maker. Pours two cups. "I would see it."
"I would see it too. But that doesn't mean I want to," I say.
Dad looks between us. Smiles wistfully, the way he does when he's lost in a memory. "We can watch the first one after dinner."
Gia shoots me a how do we get out of this look.
He catches it. "Are you staying for dinner, sweetie?"
"Sure. Mark is at the office." She gets milk from the fridge. Pours it into both mugs. She and Dad take their coffee the same way—sweet and creamy.
"Are you hungry?" I ask Dad. "I can start cooking."
"Let's order pizza." Gia moves into the living room. Sets Dad's coffee in front of him. Slides into the seat across from me and sips hers.
