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He nodded. “Yes, sir. That money secured your spot. It’s yours, as of two Sundays from now.”
And the sigh of relief that left my mouth relaxed me from head to toe.
36
Raelynn
“Sweetie, can you pass me the—”
I tossed her the seasoning. “Catch!”
“Girl! Wai—shit!”
I giggled. “You owe me another cookie.”
Mom glared at me. “You’re doing this intentionally now.”
“What? What did you think would happen when you promised cookies for whoever cleaned up their cursing first?”
“Look, all I’m saying is that it’s not becoming for either of us to walk around dropping ‘fuck’ and ‘damn it’ all throughout the day.”
I grinned. “Do those words count toward the deal?”
She slowly looked over at me. “No. They don’t.”
I snickered. “Fine. I’ll let you off the hook this time.”
As I stood at the stove, saucing up the enchiladas, I giggled to myself. Things with Mom were going wonderfully. After shopping yesterday, though, Mom came to the conclusion that both of us cursed too much. Between getting poked with earrings, dropping jewelry on the floor, and looking at the prices of some accessories, she thought we needed to tone down our language a bit. So, we made a bet: whoever could go the next week and curse the least got to have their choice of cookies with ice cream next weekend. Complete with their own movie night that the other had to suffer through.
And since I had no intent on changing how I spoke, my goal was to make Mom curse more than me. You know, by pissing her off and shit.
“What other meals did you find that were under three bucks a pop to make?”
I scooped the enchiladas out. “All sorts of things. Buffalo chicken wings with mashed potatoes. Vegetable stir fry. Burgers and sweet potato fries. The list goes on really. It’s all about cooking it in-house. I’ve found a cheap recipe for just about everything I know you like, with the exception of steak. Steak just isn’t cheap.”
Mom shrugged. “Eh, steak can be one of those things we go out and treat ourselves to.”
“I’m fine with that. Because while it might look easy to cook, it’s also easy to fuck up. And I don’t think either of us want to sink twelve bucks a pop into steaks only to make them like hockey pucks.”
I felt Mom grinning at me and I rolled my eyes. I tossed the rice into the enchilada pan and started cooking it up a bit. Letting it soak up all those juices. We had some in the back of the fridge that had been sitting there for a couple of days. It needed to be eaten, otherwise it would spoil. And if there was one thing Mom had ingrained into me, it was the fact that food had to be eaten. Never spoiled. Never thrown away. And never, ever wasted.
“Pretty sure that makes us even now.”
I snickered. “Not even close. I heard you upstairs trying to wrangle your clothes off.”
“Wait, what?”
I tossed her a smile. “What? You think I wouldn't hear? I don’t know what the hell you were wearing up there, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got the whole night to let my tongue fly before we’re even again.”
“You were spying on me? You little—!”
I held up my finger. “Uh, uh, uh. Do you want your cookies next weekend, or mine?”
“Your cookies suck. Who likes oatmeal raisin?”
“I suppose the same people who don’t like cinnamon pecan cookies. You weirdo.”
The two of us started giggling at the stove. Mom swatted me playfully with a rag before she took the black beans off the stove. She started setting the table, with the rice almost ready in this beautiful enchilada flavoring. The sauce created this rich red color that went perfectly with the black of the beans and the red and white of the enchilada. With the salad Mom quickly whipped up, we had all sorts of colors on that table. Complete with some orange soda we found at the back of the pantry.
