Alex looks over my shoulder. “Yes, I am ready.”
“Do you remember that this is the last time this kitchen will look the same? And there won’t be a brunch next week.”
“Yes, because it will all be ruined. Then, there will be a new kitchen.”
“Are you okay with that?”
“We’ll see.”
“Would it help if I sent you a picture of what inspired the new one? The new colors and counters and stuff?”
“No. Because that is notyourkitchen. It would be someone else’s.”
“Got it. How about if I send you pictures as the guys demo it? And rebuild it? Then, you can see the changes as they happen.”
It takes a long time for him to answer, and selfishly, I wish he’d think faster because the food is getting cold, but at last, he nods. “Yes. That is a good idea.”
“Then, let’s roll!” I dart ahead, but after a few paces, I realize something and yell behind me, “Alex, buddy! That means, bring the food out!”
After we plate waffle sandwiches and dish out slices of the chili casserole, all I want to do is stand back and watch as everyone devours our food, but Paul motions that I should sit and eat. Alex is eating, so I suppose I can too. For a minute. The parfaits with Mary Ann’s ripe blueberries aren’t going to assemble themselves, but I give myself a few minutes to enjoy the group’s storytelling and laughter.
When I’m back in the kitchen, ladling out yogurt dishes, I start thinking about what in the hell I’m going to do for brunch when my mom is here. As much as I want to show off, I don’t want to try things that are impossible, especially in a new kitchen. But as I work, I figure out what I want.
Cocoa banana bread with banana slices on top. A mushroom and Brie strata. And a cantaloupe smoothie.
All fine but also all safe choices, I realize. Nothing cooked in the moment.
As I’m bringing out the first tray of blueberry treats to the picnic tables, a new idea hits me.
“Green eggs and ham,” I whisper excitedly as I set down Danny’s parfait.
“I’m a Dr. Seuss fan, too, but what?”
“Slow-cooked scrambled eggs mixed with a spinach, basil, and parsley sauce. Ham on the side. One of my bookmarked recipes that I’ve been waiting to try. Thought it’d be work for brunch when my mom is here. I needed a fourth dish.”
“And that is definitely it.”
Before brunch has ended, I excuse myself and spend a bit of time finally tackling my old bedroom and Erica’s while my friends hang out by the dock, swimming, blasting music, and laughing like crazy. Their noise brings me nothing but joy. It’s a quick job to remove posters, box up clothing for donations, and put on fresh bedding. Surprisingly, it’s less painful than I thought it would be, but maybe because I’m in a better place than when I first got back to Wake. As I’m working on Erica’s room though, I stop and impulsively text her with a video of what’s left in her room, asking if she wants me to save anything.
Moments later, she replies.
Wow. Strange to see all of my old stuff. Not sure what to say. Maybe you could pick out some things? I mean, if you don’t mind. But obviously, that revolting poster with the precious uplifting saying has to be overnighted.
I actually laugh out loud as I text back.
“Shoot for the moon, and even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars,” doesn’t still rock your world? Or is it the “Be the girl who decided to go for it!” poster? Sooo many choices here.
BURN THE WHOLE HOUSE TO THE GROUND, LOL!
Even as I giggle, I can see that her joking request isn’t the worst idea really, given the amount of work this house needed even the last time she saw it years ago.
Let me try a solid renovation first. If that fails, as it might, you have a deal.
The text that I get back from her shocks me in such a wonderful way.
Work some magic, sister.
Later, I might turn one of our old bedrooms into a reading nook or something. I could create a lovely space for myself and keep the other as a guest room. It’d be fun to have Marlena visit. While we’ve been texting and talking over the weeks that I’ve been gone, it’s not the same as being with her in person. And one of these days, maybe even Erica could come visit.
Before I cross the lawn to the tables I hold back and watch for a bit. Inhale this new life that I’ve created for myself. For the first time—maybe ever really—I am whole and unashamed. Even in front of this large group, I am compelled to make my way to Danny, grab him around the waist, and deeply kiss the guy who is always my champion and someone who has played such an instrumental part in me shedding my past. Danny and I break apart in laughter at the whistles and whooping but not so far apart that I don’t hear him when he tells me that I’d better pack a bag.
“And a big one. As of tomorrow, you’re staying with me—you know that, right? With all the demo we’re doing over the next two weeks, it’s not going to be safe here. I don’t want you breathing in dust, paint, and all that shit. Plus, you’ll obviously not have a usable kitchen, and I know you—you’re going to need to cook.”
“So, you’re going to take me home tonight?”
“I am,” he confirms with a flirty smile. “I hate to sleep alone.”
It takes me a minute, but I laugh. “And I know you too. Tell me that this doesn’t make mecompany?”
“Nope. Myguardian angel,” he says sincerely. “Eddie Money was everything. Just as you are.”
