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I park in front of one of the two garages and climb out of my car, taking the few steps and walking in.
“Honey, I'm home!” I call out into the entryway.
“Is that you, Nate? I'm in the kitchen,” Mom shouts back.
“Nate!” I look up at the top of the stairs and see Maya, my younger sister, sitting on the handrail.
My protective side kicks in. “You be careful on there.”
She rolls her eyes and slides down effortlessly, her dark-brown hair flowing behind her. “I think you're getting old. Two years ago you would've come up there and slid down with me.”
I pull her in for a hug and she squeezes me back. “You're getting too cheeky for your own good,” I tell her. “How old are you now? Twenty?”
“Fifteen, loser.”
I let go of her and she smiles, but my gaze scans her face in scrutiny. “What have you got on your face?”
She shies away from me. “What? Nothing.”
“Oh my God. Are you wearing makeup?”
“Leave me alone,” she squeaks, practically running into the kitchen.
I follow her, kissing my mom on the cheek and dipping my finger into the sauce she's stirring.
“Hey! You're a grown man now, you've got to stop dipping your fingers where they're not wanted!” I look at Maya and we both break out into raucous laughter. “What? I—eww, guys! Grow up!”
“What's this about growing up?” I hear Dad say from behind me. I turn and smile at the grin on his face. “Hi, son.”
“Hey, Dad.” We clap each other on the back before I take a seat at the wooden table at the back of the kitchen. He sits down in the place opposite me and I tilt my head toward Maya who is sitting cross-legged on the bench beside me. “Maya's wearing makeup.”
“Shut up!” She slaps me on the arm and I feign hurt.
“She is not,” Mom says, pulling something out of the oven, unaware of the black stuff Maya seems to have painted on her eyelashes and the glossy liquid that's coating her lips.
“She is,” I retort.
“You're no longer my favorite brother,” she whispers under her breath.
“I’ll survive. Besides, I’m your only brother.” I stick my tongue out at her like a child and turn my attention to Dad. I'm the spitting image of him. His eyes are the same shade of green as mine and his hair is a dark brown wi
th salt-and-pepper strands beside his temples. The only thing I got from my mom is her angular cheekbones. She has hazel eyes and dark-blond hair, but both us kids look like Dad, apart from Maya’s softer features.
“How's the firm?” Dad asks, true to form.
“Set to be one of the best in the city, as always.”
He beams with pride and knocks on the table twice. “Hear that, hon? Our boy’s going to give us a run for our money.”
“Hardly. Your old company is still sitting pretty at number one.”
He shrugs. “And I want to see you bypass that old place.”
My dad took some time off from work so he and my mom could spend some well-deserved time together after she had an operation on her knee. She needed help and he wouldn't let her hire someone. That was three years ago and he hasn't gone back since. He retired early and sold his company. Now Mom is healed and the majority of the time pain free, they take regular vacations. Maya stays with me when she doesn't go with them.
“I'm working on it,” I state, smiling as he gets up and helps Mom by slicing the loaf of bread on the counter. I watch as they work effortlessly side-by-side. Being together for over thirty years means you get to know every little thing about one another. They seem to be just as in love now as when they first met when Mom was eighteen and Dad twenty-five.
I turn my attention to Maya who is staring down at the cell in her hands. “Who you talking to?”
