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“Yeah, exactly!”
We playfully argue about it until Rae reappears with some art supplies. As we all enter the kitchen, I concede to Liv that spaghetti will do tonight, but I inform her of my expectation to meet the Broccoli Monster one of these days. Rae sides with me, so even though Liv shakes her head in cute defiance, I have a feeling she’ll end up caving.
She starts on the food, and Rae and I get set up at the kitchen table with paper, crayons, and markers.
“All right, what are we coloring?” I ask.
“I’m going to draw you a picture!” Rae says. “You can make a picture for somebody, too! It doesn’t have to be for me, though, if you don’t want it to be.”
“Psh. You color me a picture, I color you one right back.”
Giggling, she glances at Liv. I do, too, and see she’s digging around in the fridge. Rae quickly leans my way and gestures me closer, so I tilt toward her until she can cup her hands around my ear.
She whispers, “Let’s make Annie a secret picture.”
With a big nod, I whisper back, “Awesome idea.”
“Uh oh,” Liv says as the refrigerator door shuts. “What are you two plotting over there?”
“Nothing!” we say together. Then we snicker.
“Yeah, okay….”
We work on each other’s picture first. I have to admit she’s more artistic than I am. She draws herself on a swing set with me and Liv on a nearby bench, then adds in clouds and the sun and some birds and some flowers and trees and a random cat. The best I can do is a little stick-figure girl with yellow hair, big blue eyes, a happy smile, and a blocky purple dress; I wonder if I should attempt some scenery, too, but in the end, I just go with a bunch of different-colored dots all over the page like confetti.
She loves it, though. In fact, when it’s time to color the secret picture for Liv, she decides the confetti is a must for it.
“It’s smelling awesome in here,” I comment as I try to draw a flower in a corner of Liv’s picture. I look over at her and see she’s stirring a big pot on the stove. “Still doing okay? I can take a break and help if you need me to.”
“I’m good,” she says. I believe her easy tone and the matching smile she flicks at me. “How’s it going on Art Island?”
“Amazing!” I declare.
“Amazing!” Rae echoes.
Liv turns on the water in the sink, so I surreptitiously tell Rae, “Hey, let’s draw Annie holding some ice cream.” I point at Rae’s crayon depiction of her aunt, whose differently-sized hands are currently empty.
“Ooh, yeah! What kind? I gotta pick the right color.”
I can’t help laughing quietly as I say, “How about chocolate and peanut butter?”
I don’t know if Rae remembers the joke or not, because she just agrees. Liv will remember, though—andIhave just remembered I never revisited my case for why that’s the best flavor combination. I’ll have to get back to that someday.
We put the finishing touches on the picture, then sign and date it and our other pieces of art. Liv is still cooking even after we’ve taken the pictures to the living room and cleaned off the kitchen table, so I resolve to finally help.
She tries to shoo me away from checking on the garlic bread in the oven, butIshooheraway from trying to stop me from checking it. I insist that she drain the pasta while I make sure the bread doesn’t burn, and she tsks, but she looks grateful, too. I wink at her and turn off the oven, because this is actually the perfect time to take the bread out.
Very soon, the three of us are sitting down with our food. And, God, it doesn’t only smell good—I’m pretty sure Liv didn’t do anything fancy to the sauce, but it’s still really delicious. I have a hard time not shoving forkful after forkful of food into my mouth like a starved man.
“I love this,” I groan after I’ve swallowed my first bite of sauce-dipped garlic bread.
“It’s yummy,” Rae agrees.
I nod and tell Liv, “Thank you so much.Loveit.”
She smiles happily at us. “I’m glad everyone likes it. I was worried I put too much garlic in it, between the sauce and the butter on the bread.”
“I don’t believe there’s such a thing as too much garlic. Isn’t it weird, though, how it seems salty but it isn’t? There’s no sodium in it at all.”
