Yesterday, I decided to make supper for everyone, but, after the boiling soup spilt over, hit my fingers, skin turning pink, I ordered Chinese instead—spring rolls, to be exact.
Naomi walked in with mom, and looked at the table. “You made supper?”
“Yes, I did,” I responded, looking down at the plates I’d laid out, restaurant cartons hidden in the garbage.
Both women stared at me.
And then, all of a sudden, like rain starting, my mom laughed.
Giggled.
Looked alive.
Soon, like a chain reaction, my sister joined in, and the two of them stood there, bodies shaking as they laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
After a while, I joined in.
And let me tell you, Serenity, it felt so fucking good.
