Could it matter?
My thoughts started to ramble, and they spilled over into my words, “Do you want equal parts spicy and non-spicy? Or like one-part spicy and two-parts non-spicy? You can have any combo you want.”
Instead of answering me, she helped herself to the stack of napkins and silverware I had set on the counter and set them out on the table. It was cute how she made herself at home. Her lips lifted into a sweet smile. “Are you nervous?”
“Why would I be nervous?” Why did my voice squawk at the end like a dying hawk?
“Because you’re using a lot of chatty words, and that’s usually what I do—before you tell me to be quiet. I always remember you more comfortable in silence.”
She was right. I hated chatter. I wasn’t nervous to have her here. Nor was I nervous for her to eat my food—because I was a fantastic taco chef. However, if I allowed myself to be quiet, all I would hear was the sound of my heart slamming against my chest wall. That also wasn’t nerves. It was just what she did to me. “I’m not nervous,” I answered truthfully. “Maybe I’m like what you said you were—flustered since running into you again.” I dared myself to look up.
“It has been flustering.” Her words were perfectly spaced and wispy. They were almost like poetry. I should know because I’m a poet.
“I don’t think flusteringis a word,” I teased, grateful to have something easy to joke about but I steeled my gaze on hers, feeling the magnetism we’d always had.
“There isn’t a word that works. I had to make one up.” We stayed in an unwavering eye lock, neither one flinching until the patter of Hadley’s feet broke our trance.
“Dad, what do you call a sleeping dinosaur?” she asked as she sat at the table.
“Um, a sleepasaurus?”
“No, a dinosnore.” She laughed so hard her nose wrinkled, reminding me of my mom, but not in a sad way. In the sort of way that teased a happy memory and all the joy we could have had as a family—if things had been different. She was my mom’smini-me. Since I also looked like my mom, we all wore the same wrinkled-nose smile. If only my mom would have smiled more. It was an out-of-place thought but having Elinora here was making me remember a lot of random things.
“That’s a good one.” Elinora moved toward the table, sitting on the edge of her seat.
“I heard it at art,” Hadley proudly reported, looking so big in her pigtails and princess pajamas.
“Okay,” I cut in as I brought the plates to the table. “I have one non-spicy, non-green, extra cheese.” I set Hadley’s plate down in front of her. “I have one green, extra-spicy.” I set that plate in front of the chair next to Hadley. “And,” I set the last plate in front of Chatterbox, “I have one, half-spice, half-non spice, half-green, half-nongreen, and…totally flustering.”
“That sounds perfect.” Elinora’s bottom lip curled under her pouty top lip, as if she tucked it in protectively.
I lowered myself to my seat, dropping a sigh because it felt good to sit after being on my feet at work all day. I picked up a taco, squeezing it together. My mouth watered as I took the first bite, and I chewed through the silence then rushed to start a conversation with the first thing that came to my mind. “What time does your flight leave tomorrow?”
“I have to double-check, but I know it’s early.”
“Do you need a ride?” I wasn’t sure why I offered. If it was early, I wouldn’t be able to help her unless I woke up Hadley. She wasn’t a morning person, and I’d have to drag her out the door, and things wouldn’t be pretty.
“The hotel where I’m staying has an airport shuttle.”
Phew, I’d look like a jerk now explaining that I couldn’t take her.
“How was work today?” she asked in between bites.
I washed down my last bite with water and swallowed. “It was slower, but I like those days because I get to write.”
“What are you writing?” Her questions were quick, like she was doing whatever she could to force conversation.
“I always have several things I’m working on. One day, I’ll finish something.” I wanted to tell her about our book. I still had it after all these years, and periodically, I’d write to her in it. Over the years, I’d filled about every page, never intending for her to see it because I had been too honest about way too much. Nope, couldn’t tell her that. I turned to Hadley, bringing her into the conversation. “What did you do at preschool today?”
She pulled the melted cheese strand out of the top of her taco, slurping it up like spaghetti. “We watched a movie with a cat in it.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I need water!” Elinora jolted to her feet, fanning her mouth. “Totally flustering on this taco.”
“Did I give you mine?” I scrambled to my feet, darted toward the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and tossed it to her. “It was extra hot.”
She twisted the lid off quickly, and guzzled, swallowing half before coming back up for air. “No kidding. Extra spicy.”
