"Dad! Quick, get on the couch! The carpet is the ocean, and you'll drown!"
I quickly sit on the leather sofa to comply with the orders, but also because I'm dumbstruck and not sure what to say.
"Now, sit back and watch as Sophia walks the plank so she can save Aunt Sarah!" And then the most ridiculous-sounding evil laugh escapes my daughter, and I see Sophia peeking over her shoulder at me with tears of laughter in her eyes, clearly enjoying every minute of this.
"Save me, good sir. The evil pirate is so cruel. I want to save my sister, but she's making me jump into an ocean of piranha!"
"No, Dad, don't listen to her. You're nobody right now."
Ouch.
"Get to walking, missy, or I'll cut your sister's head off."
Jesus. This took a turn.
"Ok, that feels like a good stopping point to me. Join us next week when Pirate Crazy Pants decides the fate of Princess Plank-Walker and her sister."
"Daaaad."
"Haaaaze."
"Fine. But I'm not waiting until next week. Sophia, can you come over tomorrow? Aunt Sarah won't be here, but we don't need her to keep playing."
"Hey, I was an important part of this game today!" my sister whines. "Don't do me like that!"
Hazel runs up to her and places both hands on her face. She looks her right in the eyes and says with the seriousnessof a responsible adult, "You are very important. Don't ever forget that." Then she drops her hands and shrugs. "But you won't be here tomorrow, and the show must go on."
Sophia rolls onto her back and slaps a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter. She's looking at me like she doesn't want to offend Hazel, but it's too hilarious to ignore.
"Untie your aunt, and let's get this place cleaned up."
"I'll help her clean up," Sophia says. "You should go eat. We left you some dinner in the oven."
I still as I take in those words.We left you dinner. Go eat.Words that real families use. It feels warm and good, but then the feeling slowly turns into panic, icy tingles, and the need to escape the room.
I turn and walk out toward the kitchen as I hear my sister say, "Someone must be hungry." She's right. I'm starving. But not for food. For Sophia. God, that little taste last night was not enough, and now she's in my house again, on all fours no less, and playing with my daughter? I grab the plate out of the oven and am stunned at what I see. Meatloaf? Who made this?
"Sophia made dinner," my sister says as she walks up next to me to grab a water out of the fridge.
I just grunt. After sliding onto the stool and placing my plate on my kitchen island, I dip my fork in and savor the bite of the most delicious meatloaf I've ever had in my entire life.
"It's Mom's recipe."
I knew it. Now I don't feel so bad saying it was the best, since it's technically my mom's and hers is the best.
"Why does Sophia have Mom's recipe?" I try to ask in the most neutral voice I can muster.
"We were outside swimming when she got home, and she hung out with us for a bit. Hazel mentioned dinner and that she wanted meatloaf, and Sophia offered to make it. When we came inside, Hazel told her that Grammy's meatloaf was your favorite, and Sophia asked if she had the recipe. I couldn't say we don't have it. That would be rude."
"Of course. It's fine."
"She's amazing, you know."
"It's not like that, so don't even start."
She holds my stare for a minute and then clicks her tongue against her cheek.
"Ok."
