6
COFFEE AND PANCAKES
MADISON
The sweet aroma of coffee pulls me from sleep, warm and rich. I roll over—too far—and my body thuds against the floor, half cushioned, half hardwood. My heart falls right with me. Groaning, I rub at my eyes before cracking one open. Sunlight filters through the windows in soft golden ribbons, and the sound of birds chirping drifts in on the morning air. Slowly, I sit up, wincing at the pounding in my head. Too many wine slushies. My stomach muscles feel tight, the ache a reminder of just how hard we laughed last night. Collapsing in a heap, unable to breathe, tears streaming down my face at Tessa’s tragic karaoke. Sarah’s dramatic reenactments of every bad pick-up line a man has ever tried on us.
I push myself to my feet, tugging down the hem of my oversized shirt until it hangs just above my knees. I’m missing a fuzzy sock, so I yank off the other, tossing it aside. I spot a lone claw clip abandoned on the table and pick it up, twisting my hair back to clip it away from my face. The smell of coffee tugs me forward as I shuffle toward the kitchen.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Mom greets me, cracking eggs into a bowl.
“How are you even awake?” I grimace, sliding onto the stool at the counter.
She smiles softly, pushing a mug of hot coffee toward me. My brain does this little happy dance as I lift the mug like a lifeline. I inhale the scent before taking a cautious sip, not wanting to burn my taste buds off. A small moan slips from me when I get that first taste, and my shoulders drop with relief.
“I didn’t want to miss breakfast with you,” she tells me, dropping a cup of flour into the bowl.
“So you haven’t slept?” I narrow my eyes in worry.
“I got a few hours in. I can nap later. No need to worry about me, sweetheart.”
She’s right, I shouldn’t worry. Mom’s been doing this my whole life; she knows when to push and when to stop. Still, the older I get, the more I worry about her. I can’t help it.
“Fine,” I say, reaching for my mug again. “But if I check in later and you still haven’t slept, I’ll be mad.”
She laughs, sliding the bowl toward me and pressing a whisk into my hand. “Promise. Now tell me how your girls’ night went.”
I finish off my coffee, glancing around. Only just noticing the girls are nowhere in sight. A flicker of guilt passes through me. I should probably find my phone, check in on them, and thank them for last night. Even with the pounding in my head and the slight roll in my stomach. I feel so much lighter. Having my girls in my corner makes me believe I can get back to being the loud, fun version of myself I’ve been missing.
Lowering the whisk into the bowl, I start combining theingredients. “Speaking of the girls. Were they gone when you woke?”
“Tessa was,” Mom says, reaching for the notepad she always keeps on the counter. She holds it up with a smile. “She wrote,Thanks for all the laughs, but some of us have to work.”
I rub at my temple, the dull throb of my wine headache pulsing under my fingers. “I need her superpowers. The way that girl can drink and still get up at dawn to open Sunlit Espresso is inspiring.”
Mom chuckles, pouring herself more coffee. “You two have always been opposites when it comes to mornings and nights.”
“What about Halle and Sarah?” I ask, setting the bowl and whisk back down.
Mom turns the stove on, dropping butter into the pan. The smell of it melting instantly makes my stomach growl. “They were on their way out when I started the coffee. You just missed them. Halle said she’ll catch up with you later, and Sarah was very grateful for the night off.” She pauses, lifting her mug for a sip. “She seems nice.”
“She reminds me of you, actually,” I say, handing her the bowl of batter. “Her energy is very warm, and she’s a single mom doing it all on her own. I don’t know her story, but I do know us girls will be here for her.”
A smile blooms across her face, her eyes softening in the way that makes my chest ache. “You’re one in a million, my beautiful girl. Please never lose that kind heart of yours.”
“Love you, Mom,” I whisper, standing to wrap my arms around her for a quick hug. “Thank you for letting me have a girls’ night here.”
“You’re always welcome,” she says firmly, squeezing me once before turning back to the stove. “This is your home asmuch as it is mine, even if you don’t live here anymore. Now go shower quickly, and I’ll finish these pancakes.”
I wander back to the living room, gathering the blankets and pillows we’d left across the floor. Carrying them to my room, I try not to stumble over the ends of them.
“Lemon or strawberries?” Mom calls from the kitchen.
“Surprise me,” I call back, smiling to myself as I push open the bathroom door.
Fifteen minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom feeling like I could take on the world. Amazing what a hot shower, a strong cup of coffee, and clean teeth can do for a girl with a hangover. I find my phone on the dresser in my room, buzzing with a heap of notifications. The girls’ chat has been renamed toWINE NOT. I can’t help but laugh and tap the thread, seeing that Halle added Sarah to the chat.
Tessa: GOOD MORNING Sunshines.
