"No, you'll have to thank my mother for the lasagna. She's an amazing cook and makes Italian and Mexican dishes often, only because those are my favorite foods."
"Are you two close?"
She looks at me funny but then takes a bite of her lasagna.
"Mmmm."
"Iris…"
"Hmm?"
"Are you picturing me naked right now?"
She ignores my question and keeps on talking.
"My mother and I are two peas in a pod. We do everything together."
"Can you show me a picture?"
She brings out her phone and starts scrolling. The smile on her face tells me she's looking at some amazing pictures until she finally stops at one and offers me the phone. They are posing together in front of an Italian restaurant and waving at the camera. They are happy and you can almost feel the love between them.
"That's beautiful. You look a lot like her."
"People say that often, but I think she's way more beautiful than I am."
"I'm pretty sure your mother wouldn't like to hear you say that, angel."
"She hates it. Do you want dessert? Or coffee? You might have some in the cupboard."
"There is, actually. Some delicious brews that come from the next town over, Woodland Falls. Theres a coffee shop there with the best coffee, and the owner is always experimenting to get the best brew. You'd love Sam."
"Let me go make some. It'll go great with the tiramisu."
I get up so fast I almost turn the chair I'm sitting on over.
"Don't move a muscle. Let me do that for you."
"Okay, thank you. I'll plate the tiramisu while you deal with the coffee."
We both move to the kitchen and I start brewing one of the best blends Sam has given me. I want to impress my angel. All the while she's plating the dessert in my everyday china. It feels so domestic that my insides churn to touch her as she passes me by in the kitchen.
"Iris?"
"Yes?"
"Where did you come from?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm living in Boulder in a house I bought at auction. It was cheap and perfect for me. I teach art at the local high school. I don't get paid much, but I used to be able to make some side money with my art. That's stopped in the last few years."
"So you miss the money?"
"Not completely. I miss the interest people used to have in my art and how my name was occasionally mentioned in art circles. I know, it's vain, but I can't help myself."
"I don't think it's vain. You've got talent, and people recognize that. Whatever has happened to keep you from painting must be blocking you from putting your best work forward like you used to."
I turn around as the coffee brews and walk up to her. She's frozen in place as if mesmerized.
She looks so beautiful, and here in front of me I hope that my words have touched her, and that she understands that she's enough and that she can do anything she sets her mind to.
