Scurrying into the kitchen, she found it mostly unchanged, except for a new high chair across from where she sat. It was strange how familiar everything felt, like time had stopped.
“Where are the girls?” Gia asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She tried to resist plucking at the tablecloth, but some habits were hard to break. The dark material was soft as she rolledit between her fingertips. The nervous habit calmed her frayed nerves.
“Th?y Mai’s at school,” Minh answered, glancing at the wall clock. “And Tuy?t Mai’s napping. She’ll be up soon.”
Minh moved to the stove and began ladling out a steaming bowl of ph? bò viên. Gia’s throat tightened again. Her favorite, noodle soup with beef meatballs. Minh placed the bowl before her, followed by a soup spoon and chopsticks, already knowing how Gia liked it.
“You still like ph? bò viên, I hope.” Minh’s voice was soft as she looked down at Gia.
She blinked away tears, and Minh turned away. Pretending not to see her tears, which Gia was thankful for.
Sniffing, Gia reached for the condiments, a permanent staple on their dining room table. She artfully layered sriracha and hoisin sauce over the noodles in practiced spirals. She returned the bottles to their rightful place after squirting some onto a side plate, a ritual she needed to complete before eating.
Thao thought it was crazy how specific she was with her pre-meal preparations. He usually squirted a giant heap before mixing it all together and shoving the food into his giant mouth. In response to his teasing, she’d throw a bean sprout at his face and laugh when he tried to catch it with his mouth. Minh would glare at the two of them while their parents ignored their shenanigans.
The steam from the hot soup wafted off the bowl in delicious, mouthwatering waves. It smelled so good. So familiar. So much like home. She stirred with her chopsticks until the broth darkened, plucked out the noodles, blew on them, then wrapped the long strands carefully onto the spoon. The noodles sat on her soup spoon like a satisfying mountain of joy. Slowly, almost reverently, she scooped some fresh broth to join her noodle mountain. Finally, she plucked a meatball from the broth and dunked it in sauce before popping it into her waiting mouth. As she began chewing on the meatball, she shoved the spoonful of noodles and hot soup inside her mouth. Her taste buds exploded withflavors and textures of the sweet and spicy broth, meatball, and soft noodles. Her body sagged with relief and pleasure, and she groaned softly. It tasted like home and was exactly as she remembered.
“You haven’t changed at all,” Minh said, amused at her antics. Sitting across from her, Gia noticed for the first time how much older Minh looked compared to the last time she’d seen her. Silver strands wove up to where her dark hair rested on top of her head.
Gia also noticed familiar dark circles under her sister’s eyes.Guess neither of them was sleeping well.She probably resembled Gollum when he found the One Ring. Gia looked up sheepishly, mouth full, and glimpsed tears in Minh’s eyes. That struck her harder than any words.
“Thank you. It’s delicious,” Gia murmured, wiping her mouth. She noticed Minh didn’t have a bowl. Swallowing down the mouthful of food, she sat up straighter. Remembered her posture at the dinner table. If her mom saw her right now, Gia was sure she would have words to say.
“Aren’t you eating?”
Minh shook her head but didn’t answer. A small cry echoed down the hallway, and she sighed, standing up.
“Guess she’s up,” Minh said with a grimace before disappearing down the hallway.
Gia was almost done eating when Minh returned, holding a sleepy two-year-old. Tuy?t Mai blinked at Gia with large, curious eyes.
“Tuy?t Mai, this is your auntie.”
Gia froze. She wasn’t used to children. The little girl wriggled out of Minh’s arms and toddled over, standing beside Gia’s chair.
Gia hesitantly waved. Tuy?t Mai stared, unimpressed. Then she lifted her arms.
“Up, Auntie!”
“Oh, okay.” Gia bent down and lifted her onto her lap. The little one immediately began playing with Gia’s hair, tiny fingers weaving through the strands.
Across the table, Minh smirked at Gia’s helpless expression.
“Gia Huy, what’s that on your neck?” Minh’s voice turned sharp.
Gia’s hand flew to the collar of her sweater.
“Oh, uh, nothing.” She knew Minh didn’t believe her. Her sister’s jaw tightened, but thankfully, she let it go.
Tuy?t Mai gave Gia’s hair a hard tug, and Gia winced.
“Hey, you. I’m your auntie,” she breathed, gazing into the toddler’s familiar brown eyes. Something in her heart softened. Her knee started bouncing, unsure of what to do to entertain a two-year-old.
Minh leaned back in her chair.
“I have to help at the restaurant later. Do you want to come? Or stay home with Tuy?t Mai?”
Gia’s pulse spiked. She should not be alone with a toddler. She did not know how to care for a child or how to change a freaking diaper.
