When Uncle Brian came in the house, various parts of it hummed like they were calling out to him. Burnt-out light bulbs Sadie always forgot to change and screws that needed to be tightened, and if she strained, she swore she could hear her old Subaru whining for attention. Brian’s magic had always been fascinating to Sadie because it felt like a superpower: he knew how to fix anything he touched.
“We would’ve been here sooner,” Aunt Suzy said.
“But the string of lights along the driveway had a short, so I fixed them,” Uncle Brian finished.
“I’ve been meaning to look at that—thank you,” Sadie said, not even bothering to ask how Brian had managed it, since she knew he always carried a toolbox in his car.
The smell of lasagna brought them all into the kitchen, where another round of cries and hugs went around. Uncle Brian headed straight for the blender while Suzy unloaded a basket with zucchini squash and purple tomatoes from their garden. There were three conversations going on at once, accompanied by the sounds of Gigi clanging the pot lid as she checked on the broccoli steaming on the stovetop and the hiss of cheese melting in the oven. Tava hummed while Anne continuously teased Kay. Gigi smacked hands and scolded and laughed and bossed “the kids” around. The air was warm with talk and company. It had gone from dinner for two in front of the television to having to add chairs for the ten people crowded around the kitchen table. They all grinned at each other and drank deeply.
Seth helped Uncle Brian get a leaf from the shed to expand the table while Jake brought in a bench and extra chairs. Sadie and Raquel set the table, and Suzy was already at work on cleaning dishes. A blast of heat hit the room as the lasagna came out of the oven and the garlic bread finished broiling. And finally, Gigi’s bullfrog voice silenced them all.
“You didn’t need to come back,” she said. “But I’m glad you did. Now let’s eat before this damned food gets cold. I don’t even know if this lasagna is any good. And that broccoli isn’t fit to eat, but it’ll have to do.”
For the next twenty minutes the conversation died away, to be replaced with the clinking of silverware and the setting down of plates, the scraping of chairs and the refilling of drinks. You could cook all the magic in the world into the most delicate of dishes, but, Sadie thought, nothing compared to the magic of sharing an ordinary meal with people you loved.
Sadie was sitting next to Jake, and even over the melee of delicious dinner aromas she could smell him. The cedarwood and hint of campfire smoke. When he reached for a second helping, his thigh brushed against hers, and neither of them moved away. She knew she should. Knew she was supposed to keep her distance. That her magic was the only thing that mattered right now. And still, she relished that small point of contact. Let it spread through her until it pooled at her center.
“I can’t eat another bite.” Jake sighed, leaning back in his chair, his hands on his stomach. “Gigi Marie, as always, that was the best meal I’ve had in forever.”
“Well, I hope you saved room for dessert in a little bit. But before we get there, I suppose we should talk about why you’re all here.” The table all hushed at once, and the bubble of joy that had been growing in Sadie’s stomach suddenly burst. Acid began to burn in her chest. Kay was already crying.
“You don’t have to do this, Mom,” Anne said quietly, all teasing gone from her voice.
“Hush, toot. I do have to. You all already know it. Or at least most of you do. I’m dying.” Gigi was never one to mince words, but these came out sharp and sliced through the silence until Sadie could feel the incisions across her heart.
Kay let out a wail, and Tava shushed her. Raquel had silent tears streaming down her face. Seth’s jaw was clenched so hard the vein in his forehead was visible. Brian pushed back his chair as though he were going to leave—like if he refused to hear it, it wouldn’t be true. But when he saw Gigi’s look of warning, he sat back down.
“Chemo,” Anne started but faltered when Gigi’s eyes cut to her.
“This goes beyond modern medicine. It was always going to be this way. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.” Gigi cleared her throat.
The house groaned and shuddered, and the record player stopped on a dime. The grandfather clock sent out one long, mournful chime.
“So, what we’re going to do now is enjoy our time together. I’ll have no fussing and no hysterics.” She looked pointedly to Aunt Kay. “Everybody hear me?”