Food had been our way of connecting. We had nothing else in common but our love for cooking. The memories were bittersweet since cooking with her was something I’d always looked forward to when I was younger. At the same time, thinking of my mom reminded me how quickly she cut ties when I was pregnant with Luca.
My mother was a proud woman, and she didn’t accept anything less than perfection. My pregnancy had brought shame to the family.
I hadn’t seen them since before Luca was born. And I had little hope that my kids would ever meet their grandparents. But thinking about the past wasn’t going to fix my present. My personal motto was to look forward and concentrate on the things in life I had control over.
“I also made toscakaka,” I said. It was the one thing I could make that was Swedish. The almond caramel cake was my father’s favorite dish, and I’d made it my mission to perfect it when I was still living at home. The kids didn’t like it which was why I’d asked Malena to bring dessert with her as well since the only reason I made the cake in the first place was because she loved it so much.
Her face lit up when I mentioned the cake. “I knew you loved me.”
“Of course I do, you fool. BFFs until the bitter end.”
We ate our cake while the kids played. As soon as we put our spoons down, Malena asked, “So you gonna tell me why you’ve been fidgeting all night?”
“I’m not fidgeting,” I said, knowing full well that my limbs had been moving the whole time.
“You want to tell me something but don’t know how,” she correctly assumed.
“Stop thinking you know what’s in my head.”
She rolled her eyes. “But I do. And now I know something’s going on. And you just confirmed my suspicions when you got defensive.”
“Cheese and rice. I’m not defensive. Now shut up.”
She laughed and cleared our plates while I remained at the table. I still hadn’t come up with a good way to tell her that I’d officially be a stripper come Monday. And she was almost ready to leave.
“Does it have to do with Sebastian?” she asked when she came back to the table.
“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“He’s not here tonight. And he’s always around. Did you two have a fight?”
I got up and started pacing. “It has nothing to do with my roommate. This is something about my work.”
I looked at the ceiling and shook out my hands. “I’m going to start stripping.”
There. That wasn’t so hard. Just out with it.
Malena froze, her arms still suspended over the table where she’d picked up plastic cups the kids had used. “Say what?”
“It’s better money.”
“Do you need money? I can give you money. I have money. I don’t need it. And I live at home. I have hardly any expenses and a life insurance payout I don’t know what to do with,” she said, the sentences flowing into each other, her voice getting higher and higher.
“I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I just can’t take you up on it.”
“You and your misplaced pride,” she ground out, eying the kids to make sure they didn’t witness our argument. “You’d rather strip than accept a loan from a friend.”
I shot up, my chair scraping back at the sudden movement. “It’s not like that. I just can’t keep depending on everyone else.”
Malena put the cups back down and ran a hand through her hair. “But that’s what friends do. They help each other out.”
“Stripping isn’t all that bad.”
“I’m not worried about the stripping. But I know you. This is the last thing you want to do. You can’t even take your top off in front of me.”
I glared at her. “Hey, that’s not true.”
She braced her hands on the table, leaning forward. “Definitely true. Remember when we went to the mall and there were no other changing rooms and we decided to share one? You made me turn around before you took your top off.”
I did do that. And I really didn’t like taking my clothes off in front of other people.
“I’ll be fine. I need to face my fear eventually.”
“I have to get Felix home, but this conversation isn’t over yet, chiquita,” Malena said and pulled on her coat.
I followed her around the room as she first collected Felix’s jacket and then Felix. He didn’t want to leave and tried running away. When she caught him, he screamed, and she had to carry him out.
“It’s going to be fine,” I said, not sure who I was trying to convince, her or myself. “It’s just a job.”
“I’ll be back in a few days to talk some sense into you,” she called over her shoulder, a struggling Felix under her arm.
“I love you,” I yelled.
“Love you too,” she returned.
Well, that went better than expected. There was no yelling. Although it wasn’t the kind of advice I hoped for. I wanted to talk it over with her. Maybe get her to tell me I could do this.
Instead, I was left to wonder if I was making a huge mistake.
I put the kids to bed early, reading the same sentence to them three times before Luca complained.
I was stress cleaning while crying and listening to the Backstreet Boys when the front door opened. Someone banged against the wall, and then Sebastian stumbled into the kitchen. His hair was disheveled, his shirt ripped, and he had a busted lip.
My eyes widened as I rushed up to him. “What happened? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“I’m fine. Just need some ice and a shower,” he said and dropped into one of the chairs.
I went back to the kitchen and put ice in a
