I make my way toward the kitchen, following the divine aroma like a cartoon character floating towards a pie on a windowsill. When I round the corner, I find Mom at the stove, and the sight makes me stop in my tracks.
She's plating what can only be described as art. Perfectly twirled pasta, golden and glossy, topped with what looks like actual pancetta (not the sad bacon bits from a bag), grated parmesan, and a soft egg yolk sitting on top like a crown jewel.
"Mom," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "Did you... did you make carbonara?"
She turns, and her face lights up with that warm smile that could cure seasonal depression. "I did! I thought we deserved something special tonight. You've been working so hard lately, sweetie."
I might actually cry. "You're the best mom in the entire universe… and I'm not just saying that because you made fancy pasta."
"Well, that's good to hear." She laughs, gesturing to the dining table. "Go sit down, I'm almost done plating."
The dining table has been set up properly, with the nice plates and everything. Selene and Bianca are already seated, both looking way too pleased with themselves.
"Took you long enough," Bianca says, not even looking up from her phone. "We've been waiting like ten minutes."
"Ten minutes?" I pull out my chair and sit down. "You couldn't survive ten whole minutes without food? The horror. The tragedy. Someone call the UN."
"Shut up," she replies, but there's a grin tugging at her lips.
Selene, who's still in her pajamas with the little strawberries, leans forward on her elbows. "So, how was work, baby brother?"
"Selene, I swear to God—"
"You swear to God what?" Her pink eyes are sparkling with mischief. "You're literally two months younger than me. Two. Months. That makes you the baby."
"That makes us basically the same age!"
"Nope! Baby."
Before I can formulate a withering comeback, Mom arrives with the plates. She sets them down in front of each of us with the kind of care usually reserved for presenting crown jewels, and honestly? It's deserved. This carbonara looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine.
"Damn," I breathe.
"Language," Mom says automatically, but she's smiling as she takes her seat. "Alright, everyone dig in before it gets cold."
I don't need to be told twice. I twirl my fork into the pasta, making sure to get some of that egg yolk, and take a bite.
Holy shit.
(I don't say that part out loud because Mom would actually murder me, but holy shit.)
The pasta is perfectly al dente, the sauce is creamy and rich without being heavy, the pancetta adds this salty, savory crunch, and that egg yolk ties everything together like some kind of culinary miracle. I'm pretty sure I can taste each individual ingredient while simultaneously experiencing them as a unified whole, which sounds pretentious as hell, but I don't care because this is incredible.
"Mom," Selene says, her eyes wide. "This is amazing."
"Seriously," Bianca adds, and coming from her, that's basically a Michelin star review.
Mom's cheeks actually turn a little pink. "Oh, stop it, you three. It's just pasta."
"This is not 'just pasta,'" I say around another mouthful. "This is evidence that you could open a restaurant and bankrupt every other Italian place in the city."
"Adam's right," Selene says. "Mom, you're literally a cooking goddess."
"A divine chef," I add, nodding seriously. "A culinary deity."
"Alright, alright." Mom laughs, waving us off, but she looks pleased. "Eat your food before it gets cold."
We settle into comfortable silence for a few minutes, everyone too busy devouring their carbonara to make conversation. It's only after I've cleaned roughly half my plate that Mom speaks up again.
"Oh, I completely forgot, I have to tell you all about what happened at work yesterday."
I look up, interested. Mom's workplace stories are usually either wholesome tales of cute kids doing cute things, or absolutely wild drama between the staff. There's no middle ground.
"So," Mom continues, setting down her fork. "You know that new maid, Sarah? The one who started about three months ago?"
"The blonde one?" Selene asks.
"No, the one with the short brown hair. Anyway—" Mom lowers her voice slightly, even though we're the only ones here. "—apparently, she's been having... relations with one of the clients."
There's a beat of silence.
"Relations?" Bianca raises an eyebrow. "Mom, you can say sex. We're not twelve."
"Bianca," Mom says, looking slightly scandalized.
"What? You're the one who brought it up!"
Mom's cheeks turn slightly pink, but she's trying not to laugh. "Fine, yes, they've been having sex. Very loud sex, according to the gardener, who unfortunately walked in on them in the pool house."
"Oh my God," I say, wincing. "That poor gardener."
Selene's practically bouncing in her seat. "Wow! This is amazing. Tell us everything. Who's the client? Is he hot? Is he rich?"
"Selene!" Mom's trying to look disapproving, but I can see the corners of her mouth twitching. "I shouldn't even be telling you this."
"But you're going to anyway," Bianca says. "Because you're just as nosy as Selene."
"I am not—" Mom pauses. "Well. Maybe a little."
"So?" I lean forward. "What's the tea, Mom?"
She sighs but continues. "Okay, so apparently it's one of the regulars. You know, the ones with the massive house up on Empyrean Heights? The one with the fountain?"
"The one that looks like a small castle?" Selene gasps. "That guy?"
"His son," Mom corrects. "Who is, apparently, very handsome and very generous with his tips. Which... now makes a lot more sense."
"Oh my god," Selene squeals.
"Good for her, honestly," Bianca says. "Get that rich guy money."
"Bianca!" Mom gasps, but she's laughing. "That's not—you can't just—"
"What? I'm being practical."
We finish dinner while Mom fills us in on more workplace drama (apparently one of the older maids has been stealing food from the break room fridge, which has created a whole civil war situation), and by the time we're done eating, I'm so full I might actually explode.
"That was incredible, Mom," I say, leaning back in my chair. "Seriously. Top five meals of my life, easy."
"Top three," Selene corrects.
"Top one," Bianca says.
Mom's smile could power a small city. "You three are too sweet. Now, who wants to help me with dishes?"
There's a very obvious silence.
"I have homework," Selene says immediately.
"I have... art... to do," Bianca tries.
"I have a crippling food coma," I add.
Mom just rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling. "Fine, fine. I'll do them myself. But—" She holds up a finger. "—you three need to figure out what we're doing for family time tonight. We haven't done anything together all week."
"Oh!" Selene perks up immediately. "We should do something fun!"
"That's typically what 'family time' implies," I say.
She sticks her tongue out at me. "I mean something actually fun. Not just watching TV."
"We could watch a movie?" I suggest.
"Boring. And we did that last week!"
Mom starts collecting plates, stacking them with practiced efficiency. "What about a board game? It's been a while since we've done that."
"Oh! Yeah! Sounds fun!" Selene says excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat. The strawberry scent that always clings to her intensifies as she moves, mixing with the lingering smell of dinner in a way that's somehow both wholesome and distracting.
"I'm down," Bianca chimes in, nodding her approval. There's the faintest hint of a smile on her face, which for Bianca is basically the equivalent of doing a backflip of enthusiasm.
"Yeah, okay," I nod. "But—" An absolutely evil idea pops into my head. "—we should make it interesting."
Selene's eyes narrow. "Interesting how?"
I grin, channeling every ounce of my villainous energy. "Loser has to do something. Like a punishment."
"Ooh," Selene leans forward, matching my grin. "I like where this is going. What kind of punishment?"
"I don't know, maybe—"
"How about whoever loses has to do chores for the week?" Mom suggests, and damn, she went straight for the throat.
There's a moment of silence as we all process this.
"I'm going to crush you all," Selene says, her competitive side immediately kicking into overdrive.
"Bold words from someone who lost at Monopoly so badly last time she flipped the board," Bianca says.
"That was ONE TIME, and the game was rigged!"
"Girls," Mom laughs. "Are we doing this or not?"
I stand up, pushing my chair back with what I hope is dramatic flair. "Oh, we're doing this. Get ready to lose, everyone."
"Wow, big talk from the youngest of the family," Selene shoots back, also standing.
"My age has nothing to do with my board game prowess!"
"Sure, baby brother. Keep telling yourself that."
"I'm going to make you eat those words," I declare, pointing at her dramatically.
"I'd like to see you try."
Mom just shakes her head, amused, as she heads to the kitchen with the dishes. "You three set up in the living room. I'll be there in a minute."
Bianca and I head to the living room while Selene skips off to grab a game from the closet. The living room, despite our house's generally run-down state, is actually pretty cozy. The furniture might be old, but it's comfortable, and Mom's done her best to make it feel homey with throws and pillows and various decorations she's picked up over the years.
I'm settling onto the floor by the coffee table when Selene returns, holding a box triumphantly above her head.
"I have chosen our battlefield!" she announces.
I squint at the box. "Is that—?"
"Cat Collector!" she confirms, setting it down with reverence.
Oh no. Oh no.
Cat Collector is our family's favorite board game, and by "favorite" I mean "the one that has caused the most arguments and near-fistfights." It's this deceptively cute game about collecting cat cards using various resources, but it gets vicious. The cats all have special abilities that range from helpful to absolutely devastating, and the strategy can get incredibly deep.
"Perfect choice," Bianca says, plopping down next to me. She's got that lazy, confident smile that means she thinks she's going to win.
Selene starts unpacking the game, pulling out the adorable illustrated cards, the resource tokens, the player boards, and arranging everything on the coffee table. Mom returns just as we're finishing setup, drying her hands on a dish towel.
"Cat Collector?" She smiles. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
"Fun is a strong word," I mutter. "More like 'emotionally devastating.'"
"Don't be dramatic, sweetie."
"I'm not being dramatic! Last time we played this, Selene made me discard my best cat and I'm still not over it!"
"That was a legal move!" Selene protests.
"It was evil!"
"Alright, alright," Mom sits down, completing our circle around the coffee table. "Everyone remember the rules?"
We all nod. The rules of Cat Collector are burned into our brains at this point.
Selene shuffles the cat deck with unnecessary flair, then deals out our starting hands. I pick up my cards and examine them carefully.