Page 109 of Mate
WHEN I WAKE UP THE FOLLOWING MORNING, AMANDA ANDSaul are sitting at the kitchen table. Every single ingredient that one might need to make pancakes has been taken out of the cupboards and neatly laid on the counter. A few that one might not, too.
“Out of curiosity, at what point in the process do you think ketchup becomes involved?”
Saul shrugs. “For the stuffing, maybe?”
“Ah, yes. The famed pancake stuffing. That’s where the capers go, too?”
He nods so hard, I’m afraid his jaw will detach from the rest of his face.
“And remind me, the vinegar— ”
“Listen,” Amanda says bluntly. “As much as we love setting our alarms one hour earlier to come visit with Mommy and Daddy, if we knew how to make pancakes, we would not be here.”
I cock my head. “Am I Mommy in this scenario?”
“Or Daddy,” Saul offers. “You get to pick first, since you provide the pancakes.”
“Nice. I’ll take it.”
Twenty minutes later, when Mommy steps out of his room freshly showered and cleanly shaven, they are in the middle of a bitter argument.
“My editorial position,” Amanda is saying, not bothering to finish chewing, “is that it would be like shooting pure, undiluted moon in your veins. A super-soldier. Leviathan, but in space. And on steroids.”
“Baby . . . no. There’s no atmosphere up there. You’d just be a pincushion for radiation.”
“Weres on the moon?” Koen asks, walking up to me in the kitchen. He doesn’t look like he slept much.
I hand him a mug of coffee. “Yup.”
“Have they been over moonless planets yet?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t howl ’cause sound doesn’t carry?”
“Yes.”
“Pluto’s five moons?”
“Also yes.”
“The asphyxiation?”
“Just now.”
“Great. They must be about to wrap up.” He reaches for the sugar. I stop him with a hand on his wrist.
“Already in there.” It takes a moment for my fingers to let go, and another for him to glance away from the difference in our sizes. My paler, softer skin.
He leans back against the counter next to me, even though there are yards of surfaces for him to use. He could even go sit with his seconds, who were there when he still thought potty jokes were the height of humor and have saved his life countless times. He chooses to be here, though. Looks at me as he takes a sip, while Amanda and Saul’s bickering continues.
“A house divided,” I say. “Want pancakes?”
He shakes his head. “They’ve been working on a space Were book for years. The disagreements started early in the planning phase.”
“I didn’t know they write.”
“That’s because they don’t.”
