Lonely Hearts Won't Break

TWENTY - FOUR｜LOVE AGAIN

No one would believe me if I said that just ten minutes ago pancake batter was splattered across the dining table, along with strewn cracked egg shells, a half-empty carton of milk, and several dirty utensils. I couldn't even be upset about the complete mess Noor made in our kitchen, not when I agreed to let her be a 'big girl' and cook Saturday morning breakfast like she used to do faithfully with her mama.

Though she didn't touch the stove once, she insisted on scrambling our eggs and mixing the pancakes with her so-called secret ingredient, which I learned from her lack of discretion was just a shit load of cinnamon. I thought her sitting on her heels and practically on the edge of her seat to gain maximum access to the towering table would be the reason all the raw ingredients got tossed around and out of their bowls, but in fact, it ended up being Noor's live production of a cooking show she was busy putting on for Tatum via Facetime.

There was no need for her to be giving a tour of the kitchen, explaining what animal each ingredient originated from, or chatting about her classmates and Christmas wish list. Baby girl's attention span couldn't manage all that at once and it definitely showed. 

What was even more entertaining about the entire ordeal was her audacity. By the time Noor's concoctions were ready for me to pour into a skillet and the space needed a desperate cleaning, she had left for the living room and made herself comfortable on the couch like she had just clocked out her 9 to 5. Noor sat comfortably amongst a mound of pillows she dragged in from her bedroom and talked Tatum's ears off about only the good Lord knows, while I did the real work.

"Noor!" I called out, standing over the stove as I decorated her plate with everything but bacon. For a kindergartener, she is quite picky about food, and chicken sausage is her preference. "Tell Tate you'll call her later and go wash your hands."

"I can finally eat?"

I chuckled as she peaked over her shoulder with wide eyes, anticipating my answer. "Yes, baby girl, but clean your hands first."

Before following my instructions, Noor ran over to the dining table as I laid her plate down in front of the seat with her favorite cushion, and handed me the phone. "Bye, Tate!" she yelled before dashing to the bathroom.

From the other side of the screen, Tatum matched my amused expression as she bid her farewell and adjusted the headphones encasing her ear.

"All that talk about food and now I'm hungry."

"I'm not. Cleaning all that shit up ruined my appetite." 

"The words of man," she muttered, shaking her head. "Noor slaved in that kitchen and now you're just gonna lay on your ass and not even eat? Wow."

"She did what now?!" Tatum quickly covered her mouth, muzzling her laugh as my face flattened into a frown. "That little girl turned my kitchen into a zoo."

"And you let her. You always let her have her way just as long as you can rationalize it."

"That I did," I conceded, throwing the towel in. I was under Noor's spell and that couldn't be argued. "That I do."

"And you'd let her do it again."

"I'd consider it, dammit." I shot back in defense as Tatum smirked and rolled her eyes. "If you're so hungry, why don't you just stop by? There's plenty here to feed three."

"Because I'm busy trying to reach five miles and get skinny in time for next summer."

I waited for her to add a 'just kidding' or like we used to say back in middle school, psych, but she was not budging. 

"Oh, you're deadass?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Problem?" 

I shook my head and began walking toward my bedroom as Noor passed me by along the way, and likely settled into her chair and prepared for grace, while I plopped down onto my bed.