Friends

“I’m sorry she made you sad, Amy.” There’s a little frown between Samira’s big, brown eyes.

“You’re not upset anymore, are you?” Carmen looks up from the pot she’s stirring.

“No, I’m not.”

She’s looking at me as if trying to see my soul.

“Truly, I’m fine. But I don’t even know her name! How can she hate me so much?”

“She hates herself, not you.” Carmen starts washing up. 

“I agree with Carmen. She’s obviously unhappy.” Samira checks the oven. “This is done. Come see how it looks, Amy.”

The curried chicken thighs cooked with vegetables in a rich, curry sauce look and smell fantastic.

In fact, my kitchen smells so unbelievably delicious that I can hardly believe it’s mine. Even better, I cooked the stew and chicken myself. Carmen and Samira helped a little, but they mostly supervised. Teach a woman to fish and all that…

“Her name is Misty Stockbridge.” Carmen dries her hands on a tea towel. “Her husband is Charles. He’s no more pleasant than she is. You can't let people like that bother you."

“And you're sure...” A sigh escapes me. I hate sounding needy, but… “You're sure my house doesn't look tacky?"

Samira lays a hand on my arm. “Of course not. Everyone loves your house, and we all appreciate how well you take care of it. Don't worry about her rude majesty."

Carmen nods. "She'd better hope she doesn’t run into Marge any time soon.”

I can't help but laugh. “I have to admit, I never expected to hear Marge use those words.”

They laugh, too.

​And just like that, it's done.