Page 15 of Love me, Maddie Mendoza

“Your peacock chair and wicker table combo, can stay.” Even though they both belonged in a palm reader’s room, but I didn’t say that.

“And that’s it?” she asked, horrified.

“I don’t need your table or fridge.” A burnt orange wardrobe stood in the corner. I remembered helping her paint it, hoping the fumes wouldn’t kill me. “I guess, if you want, you can bring your wardrobe?” The thing was looking at me from the back, glaring and begging to be brought home. It was so ugly, but at least made sense for her to have extra storage. As ugly as it was, it had a function.

“That’s too big.” André saved me. “We can get some storage for you, Maddie. Smart storage.”

Maddie twisted her nose because those kinds of terms almost never meant furniture she could buy in yard sale from the inconsolable daughter of a ninety-year-old dead woman. And what was the point of buying shit if didn’t come with history, an old smell, and a cup of tea with a grieving daughter?

“Peacock chair then?” I gently patted her back.

“Thanks, Z. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Dad and Nick brought whatever was packed in the beetle to the house while I took care of the peacock chair with Maddie on my heels begging to help.

“Whicker isn’t heavy, Maddie.”

“Still…” She grabbed the side of the chair and held it a little, following in step with me.

I chuckled and let her do it, because Maddie wasn’t someone to stay idle while everyone was doing something. Actually, staying idle was what I wished she could do.

Today her crazy thick curly hair was almost manageable, parted in the middle with a ponytail to each side. Her round grandma glasses slid down her nose but she pushed them up quickly. I knew she was a handful, she always had been, but I was happy we were going to spend the last semester living together.

We had always synchronized our lives. Applying to the same university and electing at least one class together each semester, but our friendship was going to change once we graduated. People needed jobs, and who knew how far apart we’d be then? We had less control over our lives as we got older.

I didn’t have to get used to having her around with her nose stuck in my business. I’ve known Maddie since we were five. It didn’t matter how different we were. At the core, we were the same.

We followed, protected, and cared for each other. We accompanied each other to many quinceañeras. Maddie was my partner in crime, so yes, I was going to enjoy her company as much as I could until life kept us apart.

Over the peacock chair, I smiled, and she smiled back. “Welcome home, Mad Max."

Jason and Nick weren’t Latino, so they did not know what just happened to them.

I knew it was coming. I could feel it in my bones when I placed Maddie’s things in my bedroom, and I felt odd about one suspicious looking white plastic bag. While Maddie tried to convince me not to give my bedroom to her, I looked at the enormous bag with growing concern. By the time she agreed to sleep in my bed, it was late and I left my fears behind.

We were going to need to convert the living room if I was going to use it as my permanent room, but I couldn’t say I had a bad night. Maddie’s mattress was now mine, and I slept like a baby, until I woke up to someone softly singing withEnrique Iglesias, the smell of pancakes in the air. My stomach growled, and I moved one foot in front of the other like a cartoon being led by scent alone.

“Good morning,” I spoke, mid-yawn, rubbing my eyes.

“Hey Z,” she sang, “Coffee?”

“Yes.” I was going to move to the coffeemaker, but Maddie was faster and got me a mug. “Thanks.”

“It’s my special breakfast to tell you boys I’m grateful. Sit down and let me serve you.”

I accepted, still a little groggy, and sat down. But my sleepy eyes widened suddenly when I felt my fingers brush on something new on the top of the table. Knowing exactly what it was, I still pulled it closer to exam it and groaned: A white crochet table runner.

I was alert. The material fell back on the table, my eyes quickly scanning the kitchen. I found two more offenders. The smallest crochet circle underneath a pink vase by the window, and next to that was Maddie’s famous teal stove mat. Why did she need to cover the stove with that? It was an unsolvable mystery.

I stood up, and Maddie turned. “Are you all right?”

Right on time, Jason came from the bathroom, joggers and no shirt, a confused look on his face.

“Why does our toilet seat have a skirt now?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. If the toilet seat had a little crochet skirt, it meant the mat on the floor matched and the clothes hamper too.

I passed by Jason and crossed to the bathroom where- of course- our toilet was now all dressed up. We also had a new collection of soaps. At least most of the soaps were usable. I wasn’t sure about the fried egg shaped one.

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