Page 69 of Married With Malice

“Another reason. With your permission, I’ll try to get my caffeine fix without shocking you into blackout mode.”

Her shoulders bounce with a shrug. “You have free use of the kitchen.”

Anni stays rooted to the spot as I cross directly in front of her and pick out a ceramic mug from the cabinet. We come within inches of touching as I fill the mug with water and nuke it in the microwave. I don’t have the patience for the high maintenance espresso machine right now.

The rest of the room is a disaster zone. The kitchen island is crowded with spice jars and browning apple peels. Half a stick of butter is lying in the sink amid mixing bowls and spatulas. And a few of the cabinet panels are somehow painted with streaks of dripping yellow batter.

The oven beeps and Anni springs into action. She pushes her hands into puffy red oven mitts and carefully lifts a round baking dish full of raw batter and topped with misshapen apple slices. She carries the dish in both hands, slow walking to the oven like she’s got the holy grail in her grip.

She gets all the way to the oven, then realizes she can’t open the oven door with the baking dish in her hands. The noise of frustration she makes is somewhere between a sigh and a scream.

“Would you like some help?” I ask.

“No!” She looks around the kitchen in search of a better savior. The dish wobbles in her hands, in imminent danger of being sacrificed.

The kitchen may not survive the fallout from such an event.

Annalisa stiffens as I reach around her and pull open the door to the wall oven. She smells like vanilla and sugar and her skin radiates warmth. It’s not easy to refrain from putting my arms around her after she slides the pan into the oven.

“Thanks,” she manages to mumble just as her phone starts vibrating with an incoming call. She snaps it right up and her tone immediately changes, becoming damn near perky. “Hey, I just put it in the oven. All I need to do is dust the top with cinnamon when it’s finished. You and Big Man Bowie need to promise you’ll eat it even if it’s not as good as Mama’s.”

Obviously, she’s talking to Daisy again. I’m always amazed by how quickly her personality turns into warm mush when she’s talking to her sisters. She even trills out a fragment of laughter.

The microwave is done heating my mug of water so this gives me something to do while I eavesdrop on Anni. The container of instant coffee in the pantry has just enough left for one cup and I stir the crystals as she chatters away.

“See you in a few hours,” she says. Her eyes swing to me and a slight frown pulls at her mouth. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Love you too.”

Some of the coffee crystals float to the top and the first swallow tastes as if it was scavenged from a puddle in a city gutter. I’d scrap the whole mess if I wasn’t so desperate for an energy jolt. My sleep patterns have gone to shit lately.

Anni checks on the oven and sets the timer. “Daisy said to wish you Merry Christmas.”

“That was nice of her. What did you do with my pen?”

She returns bags of sugar and flour to the pantry before answering. “There are some pens in the drawer next to the sink. Take your pick.”

“No thanks. I’d rather have mine.”

Anni carries more items back to the pantry. “Now you have a special pen? Is this like a security blanket situation or what?”

“No, but if you’re offering security blankets, I’ll take one. Might make the nights on the sofa more comfortable.”

She swivels around and pops a hip. “I never ordered you to sleep on the sofa.”

“Consider it a favor. You wouldn’t want to risk coming into contact with my sperm. You might be tempted to do something dangerous with it.”

“I’ve never abused your sperm. You were being a complete jerk that day and I wanted to make you sweat for a minute. Besides, I’ve already touched, swallowed and hosted enough of your sperm to – forget it, this is ridiculous. I am NOT discussing sperm on Christmas.”

“Too late. Sperm and blasphemy everywhere. Angels are weeping.”

“Not funny.”

“More sperm jokes incoming unless you cough up my pen. I’ll even save a few of my best ones for Christmas dinner with your parents.”

“I don’t have your pen!”

“It’s got to be with all the other shit you took from my office.”

A glimmer of uneasiness flashes in her eyes. “Things had spilled off your desk and were all over the floor.”

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