Page 47 of Roommating

“Did you like the maple-roasted carrots?” Audrina’s eyes, the same honey shade of brown as mine, widen at me with the expectation of praise, and it’s like looking at a slightly older version of myself except she dyed the golden hair we were both born with a dark auburn and wears it longer.

“I did.”

She smirks. “And yet you gave me such a hard time.”

“Because it breaks tradition.” I complained when I learned she was substituting the standard tzimmes, a Jewish stew made fromcarrots and dried fruits like raisins and prunes, with a new, “healthier” recipe she stole from Joy Bauer’s website. Tasty or not, maple-roasted carrots are not tzimmes. But it’s not like I have a right to complain about anything since my one measly contribution every year is the charoset—chopped apples and walnuts mixed with sweet wine. It takes skill to mess it up, something I did only once, when I substituted Riesling for sweet dessert wine so I’d have something palatable to drink during the arduous chopping process.

As if reading my mind, Audrina says, “The charoset was impressive this year.”

I beam. “We can thank Marcia’s food processor for the consistency and the lack of Band-Aids on my fingers. Speaking of Marcia,” I say, cutting into my slice of cake and making sure to include some of the sweet blue frosting and chocolate crunchies with the ice cream, “she had her first date in a decade last week. Carley did her makeup so she looked gorgeous.”

Mom’s eyes widen in interest. “How was the date?”

“Awful, but at least she’s trying.”

“Good for her. Maybe you can follow her example, Aud.”

Audrina responds to our mom’s suggestion with a noncommittal “Maybe” while using her fork to fiddle with the melting ice cream on her plate.

My heart splinters for my sister. She loved Kevin with every fiber of her being and still does. Three years into their marriage, they legally separated when he claimed he felt trapped and needed to experience independence before he could start a life and family with her. Last we heard, he was in El Salvador working as a long-term volunteer for Habitat for Humanity.

To change the subject, I say, “Nana Lena would be impressed with this dinner, Mom.”

“You don’t think she’d be jealous?” Mom chuckles.

“Oh, she’d be jealous, but also proud of you.” Nana loved to complain about how hard she worked in the kitchen, but she also lived for the praise and wanted to be the only person who cooked for us. One of my favorite ways to punish her was turning down a second serving even when Ireallywanted it. My heart races and my throat feels full like I’m about to cry, but I’m not the only one.

When Mom meets my gaze, her eyes are wet too.

I’m poised to spoon another bite of ice cream cake into my mouth but drop my fork. “Are you okay?”

She wipes away her tears. “I’m fine. Just… she never treated me like I was her ex-daughter-in-law. I was her daughter. And she was my mom long after my own mother was gone. I miss her all the time but the grief comes in waves.”

“Me too,” Audrina says.

We’re silent for a moment until I speak up again. “I hate the way I treated her.”

Audrina leans forward. “What do you mean?” She was in college and out of the house for most of it.

“She loved me so much and I acted like I didn’t want her around half the time.”Halfis generous.

Mom’s gaze penetrates mine. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I don’t think I am.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

Audrina hands me a clean napkin, her expression rife with concern.

“What? Do I have ice cream on my face?”

“Probably…” Her lips quirk up. “But also… you’re crying.”

I touch a finger to my wet cheek. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Every time.”

“Talk to us,” Mom says.

I’d prefer to shrug it off like I usually do, but I already openedthe door and the only way out is through. My tears would make a hostile witness for the defense anyway. I tell them everything: about rebuking her embrace the last time I saw her and how guilty I feel for refusing to spend real quality time with her during the last years of her life. “I blamed her for what Dad did. Or didn’t do.”

Audrina squeezes my hand under the table.

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