Then another spoonful for good measure. Everyone deserved as much sweetness in their life as they wanted.
She handed Song the tea and threw her sister a pointed look. “Is today a vacation day?”
“No, Song wanted to binge The Witcher. That Indian actress . . .” Song filled in the name “Anya Chalotra.” “She’s smoking hot. And deliciously ruthless.” They went off into a discussion about this show they wanted to binge. A show her work-obsessed sister had missed work for.
“Don’t look so disapproving,” China said, gazing at her girlfriend with so much adoration that India almost relented and rethought her concern. “We’re only prepping for next season. Shooting won’t start again for two months.” India had never heard China sound so offhanded about Cooking with the Stars, her show.
“But didn’t you say that today was the big meeting where you’re finalizing the lists so the network can start putting together the pairings?” The show paired chefs with celebrities and last season China had talked of nothing else for months.
“Shit.” China sat up, Song still pressed into her. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Song turned to her. “Kitten, take a breath.” She cupped China’s face. “They’re lucky to have you. That show would not exist without you.” Song had been a contestant on the first season, but she had no way of knowing who the show could and could not exist without. “You are allowed to take time for yourself. You work so hard. You’ll totally make up for it tomorrow when you go in.”
“Tomorrow?” India said. “Don’t you want to call in and make sure everything is all right? Song is right, this is the show you worked your butt off to build.”
China looked at her watch. She did look stricken. It was not like her to forget about her work. India was much more used to worrying about her sister working too hard and being too focused on her job, to the detriment of everything else. “At least call in and make sure everything is okay. I’m sure they’ll understand that you needed a break.”
China smacked herself on the head. “I was supposed to call in sick and I forgot.”
Are you on drugs? India wanted to yell, but watching China and Song stroking each other’s faces, India knew that she was. Love was definitely a drug. Anyone who fancied themselves in it certainly seemed to display all the restraint and common sense of an addict.
China extracted herself from behind Song and got off the couch and India felt like the worst kind of killjoy. All cuddled up with someone and entirely focused on them did seem like the perfect way to spend a day.
“I’m sorry, puppy, I’ll just call my boss and make up an excuse.” China started searching for her phone, another alarming thing.
“Fun! What will you say?” Song said excitedly. “Can you tell them your girlfriend was dying of love and you had to take care of her?”
“I’m supposed to be making up an excuse, not telling them the truth,” China said with all the glee of someone who believed there was no better life on earth than the one she was living right now.
Song jumped on her and they kissed some more. Despite herself, India smiled. Their joy was palpable and India had to stop trying to control everything just because she was afraid. It was time to acknowledge her worry for her sister, then leave the rest to China and the universe.
“I’m going to check up on Mom,” she said.
The only response she got was more kissing sounds.
Mom had not left her room all day and India entered as silently as she could.
Instead of finding her mother in bed, she found her sitting cross-legged on the floor, going through a trunk of old sweaters India’s grandmother had knitted for them. India dropped down across from her, and Chutney rolled up to her and climbed onto her lap.
“Hey, there, beautiful girl. You been keeping your mommy company, yes, you have?”
“She’s been helping me decide which sweaters to start with.”
“Start with? Were you going to donate these?” These sweaters were their childhood. Grandmona was an artist, no matter what the rest of the kids in school had said about their sweaters.
“Don’t look so sad. I would never donate them. I’m going to take them apart.”
“Wow. That’s so much better.”
“Hah. My funny girl. I’m not destroying them.” She picked up a marsh-green turtleneck that Sid had worn in middle school. “Well, I am destroying them, but only temporarily. I’m going to