5

I set the empty, soggy ice cream carton in the kitchen sink and reached into the fridge for a bottle of Fiji water. “Not as good as the ice cream Dad and I had on my birthday every year.”

“Really? What kind was that?” Aixa asked as she clicked the remote to the Food Network channel.

“There was this stand on the corner.” I plopped back in the chair and took a swig of water. “Since my birthday’s in August, it was always open. Dad and I would walk up while Mom was making my birthday dinner. That was the fun of it when I was a kid. Even though it would spoil my appetite, it was my birthday, and I was queen for the day. I always got the same thing every year - a peanut butter banana split. Always a cherry on top.”

“You’re making me hungry. I’ll call for pizza.” Aixa pulled out her cell phone and looked through her contacts for Domino’s.

But there was no stopping me now. I was in full swing Memory-Lane mode. “When we got back we could smell Mom’s homemade macaroni and cheese wafting through the windows.”

“Can I get a large sausage, peppers, and extra cheese pizza delivered?” Aixa motioned me to hold that thought. She gave our address and after hanging up said, “Macaroni and cheese? I l-o-v-e that. What else did she make?”

“Asparagus. With browned butter. I usually had to wait an hour or two before I had room for the cake.”

“Cake?”

“And more ice cream. You wanna come with me next month? The stand’s gone, but we make due with Haagen Dazs in the freezer. They’d love to have you.”

“Sure. I’d love to meet your parents. I guess that means I have to bring a gift.”

I lobbed another pillow in her direction.”You better!”

Aixa returned it, right in my face. I jumped up and began pelting her with stuffed animals. This was war.