He’d cooked me exactly what I’d asked for: macaroni with an extra big squirt of ketchup, a big tablespoon of butter and just a little pepper. Mommy wouldn’t cook that for me. She said putting ketchup on pasta was gross. How did she know if she wouldn’t even try it? Mommy was so silly sometimes. I curled up in the corner of the couch and rested my arm on the side cushion. It would be bed time soon, but I didn’t want to go to bed. “Wanna play a game?” I asked him. My cheek pressed into the cushion when I looked over at him. It smelled flowery, like Mommy’s perfume. “Let’s just rest here a minute. Then I’ll play a game with you.” He gently tugged on the corner of the blanket that I had wrapped around me. “Share this with me, won’t you, sweetheart?” I only shared with Darren. I hated sharing with everyone else. But he’d cooked me macaroni and ketchup and he’d made it wicked buttery, which was my favorite way to eat it, so I unwrapped a little and let him cover himself.
