Maggie glanced up from her own plate and examined Paola’s meal, absorbing the sight at the same time she absorbed the rest of the younger witch’s questions. “It’s called a reuben,” she answered. “But… I’m not really sure if you put hot sauce on it.” Ever since she and Mama moved in with Aunt Ika, Maggie had stopped eating meat.
“I probably would,” she added. Maggie liked spicy foods. It made her a little wistful, but it reminded her of her father, back when she had a father. He was a fire of a man, impassioned and exciting. She liked to let her taste buds tingle and remember him, and she could pass off the little tears in the corners of her eyes with the heat of the meal. It was really the heat of a man she missed dearly, but she couldn’t tell Mama that. Her mother didn’t like to talk about it, ever. Mama didn’t talk about anything that was in the past. It was always the present or the future. What was gone was gone. That was what Mama said. There was no point in wishing it was different.
“But I don’t know if that’s a good idea necessarily,” she added quickly, afraid to steer her young friend wrong. Maggie liked hanging out with Paola. It made her feel good to have someone younger to do right by. Just like she looked up to Darlene, Maggie wanted to be there for Paola. “I bet you could use it for your essay. What do you want to compare it to?”