It was an old shirt.
I’d gotten it in high school from Aella.
She’d bought it for my—our—birthday for me.
“I got it for her,” Aella said with a snicker. “Honestly, I’m surprised she still has it, though.”
I looked down at the shirt.
It was fairly innocent.
It read: I love mustaches.
“You bought it for me when I had nothing,” I said. “I’m never throwing it away.”
Aella smiled softly at me and said, “Love you, sissy.”
“I love you back, sissy.”
“Is there some hidden meaning behind it?” Keely asked curiously.
I touched it and laughed.
Aella laughed right along with me.
“She sucks really, really bad at Monopoly. As in, bankrupt in five rounds sucks,” Aella said. “Which made her hate the game of Monopoly. She refuses to play it even to this day. So I jokingly got it for her because the mustache looks like the guy’s mustache off of Monopoly.”
“Wore it every day for a year when I went to sleep. I refused to wear it out, though, because I didn’t want it to get dirty,” I explained. “It’s one of my favorite shirts.”
“I can tell it’s well-worn and loved.” Keely touched the sleeve.
Keely’s daughter, Mila, chose that second to make a reach for her mother’s hot sauce.
We all reached for it, but she was faster and yanked it to herself.
My hand that’d come out was enough to deter her from dumping it on herself, but not enough to deter her from dumping it on me.
I laughed as the cold sauce slid down my arm and dripped to my leg.
Luckily none had gotten on my clothing.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Keely apologized.
I could do nothing but giggle. “Gotta love kids, huh? I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the bathroom and wash this off.”
I got up and headed to the bathroom, salsa sliding from my thigh to my ankle by the time I arrived.
I hurried to the sink, aware that there were other people in the bathroom stalls behind me, but didn’t pay them any mind as I got to work on the salsa the best I could with the tiny sink and no paper towels.
I hated when restaurants didn’t have paper towels.
I hated it so much that I went to the stall and used the toilet paper to dry off.
Which was why I was half-hidden when she came in.
I heard her voice almost instantly and groaned.
Thinking this was a good time to close the stall door, I did, then leaned against it with both forearms as I listened to her ugly voice as she talked to someone on the phone.