"When will you stop working so hard? That is the question of the century." He pushed his glasses up and wiped his cheek with his arm, but it only spread more paint across his face. I chuckled.
"Will we ever see your face clean again? That is the question."
Gene rolled his eyes and turned to his art.
"That's new," I said, looking at the canvas. "When did you even start it?"
"Last night." He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."
He hadn't been able to sleep since the fateful day when our lives had changed for good. No matter what potion I concocted, it didn't help. No magic could heal trauma.
"It looks good," I said.
"It's not finished yet. It'll look much better when it's finished."
"It's pretty perfect now."
He grimaced and studied the canvas for a moment.
"I don't know."
"What are you trying to say with it?"
Gene put down the gold leaf and the paintbrush and sighed.
"Hmmm…something about immortalizing the immediate past and the sense of self. I'm not sure if it comes through yet."
I walked up to my brother and squeezed his shoulder, reassuringly.
"Sure it does. The clippings represent the recent past, right? The crystals represent you, your magic and the gold the memorializing of everything."
Gene beamed at my interpretation and kissed my cheek.
"Thanks. I like that."
"You better finish up and get some rest. Or I'll tell on you."
Gene nodded and I left him alone knowing he wouldn't go to sleep until it was done. Which would probably be tomorrow. If we were lucky.
My stomach grumbled and the next door I walked through led me to the kitchen.
Unlike the rest of the house, the kitchen was state-of-the-art. It had to be, considering how much time we spent in here.
Yaya was sitting at the bar stool by the kitchen island, her fingers twirling in the air as she read a gossip rag. Opposite her, a wooden spoon stirred in a pot seemingly of its own volition.
"Andrea, you're home! Hungry? I've made beef stew with peas. It's almost ready," she said in Greek, the only language she could speak.
"I know, Yaya. The whole house smells amazing," I said and kissed her cheek on my way to the stove.
I made to take a plate and help myself when Yaya reminded me it was almost done. Knowing not to argue with Yaya about cooking, I put the plate down and checked my watch.
"I've got to run soon," I told her and grabbed a new pot and put it beside the stew.
It was time to make my own concoction.
The herb and spice cupboard moved closer to me so I could use it with ease, and I turned the heat on.
Three bay leaves, six cloves, nine star anise, a pinch of lavender buds and moon water.
