Chapter 34
Me: My Zia just made ravioli and I can’t eat it, so I thought I’d send you a picture.
Kubicka: You thought you’d torture me with a picture so I share your suffering, you mean. That looks incredible.
Me: Doesn’t your babcia cook?
Kubicka: Of course she does, but I’m too kind to send you a photo of the pierogi she made me when I arrived. Now I’ve been here a few days, she’s out of energy and won’t let me help, so we’re back to broth.
Me: Broth sounds very Oliver Twist. And no, I have not read that book, but I bet you have.
Kubicka: I’m not really into Dickens.
Me: Not the way you’re into me.
Kubicka: …
Me: It’s funny how our female relatives show love by cooking.
Kubicka: My mum doesn’t. Food is fuel and love is a tiny bit of time carved out of her busy day to criticise my life choices.
Me: That’s rough. But I’ll raise you, food is fuel and love is giving up everything and every moment in life to criticise me.
Kubicka: I recognise Tony.
Me: I knew you were smart.