Springwell Creeks #6
“Don’t start,” Safi muttered, poking through frozen peas, half a bag of shrimp, and a sad tub of ice cream.
The cat howled at the scent of the frozen shrimp.
Safi glared at it, but pulled that package out nonetheless before diving back in.
Her fingers landed on a big bag of cubed potatoes.
“Goreng kentang it is.” Old, familiar comfort and something close to home.
She set the heavy pan on the stove and filled it with oil that shimmered as it heated.
“Hey,” she murmured, nudging the cat away from the burner. “Shrimp comes later. Step one is not catching on fire.”
Indignant but convinced, the cat moved to sit by the sink, and watched her work, tail flicking.
She diced the shallots with practiced speed.
Garlic thwacked flat under her knife, the aromatic scent making her mouth water.
Chillies, chives, and lemon grass followed.
Springwell was too small of a town to stock galangal, so ginger would have to suffice.
She worked quietly, guided by the memory of how her mother made it.
The potatoes hit the pan with a sharp, greedy sizzle.
She left them to fry as she grated the ginger then tossed it into her blender with the chilies, shallots, and garlic.
The smell bloomed around her, filling the room.
It always brought her back to Mama’s crowded house at Christmas, everyone reaching in with sticky fingers and loud laughter, stealing the crispiest bites before the plate ever hit the table.
Nai had been there for that once. Being young and silly, Safi had thought Nai would be there for all the Christmases to come.
Unguarded by the cooking, Safi’s mind asked the question she’d learned not to ask. What if they had stayed? What if Nai never left?
It hooked something deep in her, tugging her sideways into memory, then forward into wish.
In a blink, the kitchen was alive, thick with laughter and sunlight.
Two little whirlwinds—their twins, Nafiri and Alina—chased each other barefoot across the wood floors, giggling so hard they could barely breathe.
Even the cat was there and leapt nimbly out of their path and onto the counter, landing conveniently close to the dried fish Safi had set aside for later.
“Junie’s coming home today!” Nafiri bounced on her heels, the words tumbling out as she reached for the potatoes cooling on the counter.
“She said she’s bringing us so much candy!” Alina added, skidding to a stop beside her sister, eyes bright with the thrill of it.
“Nafiri,” Safi said, without turning, already smiling despite herself. “Those are hot, and believe or not, you’re not a raccoon.”
Nafiri froze, hands hovering guiltily over the pile.
A beat passed. Safi sighed, the long-suffering kind that never quite hid the fondness underneath, and plucked a smaller potato from the edge.
She blew on it once, then pressed it into Nafiri’s waiting palms. “One,” she said. “And then you leave the rest alone.”
Nafiri beamed. Alina scowled. “That’s not fair.”
Safi didn’t even pretend to argue. She reached for another potato, blew on it, and handed it to Alina as well. “You get one too,” she said.
Nai stood in the door way, shoulder against the door frame.
With her mug of morning coffee in one hand and her hair mussed, she watched it all with an indulgent softness.
“Junie’s train gets in at four,” she said.
“Which means if you two vibrate any harder, you might cause structural damage to the house.”
“She’s going to be so tired,” Safi added, stirring the pot on the stove. “First term away, all that studying. University has a way of pretending eighteen-year-olds are sturdier than they are.”
Nai hummed in agreement. She stepped closer, her hand settling at Safi’s waist in a familiar, absent-minded touch. “Still,” she said, smiling, “she always comes home hungry.”
Safi snorted softly and flicked Nai a look. “Funny how that works. Always hungry. Must take after her mama.”
Nai straightened, affronted. “That is a slanderous accusation.”
In response, Safi lifted her spoon and pointed.
Nai followed the gesture to see both girls inching back toward the counter with hands raised, eyes locked on the remaining potatoes like they were planning a heist. Nai closed her eyes.
“I’d like it noted for the record that I raised them better than this.
That said…you’d better put a lock on the pantry, babe. ”
Safi raised an eyebrow, grinning. “That’s your side of the family coming through. I was an angel.”
Nai let out a raspy laugh, looped her arms around Safi’s waist, and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Angel, huh? That’s not what you said last night.” Nai murmured against her lips, low enough that only Safi could hear.
Safi’s laughter burst out, surprised and delighted, as she put her arms around Nai’s neck.
“Ew, Mamas! Gross!” The twins shrieked and bolted, hands clasped over their eyes.
“My eyes!” Nafiri, the oldest by two minutes, moaned dramatically from the living room.
Safi and Nai broke apart, grinning helplessly. “We’re embarrassing, aren’t we?” Nai whispered, nuzzling Safi’s cheek.
“The worst,” Safi whispered. “Forever and always.”
A pop of hot oil snapped her back and the vision faded. The real kitchen was smaller, quieter. Just her, the cat weaving around her legs, and the potatoes crisping beautifully in the pan with the sambal.
She scooped them into a container for tomorrow’s potluck, then set the dish outside to cool. Tucked into the snow behind the porch rail, it would be safe from raccoons. “Guess it’s just you and me for now.” She ruffled the cat’s ears.
The scent of garlic and salt lingered in the kitchen, and for a moment, as she picked up her phone from the kitchen island, the warmth did too.
A message from Marielle flashed on her screen.
Hope you got home safe. Xoxo Troublemaker
Troublemaker was followed by an eggplant emoji. Safi laughed.
I literally live down the street from you.
Marielle
That’s what my friend Indy used say as well. Turns out I have a bad habit of getting attached to women who say they don’t need help.
That’s because you have a very specific weakness for Indonesians from Telenga and charming disasters.
Marielle is typing…
Safi grinned at the screen. If Marielle expected to get away with sleeping with two Telengans unremarked, they were delusional.
Marielle
Wow. Rude. Accurate, but rude.
I did get home safe, though. Thank you for checking in.
Safi smiled. Marielle was sweet and it was difficult not to like them.
She moved into the living room and dropped into her couch. The cat followed, instantly pushing into Safi’s lap, kneading its paws against her plush belly while it purred .
“I don’t even like you,” she protested, gently running her hand along its back. It spun and bumped its head against her breast, drawing a chuckle from her. “You’re even worse than Marielle.”
Her phone lit up again.
Mama
Kamu sehat kan? I hope the shop isn’t keeping you too busy. Eat well, sayang.
Her mother’s place would be filled with all the regular family members by now.
Safi had tried to go back, but if Nai’s ghost didn’t haunt her, the gaps in her memory did.
Flashes of that summer were triggered by the sight of her boots or the forest behind her house.
Loose puzzle pieces she couldn’t make fit.
But Springwell had knocked something loose in her chest, and something about the town kept drawing her in.
She couldn’t say what it was. Maybe the crisp bite of mountain air, or the calm of the woods at night. Maybe it was just the exhaustion of running. But for the first time in a long time, she missed the feeling of Christmas at the house. Of Mama.
She’d barely pressed the camera icon underneath her mother’s icon before her mother’s face filled the screen. “Safiya! Look who finally calls home!”
Safi’s breath caught. For a moment she just watched her mother, cataloguing the ways time had rearranged her.
The subtle deepening at the corners of her eyes, the new silver at her temples, the familiar curve of her cheek.
Still radiant, still looking young in that way others envied.
But time was showing itself all the same.
The house behind her was filled with familiar faces. Aunties who’d got grayer, cousins who’d grown up and were wrangling their own kids. There was a chorus of people laughing too loud, a dog barking at someone’s feet, and dishes clattering.
The ache inside Safi went from sharp to vast, guilt bubbling up with it.
All those Christmases she’d stayed away, too proud and too hurt.
Too wrapped up in forgetting. She almost didn’t realize her eyes were wet until her mother’s smile faded and concern knit her brows.
Her mother edged out of the kitchen and into the guest room, where the noise dropped to a distant, muffled hum.
“What’s wrong, sayang?” Mama’s voice slipped into the soft cadence of their old language, the one she used when she was worried or tired or both.
Safi pressed her palm to a tear on her cheek and managed a watery smile. “It’s nothing, Mama. I’m just tired, that’s all. Long day.”
Mama’s gaze sharpened, but she didn’t push. Instead, she pivoted, practical as always. “Are you eating? You look thin.”
Safi snorted softly, comforted and touched by the familiarity of her mother’s warm care and love. “I’m eating, Mama. I promise.”
Her mother pulled the phone closer to her face, squinting at the screen. “Not those horrible processed things.”
“Uh…” Safi very hard to not think about the fast noodles and powder nasi goreng mixes in her cupboard. She could count the times she’d lied to her mom on one hand. Because every time she’d tried, her mother had somehow caught her out. “No?”
“Safi,” her mama scolded her.