“I was ghosting you last night because I was with someone else.”

She laughs at me.

“How else am I supposed to put it? ‘I’m sorry I stood you up, Boss. My sister brought over homemade tacos and I couldn’t resist’?’”

“I think that sounds great!”

“No! No, it does not! I am going to get fired because of some stupid tacos.”

“Woah! These are NOT ‘stupid’ tacos. This is an extravagant, delicious, and authentic Mexican meal! I even used homemade corn tortillas, none of that American flour tortilla stuff.”

“They’re tacos.”

“They’re delicious and you are going to sit down at this table and eat them with me because you already missed your shift and there is no changing the past. Now, enjoy the present with your favorite sister.”

“You’re my only sister.”

“Which makes me your favorite”

“And least favorite,” I speak truthfully.

I sit down at the island in the kitchen of her apartment, succumbing to the mouth-watering aroma of tacos. It will all be fine, I remind myself. My job is temporary, tacos are forever.