iMend Fences

Carly descended stairs and re-entered the living room, now dressed in her favorite weekend wear – her oldest, most broken-in pair of jeans and the hoodie she had bought at the Cuttlefish concert last year. Her bare feet slapped the hardwood floor with every step. Clearing the final step, a familiar face greeted her, pulling her in to a desperate hug. It was not her Ham Lover. She was in the kitchen, cooking. Cooking with Freddie.

Melanie was babbling incoherently into her chest.

"Carly, I… I didn't mean… Please…"

She didn't need to finish.

"Mel, it's fine. We all say things we don't mean, especially in the heat of the moment. I've known you too long…"

She didn't need to finish the sentence. Melanie understood. She looked up into Carly's eyes, her own again wet with tears.

"I should never have said…"

Carly pressed a finger to Melanie's lips, shushing her.

"Look, I know you feel bad, but really, it's fine. Believe me, I've heard worse." Without thinking, she threw her arm across Melanie's shoulders and walked with her to the kitchen. She walked with her, arm in arm, just as she would with Sam. She could already hear the makings of World War III in the kitchen.

"No, no, no, you dishrag! You do it like this!" Sam, covered in egg and flour up to her elbows, was gesticulating to Freddie, showing him the 'proper' technique for butterflying a chicken breast.

"Welcome to the Sam Puckett Culinary Institute." Carly thought, chuckling to herself. Then she noticed something strange. Freddie Benson was smiling.

Reaching the kitchen, Carly left Melanie at the breakfast bar and headed straight for Sam. She needed her. She had become a junkie and Sam Puckett was her drug of choice. She met Sam at the sink, wrapping her into a deep embrace from behind, pressing her waist into the small of Sam's back. Carly kissed Sam's neck. Sam did her best to turn and face her, running her floury, sticky fingers through Carly Shay's hair, oblivious to the fact that they had an audience. Flecks of flour stood out. She couldn't have cared less.

"Hey, Cupcake! I'm so sorry… I know how much you hate confrontation."

"It's okay, but please, no more? She's your sister… and he's our friend…"

Freddie cleared his throat loudly.

Sam was back in the moment. She was back to directing the kitchen – temporarily hers – like a pro. She finally felt in complete control. Carly and cooking. This was all she needed. She stared through Freddie Benson. She barked at him simply to keep up appearances. They had buried their hatchet quite a long time ago. Freddie, for his part, was actually beginning to enjoy it.

"Dammit, Benson… How hard is it to fry chicken? You have GOT to be the dumbest smart person I know!"

Melanie opened her mouth to protest, but Freddie waved her off with a knowing glance. He was smiling. Sam Puckett had just called him smart. Sam looked to her sister. She was loud and acerbic. She knew no other way to be. It was who she was.

"Hey you… Yeah, Blondie… Did they teach you how to work a waffle iron at that fancy school? I can't expect this one to do it. She might get her nails dirty. She's such a priss."

Carly shot Melanie a bright smile, laughter in her voice.

"It's true. I'm the prissiest!"

Melanie smiled. She knew this was Sam's way of apologizing. Her heart had always attached itself to food. In Sam's world, every person was wired the same way. To her, everyone responded to food the way that she did. The only way she knew how to say she was sorry for what she had done was to feed them, especially food that so typified the two of them. Carly was the sweetness, Sam was the salt. At first blush, it looked like they could never coexist, but once you put them together; it was obvious that there could be no other way.

Freddie, Melanie, and Sam scuttled around the kitchen, piecing together breakfast service for four. Despite the discordant beginning to her day, Carly Shay could not have been happier. She had three of the people who mattered most to her in the entire world under her roof and they were sharing breakfast. In a great many ways, they were her family. She could feel a mixture of pride and embarrassment flush over her, turning her bright pink, but she didn't care. She wished it could always be like this.