EGGcellent

"Your eggs are ready, your eggs are ready, your eggs are ready!"

"I'm coming Brie," says Mikaela. She slams her sock drawer shut and hops out whilst pulling on a red one to match the green.

"Before you say anything, I know they don't match..."

She arrives in their living room and Brian is still calling--your eggs are ready, your eggs--but no one is there.

Mikaela stops in the middle of the room and takes it all in. The giraffe lamp is still by the mountain painting they did together on their fifth anniversary, right next to the umbrella they shared on their first date. Mikaela smiles when she remembers Brian going to the store to buy waterproof spray.

"What's it for, Brie? Tell me!"

He shrugged it off and kissed her on the cheek.

Brian was always good at hiding things and Mikaela had grown to like that game. She'd pretend like she was frustrated he would not tell her what this secret was and they'd both get a kick out of it.

She continues to scan the room and her eyes avoid the spot in the far east corner for a couple back and forth, before finally coming to rest on the green seat standing like a sentinel by the window.

That armchair where Brian would lie upside down, reading yet another book about magic, has been empty for a while. She could still see him try and turn when she'd enter, just to watch her pass by as if she were a ghost.

"I can't believe I married you, come here sexy," he would say.

And then the hide and seek would start.

There aren't many hiding spots and Mikaela figures he couldn't be far away, she can hear him--your eggs are ready.

"Where are you hiding Brian?"

She starts to walk around, catlike gestures, but before she investigates further, she turns off the egg timer, restrains from throwing it in the corner drawer, and turns off the gas stove.

They were good together and the games kept them safe for a while.

"Brie, where are you?"

Silence.

She puts the pot in the sink and washes the eggs in cold water, one by one, knowing he'll stay hidden until she finds her.

She sees something move from the corner of her eyes and turns. No Brian. She shrugs and goes back to her eggs, attacking the peeling.

"I will find you," she says in a singing voice before starting to hum.

One by one, she peels. The shells come off easily, just like Brian had taught her to do it. She remembers the first time she cooked for him. They had just gotten back from an afternoon pottery date and put down their respective creations on Brian's coffee table: two vases--more or less.

"Yours might not hold water, Brie," she said before letting out a giggle.

"Tssst, sure it will."

He picked up his sad excuse for a vase and placed it in the sink. Sure enough, when he picked it back up, it was leaking. He set it back down and Mikaela's giggles intensified.

"We'll just have to leave it in the sink, that's it!"

He joined her in her fit of laughter.

Later that evening, Mikaela decided she would make eggs for them. She fried and fried, but something went wrong and what she served was too runny and undercooked.

Brian poked the eggs with his fork, turned the plate around, examining it from side to side. "They look good..."

"You're difficult! They're not that bad," she said before having a taste. Nothing would do, she could not bring herself to swallow and opened her mouth, turned her head towards the plate and let the mouthful of eggs plot right back down.

Now it was Brian's time to have a fit of laughter.

"Maybe we should stick to boiled eggs, watcha say?"

--Your eggs are ready--

Mikaela turns around but, again, no Brian.

Still, the voice continues.

"You know, maybe you should try and cook something other than eggs. I'm getting a little tired of always doing the same thing. What, three times a day! I understand those complaining of a 9-5. I've been working overtime here! Pun intended!"

Mikaela stares at the counter, puzzled.

There was no way Brian could have squeezed under the sink, even a child wouldn't fit. Still, she bows down and takes a look. Nothing.

"Up here, hoo-hoo. Here I am," says the voice.

She stands back up but bumps her head on the counter.

"Aouch, that must have hurt. See what you do to me every day? Karma bazinga."

She stares at her egg timer, that yellow thing Brian had gotten her after she under-boiled her eggs.

"Yes it's me. Don't you look so surprised. You've been talking to yourself lady, I'm not the crazy one."

Mikaela shakes her head and puts her face in her hands.

"I am definitely going crazy," she says.

"Told you!"

She peeks out and looks over at the timer, it moved. It now stands above the sink, looking down at all the eggshells.

"That's how you treat the fruit of my labor? You know, some people they colour their eggs at this time of year. I know that for sure, my cousin told me. He is German. Those Germans, they do that for Easter: paint the eggs and all."

For a moment, Mikaela allows herself to indulge in the fantasy that this voice, so unmistakably Brian's, is coming from the timer and she gently touches it. "Brie..."

"Hey, fingers off lady! You've got your eggs. I'm done for the day. As a matter of fact, I quit."

Mikaela retracts her fingers and bends down, coming to eye level with the timer, she inspects it from all sides. It has not grown legs nor arms--not yet.

The timer continues in Brian's unmistakable tone, "And another thing, you really should consider diversifying your culinary skills, I mean, eggs are great and all, but there's an entire world of breakfast out there!"

Mikaela can't help but let out a small laugh.

"You think this is funny, huh?" the timer quips. "You should have seen your face when I first started talking. Priceless!"

Mikaela leans against the counter. "So what, you're going to start giving me cooking lessons now?"

"Hey, anything to stop you from crying nonstop. Can't even get a rest here. Ever heard of a little thing called omelettes?"

She chuckles, shaking her head.

"Wanna stick with the eggs, sure. Some egg-ercise will do you good. Time me, I dare you."

Mikaela's chuckle fades into the silence of the kitchen and she glances at the empty armchair before gazing back at the timer.

"You know, Brie always said life's too short for just eggs," she whispers to herself. She remembers Brian's laugh, his silly jokes, and the way he would make every mundane moment an adventure. This is just the kind of magic Brian would have loved.

With a deep breath, she stands straight, her eyes lingering on the timer. Then, with a determined nod, she motions towards the cupboard and reaches for ingredients she has long ignored.

"You know Brie," she says softly, "You always said making bread was therapeutic. Pretty sure you were just planning on 'loafing' around as I did all the work."

She cracks a small smile, picturing his reaction to her pun.

"Good on you, rising for the occasion!"