Chapter 19
Gina
"DADDY, SHOULDN'T YOUbe at work?"
My father looked up from the newspaper he'd been reading and met my eyes. He smiled, then laid the paper on the dining table. "Didn't you insist on talking to your mother and me together?"
"Yes."
"And now you’ve forced her to have to call you again. Gina, you know better."
He forked up a mouthful of vegetables and continued reading the newspaper as if he hadn't just scolded me.
My gaze swung between him and the refrigerator where Mom stood before I bumped his foot with mine.
"So, what is so important that it can't wait?"
My father's steady gaze reminded me that I'd still been putting off the visit with them. While I dragged my feet for the past week, Kofi had gotten impatient. I was either going to see them and put things to rest or stop bringing up the subject every time it crossed my mind. His stern words finally convinced me to come and see them today, nearly a full week since we returned from Ocho Rios.
In a chiding tone, Daddy said, "Whatever it is wouldn't have become urgent to your mother if you showed up when you said you would."
Hiking one shoulder, I gave him a non-answer. "You know how it is."
"With you and your mother, I never knowhow it is."
His comment made me smile, but I didn't respond because what could I say? Things were exactly as he said—always in flux.
My mother returned to the table, carrying a glass of water for my father and lemonade for me. She sat next to him before looking at me properly for the first time since I'd entered the house. People said I looked like her. She was still pretty, when she wasn’t being a nag and frowning as if she had a beef with the world.
It dawned on me that she wasn't always grumpy. I was the person who brought out that side of her character. That made me wonder why Daddy didn't step in more often to defend me. That's when it came to me—Daddy didn't have a clue about half the things my mother did. He simply allowed her to do whatever she wanted, perhaps because it made life easier. He'd always been our provider while she carried out most of the parental duties. That wouldn't be how things went when Kofi and I were married.
That thought stopped me immediately. Where had it come from? I smiled because of the assurance I had that things would work out between us—despite his mother. It wasn't something I had to think about consciously. We just seemed to work as a couple, a groove I'd never fitted into with anybody before Kofi.
"It's nice to see you in a good mood," Mom said.
Her comment wiped the smile from my face, but I nodded and tried not to read more into her statement than she meant. I drank from the glass she placed beside me and hoped I could leave soon. Although I knew Kofi wouldn't be ready for at least another half-hour, I fought not to look at my watch. I set the glass down and met Mom's eyes. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I don't mean to upset you, but it's distasteful to have to make an appointment to talk to my daughter." She reached for my father's hand. "I'm wondering when we got here."
"You don't know?"
The words escaped from me before I could stop them.
"These days, you always seem to have an attitude and every conversation turns into a fight."
"That's because you don't listen to me and you keep trying to tell me what to do." Her wide eyes and innocent demeanor annoyed the heck out of me and I shook my head. "At thirty-one, I don't need you to run my life."
She lifted her chin while her eyes flashed fire. "You don't seem to be doing such a great job of it yourself."
