“They’re the only family you got.” For the second time today, I feel unfairly accused.
“Don’t remind me.” He sighs. “I need a little shuteye before dealing with them. If it’s alright with you, let’s check into the motel.”
Chapter 22
Suds
After a little sleep, I’m almost human when I ring the doorbell of my sister’s Victorian home. Sam has no idea what she’s up against this evening and I should warn her but it was her big mouth that got us into this. Perhaps she can find us a way out.
My sister’s husband, Reginald, a bald man in his thirties, greets us at the door. “Come on in. You must be Samantha. How nice to meet you. Can I get you a pop or a club soda?”
“No thank you.” While Sam and I remove our coats, my sister comes into the living room and attempts to take our wraps hostage.
“I got this.” I hang our jackets in plain sight, near the door.
When Sam’s brows skew in a question mark, careful not to be overheard, I whisper, “Hang onto your purse.”
No time for explanations, we’re ushered into the kitchen where fine southern cooking fills the air.
“Why don’t we hold hands and say grace?” My sister holds up her palms and her boys, sitting on either side, take one.
Wait for it...
Sam glances at me as she sits and takes my outstretched fingers.Don’t look at me, sugar. You’re the one who agreed to have dinner with these folks.
“Dear Lord, bless our meal and help us to spread your word to these, your poor sinners, Amen.”
Hmm, far too short. What are they up to?
Sam doesn’t understand she was insulted but she will, soon enough.
Hoping we get a bite to eat before we have to go, I pile Sam’s plate with shredded barbecued pork, sweet potatoes, and greens, then help myself. I’m feeling a mite bit guilty for not giving her some heads up so drop my fork and indicate we should meet under the table.
“Eat fast, smile, and agree to nothin’.”
“What-“
“Shush.”
Sitting back up, I shovel in food because I’m pretty damn sure the shit is about to hit the fan.
My dad clears his throat and when Sam looks to him, he asks. “Have you accepted Christ as your savior?”
Now, down south, where I grew up, this is a perfectly acceptable question, but seeing how she’s from Brooklyn, asking about religion is considered very personal and ain’t asked in front of folks you just met.
Her face flushes as she grabs a glass of water, taking the time to recover. She shoots me a look that could kill, but hell, I wasn’t the one who agreed to this shit show.
Sam’s syrupy sweet tone matches her smile. “How nice of you to inquire but what goes on between me and God is private. You can be assured I’m in His good hands.”
A coiled cobra snake, my sister’s eyes narrow and I brace for her bite. Under the table, I put my hand on Sam’s knee and squeeze, feeling bad I let things get this far. No doubt, if I wasn’t so angry at her about the damn classes, I wouldn’t’ve put her in this awkward position.
Shit, sometimes I can be a real bastard.
“Drop it.” I point my fork at my sister.
“Sebbie, we’re concerned, what with you livin’ in sin. We only want what’s best.”
“What’s best is for y’all to stay out of our business.” My fists clench and it’s only because my dad’s newly out of the hospital, I don’t say more.
