“What’s up, Sis-law?”
“Good evening, Indigo.”
I turned toward Isaías, still on Indigo’s side of the table. He didn’t hesitate to take my hand. His orbs were desolate, but on me, nonetheless.
“Grayson,” he informed me. “Isaías Grayson.”
After a curt nod he released my hand. I continued toward Ishmael’s mother. She was magnetic, pulling me in deeper with each breath she took. I didn’t extend a hand. I didn’t keep my distance. I didn’t abide by the personal space rules my mother had instilled in me.
“It’s so good to meet you.”
Her arms were around me. My arms were around her. And, my heart was heavy.
I miss my mother. I noted.
“You smell divine.”
“I’ll be sure to gift you a bottle.”
“Please.”
We parted, but my heart was still with her. Ishmael’s hand lowered to my waist.
“This way,” he instructed.
We stopped in front of the hand sink in the corner of the dining room. Ishmael pumped soap into my palm and placed my hands together.
I chuckled. “I can manage.”
“I didn’t ask.”
My claim didn’t hinder his plan. He rubbed my hands together until they were clean. Ishmael repeated the same steps for himself as I dried my hands with the paper towel he gave me.
Silently, he guided me to our seats. I was the first to sit. He pushed my chair up to the table and slid his back. He never scooted toward the table. He angled his chair toward mine and closed the gap between us. A hand rested on my thigh.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
I turned to face him, running a hand down the side of his face. He leaned in, kissing my fingers.
“Yes,” I murmured.
Though he masked it well, I could feel the uneasiness under the layers of polish he coated his presence with each day.
“Everything is ready for consumption,” Janis announced.
Ishmael stood. So did Indigo. So did Isaías. One by one, they removed the tops from the dishes, exposing the food beneath them. My stomach ached with hunger as I observed each option carefully.
Smothered chicken.
Steak tips covered in brown gravy.
Mashed potatoes.
Cauliflower.
Green beans.
Wild rice.
