“You’re right,” she says, syrup-sweet. “But seems they forget how to set a simple table. Forks go on the other side.”
“Tuh.” I shake my head. “I ain’t set a table in ages. I got people who do that for me.”
“Yet here you are,” she fires back, “setting your Mum’s table like a good likkle boy.”
I pause mid-reach, give her a curious look.
She meets it, chin up.
“You got a problem with me?” I ask.
She blinks with big innocent eyes, and then the performance of the year. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t like me or something?”
Now she looks at me like I’m genuinely thick.
“Why would I not like you?” she grins. “I don’t even know who you are.”
“Oh, come off it.” I drop a napkin on the table. “Stop playin’ with me! You know exactly who I am.”
“Come on, Bari,” Zaza says, shaking her head as she enters the space and sets down cups. “If she says she doesn’t remember, then she doesn’t remember. Just let it go.”
“Nah.” I narrow my eyes at her. “You put her up to this.”
Frankie’s lips curl slowly, smug. “Or maybe you’re not as remarkable as you think.”
I scoff, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah, right.”
“All of you, enough.” Mum’s voice comes from the kitchen doorway. She wipes her hands on a tea towel and gives us the look that always shuts everything down.
I bite back the rest of what I want to say and sink further into my chair, looking across from me to see Frankie’s blank expression.
Dad shuffles in a moment later, scratching his head, still half-asleep from his nap. He drops into his seat with a grunt.
“Joshua,” Mum says firmly, settling beside him. “Do grace.”
Dad blinks, rubs his eyes, then nods. “Alright, let’s pray.”
The table goes quiet, heads bowing—all except mine. No, mine is tilted just enough to steal one last glance across the table.
Frankie’s eyes are shut, lashes dark against her cheeks, unbothered.
At least one of us is because I can’t shake it.
She doesn’t remember me, or she’s pretending not to.
Either way, it’s eating me alive.
three
we all grow up.
Frankie.
There’ssomething beautiful about the way Jabari McKingsley’s face crumbled when I told him I didn’t remember him.
Almost poetic.
