I sigh heavily as he grins and steers me toward the “back room”, which turned out to be a slightly quieter section with wooden picnic tables and a mounted gator head on the wall.
Both sets of parents are already seated.
They are already talking.
In fact, they are so fully immersed in their conversation that they don’t even notice us walk in. Their animated talking means I’ve missed the crucial early phase where everyone is still polite and quiet, silently judging each other. I won’t be able to control the direction of the conversation now.
“Sunshine!” Mom calls.
She’s the first to notice us and waves spastically from her seat. Dad nods from his spot beside her, where he sits stiffly with his hands folded on the table. Across from them, Ember’s parents are smiling pleasantly and seem to be genuinely enjoying themselves.
Weird.
Ember gives me a gentle push forward, and I stumble over literally nothing. Our moms stand up and give each of us a hug, while our fathers stay seated and wait for them to finish fawning over us.
“There’s my Sunshine!” Amina cheers as she pulls me into a tight hug.
“I feel like we might’ve skipped a couple of steps.” I let out a grating self-deprecating laugh, and she chuckles at how damn awkward I’m making this. I blush fiercely when she plants a kiss on my cheek.
“I see you started without us,” Ember says, holding a chair out for me to sit in.
“We’ve been talking for over half an hour, Kunya. I feel like we’re old friends.” Amina laughs.
“Yes,” Dad agrees brusquely, “they’re very nice.” High praise coming from a man who once described his own mother as unexceptional.
Ember plops down in the seat next to me as our waitress materializes in front of the table. One second, only empty air, and then POOF, a teenage girl with star stickers hiding her acne pops into existence. My soul temporarily leaves my body. I gawk, mouth wide open.
She scared the hell out of me, and my reaction seems to please her greatly if her grin is anything to go by.
“Y’all want drinks?” she asks, seeming like a bubbly person.
Our parents already have coffee in front of them, so I assume she’s speaking to Ember and me.
“Yeah, can I get a Coke, please?”
“Sure,” she says, taking out her purple notepad and matching pen. “What kind?”
“…Regular?”
“Okay, one Coke for you,” she says, taking note of my drink before turning to Ember with a flip of her hair. “And for you?”
“A water, please. With lemon.”
Without another word, she vanishes again. I almost want to call her back. Without the distraction, tension around the table ratchets up to unbearable heights.
I must be the only one feeling this uneasy tension, apparently, because Mom rekindles their conversation easily.
“So, you said you travel constantly. What’s that like?” My mom asks Ember's parents, obviously continuing the conversation our arrival had interrupted.
“We try to. Our lives are long. It would be a terrible shame not to see the world,” Amina says with a soft smile.
“Plus, she gets bored if we stay in one place for too long,” Ahmose jokes, wrapping a loving arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy our adventures, too,” Amina says, pushing him away lightly, but clearly not upset in the least.
“I like the food more than the travel,” Ahmose argues lovingly.
“I understand that completely.” My mom laughs.
