Mama appeared in the doorway before I could respond.
“Dinner’s ready,” she said brightly. “Come on, everyone. Let’s eat.”
The dining room table was set with Mama’s good china—white plates with gold trim, crystal glasses, cloth napkins folded into perfect triangles.
Alexis sat across from me.
Winston sat at the head of the table.
Mama sat at the other end, smiling like everything was perfect.
The roasted chicken sat in the center of the table, surrounded by roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, and a basket of rolls that were still steaming.
It looked like a magazine spread.
It felt like a trap.
“Alexis,” Mama said, passing her the potatoes. “Do you like the church?”
“I do,” Alexis said, spooning potatoes onto her plate. “Pastor is wonderful. His sermons always make me think.”
“He’s a good man,” Mama agreed. She glanced at me. “You should come with us sometime, Amai. It’s been a while since you’ve been to service.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy for God?” Winston said, cutting into his chicken. “That’s a dangerous way to live.”
I didn’t respond.
Alexis smiled politely. “I’m sure Amai has a lot on his plate.”
“He does,” Mama said quickly. “Too much, if you ask me. He works himself to the bone.”
“Someone has to,” I said.
Winston’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No.” He set his fork down. “Say what you mean, Amai.”
I met his eyes.
“I mean someone has to keep the business running. Someone has to make sure everything stays stable. Someone has to?—”
“Someone has to what?” Winston’s voice was sharp now. “Clean up messes? Handle problems? You think I don’t know what you do?”
“I think you know exactly what I do.”
“Then maybe you should remember who taught you.”
The air in the room went cold.
Mama’s smile faltered.
Alexis looked down at her plate, suddenly very interested in her vegetables.
