Chapter 5 #2
Yes, four years is a long time, Mom. I missed you too, she thinks, and no, I’m not doing okay float through her head, ready on her tongue.
Instead, she stays quiet, falling into sync with her mother.
Jahlani pulls her sleeves up as she walks to the counter, washes her hands, and gets to work slicing the already rinsed mangos on the cutting board.
For a while, the swift thud of the knives hitting the boards is the only sound that echoes throughout the kitchen.
Jahlani notices that the layout is different here too.
The golden teak wood cabinets have been replaced with a simple white base.
Dressed around the island are four sleek leather barstools and instead of the electric stove, a glittering gas range sits on display in the middle.
Clearing her throat, Jahlani motions with her chin toward the stovetop.
“That’s nice,” she murmurs, glancing at her mother’s face.
Her mother turns to look at the oven, before nodding slightly.
“A gift,” she says, and that’s the end of it. She doesn’t seem too interested in having a conversation with her one and only child.
Jahlani waits and waits, slicing before lifting one to her mouth. The cool liquid of the mango springs against her tongue, leaving a tangy taste. Memories of humid summers, swarms of lovebugs, and lounging by the community pool with her cousins arise.
Then, as if on cue, her mother says, “Everyone will be glad to see you tomorrow. They haven’t heard from you in years.”
Jahlani exhales through her nose as she chews.
“Well, the phone works both ways,” she mumbles, not looking her way. She resists the urge to knock the bowl of mangos over and scream at her mother, because she’s tired and she hasn’t bothered to ask if Jahlani’s up to going.
It’s a demand.
An expectation.
Her house, her rules.
When her mother doesn’t say anything, Jahlani clears her throat, turning slightly to face her.
“Tomorrow?” She asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
Trying not to let her irritation rise to the surface through any inflections in her tone, to let her mother down easy because she’s not a child anymore.
She should be allowed to say no and establish boundaries.
She should be allowed to not want to be the subject of her family’s judgment, ridicule, and outrageously invasive line of questioning. Her mother should understand that.
Right?
But her mother shrugs, slicing open another mango. “Teryn got accepted into some program for her master’s.” Her knife waves around in the air with ‘some program.’ So did I, she wants to yell. Where’s my party?
Jahlani is quiet for several beats, chewing another slice, giving herself time to come up with a good enough excuse. She hums while nodding, wiping her hands against the front of her cotton leggings, heart drumming.
“I don’t know. I’m really exhausted. And I still need to unpack,” she starts slowly, returning to cutting. Careful with her choice of words. “I have a meeting at the school about my internship that I need to—”
Her mother’s loud exhale stops her from saying more, and Jahlani sees from the corner of her eye that she’s set her knife down.
Here we go.
Her dark eyes flutter around Jahlani’s face before looking away, her expression stoic.
“Jahlani, they haven’t seen you in years. You’re going. Congratulate your cousin. They’re your family. You owe it to them.”
Jahlani’s right eye twitches.
She owes it to them.
She doesn’t owe them anything.
She just wants a moment to relax. To orient herself, but her mother continues, reminding her of why she left in the first place.
“You’re lucky I even have room for you, showing up here out of the blue.
” Her voice rises slightly as she picks the knife up again, slicing expeditiously.
“I was getting ready to rent it to one of your cousins when I got your little voicemail. So, you can go and be the one to tell them now that they’ll have to find somewhere else to stay. ”
Jahlani squeezes her eyes shut, her shoulders curving inward as she takes a steadying breath.
A part of her wants to pilfer the remaining mango and hide in her room for the rest of the night.
The other part of her knows she has to try even though it’s the last thing she wants to do. Even though she knows it’ll be in vain.
Opening her eyes, she takes in her mother’s thinning form. Her hollow cheeks. She doesn’t look sickly, but she looks older. Jahlani unfurls her hands.
For what it’s worth, I think they’ll be happy to see you.
Her mind wanders momentarily to the man from the store again. His furrowed flat eyebrows, aquiline nose, and full pink lower lip. A selection of features she never thought she could be attracted to. His eyes, a striking combination of meadow green and sapphire blue. Those completely ruined her.
And he made her laugh.
Something that happens less frequently nowadays.
You were so wrong, she thinks. This can’t be what happiness looks like.
For a moment, she allows herself to wonder.
Her mind is a dangerous place, and she works hard to keep it quiet.
It has a very treacherous habit of creating happy, safe realities, and in this one, he wrangles the ten-digit number from her, and she learns his name.
In this version, she isn’t emotionally unavailable.
Instead, this is the catalyst for their something.
He’s charming and comes from a healthy, stable family.
He knows how to love, and be in love, and be loved.
He takes the time to show her how to do all those things.
He’s patient, and when she wants to stay late at work, he waits up for her.
He’s home cooking for her. He doesn’t resent her for it.
He’s supportive and understanding because he’s just that good.
They would have nuclear, explosive sex, and she’d wonder where he had been her whole life because he was her something that became her someone.
She decides it’s enough. His words encouraged her.
She reaches for another mango slice, restraining the sigh that is desperate to escape.
“What time does it start?”