Chapter Thirty A Seat at the Table
“Some things are bigger than what happened.”
After the final prayer, after Minnie and Kane whispered jokes during the benediction and Prince gave them both a side-eye with a hint of a smile, the family began heading toward the car.
Sunni lingered in the foyer, her phone already in her hand.
She’d watched them the entire service—Kane and Minnie Girl, shoulder to shoulder like they never missed a beat.
Whispering. Smiling. Laughing during announcements like they used to during family movie nights.
That kind of bond didn’t dissolve in drama—it just waited in silence until someone was brave enough to reopen the door.
Sunni had always told her kids: Friendship this real? That’s holy too.
She stepped outside, turned away from the chatter, and hit “Call” on Keisha’s contact.
It rang twice.
“Hello?”
Sunni didn’t waste time.
“Hey Keisha. It’s Sunni.”
“Oh—hey. Everything okay?”
“Yes,” Sunni said. Her tone was even. Calm. Firm but not cold. “Church was good. Kane and Minnie… it was good for them.”
“I’m glad,” Keisha said, a little caught off guard.
“I was wondering if Minnie Girl could come over for dinner tonight,” Sunni said. “Nothing formal. Just family. Chicken, greens, maybe some banana pudding if I don’t get lazy.”
There was silence on the other end.
Sunni didn’t rush it.
“I know things are… layered between us,” she continued, “but Kane and Minnie have something that I don’t think should be punished because of grown folks’ decisions. And I don’t want to teach my kids that forgiveness means forgetting. It just means we don’t let pain win every time.”
Keisha exhaled softly.
“She’s been through a lot,” she said.
“I know,” Sunni replied. “So have mine. So maybe tonight they can just be girls. Teenagers. Not Marcus’s kids. Not Keisha’s niece. Not products of this mess. Just two girls who love each other.”
Another beat of silence.
Then Keisha said, quietly, “I’ll bring her over.”
“No need,” Sunni said. “We’ll come pick her up. Make it feel normal.”
Keisha chuckled lightly. “You sure?”
Sunni smiled. “You’ll know I’m serious about healing when you see me pull up in that black Tahoe.”
Later That Night
The kitchen was loud again. Bunny was setting the table with plastic cups and doing it “her way”—which meant every fork had to face the window. Dexter kept “accidentally” sampling the mac and cheese. Natty danced in the living room wearing one of Kane’s old scarves like a cape.
And Minnie Girl?
She walked in the front door and was swallowed in laughter, hugs, and warmth.
Nobody brought up Marcus.
Nobody had to.
There were enough stories, jokes, and seconds on dessert to fill the room with something stronger than silence: belonging.
Sunni looked around her table and felt her chest swell.
Because healing didn’t just sit in pews.
Sometimes… it sat in folding chairs with a napkin in its lap.