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If she is pleased, I am pleased.
If she is angry, it is all I think about.
To keep the foundation from sure ruin, Dejonae’s happiness must be preserved.
I walk to the door and admit Ashanti. She offers a brilliant smile and a ‘hey’, before lurching forward and hugging me. Her body presses against mine. The scent of her perfume drags me back to the past.
For a moment, I feel as though I am in Japan, returning home after a concert.
Then I blink.
I remember that we are divorced.
Remember the pain in her eyes when she walked away.
And remember Dejonae.
I wrestled with telling Dejonae about Ashanti’s arrival yesterday. In the end, she was too in-tuned to my emotions and sniffed out that I was hiding something from her. The look she gave me when I told her Ashanti was back in our lives is one I will never forget. Her eyes had widened with horror, fear, and dismay.
Though I did my best to assure her, words are far too fragile.
I refuse to give Dejonae a reason to mistrust me.
Prying Ashanti’s hands from around my neck, I slant her a dark look. “Ashanti, we are no longer together. Kindly refrain yourself in the future.”
“Sorry.” She glances down. “I got excited for a minute. It’s been a long time since I’ve come home to you.”
My eyebrows cinch. Why is she talking in this manner? Isn’t she married to someone else?
I step back. “Wait here. I will bring a pair of indoor slippers for you.”
“No need.” She smiles and dangles a pair off the tip of her fingers.
I nod and together we walk into the kitchen.
Niko grins when she sees us. She waves to her mother. Ashanti gives her a kiss on the head. Her hair is straight and long today. It flows over her shoulder, hiding her face from view as she rocks Niko back and forth.
“Come. Come.” Mother interrupts them. “The food is getting cold.”
I move to the chair beside Niko.
My mother hurries to claim it. “You sit over there.” She points to the chair beside Ashanti. Before I can protest, she falls into the seat as if we are embroiled in a heated game of ‘musical chairs’.
I straighten and give the chair a surveying look.
“Go on, Ryotaro.” My mother pushes my arm.
Niko studies me, her intelligent eyes taking in everything. I do not wish to give her a reason to worry, so I bury my misgivings and sit beside Ashanti.
“Itadakimasu.” Ashanti presses her hands together. Niko bows her head too.
My mother dips her chin, smiles and repeats the phrase.
I mumble it out, which earns me a dark look from my mother and an amused one from Ashanti.
As we eat, my mother spears pieces of the fish and places them on top of Niko’s bowl of rice. My daughter gobbles it all.
“Here, Ryo.” Ashanti expertly pins a vegetable between her chopsticks and places it on my bowl of rice. She leans over me. Her dress is low cut and reveals a hint of cleavage.
