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Before I can ask what he means, an Asian woman skids into our line of sight. Sazuki straightens and puts a decent amount of space between us.
I smile charmingly and extend the chocolate and flowers I bought from the grocery store. “Mrs. Sazuki, hi. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Dejonae Williams.”
She gives me a head-to-toe scan. “You are very young.”
Her accent is even thicker than Sazuki’s. It takes me a moment to sort through what she’s saying. The awkward pause makes the tension in the air even worse.
I laugh to break it up. “You look young as well.”
Her lips twitch, but she quickly returns to her stern expression. “Have you made dumplings before?”
“No, this will be my first time.”
“Come.” She motions to me.
Sazuki takes a step forward too.
She stops him with a fierce gaze. “Only women in the kitchen.”
“That’s an archaic philosophy,” I mumble.
Sazuki squeezes my hand and murmurs back, “Try not to say that to her.”
I scrunch my nose. “No promises.”
I’ve never been great at holding back when I feel the need to speak up. However, Sazuki’s mom is from a different time and a different culture. The last thing I want to do is come off as argumentative when I’m supposed to be making a good impression.
Just can it for one night, Dejonae.
I force a smile and follow Sazuki’s mother into the kitchen. Niko isn’t there, which makes me feel bereft. She would have been a friendly face in the middle of this cold war.
The ladies lift their eyes and spear me with sharp looks.
I cough. “How can I help?”
“Come. I will show you.” She sits me down around the table and proceeds to give me the quickest dumpling tutorialever.
I’m lost and have the burning urge to ask ‘what was step one again’? But both Ashanti and Sazuki’s mother settle in to make their dumplings and I don’t want to look like the clueless one.
I’m surprised by the way silence falls on the kitchen. There’s no music and no conversation. I guess everyone is concentrating, but I’m not used to interactions like this.
With my parents and Yaya, there’s always someone laughing, talking, teasing and trading stories about their day.
With Vanya and Hadyn, the teasing and joking is multiplied.
Even though I haven’t been around Sunny, Kenya, and Dawn for long, the few times I were, I saw how tightly-knit and vocal their group was.
Don’t even get me started on their kids.
Those little critters have no filters, especially when they’re playing games with each other.
But every family is different.
I square my shoulders, determined to work on my dumplings without asking for help.
“What are you doing?” Sazuki’s mom explodes at me. “Do not do it like that.” She points to my dumpling. “Too much. Too much. Why are you doing it like that?”
I panic and throw the filling out. “Sorry.”
