Dinner on Friday

13. Carla

FAMILY

My mother stood on our porch with her arms crossed, disapproval written on her overly expressive face. I knew that look all too well. It was the same one I used to get when I chose to hide in my doll house after verbally shutting out the world by going mute.

For the first time in my life, I wanted my words to betray me.

Come on, mouth. Silence is golden. Spare the universe the grittiness of my annoying voice. Right this second. Please.

I met my mother's dark eyes and she didn't blink or acknowledge me or Dante in any way. I hadn't seen this woman since our wedding, and I couldn't find a hint of joy on her face.

As usual, she didn't see anything wrong with her behavior although she was the one who had shown up at our door without an invitation while also failing to announce her arrival beforehand.

With her hair pulled back in a neat bun, her high cheekbones stood out starkly in her thin face. When I was younger, I always thought my mother looked like the typical, slim, dark-skinned Haitian woman. But looking at her now, she'd changed.

Her clothes were finer than I remembered, and she held and carried herself with a haughty air.

"Good morning, Mom," I said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Good morning," my mother replied coolly. "Where have you been?".

"We went for a walk." This was the first time in years I didn't feel the need to lie. Telling the truth always made everything worse when I was a kid.

My mother's eyes wandered to Sergio and the other guards posted around the house. "And who are all those people?"

Dante replied before I could. "They are security personnel. I hired them to ensure our safety," he said calmly.

My mother's eyes narrowed. "Our safety? From what exactly?"

Dante hesitated for a moment before answering. "There have been some threats made against us recently, and I thought it would be best to be prepared."

My mother's expression hardened. "Threats? What kind of threats?"

Dante sighed. "I won't go into details, but let's just say that our family's business has made some enemies."

My mother looked at me, concern etched on her face. "Are you safe?"

Dante's cold gaze pierced my mother's without wavering. "Yes, we are taking necessary precautions to ensure our safety. You don't need to worry."

My mother looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. Instead, she clutched her bag and changed the subject. "Well, why don't you invite me inside? It's impolite to have your guest waiting outside. I can't believe it's still so cold here in the morning."

"It's spring, Mom."

"I know that."

Then don't complain about the fucking weather.

Once we were inside and my mother had hung up her coat and taken off her shoes, she slowly looked around the living room before sitting. I saw the awe in her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

This house was the total opposite of where I grew up. Brighter, airier, bigger. Everything my mother wanted growing up. And she had gotten it to a certain extent. Her husband was a lawyer and she had made a name for herself as a chef who had been offered the opportunity to work at a Michelin-star restaurant in France. Her house was three times bigger than the neighbors, and the many women who had never set foot out of Haiti all looked up to her.