Page 130 of Safe With You

Daddy didn’t even turn around. “Nobody was talking to you.”

Mama stepped onto the patio with a dish towel thrown over one shoulder, her reading glasses still sitting on top of her head like she’d forgotten they were there.

“You’re in my backyard.”

“My backyard too.”

“Not if you burn them ribs.”

I covered my laugh with a cough and headed toward the house.

Daddy pointed the tongs at me this time. “And you ain’t slick.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You laughed.”

Mama held the screen door open for me. “Leave my baby alone.”

“Your baby started it.”

“I’ve been here three minutes.”

I kissed Mama’s cheek as I passed her. She smelled faintly like the cocoa butter lotion she’d used for as long as I could remember, mixed with whatever had been cooking in the kitchen all afternoon.

“See why I don’t come home?” I asked.

“Girl, please. You know where your key at.”

The kitchen smelled exactly like Sunday. Greens simmered on the stove beside a pot I couldn’t see into, macaroni and cheese cooled near the oven, and gospel music played low enough from the speaker near the sink that I could still hear Daddy outside muttering to himself about people who didn’t respect a man’s grill.

I set the box on the counter and lifted the corner of the foil over the macaroni.

Mama slapped my hand away without looking.

“Mama.”

“Wash your hands.”

“I was just looking.”

“You were just about to put your fingers in my macaroni.”

“I was not.”

She looked at me.

I sighed. “Okay, but I would’ve used a fork.”

“Bathroom.”

I laughed as I headed down the hallway, already pushing my bracelets farther up my wrist. By the time I came back, my hands still damp because the guest bathroom apparently hadn’t had a clean hand towel since my last visit, Mama had opened the bakery box.

She stared inside.

Then at me.

“You bought peach cobbler?”