Page 57 of Surrender

“Shut up, Jake. Your babies are gonna love me. I plan to be the rich auntie with no kids that buys them whatever they want.”

“How are you gonna be rich when you’re always spending my money?”

She playfully mushed my head. “That’s exactly how.”

“Watch me cut you off.”

She gasped. “How dare you! You made me a kept little sister. That’s the manner in which I’m accustomed to.”

My mother laughed. “I told you not to spoil her. Don’t ever listen to him if he complains about doing anything for her, Kachelle. He talks big shit about it, but he was the same one who used to come get her from me or his father if she was crying, and she’d shut right up every time. There would be times I went looking for my baby and she’d be in his room, laid up on his chest with both of them snoring.”

Kay smiled. “Awww! That’s so sweet.”

“Let me grab the photo album!”

I rolled my eyes. “Here she goes.”

My mother laughed as she left the kitchen and headed into the living room to grab the book of embarrassment. I wasn’t sure why this seem to be a staple amongst parents. It was like they lived to share the most embarrassing pictures and memories of their children. She returned with a photo album, flipping through the album.

She placed the album on the counter. “Here we go!”

“Oh, my goodness!’ Kay exclaimed as she flipped through the pages. “You two were adorable! I see why you’re still so close. She had you looking like a teenage father, baby.”

I chuckled. “She wanted to be everywhere I went.”

“That much is still true,” Mama agreed. “I love the way they love each other, though.”

She cupped both mine and Jessa’s face and kissed our cheeks. The sound of the front door opening broke the sentimental moment. I knew it was my father. Mom pulled away and went to greet him. As they spoke softly, I saw the frown on his face. It was clear he didn’t know we were coming. If it was one thing my father hated, it was an ambush.

He kept looking back and forth between us and my mother.

“Should we leave?” Kachelle asked quietly.

“No.”

My mother continued to talk to him. After a while, he raised his hands in surrender. She grabbed the grocery store bag in his hand and led him into the kitchen. He stopped a few feet shy of me and looked between me and Kay.

“Jacob. Kachelle,” he said, extending his hand.

“Dad.”

“Mr. Mitchell.”

“Why doesn’t everybody fix a plate and we can eat.”

He didn’t say anything else as he went to wash his hands. I turned to my wife.

“Why don’t you grab a seat. I’ll fix your plate.”

“Thank you.”

I pecked her lips before letting her go. We moved around the kitchen in silence, fixing our plates. When we were done, we seated ourselves and my mother said a prayer before we dug in. An awkward silence filled the room. The only sounds that could be heard were forks scraping.

“This is really good, Mrs. Mitchell,” Kachelle complimented.

“Thank you, baby. Do you cook?”

“Yes, ma’am. I love to cook.”