“You sayin’ someone else is?” Momma challenges from the head of the table.
“No ma’am, we’re all here stayin’ young,” Dad says, grabbing his apron to wipe the sweat from his brow real quick before putting it down again.
“Amens” erupt around the table at that, and when silence comes over us—Dad still standing at his seat—we all find one another’s hands, form a chain, and bow our heads.
“Dear Lord—”
“Remember to keep itshortso the food doesn’t get cold,” Aunt Clarissa whispers.
“Hush, now,” Momma hisses. Then, her voice syrupy sweet, “Go on, baby.”
I watch Dad open one eye to glare at Aunt Clarissa, who’s already looking up at him, eyes wide to push her point. Then he glances at me and winks.
“Actually,” he starts, still looking at me, making the hair rise on the back of my neck.
Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t,I chant in my head.
“Why don’t we let Clarity pray? That way it’ll be short and sweet like her—”
“Hey,”I whine when everyone begins to laugh. “I’m notthatshort.”
As the table regains their composure, Momma and Dad both look at me. Momma’s smile is warm, and Dad’s raised brows are expectant.
I know I don’t really have a choice, so I relent. “Let’s bow our heads then,” I say, keeping my voice even enough to pretend I’m not low-key scared right now.
I guess God decided I’ve avoided him enough.
I take a deep breath and glance around, glad everyone’s eyes are already closed. I catch the old plastic chairs by the back door, the same ones Momma and I used to sit in when she taught me Bible stories, discolored from time.
Just focus on when Christianity was me in this backyard, getting soaked by the sun, listening to Momma recite scripture to me, coloring Bible scenes with markers. When it was me finding my own way to God.
I close my eyes and bow my head. My mind slows down, my chest opens up, and I breathe a little easier despite my anxiety.
“Dear Lord, please bless this food and all the hands that came together to prepare it so that it may nourish our bodies. Ame—”
“And I would like to add,” Dad cuts in, evoking a chorus of moans and chuckles from around the table. I, blissfully hidden from view with everyone’s eyes still closed, break out in the biggest smile.
“That you please bless our dear matriarch, Selma Jones, and her late husband—my father—William Jones,” Dad continues. “Please bless this house, and every person at this table. Keep us in your heart as we embark upon this upcoming year.
“We pray for Clarity to get accepted to the colleges she applies to: University of Pittsburgh, Princeton, Kenyon College, Temple University, and Ohio State. We already know that your will is what will be, that you have a plan for her and everything she will become, and we are excited and grateful to you, God—”
Dad makes sure to mention every member of our family, and we join him in a collective “Amen.” I open my eyes and take in the fact that I did not combust. Though I guess I don’t actually believe that was one of the possible outcomes. That at least when I bowed my head, in the space God fills in my spirit and my heart, I wasn’t met with darkness and silence.
I’m not cutoff.
Dad and Uncle David set to work at the head of the table, spooning portions and passing plates down, making sure everyone is taken care of.
“Clarity, what do you want? You gotta tell your dad so he can fix you a plate,” Momma says, nudging me.
Everyone gets their plates, and a few people move around, Aunt Clarissa asking if I might let her take my mom so they can continue catching up. Momma moves down to the end of the table so she can sit with her sons, leaving the seats on either side of me empty.
And like clockwork, I soon find myself flanked by my cousins, Stephanie and Jeremiah.
“You really think you’re going to get in to Princeton?” Stephanie asks, shaking her head, already answering her own question. In the same breath, she shoves a spoonful of steaming baked beans in her mouth.
“Steph, why you always gotta be a pessimist. That’s why ain’t nobody tryin’ to date yo teachin’ ass—”
“Ain’t nobody here tryin’ to date her optimistic ass either, so let me talk,” she snaps at her younger brother, spearing some of her mom’s famous collard greens.