We settle around the table and all the gyoza gets separated into trays. I notice that Ashanti and Niko are eating the tray from Sazuki’s mother.
And Sazuki is gobbling Ashanti’s dumplings like he’s a dying man with his last meal.
My gyoza remains at the end of the table, untouched.
Sazuki slows down long enough to come up for air. He touches my hand. “Are you not hungry?”
“I’m okay.” I drum up a smile for him.
Ashanti observes us with her hawk eyes and then she leans forward. “Sazuki, why don’t you try this one?”
My eyes whip up.
Ashanti shoves my plate at Sazuki. He fetches one of my dumplings with his chopsticks and chews.
“Now,” Ashanti says mischievously, “out of all these plates, which one do you like the most?”
“I like this one!” Niko points to her grandmother’s dumplings.
“I like this one.” Sazuki juts his chopstick at Ashanti’s tray.
My smile remains pinned on my face, but it’s only because of my pride. Chaos blows through my mind. Sazuki prefers his ex-wife’s plate. Does he miss her cooking too? What if he misses more than that? Her kisses? Her lovemaking? Her face in his bed in the morning?
My pulse picks up steam.
Anger rears its ugly head.
Irrational.
Uncontrollable.
I set my chopsticks down and it hits the table with athunk.Sazuki looks over at me. His eyes scan my face as he accepts the beaming look of doom that I give him.
In a second, it clicks.
He lunges for the untouched tray at the end of the table and sets it in front of him.
“Son, what are you doing?”
Sazuki doesn’t answer. He stuffs his face with my gyoza,shoving dumpling after dumpling in his mouth like a human vacuum.
“Is it that good?” Niko signs.
I shrug.
She spears one with her chopsticks. I do too.
As we eat, both of us scrunch our noses.
“I don’t like this one,” Niko signs.
“Me either.” I cough and reach for my water. “There’s not enough meat in there. It’s too dry.”
“I think it’s delicious,” Sazuki says, his bottom lip trembling.
Ashanti gives him a stunned look.
Sazuki’s mother seems equally confused.