The Robertsons were the first to arrive at the Eubanks’ parents’ house. This, Elizabeth supposed, was what they got for only living three hours away. It was Malik’s fault that they lived so close to Elizabeth’s parents, as he was the one who wanted to live in Omaha. For work, sure, but still.

“Hey, ma,” Elizabeth called as she unlocked the front door. “Dad?”

“LIZZIE!” Her father boomed from upstairs. His hurried footsteps crossed the floor and then he came charging down the stairs. Lizzie frowned; now that he was upwards of sixty-five, her father’s antics had her worried he would fall and hurt himself.

As soon as she caught sight of him hustling towards them, Elizabeth’s daughter screamed out, “GAMPA!” Then, she waddled into the house to meet him. Malik was still climbing the stairs up to the front door, his arms loaded down with the bulk of their luggage. At the doorway, he paused, closed his eyes, let out a sigh, and then stepped into the house. Elizabeth frowned at her husband’s back. She was never sure if he was apprehensive about visiting her parents because it was visiting, or if it was because they were her parents. Malik certainly preferred routine, but also...well...

Martha and Jon Eubanks were really good people. They were kind and they were always trying to help others. They liked almost everybody, with the exception of Elizabeth’s first boyfriend, Tyler Delaney, who was an absolute tool. The Eubanks parents were welcoming and charitable and if they ever realized they were offending somebody, they would be chagrined and appropriately apologetic. What bothered their eldest daughter was that they were always offending somebody, and they were never realizing it.

In college, when Malik and Elizabeth had first started dating, her parents were dumbfounded by the fact that he didn’t participate in any sports. Her mother had actually said the words I thought your people loved basketball to him. He had coughed, uncomfortably, and then sheepishly admitted to a lack of athletic aptitude. Elizabeth’s jaw had just slackened. Then, when they were headed back to school, she kept apologizing.

“She’s not like that,” Elizabeth had tried to explain. Because, really, her mother wasn’t a racist. But then Elizabeth started to worry that maybe her mom was a little bit racist, which led her to the unsettling realization that maybe they were all a little bit racist. Malik was mostly quiet as they drove home that day, but as soon as they pulled into the parking lot on campus, he told her that, because they were her parents, he didn’t feel like he could address their microaggressions, but that he also didn’t want to have to live with them.

“I’m so sorry,” she’d told him. “I should have...I should have said something. I was just so...thrown. I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

Ever since then, she really had tried to do better. When her parents would cross the line into the realm of the politically incorrect, Elizabeth would try to call them out on it. What she discovered quickly, though, was that she wasn’t always sure when something was a microaggression. Sometimes, Malik would have to call her out on something. Early on in their relationship, it would mortify her. But it happened less and less the longer they were together, the more she learned and observed. Everything got easier for her once she learned how to quiet the impulse to provide a defense and, rather, allowed herself to learn from the experience. She wished Malik would call out her parents--he was better at explaining the historic implications of things, and he obviously had a much deeper understanding of the emotional effects--but the most he would ever do is leave the room. He wouldn’t even make a scene about it. He’d just slip out and take a couple of deep breaths. Later, he might rant about it to her as they drove home. She hated anytime parents were the source of her husband’s pain.

“Lizzie Bella,” Elizabeth’s father greeted her, pressing a kiss against her temple. He had scooped up his granddaughter in his arms and Sapphire was trying to slide his glasses off of his face. He extended one hand to Malik before realizing that Malik’s hands were too full for a handshake. His hand fidgeted in the space between them before he reached for one of the bags in Malik’s hands and offered, “Let me help you with that.”

“Thanks,” Malik said, passing the lightest bag over to him. “How are things, Jon?”

“Oh, you know,” Jon said. “I’m gettin’ old and useless. Thank the good Lord the house will be filled again for Christmas.”

“Is Connor coming home?” Elizabeth asked. She hadn’t seen her brother since Thanksgiving of the year before. He was supposed to come home for Christmas that year, but a snowstorm prevented his flight back. After that, he’d been busy finishing up his last semester at NYU. Then, he was busy settling into his post-grad life. He’d visited Katelyn recently, but hadn’t bothered trying to make it to Omaha to visit his eldest sister. She was trying not to be bitter about it, afterall, she hadn’t flown out to New York for his graduation. But she had a family to consider and coordinate. The only person he had to consider was himself.

“I don’t think so,” her father said sadly.

“What a brat,” she grumbled.

“N’ya wha a brah,” Sapphire repeated.

Malik shot a look at his wife and she held her hands up, palms out, in surrender. He was always telling her that their daughter learned sassy from her. Elizabeth pressed her forehead against her daughter’s and said, “Sorry, Saph, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not nice to call people brats. Even if those people are your Uncle Connor.”

“Unka Conna!” Sapphire squealed in delight. She had apparently missed the part of the conversation when it was established that Unka Conna wouldn’t be joining them. Silently, Elizabeth cursed her brother for the inevitable heartbreak her toddler was about to endure. Sapphire barely even understood object permanence the last time Connor had visited, but she was still totally taken with him from their occasional Skype chats.

They dumped their belongings in Elizabeth’s old bedroom. This was how holidays were at their parents’ house. Everyone slept in their old rooms. She tried to lobby for Sapphire to get Connor’s room, arguing, “He isn’t even going to be here,” but her father wouldn’t hear of it. He just shook his head and told her, “That room is Connor’s, and we have to leave it free for him, in case he shows.”

She was a little bitter about it. Her parents even had a guest room that they wouldn’t let her use because it had to be free in case they had a guest.

“Honestly,” Elizabeth muttered to herself. “It’s like they want the guest room to be open just in case some stranger drops by. It’s preposterous.”

Malik quirked a brow in his wife’s direction and she rolled her eyes. A silent conversation. He crossed the room, pressed a kiss on the top of her head, and then guided her back into the hallway.

Downstairs, Sapphire curled up on the couch and took a nap with her Gampa. Martha Eubanks wasn’t home so Malik and Elizabeth just meandered for a bit. Elizabeth always felt so strange to visit home now that home wasn’t really her home any more. She and her husband wandered the halls and he made jokes about the photographs that lined the walls. There was one picture of Elizabeth in high school from when she was obsessed with Taking Back Sunday. In it, her red hair had been dyed black, but the roots were starting to show. Her hair was layered in that excessive way that was popular back in 2008. She was wearing thick, black eyeliner and fingerless gloves from Hot Topic. She was dressed in black, complete with a choker and a studded belt. It was Malik’s favorite photo of her. It brought him a genuine and pure sort of glee. She had tried to convince her parents to take it down, to replace it with a picture from her senior year. They wouldn’t hear of it, though. So, every time they visited her parents, Elizabeth always ended up standing in the hallway, looking at that terrible photograph, as her husband laughed with delight.

The front door swung open and Martha Eubanks called out, “Lizzie Bella! Are you here already?”

“Yes, mom,” Elizabeth called back. The mean and ever present voice in the back of her head said, “obviously, my car’s in the driveway, isn’t it?” but she managed not to vocalize it.

“Then give me a hand with these bags!” Martha yelled back. Malik and Elizabeth headed downstairs. Apparently, Martha Eubanks had just been to the grocery store. Her arms were full of brown paper bags. Malik tried to take a bag from his mother-in-law, but she just shook her head and said, “There are more in the car.”

That was a bit of an understatement. The car was loaded. Elizabeth and Malik busied themselves unloading the car, which was a feat in itself, and then tried to help Martha put the groceries away. It was too much of a struggle, though, because she had certain places where she wanted everything. Elizabeth would put a bag of frozen peas in the freezer, and then her mother would move it to somewhere else in the freezer. Malik would put a few cans of beans in the cupboard, and then Martha would move two of the cans to somewhere else in the cupboard and set the rest into a box to take to church as a donation. Often, when Elizabeth attempted to help her mother, she was left wondering if by helping she was really just prolonging the process.

They were just finishing up when they heard Katelyn’s car pull up. Martha practically leapt with glee as she rushed to the door. This, Elizabeth supposed, was another unfortunate byproduct of living close to her parents. Elizabeth’s parents saw her more than they saw either of her siblings, and so, they were always significantly less enthusiastic about seeing her. All she really had going for her was that she was the mother of their only grandchild and they both adored being grandparents.

“Come on,” Martha called to her eldest daughter. “She brought that boyfriend of hers! Let’s go check him out!”

Elizabeth followed her mother outside. There was a tall guy in a black peacoat standing at the driver’s door, helping Katelyn out of her car.

“All right, Jason!” Elizabeth thought. “Chivalry will get you everywhere.”

After her sister was out, the guy reached into the back seat and pulled out two bags. He said something to Katelyn and she laughed in reply. Her face broke wide into a grin and Elizabeth thought that she might have even heard her little sister snort. It seemed like Katelyn really liked this guy, which surprised Elizabeth some. The last time she had talked to her sister, Katelyn had called her new boyfriend a little boring. Something must have changed.

“Hm,” her mother said thoughtfully. “You’d’ve thought she’d’ve mentioned her new boyfriend was Asian.”

Elizabeth had been too busy watching her sister laugh to notice when the guy she was with finally turned around. Her gaze shot back to him. Her mother was right. This guy had a slight color to his complexion and jet black hair. Elizabeth’s jaw slackened a little bit, but she regained her composure pretty quickly. This guy was handsome. He seemed amicable. Katelyn really looked like she liked him. There was just one problem. Elizabeth had seen Katelyn’s boyfriend before. He wasn’t tall. He wasn’t slender. He wasn’t Asian. He wasn’t who Katelyn brought home.