Roman
Food flowed around the massive round table, passed at speed from person to person, and the majority of it made vegetarian with my mate in mind. A butternut squash, hazelnut and mushroom strudel for Jasmine; mashed potatoes; spoonbread; mustard greens; black-eyed pea salad and a huge brisket for us wolves who needed our meat. My parents had outdone themselves despite their jet lag.
I didn’t know what I expected from the evening, but it certainly wasn’t the rosy warmth my mother engulfed me in. I knew she, my father and my grandparents would adore Jasmine and her son without question. Who wouldn’t? What I expected was my mother to barely speak two words to me, yell my ear off or throw a frying pan at my head as soon as she opened the door, not wrap me in a bear hug. What had pacified
