I had been racing around the kitchen all day because today was important: Kira was inviting her fiancé, Marcus, and his parents for supper. Marcus had proposed, and I was meeting his family whether Kira liked it or not.
The doorbell rang just as I was setting the table. I opened the door, and there they were—Marcus and his parents, all Black. My smile froze, and I let them in.
At the table, my nerves were evident. I excused myself to bring out more dishes and pulled Kira aside. “Your fiancé is Black!” I blurted out. She answered calmly, “I know, Mom. I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react.”
Later, Marcus’ mom, Betty, and I silently formed an alliance to break up the couple. We criticized everything about their relationship, but the more we pushed, the closer Kira and Marcus became. I even tried to set Kira up on a date with someone else.
The night before the wedding, Kira and Marcus confronted us. “If you can’t accept us, don’t come to the wedding,” Kira said. Reluctantly, I attended. Watching them happy, I realized that as long as they were, that’s all that mattered.
