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Mama sat in front of me and then reached across the table for my hand.

I stared, confused as to what was going on. “What?” I asked, lifting my eyes from her hand to her eyes.

“We have to say grace.”

“Oh, we’re still doing that?” I held out my hand but refused to close my eyes. I watched her while what started as grace turned into a regular prayer. I was sure our food would be cold by the time she said amen. Thankfully, I was wrong.

Mama picked up her coffee mug and sipped.

I looked at the counter where the coffee pot used to sit. It wasn’t there. “Where’d you get coffee?” I asked.

“I made it. You want me to make you some?” She was about to stand before I stopped her, but I stood first.

“No, I can do it.” I scanned the counter once again. I must’ve been overlooking it.

“Something wrong?” Mama asked.

I looked for a few more seconds before finally asking. “Where’s the coffee pot?”

“Oh.” She stood next to me. “It’s right here.” She tapped the top of a tall black thing in the corner of the counter exactly where the coffee pot used to sit.

I stared at it. It looked nothing like a coffee pot. “What is this?” I bent down and leaned closer to get a better look.

“It’s a Keurig.”

“But I don’t want Keurig. I wanted coffee like you have.”

Then, it dawned on me that I didn’t know if I wanted Keurig. Maybe that was the new name for coffee.

“Keurig is the name of the machine,” Mama explained softly. “It makes coffee.”

I pressed the buttons on the Keurig, trying to figure it out for myself, but it was no use. I had no idea how to work that thing.

“Here, let me show you. So, you lift this top like this and put the pod in.” She held up a white plastic cup that reminded me of the ones we used to use for communion at church, except those were clear.

I watched as she dropped the cup into the machine and closed the lid.

It looked simple enough, but I still didn’t understand what was wrong with the old coffee pot. Why did everything have to change?

“How am I supposed to make it in a world where I need lessons to make a cup of coffee?” My eyes burned with tears. “I feel so out of place, and I just want to feel like I belong, but I don’t. I don’t fit in anywhere.”

“Oh, baby, that’s not true. You belong right here. This is your home.”

“But it doesn’t feel like home. Daddy’s not here.

Skye’s not here. Quinton’s not here. When I think of home, I think of the people who lived with me and made the house a home.

This doesn’t feel like home, and I can’t go back to the apartment I used to call home since Quinton doesn’t live there anymore.

Even if he did, it’s not like I could just move in with him and his wife. ”

“Uh ... yeah.” Mama reached into the sink and pulled out a dish towel.

She wiped the countertops that didn’t look dirty at all to me.

“Nova, you have to give yourself time. It may not feel like home right now, but it will soon. You wait and see. Before you know it, this house will feel like home again. The one thing I never want you to forget is that you’re a survivor, okay?

You survived everything you went through in that room, and you’ll survive this too.

One day at a time, Sweet Pea. One day at a time.

” Mama removed my coffee from the Keurig thing and handed it to me.

I took my coffee back to the table and sat it in front of me. “I just wish I knew how long it’ll take to feel normal. I thought if I ever left that house, everything would go back to how it was. Silly, huh?”

“Not at all. Just remember that God never promised things would be easy, baby. He only promised to be there to see us through.”

I jumped from my chair, causing it to crash to the floor. “Your God left me in that room for fifteen years!” My voice trembled in anger.

Mama flinched, then shook her head. “Nova, that’s not true. God kept you safe through those fifteen years.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t trapped in a room, waking up every day, reliving the same nightmare over and over again.

You have no idea what it’s like to plead and cry and cry and plead to the God you grew up hearing about.

Hearing how good he is and how he answers prayers, if you just have faith.

Well, guess what, Mama? I believed in him.

For years, I believed, and he still refused to help me.

He wasn’t there for me when I needed him the most, and I’ll never believe, trust, or love a God who doesn’t love me. ”

I ran from the kitchen and straight to my bedroom.

I locked the door and froze. The clicking sound from the lock sent a chill throughout my body that caused me to freeze in place.

My hands shook as I reached for the door and turned the lock.

I stared at the door and tried to tell myself it was okay if the door was closed, but I couldn’t convince myself that was true.

I opened the door as wide as it would go and sat on the bed and stared out in the hallway.