Page 81 of Praising Haru

Faith glances at her son. “So polite. But no, everything’s in hand. Sit and relax. Both of you.” She shoos us towards the large wooden table.

“Okay?” Haru asks as we sit side by side.

“Nervous, but your parents are nice.”

“Yes, until they start interrogating you.”

“Right, they’re spies.”

“Or sleeper agents.”

We laugh and knock foreheads gently.

“Thanks for coming,” Haru whispers.

“Anything for you.” A praise word is on the tip of my tongue, but I trap it inside my mouth. Not praising him is going to be hard. It might have been awkward to start with, but now it’s as natural as breathing.

Within a few moments, dinner is on the table, and his parents have joined us.

“This smells delicious,” I say to Faith. “I can see where Haru learnt to cook.”

“He learnt from both of us,” she replies. “He says you can cook.”

“I’m decent. Not as good as you or Haru.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Haru briefly presses his cheek against my shoulder before sitting upright.

“You haven’t cooked for Haru yet?” Faith asks.

“Haru’s only been home for five minutes. Give the man a chance,” Evan says.

“Not yet, but I’d like to. Soon.” I squeeze Haru’s hand beneath the table.

The conversation lulls as we help ourselves to toad in the hole, mashed potatoes, and plenty of green vegetables. The meal tastes as good as it smells, so I tuck in heartily.

“You’ve got a good appetite,” Faith says.

“I’m hungry after work. It helps that dinner is wonderful. Thank you.”

“What do you do? Haru hasn’t told us.” She gives her son a pointed look.

“I’m a bricklayer.”

“I can see why you’d be hungry.” Evan helps himself to an extra dollop of potato. “It must be hard work.”

“It is, but I enjoy it.”

“Haru said you play rugby.”

“Yes. I started in school and never stopped. I play on an amateur team.”

“Are you any good?”

“We win more than we lose.”

Evan nods. “I might come to one of your matches one day.”

Haru widens his eyes.