Her wide nose, full lips, and high cheekbones make her look regal. She pins her shoulder-length micro braids into a high, defiant bun. My mother inhabits elegance and has a smile that is distinctly feminine. It makes people think she’s fragile. But minutes into a conversation with her, people soon realize that there is nothing fragile about her.

I go over and embrace her tightly. She smells so good. I use her perfume sometimes, but I never smell as good. When I pull away, I look into her face and am greeted by an odd expression.

“Mom, is everything okay?”

She scrunches her lips and looks away. I know that look all too well.

“Mom, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says, turning away.

I turn around so I can confront her face to face. “Mom . . . ?”

“Okay, I may have watched Grown-ish without you.”

“What!”

Black-ish is one of our favorite sitcoms. And when one of the characters went to college, they made a new series based on that. It’s called Grown-ish, and it’s funny as hell. But life got in the way, causing us to be a season behind. So Mom and I had a deal: we would wait until both of us were free and binge-watch together.

“Okay, okay. How many episodes did you watch? One? Two, three . . . ?” I ask with growing concern.

She holds her right hand out and flashes it.

“Five! You watched five episodes without me?” She nods and hangs her head in shame. I wag my finger at her. “I am very disappointed in you, young lady,” I grumble. “Were they good?”

“Oh, so good! You won’t believe who kissed—”

“No spoilers!” I scold her.

“I’m sorry, Getti, I really am,” she says. She has called me Getti since I can remember. It stems from my difficulty in saying the word “spaghetti” when I was a kid.

“We had a deal, Mom,” I remind her again.

“I didn’t mean to. I was only going to watch one episode, but then . . . it got out of control.”

“Well, you will need to be punished for this—that’s right. I’m taking the last piece of red velvet cake in the fridge. And I’m changing the Hulu password. When you show that you can be trusted, we will reexamine our arrangement,” I say sternly.

She nods slowly with mischief in her eyes. I can’t help but smile at her.

“I’ve been working on your hunt—it’s gonna be the best one I’ve ever created!” she says.

“Don’t try to make me forget your actions by tempting me with scavenger hunt matters. I can’t be bought off.”

“I cooked your favorite dinner,” she says, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay, maybe I can be bought,” I reply. She laughs and makes her way to the kitchen.