“I’ll have that.”
The waiter grins and leaves with the order. Oscar is furious, but I don’t care. He’s getting on my nerves.
“Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again,” Oscar states.
I salute him. “Sir, yes, sir!”
“I mean it, Emoni.”
“Get over yourself. I was just being friendly.”
He shakes his head so hard that he looks like a big old Siberian husky. “That was more than friendly. I don’t want a wife who’s going to disrespect me in public.”
Okay, so maybe I was a tad bit disrespectful. I’ll admit it. “All right. I’m sorry, Oscar. My bad.”
“
My bad?
Who are you these days?”
“I am the same as I’ve always been, Darrin.”
“You mean Oscar.”
“That’s what I said.”
Oscar drops his eyes and exhales loudly. I did
not
just say Darrin’s name. Not even Oscar deserves that.
“Um … I’m going to go freshen up,” I say.
I need to get away from this table so I can think for a second. On my way to the bathroom, I pass the fine waiter. His name tag says Will, and he has the audacity to smell good, too.
“You all right, baby girl?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“What you doing with that square?”
“Square? Oh, you mean Oscar. He’s my … uh … date.”
Will looks me up and down and licks his lips. “For real? Man, what a waste.”
I feel myself blushing, so I rush away from him. His smooth and debonair way of speaking reminds me of Darrin. That’s probably why I said Darrin’s name at the table. Yeah, that’s it, because I sure wasn’t thinking about Darrin while having dinner with the man I might end up marrying.
I splash my face with water, compose myself, and walk back out to the table with a smile.
“Our dessert isn’t here yet?” I ask, totally unwilling to address the faux pas I committed a few minutes ago.
“No, it’s not.”
“I wish they’d hurry up, because I really feel a sweet tooth coming on.”
Oscar replies, “Mmm-hmm. So, how long do you think we should date before we get engaged?”
“Don’t you think that’s rushing things?”
“I am a man, Emoni. And I’ve been wanting you for a long time.”
“Okay, that doesn’t sound right. As a matter of fact, it sounds right nasty.”
“No, Emoni, I don’t mean sexually,” Oscar explains. “Not totally. It’s just that lately, I’ve realized how much I need you in my life. I’ve been in love with you for years.”
I’m speechless. I don’t know how to respond when he starts pouring out emotions. The closest thing I feel is pity, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing.
He continues, “Why shouldn’t we get engaged? We know each other well.”
“I want us to take our time, that’s all.”
“Why? Are you waiting for Darrin to come back and sweep you off your feet?”
“What? No. No, I’m not.”
I paused. He noticed. Dang.
“You don’t sound sure.”
“No, I’m not waiting for Darrin to come back. Why would I have said yes to you if I was waiting on him?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Darrin
M
an, it’s cold in Cleveland. Looks like we’re definitely having a white Christmas this year. There’s about a foot of the white stuff piled up in my parents’ yard. I’d only needed a light jacket when I left Atlanta.
It’s Christmas Eve, and my mother’s guests are starting to arrive. Every year she has a dessert social with her Jack and Jill buddies. I try to avoid it at all costs, but this year I’m being a good son. I’m going to need Priscilla in my corner when it comes time to talk to Big Mathis.
I stop by Leon’s house first to pick him up. He rubs his hands together and says, “You gone hook me up with a top-notch socialite? I’m ready to be a kept man.”
“Sure. I hear Shayna’s available.”
“Nope. Too many miles on that booty. Most of it from you. I need someone a little less driven.”
I laugh. Shayna’s car is in the driveway. One thing about her is that she has heart. That girl will go twenty rounds in a fight with a busted lip and a swollen eye.
“What’s she doing here, anyway?” asks Leon. “Is she stalking you or something?”
“She’s in the Jack and Jill crew. That’s how we hooked up.”
I’d met Shayna at the Jack and Jill Mother’s Day brunch. I’d escorted my mother but left there with Shayna. She’d had very few inhibitions, and the panties had dropped on the first date. After that, I couldn’t get rid of her.
Such fond memories.
Leon and I go in through the patio entrance, trying to not make a scene. Well, I’m worried about a scene; Leon doesn’t care.
“There’s my baby boy!” sings Priscilla as soon as we enter the party.
Leon takes a cup of the spiked eggnog from the caterer and chuckles. “Baby boy?”
“Man, don’t start.”
Priscilla glides—yes, glides—across the room with Shayna and another young lady in tow. She hugs and kisses my cheek.
“Hello, Mother,” I say.
“Why didn’t you call and tell me you were near? I was worried sick about you driving here from Atlanta. You should’ve flown in.”
“The drive was nice. I needed the solitude.”
Shayna gives me a friendly hug. I’m surprised it’s not overly friendly. Maybe she’s finally gotten the message.
“Darrin. How are you?” she says.
“I’m great, and yourself?”
She smiles. “Totally renewed.”
The other young lady clears her throat loudly. She’s waiting for an introduction. Shayna says, “Darrin, you remember Melody, right?”
“Melody Sinclair?”
Melody smiles, revealing teeth that have undergone all kinds of work. A few years ago, the girl’s grille looked like the shark’s from
Jaws
. Thank God for modern or-thodontia.
“You do remember,” says Melody.
“I never forget a face.”
Melody motions to Leon. “So who’s your friend?”
“Oh! I’m so rude. This is my boy Leon. Leon Chambers, meet Melody Sinclair.”
Melody takes Leon by the arm and starts to pull him away. She’s quite the aggressive one. A snippet of their conversation as they walk off has Melody asking, “So, what do you do?”
To which Leon gives the hilarious reply: “I’m in the automobile industry.”
Shayna laughs out loud. “Do you think he’s gonna tell her that he fixes cars?”
“Not until after he gets some.”
“Some things never change.”
“Right.”
“Except you, Darrin. You’ve changed a lot.”
“But it’s for the better, I think.”
“Maybe.” Shayna waves at someone across the room. “Come on, Darrin. I’d like you to meet someone.” She drags me over to meet her friend—a male friend. Makes me feel uncomfortable, because I’m not in the mood for mingling. I’ve got too much on my mind.
“Justin, this is Darrin, the one I told you about,” says Shayna.
Justin responds, I don’t know whether I should punch you out or hug you.”
“It’s a holiday. Let’s go with the hug,” I reply with what I know is a confused look.
“Darrin, I met Justin on my flight home from Atlanta. We talked all the way home.”
Justin chuckles. “I talked. She cried.”
“I was so distraught over you sending me home, but I really connected with Justin. We got home, had a few dates, and the rest is history.”
“Wow. I should probably return that tennis bracelet I bought you for Christmas, then, huh?”
Shayna’s eyes light up. “That won’t be necessary.”
“I was just playing, girl. Congratulations, you two.”
I walk away, leaving Shayna to pick up her face off the floor and explain to her new boyfriend why she still wanted my gift. I hope she wasn’t trying to make me jealous. Because she oh-so-miserably failed.
I sneak away from the party to my father’s study. I know he’ll be in here, hiding from Priscilla’s friends. And he is here, doing his usual, drinking bourbon and smoking a cigar. I might as well get this showdown over with.
“Son. You made it in.”
“I just got in a little while ago.”
“So, tell me something good.”
I give a nervous chuckle. “I joined this really nice church in Atlanta …”
“I’m being serious, boy. Let’s see this career-launching story! I’ve been waiting all day to feast my eyes on it.”
“Dad, I couldn’t write that story. It would’ve hurt too many people. People I care about.”
“I thought that was the idea. Find a scandal … blow the top off of it … ruin some lives … build a career. Wasn’t that the plan?”
“I guess, but I didn’t expect to get in so deep.”
Mathis grins. “No story, huh?” He tosses an office furniture catalog from his desk.
I catch the heavy book and sigh. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“You can start picking out the furniture for your office. I’ve got a nice one waiting for you. Great view of the lake.”
I sit down at the chair next to his bookcase. “Dad, I’m not coming to work for you.”
“Then what? Do you need a letter of reference for a job? Because I’m not giving you another cent.”
“I’m going back to school.”
Mathis seems to brighten a bit. “For what? Your MBA? That would really help you in the business. I’m all for it.”
I reply in a barely audible voice, “No, I’m going to chef school.”
“Boy, you’re going to have to speak up, because I think I heard you say chef school.”
“You heard right.”
“Get out of my office. I can’t look at your face right now.”
Since he’s looking more than menacing, I do just that. Priscilla is waiting right outside his door, and her expression is a combination of anxiety and anticipation.
“Did you tell him about the story?” she asks nervously.
“Yeah, and he wasn’t happy. I also told him about chef school.”
Priscilla gasps. “You should’ve saved that for tomorrow. Now he’ll be totally inconsolable for the entire holiday.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“Did you do what I told you to do?”
“Yes, Mother. I purchased everything that I need for school and took cash advances on all of my credit cards.”
“That will have to hold you over until he calms down.”
I kiss Priscilla on the forehead. “Thank you.”
Christmas dinner is a strained occasion. There are frowns all around. Mathis’s is from my revelation; Priscilla’s is due to Mathis being such a wounded bear about the whole thing. And mine has nothing to do with them. I’m still thinking of Emoni’s last visit. I’ve been thinking that maybe I should’ve handled the whole thing differently. It could be the loneliness talking, or the holiday spirit, but I definitely wish I were introducing her to my parents this weekend.
The only person not frowning is Leon, who is enjoying all of the catered food. “Mrs. Bainbridge, you really know how to give a Christmas dinner,” he says through a mouthful of turkey.
“Thank you, Leon.”
Mathis’s jaws are slamming into his turkey like it’s a piece of leather jerky. I know better than to open my mouth now. Better to let him implode rather than explode.
“Mathis, did you congratulate your son?” Priscilla asks.
He glares angrily and ignores the question. I’m trying to send my mother a telepathic signal: Mother, please don’t poke the bear.
“Did you hear me, Mathis?” Obviously, my mother is not telepathic.
“I don’t have a son,” grumbles my father.
“Well, I think it’s great that Darrin is going to do what he loves. So many people spend their lives unfulfilled.”
Mathis retorts, “Many of those fulfilled people are living in poverty.”
“Darrin doesn’t have to worry about that.”
Why does she continue with the poking?
I interject, “I’m going to work my way through school.”
“You don’t even know what that word means,” Mathis says.
Now I’m getting angry. “Your definition of work is sitting in some boring office, looking at the four walls and firing people at will. That ain’t me.”
“You hear him, Priscilla? That
ain’t
me! All that money you spent on his private school education, and he can’t even put together a proper sentence.”
I stand up and throw my utensils to the table. “How’s this for proper? Mathis Bainbridge, I need neither your money nor your approval.”
“You’re not man enough to call me by my name,” barks Mathis.
I’m getting ready to respond in kind when my father starts to pull at his chest. He drops his fork and tears the napkin from his shirt. He gasps and struggles to catch his breath.
“Dad? Are you okay?”
He cannot respond. Priscilla’s eyes widen. “Oh, Lord! Darrin, call the paramedics.”
Mathis shakes his head furiously, but we ignore him. Leon tries to check my father’s pulse, but he pushes him away. He even fights the paramedics when they get here, and it takes all three of them to overpower him and get him on the stretcher and into the ambulance. We follow close behind in my truck.
“Mother, don’t worry. He’s going to be fine.”
She’s wringing her hands and praying. I’m sending up my own silent petitions to God, but I’m not letting Priscilla see that I’m worried.
When we get to the hospital, my father is being rushed into a trauma room, and we’re being ordered to stay calm and stay outside the room. I’ve watched enough
ER
to know that when a code is being called, it’s serious. A whole team of doctors and nurses come flying around corners and rushing into the room with my father.
“Oh my Lord … help him, Lord! Lord, send your angels right now,” cries my mother as I hold on to her hand tightly.
After the most tense moments in my life, a doctor emerges from the trauma room. And he’s smiling. Smiling is a good thing.
Mother asks, “How is he?”
“Mrs. Bainbridge, your husband is going to be fine. He had a heart attack, but not a massive one. From the tissue scarring, I’m assuming he’s had several miniature attacks in the past year or so. He probably thought it was indigestion.”
“So our argument didn’t do this?” I ask.
The doctor shakes his head. “High cholesterol did this.”
“When can we see him?” Mother is already standing, ready to move any- and everyone out of her way.
“We’ve got him sedated right now so he can rest. You’ll be able to talk to him in a little bit.”