The Queen Bee of Bridgeton (15 page)

I picked up another picture of Will with his father. It made me miss
my
father. He was the only one in my family that really understood my dancing dream. Every day after dance practice he'd let me demonstrate what I'd learned. Sometimes he'd even invite friends over and I'd have my own recital. I loved being the star of my own one woman show. But as I got older, I realized something wasn't right. Why was my father always home ready to watch my one woman show, while my mother worked two or three jobs in order to make ends meet? Apparently, my mother wondered the same thing.

"Did you buy the groceries?" she asked him one night when I was about twelve. She put her purse down and opened the refrigerator.  It was empty.

"Baby, I had to use that money to pay back Curtis.  I've been
owein
' him for a while.  But
don't worry
, C.J. owes me $500. When he pays me, I'll pick up the groceries."

"My girls can't wait until C.J. decides to pay you back.  What are they supposed to eat?"  My mother tried to remain calm, but I could see she'd had enough.

"They're
our
girls and I'm sure you can find something in there to whip up for them.  You're so good at that.  You're like a miracle worker, Maxine."  My father stood up and wrapped his arms around my mother as he kissed her neck. Usually, this melted my mother's anger and she'd forgive him once again.  My father was a real charmer.  His sweet words along with gorgeous movie star looks gave him such an advantage over her.  He was so good looking that women often stuffed his pockets with their phone number even with my mother standing next to him.

"Get off me, Mario," she spat as she unwrapped herself from his arms.  "I can't take this anymore.  How many times are you
gonna
do this to us?  That money was for food for the week.  We have nothing."  She placed her face in her hands and cried.

That night, my mother made us what she liked to call Jonny cakes.  She would mix flour with water until it made
a thick
dough, then she'd pat them into these flat pancake type things.  But without salt, baking powder or eggs, they were pretty disgusting.  We ate them for a week.

Two weeks later, I came home from a dance class, bubbling with enthusiasm to show my father and Sasha this thing I learned called a frappe.  It was the funniest little foot movement I had ever seen and I knew my father would think it was hilarious as well.  But when I got home, he wasn't there.  Sasha sat alone at the kitchen table.

"Daddy's gone," she said solemnly.

"Gone where?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug.  "And I don't care.  Mommy kicked him out.  It's about damn time too if you ask me."

"What?" I asked just as shocked by the fact that my mother actually stood up to my father as by the fact that my sister said 'damn'.

"He ruined us!  Look at this place.  Look at where we live because of him."

"It's not his fault.  He just…he hasn't gotten his lucky break yet." I said optimistically as I set my dance bag on the floor and sat across from her.  Sasha rested her head on her fist and looked off into space.

"Don't you miss our house?"

"Yeah, I do.  But we'll be back there one day.  Mommy promised."

"Get real.  You need to accept that Mommy will never be able to get us out of this place.  It's up to us.  And once I'm out, I will never let a man drag me down like Daddy did to Mommy.  I will never be with a poor man."

"Sasha, you can't decide who you fall in love with."

"Maybe not, but you sure can choose who you marry and I'm only marrying someone rich.
  I will never be poor again, no matter what."

I wasn't of the same opinion as Sasha, but I understood her.  It did seem that my mother was so weak and in love that she allowed my father to ruin our lives.  But I didn't think Sasha needed to go as far as marrying just for money.  I began to wonder if that was the reason she dated Desmond. 

A slamming door yanked me out of my memories. It was so loud I almost fell off the couch.  I turned to see a red faced
Will
storm into the living room.

"Get back here, Will. I'm not finished." Julia yelled.

"I'm finished with you!" he roared back at her. Then as calmly as possible he grabbed my hand and said, "We're leaving." 

"You're seriously
gonna
do this?  What would our parents say?"  Julia followed Will into the living room determined to keep the argument going as if I wasn't there.

"Don't you dare bring mom and dad into
this!
"  The fierce, powerful tone of Will's voice made me shiver.  Even Julia took a step back. He was so angry. "You have no right to even refer to them.  You hadn't spoken to them for five years when they died.  You have no idea what they were like or what they would want."

"I'm sure they wouldn't want you - ," Julia stopped mid-sentence and looked at me.

"What, Julia, what?
  Go ahead and say it right in front of her.  Why don't you repeat those names you used earlier, huh?"  Julia covered her mouth,
then
dashed into the kitchen.  "I'm sure mom and dad wouldn't want you drinking yourself into a coma every night.  Why don't you worry about your problems and let me live my own life!"  Will
pulled
me out of the house. 

I didn't realize I was crying until Will was speeding down the interstate.  My face was hot and my heart ached. Will
pulled
into a rest stop. After putting the car in park, he brushed the tears away from my cheeks as he said, "Don't cry, Angel.  Julia's an idiot.  She has no idea what she's talking about."

"But I don't understand. She…she doesn't even know me," I whimpered.

"Exactly.
  She doesn't know you.  If she knew you, she'd be just as crazy about you as I am; my parents, too."

"Really?"
  I asked, trying to gain some composure.

"Yeah, especially my mom.
  You two are so much alike."  Will folded me into his arms.  "I used to love the way she'd close her eyes when she played piano blocking out the rest of the world just like you do when you dance.  You feel the music in a unique way just like she did.  I miss her so much."  Will
held
me as I rested my head on his chest and let his voice lull me to a state of peace and calm.  "Even if you weren't incredibly talented and incredibly beautiful, they'd still love you.  Once they saw how happy you make me, they would immediately welcome you into the family."

Even though I started to feel better about what happened with his sister, I still couldn't get it out of my mind.

"What's it like to be white?" I asked, interrupting him as he was telling me more about his parents.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you constantly reminded that you're white or does it not even cross your mind?"

"I don't know. I never really thought about it."

"You see, I don't have that option.  No matter what I do, I can't help but remember that I'm black."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't know.  It's just sometimes I feel like I don't know who or what I am. Even when I'm in…," I almost slipped and told him that I lived in
Venton
Heights, but thankfully, I caught myself and said, "…well…when I was in public school I was an outcast because I didn't like rap music or because I didn't know the latest slang.  They made me feel like I wasn't black enough or something.  And at Bridgeton, I can't help but stick out because I'm one of only a handful of black students there.  Even as a ballerina, I don't think I'll ever be really accepted.  Do you know someone actually wrote a letter to the newspaper complaining that I played Clara in The Nutcracker? It's like I'll never be white, but I'll also never be black enough to be black.  I don't belong anywhere."

"I already told you. You belong with me."  Will kissed the side of my head and squeezed me tightly.

We spent the rest of the evening in that rest area talking.  Julia was still at home so we couldn't go there, the studio was having the floors refinished, and I still wasn't ready to take him to
Venton
Heights.  So, we had nowhere else to go.

Friday morning, as soon as Will and I entered the main building of Bridgeton, there was a pronounced tension in the air. Students whispered and pointed down the hall.  Even the teachers stood outside of their rooms trying to see what was happening. Will left my side for a second to ask one of his friends what was going on.  Just then, I saw Colbert being escorted out of the building by two police officers.  She was handcuffed!  When she saw me she said, "Tell Sasha to watch her back."

What did that mean? Had Colbert been set up by the Bitch Brigade? Was Sasha next? A sense of dread ate away at my insides all day. I found Sasha and told her my fears, but she simply said, "Don't worry about it." Then she slammed her locker shut and stormed away. Something was bothering her.

Will knew I was upset and tried to make me feel better, by stuffing my locker full of white flowers and giving me a handmade card inviting me to dinner at his house that night.  It didn't make me feel better, though. In fact, I felt even more nervous for some reason. Will was up to something. And it was big.

Will pulled out all the stops for dinner at his house that night.  He decorated his living room and dining room with candles and played opera music in the background.  He prepared bread with olive oil, lasagna, and even
cannoli
for dessert.  It was incredibly romantic. 
A little too romantic, actually.
  I was afraid I'd missed some sort of special date for us.  Were we celebrating something that I forgot? 

"I have a confession to make," Will
said
while we were eating dessert. My heart raced.  Did he cheat on me and make this fancy dinner to apologize? Maybe he was about to confess that he originally did want to use me for his Cherry Picker game?  I shook the thought from my mind. I was totally overreacting.  "I didn't actually make all this food," he said finally.  "It came from the restaurant up the street," he added with a grin.  I let out a sigh of relief.

"But there is a definite theme to the evening.  Have you picked up on it yet?" he asked, smiling brightly like a child on Christmas.

I looked around and shrugged my shoulders.  I didn't know what he was talking about.

"Well, the opera music, the food, the center piece in the shape of the leaning tower of Pisa."

"Italy?"  I offered still not understanding what that had to do with anything.

"Yeah, Italy!
  I'm going to Italy next year.  I just accepted a contract with a team in Rome.  We can be together next year."  Will rattled on excitedly about how we could get an apartment together in the city and have dinner together every night and make weekend trips to different European cities.  He said he had never been to Europe and he looked forward to me showing him the parts I knew.  I just sat there with a fake grin plastered on my face.  I couldn't believe he had done this.  I felt the walls of my life closing in on me.  My world got smaller and smaller.  I liked Will, I liked him a lot.  But I didn't know if I could live with him.