“How did white girls treat you?”
“Better, but I always felt I had to disclose before things got too serious. Like what if a black baby shows up? Will she be able to handle it?”
“Your wife is white.”
“My ex-wife is white.”
“Have you ever been with a black girl?”
“Yes. It was a summer fling in Jamaica. Where we live in Canada, my exposure was very white.”
“How do you identify yourself?”
“My brother and sister look mixed and then there’s me. I usually don’t identify myself unless pressed. When I check a box, it’s mixed race or biracial.”
“What would your family say about me?”
“I think we should wait and see.”
When the boys come home for the weekend, Roland and Daddy hit it off immediately. Roland is in med school, he claims, because that’s what I wanted. Yes, I want him to be a doctor. He’s also capable and his deep devotion to the entire field of science convinced me, plus his grades have always been excellent even in college; not that he’s ever had anything less than a B and that happened only once. Now being an FBI agent seems like the greatest thing in the world. Dad tells him that being a forensic scientist is probably his calling and the agency needs those.
Zander is busy hitting me up for money and giving me every reason in the book why he has to go to Ohio to work for the summer, except he won’t be getting paid. It’s a girl, but he won’t admit it; however, unless I or Roland meet her, his fate will be a job in the city. Of course, he says he’s twenty and can make his own decisions. Then decide without Mom’s money, I reply.
It’s October, officially a month into Mark and me; I’m still cautious. I invite him to dinner with my family; I sleep at his place more than he sleeps at mine. I do my best not to say no to him and since I’m the one with time on my hands, I do most of the legwork.
Two weeks ago, I ask Mark to accompany me to the party Paul is throwing to launch the magazine. It took two days for me to find the courage to ask him. It wasn’t about him; it was about me and the questions and comments. My friends know me as the girl who believes in her West Indian heritage and black men. I stood on my soapbox and proclaimed … and now I’m toting around a white man. I wanted to invite Zoi and Darnell, but that would be even worse, the two sisters who sold out. I mention it to Zo, and of course, Darnell has to dip in.
It’s also a fundraiser, so I expect to see Dr. Hollister and Leigh among others. Upon arrival, I’m truly nervous. Paul placed us at a table full of white people, so it’s hard to tell Mark’s my date. I sigh and make a note to thank Paul, although he doesn’t know Mark’s my guy.
During the dinner, Paul talks about his goals for the magazine as a voice for the West Indian American community and his hope is to leave no one out. After he introduces the staff, we stand so people could see who we are. He also lists our credentials. I know some people are surprised to hear that Nella is actually a doctor. I feel bad for hiding it from them although I wasn’t hiding, I just didn’t have time to boast. I was too busy trying to get there.
As the after dinner dancing begins, I walk to the bar where I run into Dr. Hollister.
“We meet again, Dr. Blakely. You look very beautiful.”
“As do you, Dr. Hollister. How are you?”
He nods his head and smiles. “I’m doing well, even though you neglected to call me.”
“I thought we had already worked that out. I would call you if I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“So you’re saying I’m forgettable.”
Feeling someone’s hand on my waist, I turn. It’s Paul.
“Hey, Mr. Publisher, congratulations,” I say as I kiss his cheek. “It’s been a long time in coming.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says looking directly in my face. “And before Ronald cons you into doing something stupid, introduce us to your guy.”
“How’d you know he’s my guy?”
“The way he looks at you. Come on,” he says holding my hand and leading both Ronald and me back to my table.
“Mark, this is my really good friend, Paul James, and this is Dr. Hollister, a new friend.”
Mark stands and shakes hands with them. I feel better about us immediately.
I relax and invite Mark to dance. He holds me close and my eyes fill with tears, which I try to hide. I forget about what people may be thinking and for the first time in my life I enjoy the moment. Mark gazes into my eyes and I smile.
He whispers, “Do you want me to tell them all at once that I’m your man, so no one has to ask?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to know,” he says, seriously.
“Okay, tell them all,” I say, feeling his affection.
He cups my face and kisses me as we dance. I don’t know if they’re watching, but I’m feeling him and there’s no turning back. As we dance I forget the person who has a tree for a mother, the teen wife and mom, the person whose father gave her away and the girl who holds on to the bad memories. I’m young and free and I feel like the couple I saw dancing. I feel like I feel when I’m with Mark, so I let go and we dance.
After a few rounds on the dance floor, we both walk to the bar.
“Why you ya wid one white man?” she asks in dialect right into my ear.
“Because I’m her man,” Mark responds.
“You understood that?” Joline asks Mark.
“Yes,” he says smiling at her.
“Mark, this is my rude friend, Joline. Joline, this is my boyfriend, Mark.”
“It’s nice to meet you Mark and … I’m sorry for that … you know.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Joline and yes, I know.”
We all laugh.
“So tell me,” I say to Joline.
She eyes Mark, but she says it anyway. “You got your Ph.D., and said nothing, you got laid off and said nothing and now a white, or maybe not so white man and said nothing. What kind of friend are you anyway?”
“A bad one. I did tell you about leaving my job and you know I was in school.”
“What about the most important part, him?” she asks pointing her thumb at Mark but glaring at me.
“I wanted to keep him to myself for as long as possible before I have to hear what a sellout I am.”
“Girl, you’re so wrong. He’s cute, tall, has a head full of hair and you look happy, finally. I’m your friend and it’s all I want for you. You work harder than a Jamaican with eight jobs and you deserve this,” she says. “And you, be good to her or else your white arse will wish you couldn’t understand me. Gat it?”
“Gat it,” Mark says in his best dialect.
I grin at him after she takes off. He touches my face and I run my hand up and down his arm.
Mark remains at the bar while Paul and I work the room. He introduces me around as I answer questions and then wander off to spend time with other people.
I dance with Ronald. He surprises me by not commenting about my date.
After a while, I look around in vain for Mark. I know everyone at the table and they congratulate me on my doctorate and pepper me with questions about Mark.
My purse starts to vibrate. I open it and look at my cell phone. It’s Mark. I step away and answer it.
“Aren’t you supposed to be here with me? Did they lock you in the bathroom?”
He laughs. “No, come outside to the parking area, I need to talk to you.”
Outside, I look around to find Mark and he’s with Leigh. I grit my teeth and wonder what I’m in for.
“Hi,” I say to Mark.
His puts his arm around my shoulders.
“I believe you know Leigh, but I don’t believe he knows you. Leigh, this is my woman, Eunella Blakely.” He looks into my face and I see his affection for me in his eyes. He kisses me with tongue and I’m surprised, but I kiss him back. “Tell him the truth so this can end. I’ll be over there,” he says and walks aw
ay.
“Leigh, I thought we were done with all this,” I say feeling tired.
“How can I be done? I told you I love you and every time I see you you’re with a new man. What the hell kind of person are you?”
I examine his face and take a deep breath. I tell him the truth about me and along with that I tell him I never loved him. He goes on and on trying to denigrate me, but it bounces off.
Finally, he asks the question I must answer.
“Why did you find it necessary to lie to me?” Leigh asks with pain in his voice.
My anger rises and it rushes out of my mouth. “You are the cheapest man … person I have ever met. You constantly lied about me to your friends.”
“Me? Lie?” he asks indignantly.
“Yes, you. We all know you’re too good to lie; but when it comes to implying, you’re the master. Remember the one and only gift you gave me one Valentine’s Day?”
“Yes, you loved them.”
“Yes, I actually treasured them and you implied that they cost you a fortune. So imagine my surprise when I lost one and dragged my sister, one Saturday morning, to China town desperate to replace it, only to be told that it was Cubic Zirconium and cost you less than twenty-five dollars. You also implied that you were helping me pay for school and I could go on and on, but I’m done. You are a worse liar than I could ever be. When you knowingly leave people with the wrong impression that makes you a liar and a jerk.”
I glare at him and he shoots daggers at me. I turn and walk away.
“I’m going to say goodnight to Paul and if you don’t mind, can we leave?” I ask Mark.
He touches my face. I keep my eyes on his chest, and he holds my face until I make eye contact.
“He deserved to know the truth. He told me you were married and I’m your sugar daddy. What did you tell him that day in your office?”
I walk away from Mark then turn and walk back.
“He wanted us to get back together, but I knew he was sleeping with someone and probably didn’t want to help her out financially; so, I told him I got laid off and the next man I get will have to be willing to carry me for the next year.”
He laughs.
“Well he left and it worked.”
“Not so well,” he says touching my face again. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes, lots better. Now I’m going to have to keep you whether you like it or not.”
He grins. “I like it. Now, can we dance one more time and if you still want to go we can.”
On the dance floor, I put my hands under Mark’s jacket, around his waist and lay my head near his shoulder. He encloses me in his arms and we move round and around on the dance floor, and I make the decision in that moment to take him into my heart.
In the wee hours of the morning, I take my time making love to Mark. I start with his face and as I run my hands through his hair I suck on his ear lobes as well as his full, deep-pink lips. I touch him, I lick him, I kiss him and I breathe him in. When I make him a part of my very soul he takes over and together we fly over gullies and valleys and streams and mountains until we hit that place in the atmosphere where only the two of us can exist as one and then we slowly free float back to earth.
Later that morning, I’m awakened by a loud pounding on my bedroom door. I turn to Mark still naked beside me. I cover him and grab my robe. I open the door. It’s Darnell looking as if he hasn’t slept.
“Zoi’s having the baby.”
“Did you call the ambulance?” I ask.
“No, she just started to have contractions and no one knows her better than you. She’s crying and I don’t know what to do.”
“Wake up Dad and get him to talk to her until I get there.”
“What’s wrong with your hair?” he asks as he hurries out of the apartment.
I touch my head and my hair is curly. Why is my hair curly? I walk to the bathroom and I look like a girl I have not seen in ages. Usually it only gets this way when I wash it and haven’t had time to blow it dry. Did I sweat that much while we were having sex? I climb back in bed and curl up to Mark.
“Did he say Zoi had the baby or is having it?”
“She’s in labor. I’m going to take a shower and go with her to the hospital. Can you please stay until I get back?”
“I can come if you want,” he says, turning to me.
He blinks in rapid succession and grins.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Your hair, why is it curly?”
“I don’t know. That usually happens when it’s wet and air dries. You must’ve worked me hard last night.”
He laughs and turns over. I slap his behind and head for the shower.
An hour later, I’m upstairs sitting behind Zoi on the floor and holding her in my arms. Her contractions are ten minutes apart. I comfort her by telling funny stories about her growing up on St. Matthews. Darnell sits on the floor appreciating the stories. Daddy is the time keeper. At five minutes apart we head for the hospital. Three hours later baby Tempest Sheron Bejah Whitney arrives. She’s named in part to honor our parents. At one point, Dad seems to be stuck, unable to move after Darnell tells us Zoi had the baby. I put my arms around his shoulders and reassure him that she’s fine and the baby is doing well. After I see Zoi and the baby, I return home. Dad elects to stay with Zoi and Darnell.
Back at home, Mark is still in bed covered up the way I left him. I sit on the bed carefully and listen. I move back his hair and touch his forehead.
“Mark, you dead?”
I touch his cheek lightly with the back of my hand.
“What time is it?”
“Almost five o’clock.”
“In the afternoon?”
“Yes.”
He turns his head on the pillow again.
“What did you do to me? I have never slept this long, ever.”
“May I lie on your back?”
“Yes,” he mummers.
I climb on his back and rest my face against his bare shoulder. He’s warm and smells like sleep. I push my hand under his body and open my palm against his hairy chest where I can feel his heartbeat.
“Tell me about the baby,” he says softly.
“She’s beautiful. All wrinkly and looks like Darnell. She over cooked a little, so her hands and feet look a little waxy. She cries like Zoi when she was a baby.”
“Are you just saying that or you actually remember?”
“I actually remember. Zoi hasn’t changed a lot since birth. She has managed to retain her innocence as old as she is.”
“That’s why Darnell didn’t realize that the best behind in the world didn’t belong to her. It wasn’t just her face that attracted him. He loves her innocence.”
I kiss his bare back.
“Are you hungry? I brought home food.”
“The food can wait. The only thing that would be better than the way we are right now is you naked and touching my skin.”
As he showers I set the table and find some wine to go with the food.
“Nella, is that vehicle yours?” Mark asks as we’re eating. I assume he’s looking outside and sees my nail-polish-burnt-orange Chevy pickup parked in the far corner of the backyard.
I look and although I can’t see it I say, “Yes.”
“Why do you take cabs and the train if you have a vehicle?”
“The train is easier. I worked two stops away and it’s a hassle to have to open the gate then get out and close it. Then there’s the nightmare of parking. It’s for long distance adventures.”
“Why a pickup?”
“It can carry things and the cab is like a full size car.”
“How old is it?”
“It’s two years old with about eight thousand miles. I may start teaching in January, so I’ll park it out front to make my life easier.”
“I thought …”
The disappointment in his voice pulls my eyes to his. “I did too. I wanted to start with a summer cl
ass and then the fall, but apparently one of the professors has cancer and the dean wants me to be prepared just in case.”
“Will you be ready?”
“Mentally, probably not, but being familiar with the material, yes. I have the texts for three classes, and I won’t make any changes to the syllabi until I’m sure it’s necessary.”
He sits with his elbow on the table and his hand under his chin probably wondering how this is going to change our lives. I wonder how often I will get to see him.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I ask.
“I’ll be here. Canada already celebrated Thanksgiving.”
“Can I invite you over?”
“I’d like that.”
“You’ll meet the boys and it may not be easy.”
“They’re adults who probably have girlfriends; it shouldn’t be so hard.”
“It shouldn’t be, but they have never seen me with a man. Just don’t take it personally if they act up.”
“How about Christmas?” Mark asks.
“What about it? Are you going to Canada?”
“I should. Would you like to come with me?”
“What?”
“You know, pack a bag, hop on a plane and meet my parents and my children.”
“It’s … it’s too soon. I’ll meet your children in the summer.”
“If you meet the children at Christmas, it will give them time to digest the idea of you and me before they get here.”
“Can I think about it?”
“Yes, and please say yes.”
I spend most of my free time with Zoi, Dad and Tempest. I make sure not to be my usual self. I step back and let Zoi mother her baby without interference or suggestions from me. I help out when she’s tired and alternate with Dad in the kitchen. Dad and I talk a lot about unimportant things and it gets easier to be around him.
“Did you leave anyone special in England or wherever you were?”
“Not special. There was someone, but she’s in the business too. If she needs to see me she knows where I am.”
“Are you lonely?”
“Are you asking about your father’s sex life, Eunella?”
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