I had to promise my parents I would bring Humphrey back to Baltimore to visit several times before the wedding. I was told Phillip had to make the same agreement. If either of us had said no, I don’t think my mother would have been very easy for my father to live with.
Before I could leave, I knew I had to say good-bye to Michael and make a decision about our company. It wouldn’t be fair to leave everything up in the air, especially with the recent success of his jazz shows. I drove over to our small office in one of his father’s buildings on the westside, a building we shared with his Uncle Charlie’s law office and his cousin BeBe’s accounting office. There was no mistaking, the area had seen better days, but there remained an air of action in this same community that had spawned Cab Calloway and Billie Holiday. I still had to drive through small groups of drug addicts as I maneuvered the abandoned side streets, but they were the minority. Most of the people off of Pennsylvania Avenue were doing progressive things: building multi-purpose centers, reopening libraries, stepping- up campaigns for voter registration and implementing daycare programs for seniors, as well as the trade of illegal guns for money. One Franklin or another had initiated the majority of those positive programs with encouraging results.
I pulled up to the curb directly behind Michael’s vintage black Peugeot and Wesley Franklin was exiting the building. As usual, he had an air of arrogance about him, but there was always a hint of slickster lurking just beneath the surface. He was a very attractive man—Richard Roundtree fine. None of his children could really hold a candle to him in that department. His quick and brilliant smile was easily his best feature and when he bestowed it upon you, you felt like the most important person in the world. Only Michael and one other brother were close seconds. He towered over them all, both in presence and in attitude. He was lord of the manor and for the most part, they all obeyed his command.
“Miss Zoë,” he called out to me in his rich baritone, as I gathered my purse and sweater from the backseat.
“Hey, Mr. Wes.”
He’d always jokingly called me Miss because I called him Mister. I could never figure out if it bothered him or not, but the title was used out of respect. So I never refrained.
“I haven’t seen you in months, young lady. I thought you’d run off and eloped. Some smart young man is bound to realize what a prize you are and claim you.”
“You’re right about that, Mr. Wes. That much has already happened. I just got engaged.”
“Damn. Isn’t that a shame? I thought for sure you were going to be a part of my clan.”
He was teasing with a hint of a smile, but his eyes looked like he meant every word.
“I thought I was already a part of the family.”
“Well, you are. But I wanted you to be a part that would produce some grandkids, some little Franklins. You know there can never be too many Franklins. There’s always work to do.”
As he was giving me a parting, congratulatory kiss on the cheek, he spoke low so that I would know his words were especially for me, but not so low that it sounded like a whisper. “Before grapes can become wine, they have to be chosen carefully. They must go through a special process for preparation.
Then they let their contents bring out the very best in each other. After however long it takes, the wine is just right. It is the perfect blend of dry and sweet, has a lovely bouquet, and a color that’s indicative of its quality.” He paused for a moment. “That’s the same way it is in marriage, Miss Zoë. For a good marriage, you choose your mate carefully and in the process of learning about each other, you’re preparing yourselves for the rest of your lives. Living it together takes the perfect blend of work, patience and compromise. You’ll bring out the best in each other. You do it for as long as it takes until you get it right. I guarantee you that the end product will be of the highest quality. People will be able to tell it just by the way you interact with each other, how you look at each other and most importantly, the way you express your love.” “It can’t be faked, Honey. Many women have been romanced beyond compare, seduced by the greatest lovers, consumed by the biggest frauds. Once they have nothing left to impress you with, the illusion of love is shattered because they don’t want you to see who they truly are.”
“Mr. Wes, you don’t have to worry about me. My fiancé and I love each other and I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.” “I hope that’s true. You are too special a girl to accept anything less than the very best. But please take your time.” “Thank you so much, Mr. Wes. I will.”
It made me sad to see him in such a philosophical mood about love because I knew he was thinking about his wife. He truly missed her and since it had only been a few months, it was obvious he was still in mourning.
I walked up past the auto insurance office to our place on the second floor. F.B.I. was emblazoned plainly in a stencil font on our unassuming sign. Franklin Browne International was our company name and while we hadn’t done anything internationally, we just liked the idea of being called F.B.I. When I entered the office, I overheard Michael on the phone having a heated exchange with a familiar club owner about a scheduling conflict. He was insisting on the date and time promised him for a party and Bunky’s name preceded every demand. His eyes lit up when he noticed my presence and he gestured that he wouldn’t be much longer. My own desk was just about the same as I’d left it—a mess. Without thinking about it, I began sorting out paperwork scattered everywhere. After my extended absence, most of it was irrelevant.
“Don’t worry about that stuff,” Michael said, walking toward me. “I have somebody coming in to organize this place. Since you’re here though, you can salvage anything you want to keep. Everything else is headed for the trash heap.”
“I came by because I need to talk to you.” “Did you come to say good-bye?”
“I want to tie up any loose ends. I’m not going to leave you hanging.”
“What do you mean? You did that months ago.”
“I’m talking about the business. Since I’ll be living in New York, it makes sense for me to solicit some business up there. What do you think?”
“You can do it however you want.”
“Really? Why so blunt? Do you want us to sever ties? Is that what you want?”
“You can’t sever ties that have already been broken. That’s like killing something twice.”
“You’ve changed.”
“You damn right…and so have you.” His response hurt.
He took a long pause, as if he was letting my last comment register or perhaps, he was choosing what he wanted to say very carefully. “I took life for granted for a minute, just one minute and when I turned back, my whole world was changed. I lost my mother and my best friend in one fell swoop. At least with my mother, I can say she died. What do I say about you?”
“I can’t tell you what to say about me except I’ve found happiness. You know more than anyone else, that it’s something I thought I’d never find. Just be happy for me. Please. ”
My plea softened him and for a minute, I thought he was going to cry.
“Please forgive me for being so selfish,” he said. “Most of my growing up was done with you, with me protecting you. So, I’ll always love you. It’s just that, now, I’ll have to share and I’m not used to that.”
“I’m not choosing anyone over you, if that’s what you think.
I’m just adding someone.”
So much was left unsaid because our need to rein in our emotions wouldn’t allow us to express ourselves as freely as we normally would. We parted ways ambiguously.
As I was driving home, the tears were pouring so profusely I could barely see. All the emotion I’d kept inside at the office was bursting from me and I couldn’t restrain myself if I’d tried. I couldn’t imagine my life without Michael in it. Yet, what kind of life would I have without Humphrey? And why did I have to choose? Michael was making me apologize for finding a love that could take me where he and I could never go.
&n
bsp; I would be leaving Baltimore with a heavy heart, even though I was anxious to get to New York and to Humphrey. I didn’t think I would ever have enough courage to make such a profound decision. It was clear that I was torn. Yet, the reality of taking a stand was empowering and liberating.
Chapter Fourteen
Humphrey called me the evening before my move to make sure I was ready. Had I packed everything? Had I changed my address at the post office? How did I make out with the rental truck? Were my father and my brother EJ still driving my belongings and me to New York?
“Something has come up that might alter our plans,” he told me.
“What could that be?”
“My mum. After I told her about our engagement, she wants to meet you. Remember, she lives close by in D.C.”
“I know and I want to meet her, too. But what does that have to do with my moving tomorrow morning?”
“She wants us to come to dinner tomorrow night.”
He was coming to Baltimore in the morning. He wanted to spend the day together and to visit with my parents, before heading to Washington. He was extending the rental on the truck because he would drive to New York on Monday morning.
“That’s a great idea and a good excuse to buy something to wear.”
“I’m glad you’re excited about dinner, but I’m more excited about seeing you.”
“It goes without saying—I can’t wait to see you.”
“Don’t forget to thank your brother and your father for their offer to drive.”
“Tomorrow you can thank them yourself.”
The following morning, my mother and I hit the streets early. By 10:15, we were already in the operators’ chairs at the only salon I found open on Sunday.
It was rare for my mother to miss church service but since I wouldn’t be nearby, this was her way of doting on me. We had a real girlfriend day, treating ourselves to fresh hairdos, manicures, pedicures and new dresses.
Flowers were blooming, due to the early arrival of spring temperatures. Th variously colored shutters and doors with brass knockers gave my block the colonial look of Georgetown. Humphrey was on his way. I was waiting anxiously on the front stoop, appreciating the scene and enjoying the sunshine.
When his taxi pulled up, he climbed out of it all smiles and legs, clad in a camel suede blazer and dark rinse jeans that clung to the right contours. He was wearing a messenger bag across his body and mirrored aviator shades, always stylish. I should have been embarrassed by my overzealous need to claim him, but my need was too great to be rational. Before the driver could pull off, I was already in his arms. I wasn’t too proud to lock lips with him on the curb and I didn’t care who saw us. I hadn’t seen him in two long weeks. We finally came up for air and he held me at arms’ length sweeping his eyes from bottom to top.
“New look?”
“Just wanted to try something new.”
“I hope you don’t tire of new things too easily. If you do, I’m in trouble.”
“There are some things a girl can never get tired of… Especially things like you.”
We made love quickly, as passion tore through us. I had to talk him out of stretching it out, since we were going to visit our parents in a short while. And I wasn’t going to ruin my new hair. “You’ll get your chance to go at it, long and hard, when we get back. I’m not going to meet anybody’s mama looking like I just got out of bed.”
“But tonight you’re in trouble.”
I freshened up and changed into my new black wrap dress and knee-high boots. I accented myself with gold everything, even makeup. Humphrey whistled his approval from behind.
“You look like a queen,” he said.
I drove us to my parents’ house. To be polite, I rang the doorbell instead of using my key. I could tell he was nervous, by the way he fidgeted with his shirt collar but he stood proudly, looking confident and sure. My mother’s eyes lit up, when she opened the door to see Humphrey in person.
“Well look who’s here!”
“Hi Ma. This is Humphrey, finally.”
“Mrs. Browne, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said while taking her hand and kissing it. She was gone. Over the next two hours, he charmed my mother and gained some favor with my father when he voiced his love of basketball. My mother and I left them together in the den to discuss their likes and dislikes about star players. He liked LeBron and my father liked Kobe. He hadn’t won him over completely.
My mother smiled. “He thinks I look like Anita Baker.” “Stop smiling so hard, Ma. You’re falling under his spell.” “But that’s what he told me.”
“I’m sure he was very convincing and his accent makes everything sound even better.”
“Well, he’s a very charming young man and he’s not too bad on the eyes either,” she said, while fussing with her new layered hairstyle. She was extra sassy in a clingy dress and high heeled pumps. “Speaking of eyes…his are more intensely dark than any I’ve ever seen.”
“Yes, it’s like he’s looking into your soul.” “Exactly. That man is dangerous.”
“I know.”
She thought everything uttered from his mouth that night was witty, charming and oh so cute, in that “proper” accent, she insisted on calling it. My father watched him attentively, as he interacted with me and before long, his look turned to one of approval. But the time soon arrived for us to leave.
“Bogey, you’re alright, man.” That was the verdict my father handed down while he shook his hand and slapped him on the back.
“Thank you, Mr. Browne. I think we’re going to get along just fine. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll even let you continue to call me Bogey, but only you.” He laughed.
My mother pulled me to the side and said, “Girl, you didn’t stand a chance with that man. He is something powerful.”
“I told you.”
We all exchanged hugs, then he and I were soon headed down the parkway to his mother’s house. I was too giddy over the outcome of the meeting with my parents to let nervousness overtake me. I just had a feeling everything was going to be fine. It had to be.
Humphrey’s mother lived close to the campus of Howard University, next to the end in a row of neatly kept houses, the front porch teeming with potted flowers and green indoor/outdoor carpet covering the steps. Th porch furniture was arranged intimately like a living room with plump cushions decorated with green ivy on white canvas.
Humphrey knocked on the door in a specific pattern, as if tapping out a song. He looked down at me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Apparently, it was a secret code and the door was knowingly flung open amidst squeals in the melodious timbre of female voices, accompanied by the aroma of curry wafting through the air. Th e were four women in all and they began squealing his name and running to greet him like he was a celebrity. He’d told me on the ride down that he hadn’t seen his family in months.
I could easily identify the twins, Monica and Marlene, because they were identical. They were even dressed alike which, I found strange for twenty-year-old women but they were attractive in a subtle, classic way. And they were dressed accordingly. The next person I noticed was a tall, striking young woman with dark, mocha skin and a dazzling smile like Humphrey’s. She wore her hair pulled tightly into a bun and had a long slender neck like a swan’s. She was pretty and not easy to ignore. Her name was Madonna. Inwardly, I sighed with relief because I was glad she was his sister and not the competition.
I noticed his mother standing behind her daughters waiting for the chance to embrace her son. She was the palest shade of black I’d ever seen, yet her features were distinct. The high cheekbones, dark slanted eyes, broad nose, and full lips were representative of the myriad cultures of the Caribbean. However, her features and odd coloring were too extreme to be considered pretty. She was a handsome woman, unlike anything I’d imagined her to be. Her children were everything but pale and they all towered over her height which wasn’t even five feet tall. Only Humphrey bore
the slightest resemblance to his mother. My first inclination was to question the maternity of her own offspring, but once I saw the source of the family smile, there was no mistaking that she was Humphrey’s mama. Her smile dominated her whole face and caused deep crinkles at the corners of her eyes. He picked her up and walked into the house carrying her as she protested with yelps of indignation and glee.
She saw me standing awkwardly in the corner of her foyer, trying to fit in and fixed her eyes on me. Their eyes followed hers and they turned to acknowledge the object of her attention. Humphrey put her feet on the fl . She extended her small hand, motioning for me to join her.
“Come here, Dear. Don’t be shy,” she said in her lilting Jamaican accent and an unexpectedly husky voice.
I bent down to hug her slight frame and was clutched to her with a surprising strength. Humphrey watched my expression over her shoulder and seemed pleased with our greeting. The twins, however, were somewhat aloof, the look in their eyes bordering on disdain.
“I’m getting a next daughter, eh?” she continued. “Thank you for welcoming me, Mrs. Pearson.”
“You’re a pretty girl, too. Isn’t she a pretty girl?” she asked them en masse.
Humphrey answered affirmatively for them all and he added, “More importantly, Mama, she’s a nice girl. And she’s going to marry me and give me lots of babies.”
Inez laughed heartily. “Boys, all boys. We need some boy children in this family.”
“Okay, Mama. We’re going to give you enough boys to make you happy, but I want one girl for me. One girl like Zoë.”
“Come on, children. Let’s go eat now. The food’s been keeping while we waited for you.”
Sometimes Love Page 11