I laughed. “I meant slow as in I don’t want you trying to shove your hands up my shirt,” I said. “I think I’ll be safe at the movies.”
“To be honest, I’m glad you said something about going out. I’ve been dying to see you outside of my house, and in a setting that doesn’t involve homework,” he said. “We can even invite Sarah or Gail along, if you want.”
David’s offer was very chivalrous, but truthfully, I had no desire to share him with Sarah or Gail or anyone else.
Before David and I hung up, we decided which movie we wanted to see. We even picked the theater and discussed what type of snacks we liked.
Now all I had to do was get permission from my father.
I tiptoed to the living room. Dad sat on the couch, his fingers wrapped around a Coke bottle. Sports highlights flashed across the television screen.
“You were on the phone for quite a while,” he said. “The Gamble girl must really need a lot of help with her homework.”
I just smiled and nodded. Due to the beauty of caller ID, Dad thought that because the Gamble name was popping up on the display, I must have been spending all my time talking to Sarah.
I cleared my throat. “Can I go out on Friday night?”
Dad didn’t turn away from the television. “With who? Gail and Xavier?”
I inched closer to the door and smiled the most innocent smile that I could muster. “Actually, with David.”
Dad slowly turned to me. If looks could kill, it would have been a death by visual bludgeoning.
“I’ll let you think about it,” I said as I backed out of the room. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
I could hear Dad shuffling toward the kitchen as I headed to my room. I could have stayed in the living room and debated all night long the reasons that I should be able to go out with David. But I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to fight. For once, I wanted Dad to treat me like a normal teenage girl and give me permission to go out on a date. I was eighteen, and he needed to respect my choices.
Plus, it was a hell of a lot easier to walk out of the front door than climb out of my bedroom window.
The next morning, Dad emerged from his room looking like he spent the night fighting a grizzly bear. He flipped on the coffee maker, scratched his backside, and finally turned to me.
“We’re having a family dinner this weekend,” he said. “Invite the boy over. If I find him acceptable, you can go out with him.”
If I find him acceptable? Dad made David sound like a cut of meat.
I agreed, and Dad filled me in on the details of the evening. It turned out that Dad had consulted Jackie for advice on my dating request. Jackie suggested that we all—me, Dad, David and her—get together for dinner. She thought it would be a good way for all of us to “bond.”
If Jackie had her way, she would have probably orchestrated many more family dinners. She and Dad were getting awfully close. The six-month marker had come and gone, and she was still around. Dad really seemed to like her, and I couldn’t figure out why. She wasn’t anything like Mom. And maybe Dad could replace Mom, but I never would.
On the night of our highly anticipated (or more like highly dreaded) dinner, Jackie looked less like a teacher and more like a girlfriend as she maneuvered around the kitchen, throwing things into pots and chopping up vegetables. Her hair was long and flowing, with freshly dyed highlights. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, either. She must have caught me staring at her, because she smiled and pointed to her eyes.
“I got contacts.”
“They look nice,” I mumbled.
“Thanks. It was Samuel’s idea. He likes the way I look without glasses.”
Of course, Dad had never suggested that I get contacts.
“I know Samuel seems like an ogre sometimes, but he can be very flattering and sweet when he wants to be.”
Hearing Jackie talk about Dad like that made me want to gag. I was mad enough that Dad allowed her to cook dinner that night. Then he had the audacity to volunteer my kitchen. Only two women had cooked in that kitchen before Saturday night, and neither one of those women had been named Jackie.
Dad marched into the room wearing a polo shirt that looked a little too tight across his chest. As he passed by me, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
Dad stuck his nose into one of the pots. “What’s for dinner?”
“Steak and potatoes,” Jackie replied.
He kissed her on the cheek. “My favorite.”
I liked to think of myself as logical and levelheaded, but even the most rational daughter in the world wouldn’t be able to deal with Jackie. She was not only replacing my mother, she was replacing me. She replaced me at basketball games, she prepared the meals that were mine to cook, she even got the affection that was meant for me.
Just before I was about to explode, the doorbell rang. It had to be David.
Dad walked to the living room with me trailing closely behind. He opened the door, and sure enough, my fairytale prince stood at the doorsteps. David looked very respectable in his khaki pants and navy blue, long-sleeved shirt. Sarah must have helped him with his clothes.
“Good evening, Mr. Lee,” David said.
For a second, I thought Dad was going to slam the door shut. He looked at David long and hard, not saying anything, and slowly moved out of the way.
I took David’s jacket. “Hey,” I said. I furrowed my eyes at him. Are you okay? I’m sorry Dad is acting like such an asshole.
“Hey,” he replied. He winked at me. I’m fine, his smile said. I’ve met worse fathers.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, David,” Jackie said as she entered the living room. She extended her hand to him. “I’m Jackie.”
David gently shook her hand. “The food smells great.”
“Thanks. You’re just in time, it’s almost ready.” Jackie placed her hand on Dad’s arm. “We’re really glad to have you here. Aren’t we, Samuel.”
“Yes, of course,” Dad said to David, with a smile stamped across his face. “Rhonda has told me some great things about you.”
I have?
“Have you thought about going to USC or Clemson?” Dad continued. “Are you going to try out for the basketball team?”
David shook his head. “No, I’m not that good. Christopher McCullough is the only guy on our team skilled enough to play for a Division I school.”
Dad’s smile disappeared. He probably wanted to pound his fist through the wall (or worse, through David’s chest). I knew Dad’s heart was beating at one hundred miles an hour, because my heart was beating at one hundred miles an hour. I hated how Christopher still had that power over us.
“I plan on going to Francis Marion University. They offered me a partial scholarship to play basketball, and I …”
David let his words drift off. He must have realized Dad was no longer paying attention to him.
I grabbed David’s arm. “Let me show you to the bathroom, so you can wash up for dinner.”
David nodded quickly, and he and I escaped from the living room.
“I’m sorry,” David asked as soon as we were in the bathroom. “I shouldn’t have brought up Christopher.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I faked a smile. “Dad’s always grumpy before he eats.”
“Is there anything I should do?” he continued as he washed his hands. “Should I apologize or something?”
“I think you should just drop it.”
“But I really wanted to make a good first impression.” He shook his hands, spraying water across the mirror and walls.
“You know, we do have towels,” I snapped.
David stopped shaking his hands. “Are you mad at me, too?”
“I’m … just drop it, okay?”
David didn’t say anyth
ing else. He just dried his hands off on the towel and left for the dining room.
I cupped my hands under the faucet and splashed my face with water. After patting my face dry, I practiced grinning a few times in the mirror.
By the time I entered the dining room everyone else was seated. I slipped into the chair beside David, and quietly reached under the table and squeezed his knee. The corners of David’s lips curved upward just a little. He reached over and squeezed my hand. And just like that, we were okay again.
Dad said a quick prayer, and we began passing around the food. It took everything in my power not to throw a huge heap of mashed potatoes on my plate. I glanced at Dad’s plate. He had enough food stacked in front of him to feed two people.
We all focused on our plates and chewed our food in silence. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say. I had never shared a meal with David or Jackie before. When Dad and I ate dinner, we usually talked about school, work, the weather—you know, the safe subjects. It wasn’t in our programming to have a real conversation.
Dad finally cleared his throat. “So David, I hear your sister is pregnant.”
What the fuck? Dad couldn’t talk to me about my pregnancy, but he could bring up Sarah’s in the middle of dinner?
David nodded. “She’s almost twenty weeks along.”
“I didn’t realize she was so far along,” Jackie mumbled. She quickly picked up her glass of wine and took a long sip. Over the rim of her glass, she glared at my father.
“She hasn’t gained much weight yet,” I said. “She’s hardly showing.”
Dad cut a slice of steak. “Lucky her.”
The room became quiet for a few agonizing seconds. Jackie tilted her head back and downed her glass of wine. She smiled weakly at us. “I think I’m going to need a refill.”
“Well, that was a complete disaster,” I said after David and I walked outside of the house. We had forced ourselves through thirty minutes of torture by silence, laced with snippets of conversation. At least the food was edible.
“Dinner wasn’t that bad,” David said. “Your dad seems nice.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Well, Jackie seems nice.”
“I hate her,” I said. “And you’re supposed to hate her too, remember?”
“Sorry, I’ll try to hate her come tomorrow.” David took my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine. It was amazing how something as simple as holding hands could make me feel so warm and secure.
“You look really nice tonight,” David whispered. He started to lean into me, and I immediately pulled away from him.
“For all I know, Dad could be watching us right now.”
“I just wanted an innocent kiss.”
I laughed sarcastically. “There isn’t such a thing as an innocent kiss.” I was supposed to sound witty, but I came off as bitter instead.
David frowned. “You’ve been acting strange all night. What’s wrong?”
“Why does something have to be wrong with me?”
David stepped back and deeply exhaled. He didn’t speak—he just stared at me with a gaze that made me want to curl up beside him and have him wrap his arms around me.
“Tell me something about yourself,” he finally said.
“Why?” I demanded. I didn’t mean to sound defensive, but it was a force of habit. I had been a loner for so long, it was difficult opening up to someone—I didn’t even know if I wanted to open up to someone.
“I just want to know you better,” he said.
“Well, what about you?” I asked. “Why don’t we talk about you?”
“What do you want to know? My favorite basketball team? My favorite food?”
“Duke and pizza,” I said.
“Okay, ask me something harder.”
I thought for a second, and then said, way too quickly, “Why do you dislike your father so much?”
David paused and chewed on his bottom lip. Finally he shrugged. “He left.”
“You mean he and your mother got divorced.”
“My parents only got divorced four years ago. My father hasn’t lived with us since I was eight.”
“What happened?”
“He had another family,” David said. “He decided to play daddy to the two kids he had with his secretary.”
I moved closer to David. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “Dad was a bully. We’re better off without him.”
Immediately, thoughts of Christopher and his father came to mind. “Did he … hit you?”
He shook his head, and I sighed in relief. “My father may be a jerk, but he isn’t stupid.”
“Maybe it’s a rule that all fathers are jerks.”
“Your father is strict because he cares about you. My father is mean because he enjoys pushing people around,” he said. “Believe me, there’s a big difference.”
David’s smile almost had me believing that my father wasn’t as bad as I knew he was. Then David stepped toward me, and I forgot all about my father. “So now what?” he asked. “You want to talk some more?”
I shook my head. He smiled and slid my glasses off my nose. The house turned into a fuzzy haze, but David’s face stayed crisp and clear. (Thank God I’m not farsighted.)
His lips floated inches from my lips. “I don’t know if I’ve actually said this before, but I really, really like you.”
I nodded.
“And you like me, right?”
Again, I nodded.
“So if it’s okay with you, I’d like to kiss you now, before I lose my nerve.”
Before I could say okay, please do, fine by me, or anything else, he was kissing me. His lips were soft and warm, like I had always imagined them.
And then, before I lost my nerve, I kissed him back.
“I can’t believe you don’t want to know what the sex of the baby is,” I said as I drove Sarah from the doctor’s office. School was out today because of a teacher workday, so I got the great fortune of shuttling Sarah to her doctor’s appointment. “You have to be curious.”
“Of course I’m curious,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter—I’ve already picked out names for the baby. I’ll name him David if he’s a boy and Rhonda if she’s a girl.”
I laughed. “Come on, you can come up with something better than that. I wouldn’t wish my name on anyone. And David is such a common name.”
Sarah flipped down the overhead mirror and started finger-combing her hair. “It’s a biblical name.”
“And when’s the last time you went to church?” Sarah’s idea of church was watching hip-hop gospel videos on cable.
“I’ve actually been going to church more.”
I almost drove off the road. “What? Since when did you become religious?”
Sarah stopped teasing her hair. “A woman in my Childbirth Education class invited me to church. I went, and I actually liked it.” She wrapped her hands around her stomach. “I don’t know what it is, but when I’m sitting inside that sanctuary, listening to a beautiful choir, I feel …”
“Safe?”
Sarah nodded. “Yeah. Safe.”
“Well, I still think you should come up with some better boy names. How about Richard or Bradley.” At this point, my mouth was working faster than my brain. “Maybe you could name the baby after his … ”
Sarah frowned. “Maybe I could name the baby after his what?”
I gulped. “Maybe you could name the baby after his father.”
Sarah didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive back to her house. Up until now, I had done a pretty good job of avoiding the topic of her baby’s father. Even when David hounded me for information, I didn’t talk about the father. Of course, the only reason I didn’t talk about the fa
ther was because I didn’t know who he was. Sarah wasn’t able to keep her pregnancy a secret, but her sperm donor’s identity was anyone’s guess.
I pulled into her driveway and parked next to David’s car. “Does the father know you’re pregnant?” I felt myself cringing as I asked the question.
Sarah nodded.
“How did he take the news?”
She rubbed at the two silver bracelets on her wrist. “The only way he could—he proposed.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I don’t have any intention of getting married.”
I waited for Sarah to continue, but she seemed content with the information she had given. I decided to press the issue.
“Is he someone I know?”
“Rhonda …”
Bad idea.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I promised that I wouldn’t ask you questions about him.”
“Then don’t,” she said. “I’ll eventually tell you who he is, after he’s had some time to deal with my pregnancy. I’ve had a lot longer than he has to come to terms with it.”
I stepped out of the car. It took Sarah twice as long as it took me to climb out of my bucket seats. She was only twenty-four weeks pregnant, but she was already having trouble with daily activities. She hadn’t worn a pair of lace-up shoes for at least a month.
We entered the house, and Sarah flung her keys on the table. She picked up a slip of paper and crinkled her nose as she read the message.
“A note from your mother?” I asked.
Sarah nodded. She and her mother were at odds again, using David as the go-between. When he wasn’t available, good old-fashioned pen and paper had to do the trick.
“Gail called,” Sarah said. “Did you tell her you were coming over here?”
I nodded. “David and I are supposed to catch a movie with her, Xavier, and Xavier’s girlfriend.” I glanced at Sarah out of the corner of my eye as I picked up the phone. “You’re welcome to come along if you want to.”
Sarah laughed. “The last thing I want to do is wedge my butt into some movie theater seat,” she said. “But thanks for asking.”
My Life as a Rhombus Page 14