by Nina Perez
I cut him off. “Don’t even start with me. A little soul food never killed anyone. Okay, that’s probably not true, but I promise I’ll go to the gym with you tomorrow and work it off. You said any place I—”
“Chloe. No. It’s not that. It’s just… I feel honored that you would want to come here with me. I’m just pleasantly surprised, that’s all.”
“Oh.” It was all I could say because he smiled and I melted.
If Uncle Troy was shocked that my roommate/date was a white man he didn’t show it. Besides, I was sure Crystal had mentioned it by now. She and Uncle Troy were close, but apparently not close enough that she was ready to share her own secret about Jermaine.
“Nice to meet you, Patrick,” Uncle Troy said as he showed us to a small table in the back of the dimly lit restaurant. Before I could sit Uncle Troy held me at arms length.
“You get more and more beautiful the older you get; traffic-stopper, head-turner, just like your mother was at your age.”
“Oh, stop. How’ve you been feeling?” I asked, taking my seat across from Patrick.
“Never felt better. Sounds like you’ve been talking to my daughter, and I’m gonna tell you like I told her over and over again: Don’t worry about me. I been around a long time and I’m not nearly done yet.”
Said with such finality, I would have been a fool to argue. Though he was a bit thinner than the last time I saw him, Uncle Troy looked very much the same: tall, with salt and pepper hair and sparkling eyes. With a quick kiss on the cheek for me and a wave to Patrick, Uncle Troy went back to the kitchen, leaving us with strict instructions to order whatever, and as much as, we wanted.
“Now, let me warn you. The menu items may sound a little… unconventional, but they’re all standard home cooked soul food dishes.”
Patrick opened his menu and read aloud with a smile. “What do you recommend? The Baby’s Got Back Ribs or the Funky, Funky, Fried Chicken?”
“Hmmm, I was thinking more along the lines of the Ain’t No Jive Turkey Plate or Dog Eat Dog Catfish.”
Patrick said, “It’s impossible to say this stuff without laughing.”
“I know. That’s what Uncle Troy wanted. He changes the names every so often to stay current with the times. The ribs used to be called, “Stick-To-Your-Ribs Baby Back Ribs.”
Looking around Patrick said, “I can see why you enjoyed this place so much.”
“It’s special and the food is amazing. Let’s order.”
Everything about the evening seemed so easy. After weeks of not speaking, Patrick and I quickly picked up where we had left off, with a little something new added. While Patrick admitted how nervous he was with his upcoming audition it occurred to me why I might have been so hesitant and afraid to start a relationship with someone like him. I had thought the bulk of it was because he was my roommate, he was white, and I didn’t want to start something on the rebound. There was some trepidation because he was white. I’d never dated a white man before. There was this one guy in college from a psychology class who asked me out quite unexpectedly, and I was so taken aback I said no before I realized what had happened. Myra, of all people, joked that I’d set race relations back ten years.
Of course, I was worried that Patrick and I would start something that would eventually end badly, and then what would that mean for our living arrangement? Even worse, what would it mean for our friendship? What it really boiled down to was that I’d never been around a man so unafraid to show his emotions. It was new and a little unsettling and, because I didn’t know how to handle it, I ran. The guys I’d dated before always kept their emotions tucked away in a secret location. Not Patrick. He wasn’t afraid to share with me his self doubts about the audition, his fear of losing his sister, and the resentment he felt towards his siblings for not getting as involved with Charlotte’s changes.
How could I have ever questioned his motives when he kissed me? No man had ever looked at me the way Patrick did. It made me feel better than pretty. It made me feel special, like I was the only person in the room. I wondered what he saw when I looked at him. Could he tell how attracted I was to him? I tried to think back on how many white men I’d found attractive. There was Brad Pitt, of course. I suppose the guy who’d asked me out in college was okay looking, but not really my type overall. There was a white guy at work who was kinda cute, and even Myra admitted it; well, I believe her actual words were, “I can see where white women would find him appealing.”
They didn’t hold a candle to Patrick, though. He had the boyish good looks that people seemed to eat up on soap operas, but there was also something manly and virile about him. Patrick had strong hands that gave me butterflies every time he touched my hand from across the table. I found myself having to look away whenever we held eye contact for any length of time because I could easily get lost in his eyes, and I was quite certain he could get anything he wanted out of me when he smiled, though there was a trust there. I couldn’t imagine Patrick ever trying to taking advantage of that. It was all very new and scary as hell.
“Chloe, are we going to or what?”
“Huh?”
“Split a piece of Slap Yo Mama Pumpkin Pie?”
***
During the cab ride home, as we held hands, I decided it was time to be less afraid and a lot more willing to trust my instincts.
“Patrick…”
“Yeah?”
Totally sober, without fear of rejection and completely sure of where I stood with him, I leaned over and kissed Patrick.
Chapter Five
When the Masks Come Off, Part One
Patrick
By the time Halloween rolled around, life was good. My audition had gone so well I’d gotten a callback for the first week in November and things between Chloe and me were great. It had yet to be defined, but it didn’t seem to matter. We’d fallen into a very different kind of rhythm in the weeks following our date. We almost always had dinner together, and when we watched movies at home it always involved some kind of cuddling, kissing, or just plain touching.
I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.
We’d agreed to take it slow, but it was getting increasingly more difficult to do. Concentrating at work had become an issue as I found myself counting the minutes until I would get home and see Chloe. Our text messages during the day would start off innocently enough...
What do you feel like having for dinner?
… but they would inevitably end with responses like…
I was thinking about having you.
I nearly dropped my cellphone when I read that one.
The one aspect of my life that wasn’t going well, and, if anything, had gotten worse, was my relationship with Charlotte. Phone calls and emails from my sister were becoming more infrequent. My mother had called the school to try and find out how Charlotte was doing, but they wouldn’t tell her anything. It was college, not high school, and Charlotte was an adult. The night of Halloween I tried calling Charlotte on her cell phone. Amazingly, she answered.
“Hi, favorite big brother ever.”
“Char, what’s going on?”
“Oh, you know. The usual with the usual suspects.” There was loud music and voices in the background and her speech was slurred.
“Are you at a party or something?”
Charlotte giggled. “When am I not?”
“Charlotte, when are you going to see Ma and Dad? They’re worried about you. I’m going to see them—”
“Patrick, tell them not to worry. And you shouldn’t either. You’ll get wrinkles on that handsome face.”
And she hung up. I was two seconds from throwing the phone across the living room when I heard giggling behind me.
“Oh. My. God.”
I turned to face Chloe and my sword scraped the floor.
“Are you kidding me?”
“What?” I asked innocently.
Chloe was staring at me with her mouth open and shaking her head from left to right. I was
dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow from the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. The costume was expensive to rent, but Roman Glen’s annual Halloween parade was a big deal. I’d asked Chloe to go with me, but she’d already made plans to spend the evening with Brianna. Chloe was wearing faded blue jeans, black high-heeled boots, and a tight black turtleneck.
How the hell did I get so lucky?
“You’re not dressed up.”
“Uh, yeah. I don’t get dressed up on Halloween.”
“Why not?”
“How ‘bout ‘cause I’m not twelve?”
“Oh, come on! See, this is why you should be coming with me tonight. The whole town dresses up, not just the kids. There’s live music, good food, and my Mom’s pie.”
“That all sounds really great,” Chloe said as she walked into the living room and grabbed her keys off the coffee table. “Well, all but the part about dressing up. Not for me.”
“Oh, you’ll dress up next year. I promise you.”
I grabbed Chloe around the waist, pulling her close.
“Did you talk to Charlotte? Is she coming?”
Just that quickly I’d forgotten about my disturbing phone call with Charlotte. Chloe had that effect on me. “No, she’s not. It sounded like she was already at some kind of party and I’m sure she was wasted on something.”
“I’m sorry.”
Chloe ran an index finger across my lips and I kissed it. She smiled and said, “I would kiss you, but I don’t want to mess up your makeup.”
“Oh, you got jokes. Kiss me, woman.”
Chloe giggled and tried to wiggle out of my arms.
“No. It’s creepy! And you’re wearing my eyeliner!”
She kissed me anyway then called over her shoulder as she turned to leave, “Are you coming home tonight?”
Before Chloe, I would have stayed on Long Island after the festivities. I would have slept at my parents’ house and spent the next day, Sunday, with my friends. But that was then. As I watched Chloe walk away, all long legs, perfect hips, and bouncing hair, I replied, “Absolutely.”
Chapter Six
When the Masks Come Off, Part Two
Chloe
On the train ride to Crystal’s I encountered zombies, witches, and Jedis. Patrick wouldn’t be out of place on his trip to Long Island. Just picturing him in that getup made me giggle. Lately it seemed there was always a giggle on my lips and a smile on my face. Everything between us seemed so easy—almost too easy, but I was determined to stop over thinking it. For the first time I wanted to follow only my heart, and my heart was telling me to do some very un-Chloe like things.
Dirty text messages? Check. The dirtiest thing Lawrence ever wrote me was a note asking if I could pick up his dry cleaning. Making out all over the apartment? Check. Making out in the laundry room? Check. Ok, we were pretty much making out wherever and whenever we could. It was like being a teenager again. We hadn’t had sex yet and there was never any discussion between us as to why we hadn’t. There was no question in my mind that we would, but I thought things were kind of nice the way they were. It was like the hottest, most prolonged foreplay ever.
I thought back to something Patrick had said: Oh, you got jokes. I laughed again. It was always adorable when Patrick used urban lingo. I knew he’d picked it up from spending so much time with me. He wasn’t even aware when he said stuff like that. It was cute. As the train pulled into my station I remembered something else Patrick had said: You’ll dress up next year. I promise. Did that mean Patrick saw himself in my life a year from now?
There you go again, Chloe. Over thinking things. Just be happy with the here and now. The here and now is pretty damn sweet.
***
Brianna was happy to see me as I entered the apartment, but she was definitely more excited to leave and begin her trick-or-treating. “Hi, Chloe!” I was attacked by a ball of pink taffeta.
“Whoa! Look at you.”
“I’m a fairy princess.”
“Yes, I can see that. And a beautiful princess, too.”
“Where’s your costume?”
“Yeah, where is your costume?” Crystal chimed in as she entered the living room from the kitchen. She was carrying two big bowls of candy in either hand. She was also dressed as a bumblebee.
Had everyone gone crazy?
“I don’t have one! Why would I?”
“Girl, it’s Halloween, that’s why.”
“Yeah, and it’s for kids.”
“Don’t worry; you’ll change your thinking when you have kids of your own.”
“Doubt it.”
“Scrooge.”
“Wrong holiday, smartass.”
“Oooh, Chloe. You gotta pay a quarter. Right, mommy?”
“What?” I turned to Crystal for an explanation.
I watched my cousin wobble to the front door, trying to navigate her big bee’s body, and place the two bowls on a table. “Every time I say a bad word I have to put a quarter in Brianna’s piggy bank.”
“Well technically, smartass isn’t a bad word. I mean, it’s not as bad as, say, ass itself, right?”
“Oooh, Mommy.”
“Fine.” I reached into my purse and gave Brianna a dollar while Crystal just laughed.
As soon as we were done taking pictures the doorbell rang. It was Brianna’s friends with their mom coming to take her trick-or-treating. With kisses from both Crystal and me, and instructions to behave and be careful, she was off in a flurry of taffeta and giggles. After a few minutes of joking around—I had to tease Crystal for handing out miniature toothbrushes and sample tubes of toothpaste along with her candy—the talk turned serious because, well, I just had to ask.
“What’s going on with Jermaine?”
“Are we going to fight about this?”
“I hope not.”
She sat as best she could in her costume on one end of the sofa and I sat on the other.
“I’m going to let him meet Brianna.”
“Just like that?”
“What do you mean just like that? We’ve been spending a lot of time together and he has a right to be in her life, and I think he’s ready.”
“I’m just afraid that he’s still the same person.”
“Are you the same person you were at eighteen? Listen, I know you love me and Brianna and that you’re concerned, but you have to trust me. You have to trust me to know what’s best for my daughter. I’m scared too, you know. That’s why I need your support through this. Please?”
How could I argue with that? I couldn’t. All I could do was hope that Crystal knew what she was doing, and then be there to help her pick up the pieces if Jermaine proved to be the man I thought he was. Besides, it was pretty hard to have a serious conversation with someone in a bumblebee costume.
“Now, tell me about this promotion.”
“Well, I think it’s pretty much a done deal. The social campaigns we’ve done so far have been successful, and the holiday promos I pitched to Raven Cosmetics were approved. Now, if I can just get my replacement trained.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She requires a lot of reassurance and I have to explain everything three to five times.”
“She’ll get it.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she will. I’m just anxious to get started with my new team and move on to other projects.”
“I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”
The doorbell rang and Crystal wobbled over to it. I smiled as I watched her go. It was nice having her to talk to again. I hadn’t told a soul about Patrick and me and, as I watched Crystal hand out candy and Crest, I realized I was bursting to tell her all about him. So I did.
Chapter Seven
When the Masks Come Off, Part Three
Patrick
Patriot Street was the central street in Roman Glen. It ran straight through the center of town, ending at the gazebo that served as an entrance to Roman Glen Park. It was also where you’d find Lots Pharmacy
, Mrs. Hudson’s Bakery, the courthouse, police station, and the firehouse where my father served for many years. The annual parade had just ended, but the street was still filled with families in costumes. The parade was a real community-binding event. Local businesses participated with their employees dressed up on floats along with classes from the local schools. It was just another reason I loved growing up in Roman Glen. As a kid, nothing beat trick-or-treating with my friends and then heading over to Patriot Street for music and wonderful food.