“Breakfast will be ready by the time you get out of the shower.”
Declan chuckled at her statement. It could only mean one thing, he wasn’t allowed to eat until he freshened up.
“Can I at least bring you the bag?”
“Yes,” she smiled.
Approaching her, leaving quite a bit of distance between them, he handed her the bag. The stench of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke from bar patrons from the previous night clung to him. The actual number of drinks he devoured last night was unknown. The counting ended once he consumed the third round. Reaching out for the bag then suddenly retracting her hand, Makeba realized it made more sense to have him take the bag with him.
“Can you please put it under the sink in bathroom?”
“Yes babe.”
Turning on their heels they parted ways going in separate directions.
As Makeba resumed cooking the doorbell rang. Considering the circumstances of what had happened to her a day earlier, she knew it was only a matter of time that family and friends showed up on her doorstep to check up on her. Drying her hands on the dish towel then throwing it up on the counter, she headed toward the door. Pressing the intercom she asked who it was. A smile spread across her lips the moment the name of her visitor was announced. Immediately pressing the button to release the lock on the entrance door, she unlocked the door to her apartment leaving it slightly ajar as she returned to the kitchen.
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
Looking over her shoulders startled by the tone of the words that had just been spoken. “I’m fixing breakfast mom. Would you like to join us?”
“Where’s Declan and why are you fixing breakfast when you should be in bed?”
“Declan’s in the shower and I feel perfectly fine.”
Closing the gap between them, Mrs. Jones approached her. “You’re not fine. You just experienced a traumatic ordeal. You should be resting.” Lightly, she guided Makeba toward the door. “I’ll take over from here. Go lie down.”
“Mom.”
“Do as you’re told!”
Makeba pouted as she passed Declan while exiting the kitchen. Nothing burned her up more than seeing a smirk plastered on his face. Sucking her teeth she moved towards the bedroom and got in bed as she was told. She could hear her mother fussing with Declan about preventing her from doing too much too fast. Now it was her time to wear a smirk. He was like a witness being questioned by the prosecutor. He stated his case and won the argument once he told her the many attempts he’d made at getting me to relax. Since the food was already done the only thing Mrs. Jones had to do was plate it. It wasn’t long before Declan entered the room with a serving tray. Although he made an effort, he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.
“It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is honey. It was so cute watching you retreat into a scolded little girl when your mom sent you out of the kitchen.”
Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention to the food on the tray. She very seldom made freshly squeezed orange juice. Tropicana was her best friend but not her mama’s. There was always freshly squeezed orange juice for breakfast in the Jones household and freshly brewed coffee. Inhaling the aroma that filled the atmosphere made her forget about feeling scolded by her mom earlier.
Fluffing her pillows against the headboard, she adjusted herself until her back was resting comfortably against them. Gently, Declan lowered the tray over her lap.
“Enjoy!”
Frowning while looking up at him inquisitively she asked, “You’re not staying?”
“No. I have a few things to do.”
She sighed holding her head to the side.
“Relax honey. I’m working from home. I’ll be right on the sofa if you need me. Besides, your mom said she’ll be here for a few hours.”
“Ok, good.”
He started to walk away but stopped suddenly before exiting.
“Hey, babe.”
“Yes, she answered just as she picked up her fork.
“I’m going to return to Chicago next weekend. I’d like it very much if you would accompany me. It’s time for you to meet my extended family. You know, the cousins, aunts and uncles.”
Makeba dropped the fork. The feeling of uncertainty crept in. She wanted to meet the rest of his family but wasn’t sure how she would be received. As of yet, he hadn’t mentioned whether he told other family members he was dating someone of another race and that bothered her a great deal.
“Declan, have you forgotten what happened the last time I went to Chicago with you? Your mom was not happy about you dating a black woman?”
“Makeba, that’s her issue not ours.”
“That’s the ideal babe but not the real deal. We have to be realistic. They may not as accepting as you want them to be and they may never be.”
He sighed as he approached the bed, taking a seat beside her.
“Who cares? This is about you and I.”
“Come home with me, please.”
Feeling a little hesitant, she agreed, it was time but as much as she would like to have been as confident about things as Declan, she couldn’t. Her father and his friend, Adam, showed her just how narrow minded some people can be about interracial relationships, not to mention his mother, but the one person who really influenced her decision to go back was granny.
“Ok Declan.”
Joyfully, he kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks babe.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied as she resumed eating.
“Hey, he said as he rose from the bed,” Have you started planning for the wedding?”
“No.”
“Don’t you think it’s time?”
“We haven’t even agreed on a date yet.”
“Honey, I don’t care if you put up a calendar on the wall, threw a dart at it and picked whatever date it landed on, as long as you’re waiting for me at the altar. Pick a date!”
“June?”
“Why so long”
“Declan you just said you didn’t care.”
“I know but June is a long way off. I don’t want to wait that long.”
She sighed as she shook her head.
“Listen, the holidays are right around the corner so we’ll have to deal with that and I want it to be warm outside on our wedding day. I would really like an outside ceremony.”
He frowned displaying his disappointment.
“Babe, they say a girl that marries in June will be a bride all her life.”
He chuckled.
“Now where did you get that from?”
“Seven Brides for Seven Brothers,” she laughed.
“You and your old movies,” he replied shaking his head.
“It’s whatever you want honey. Just make it happen. I love you.”
“I love you more Declan.”
“Impossible.”
He got up from the bed and left the room leaving her with thoughts of her previous trips to Chicago. She has yet to return and have a pleasant trip. Between Shelly and Deena, she was sure she’d have to hurt one of them sooner or later. Now, she’d have to meet the rest of the Whitakers, she was not looking forward to it at all but she had no choice. It was what he wanted and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She silently prayed it would be a visit she wouldn’t regret. Refusing to let something that has not happened yet affect her, she picked up her fork and began to enjoy the delicious meal that lay before her.
~*~
Over the next several days, friends and family made it their business to take turns caring for her and making sure she had access to any and everything she needed. Even her dad popped in and out occasionally making sure she was ok. Although she thought everyone was overdoing it, she had to admit the attention was nice. Even Declan kept his promise and stayed home with her without one complaint. Fully aware of the difficulty of stepping in for Declan at his business as well as maintaining his own, she made a mental note to personally thank Sam for he
lping out in their time of need. But now, it was time to get back into the swing of things. She assured her mom along with everyone else that she was well enough to return to work and thanked them for taking time out of their busy schedules to care for her. Her decision to return to work so soon was not well received. Her parents and Declan carried on so bad that she agreed to take a little more time off. Suddenly, she was looking forward to her trip with Declan. At least she would have an opportunity to get out of the house. She was experiencing cabin fever. Besides, she knew Declan was tired of being held captive behind the walls of their loft too.
Here to Stay
It gets cold in New Jersey, but Chicago was brutal. Already, Makeba was regretting her decision to come along the moment she stepped outside the terminal. She just wasn’t built for this type of weather. Shivering, she pulled the collar of her coat up over her neck. Witnessing her actions, Declan pulled her closer to him rubbing his hands up and down her arm.
“Why don’t you go wait inside. Sam should be here shortly.”
“No. I’m ok.”
A few minutes later, Sam pulled up in front of the terminal.
“See, what did I tell you?”
She smiled nervously as he pulled her along heading towards the car. Sam exited, greeting them when they approached.
“Welcome back,” he said as he hugged Makeba and kissed her gently on the cheek.
Smiling sheepishly she said, “Thank you.”
“Hey Sam. How are things going?”
“They’re fine Declan,” he replied as he shook his hand.
Declan opened the car door.
“After you honey.”
Makeba entered with him following suit. Sam got in the driver’s seat, buckled up and pulled off. Makeba remained silent while Sam filled Declan in on everything that was going on at the office since he'd been away. Pleased with how Sam took care of everything, he thanked him and told him he couldn’t have done things better himself. Sensing that Makeba was a little tense, he squeezed her hand assuring her that everything will be ok.
“Makeba,” he called while looking at her through the rearview mirror.
“Yes.”
“Granny can’t wait to see you. She is so excited and Shyanne asked that you call her the minute you get settled.”
Surprised by what she was hearing, she asked that he repeat what he said.
“Shyanne said call her and granny can’t wait to see you.”
A smile spread across her lips.
“I missed Granny Whitaker. I can’t wait to see her either.”
“Honey, why don’t we have a few people over tomorrow night. We can cater the food. Nothing big.”
“Sure.”
“Really?” Declan asked surprised.
“Yea, why not?”
“Good. Hey, Sam.”
“Yea.”
“We’re going to have a small gathering tomorrow night. You have to come and bring a date.”
Sam chuckled.
Right!”
“I’m serious.”
“Ok man. I’ll be there. Are you inviting mom?”
“It would be impolite if I didn’t.”
Hearing that his mom was being invited caused an uneasiness in her stomach. Their last encounter was not a good one. If she never saw his mother or Deena again it wouldn’t be long enough, but despite her personal feelings, she was willing to bury the hatchet and try again with his mom for his sake.
~*~
Dressed in a black cocktail dress and four inch black pumps, Makeba looked over the table setting once more. She was happy that she had never forgotten how to properly set a table for a formal gathering, one of the many things her mom had taught her. She giggled the moment she felt strong arms around her from behind.
“Everything looks great honey. You did an amazing job.”
“Thanks. I just hope everything goes well.”
He turned her around bringing her face to face with him.
“And why wouldn’t it?”
“Nothing,” she replied as she attempted to walk away.
He pulled her back.
“Everything will be fine. You’ll see. You’re worrying for nothing.”
“Maybe so.”
“I know so,” he said as he cradled her in his arms and kissed her on the lips.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Inhaling deeply she said, “Showtime.”
After giving her a peck on the lips and a tap on the butt he hurried off to welcome the arrival of their first guests. Makeba breathed heavily the moment she heard her voice. Why couldn’t she have declined the invitation? she thought as she braced herself for the soon to be mother in-law from hell. Forcing a smile, she welcomed Mrs. Whitaker as she entered the living room. She scrutinized Makeba, looking her up and down, turning up her nose as if there was a stench in the air. Appalled by her reaction Makeba placed her hands on her hips and glared at her.
“Ms. Whitaker, is there something wrong?”
“Absolutely not dear. Why do you ask?
Looking past Ms. Whitaker she could see Declan standing with his palms together in a prayer position.
“Please,’ he mouthed.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re ok, that’s all.”
“I’m fine. How about you?’
“Marvelous!”
“Good to hear,” she replied as she walked further inside. “My, where did you get that dress? It’s depressing. We’re having dinner not attending a funeral.’
“Mother, enough! That type of behavior will not be tolerated.”
“My apologies son,” she replied as she took a seat on the sofa.
He approached Makeba.
“I’m sorry honey.”
“Don’t be. You’re not responsible for what your mother says or does.”
He grabbed her, pulling her close.
“I’m going in the kitchen to check on some things.”
“Good, I’ll be fine here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes babe. Go! I will be fine.”
Declan kissed her on the cheek and left.
Makeba walked over to the ipod docking system and put on some soft jazz. From the corner of her eye, she noticed movements near the table. She turned around completely. Ms. Whitaker was making adjustments to her table settings. Aware that this was a ploy to get under her skin, she pretended not to be bothered by it and thanked her for the minor adjustments.
The doorbell rang again, which made Makeba very happy. She didn’t care who it was on the other side of that door, she was just happy that there would be someone other than Shelly Whitaker to converse with.
“Excuse me,” she said as she walked away.
Once she arrived at the door, she looked through the peephole. Sam, granny Whitaker and a few other people she had never met before were on the front porch waiting to get in. Makeba opened the door, stepping to the side allowing her guests room to enter. Granny was wheeled in first. Makeba bent down and kissed her on the cheek as she was being pushed by Sam. She extended the same greeting to him and the others. Before she could close the door, he told her Shyanne was right behind them. She nodded, leaving the door slightly ajar then followed them to the living room where she was introduced to Jessica, Sam’s date and a few cousins.
Declan joined the group gathering everyone’s coat as Shyanne entered.
“Hey everyone, sorry I’m late,” she said handing Makeba a bottle of wine.
“You’re right on time Shyanne,” smiled Makeba as she embraced her. “Let me go and put this in the cooler.”
“Dinner is served everyone,” announced Declan as he took Shyanne’s coat.
Everyone took their seats and joined hands as Granny blessed the food. Immediately afterwards, chatter started all around the table while platters of different foods were passed around. Once everyone’s plate was loaded they began to indulge in the delicious meal before them. For a while everything seemed to be going well,
too well it seemed.
“Is it true that you people eat a lot of watermelon and fried chicken?”
All conversations ceased abruptly as forks hitting dishes made a clinking sound. Heads were lowered all around the table in disbelief. Makeba was simply speechless.
“Mother, that was uncalled for. I think you owe my fiancée' an apology.”
Granny stared at her in disgust. Shyanne looked on in anger shaking her head. Jessica’s mouth flew open so wide you could stick a golf ball inside, and Sam removed himself from the table. He was more embarrassed than angry.
“Why should I apologize? It was just a question.”
Raising her head, Makeba glared at her.
“Shelly, what is your damn problem?”
“Honey, don’t.”
She held up her hand. Declan got the message.
“You will address me as Ms. Whitaker,” she snapped.
“You have not earned that level of respect from me. Now what is your problem? C’mon, lets lay it all out on the table.”
“Makeba don’t-“
“No Shyanne, let her answer.”
“You know what my problem is, you people are always looking for a handout. You don’t want to work for anything. Personally, I don’t think you’re good enough for my son. He needs someone who will be an asset not a liability.”
“Liability?”
“Yes. You’re a bartender for heaven’s sake.”
Makeba was furious. She banged her hand on the table as she stood up.
“How dare-“
“I can recall when I felt that way about you Shelly. I knew you were nothing more than a gold digging trailer park tramp when my son met you.”
“Granny, I got this.”
“No child, I’ve been waiting far too long for this very moment.”
“Granny.”
“Sit down Declan.”
“I’m leaving.”
“No one is leaving unless I tell them to,” said granny.
Declan lowered his head and returned to his seat.
“You were no more well off financially than Makeba when my son brought you home. You knew nothing about Gucci, Louis Vuitton or anything else you women waste your money on nowadays. The most expensive thing you ever bought before him was whatever was on the sales rack from Macy’s. You came with nothing but your tips from the neighborhood strip bar. How dare you behave like your above anyone. I didn’t like you one bit. I didn’t have to but I tolerated you because of my son and I respected you because you are the mother of my grandchildren. I think it’s only right you extend the same courtesy to Makeba. She is who Declan has chosen. You don’t have to like it but it’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Now, if you don’t have anything worthwhile to add to the conversations around this table, keep your mouth shut, or excuse yourself and leave.”
Until My Heart Stops Beating Page 20