The Vow

by Denene Millner

  “I just can’t believe Garrett is seeing someone else,” I say.

  “Are you serious?” asks Amaya. “No disrespect, but you haven’t actually been faithful. I mean, are you and Garrett even in a monogamous relationship?”

  “That’s true,” says Viv. “I’m not saying you don’t have a right to be upset, but you did sleep with Damon while you were seeing Garrett—admittedly, I guess, that was the early stages of the relationship.”

  “So are you saying I don’t have a right to be upset?” I ask indignantly.

  “I’m not saying that at all,” says Amaya. “I just don’t understand why you’re getting all worked up over Garrett’s stuck-up behind if you’re doing your own thing, too. And besides, you look too good to be crying over his behind. You got to get yours, girl.”

  “I feel that Trista should look at some of the things she’s done but I also think she should dump Garrett,” says Viv. “You don’t know who that g-string belongs to or how long it’s been there.”

  “Does it matter how long it’s been there?” I ask as I stab at my eggs, wishing they were Garrett’s eyes.

  “Not in this day and age,” says Viv vehemently.

  “I hear you, but we’re perfect together,” I whimper. I hate myself for sounding so whiny, but it’s true. Garrett and I are made for each other. Was finding some underwear that he said was from long ago a reason to throw it all away? Besides, we’re together practically every night, and when we’re not, he’s with his boys or at work. When would he have time to hook up with someone else?

  “Well, he did say it was from a while ago. And he was introducing me last night as his girlfriend. We never did have a formal conversation about where this relationship was going and I guess I always knew he could technically be sleeping with other women—but I just didn’t want to think that he actually was.”

  “Does he get a pass for this?” asks Viv, cutting to the chase.

  “I’m not saying he gets a pass…” Amaya starts to say, but stops when the doorbell rings.

  “Who could that be?” I mutter, walking to the front door. Looking through the peephole, I see Garrett. I can’t believe he has the nerve to come here. I run back into the kitchen and tell Amaya and Viv that he’s here.

  “So what are you going to do?” asks Amaya as the doorbell rings again.

  “I don’t know. What should I do?”

  “Look, girl, at least talk to him and see what he has to say,” says Amaya, clearing the dishes from the table and setting them in the sink. “Just keep in mind what you’ve done and haven’t told him about.” Amaya and Viv hug me, give Garrett the evil eye as they pass him, then let him in the house on their way out the door.

  I BOIL SOME water for a pot of tea, mostly to keep myself from having to face Garrett immediately. I grab a wicker tray and place the teapot and two cups on it to bring it out onto the deck, where he’s waiting. Garrett stands up and takes the tray from me and sets it on the glass table.

  Dressed in a pair of faded jeans, white T-shirt, and brown leather driving moccasins, Garret absentmindedly massages the back of his neck.

  When he doesn’t say anything for a few minutes I jump up full of nervous energy and begin watering the flower boxes hanging along the railing. As I walk past Garrett he reaches out and pulls me back toward him. With his face buried in my back, he holds me tightly as I try to twist away.

  “Trista, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice slightly muffled by my T-shirt.

  “For what? You don’t owe me anything.” As soon as I say the words I feel like I’ve said them before. It reminds me of my conversation with Damon.

  Suddenly I feel tired. I stare out at the surf as it washes up against the shore. I’m so sick and tired of the games. Black men can have any woman they want. They’ve got women throwing themselves at them all the time, willing to do whatever they want, whenever they want. But I don’t want to compete.

  “I’m so sick of this shit,” I say, dropping the half-empty watering can. Some of the water splashes onto my bare feet and Garrett’s shoes.

  “I know, I know,” he says.

  “No, Garrett. I don’t think you do know.” I decide to be totally honest for once. I pull away from him and turn to face him. “I’m through with this bullshit, Garrett. The bullshit of dating black men. Of dating people who clearly don’t have my best interests at heart. Of dating people for whom all of this is just a game, just another conquest.” I think I may be scaring him, but I don’t care and just keep going.

  “I’m sick of playing games with you guys, acting like I don’t care. I don’t want to play games anymore. I don’t want to worry about who my man is sleeping with. I want to be in love and want somebody to love me back. To share this, the best time of my life, with this person. For real. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now and I realize we haven’t discussed a commitment or anything, but would it be reasonable to expect that you weren’t fucking anybody else?”

  “Trista, that happened a long time ago, and I swear it’s not going on anymore,” he says pulling me onto his lap.

  “Garrett, I don’t know if you are or aren’t seeing her anymore, but I can’t do this.” Again I try to pull away from him, but he still won’t let me go.

  “You’re exactly right. I’m tired of playing games. When we’re together I just don’t want to be anywhere else. We’re made for each other, Trista.” He strokes the side of my cheek and kisses me softly on the lips. I want to believe him. I want this to be it. For him to be the one. But how can I be sure?

  “Trista, I’m not going to lie to you and say that I’ve been perfect, because I haven’t. But what I can say is, I want to be honest about my feelings today and going forward.” He takes my face in his hands and stares into my eyes. “Trista, I think I’m falling in love with you. I’ve never felt this way before.” As I look at him I want to believe in what he’s saying. Could he be the one? He is the first person I’ve ever been with who seems to get me. He’s the first person to encourage and support my ambition and not be threatened by it.

  “I want to believe you, Garrett, I really do,” I murmur softly.

  “Then believe me, Trista,” he says, kissing me on the cheek and neck. “Believe in us.” He slips his hands under my T-shirt and caresses my back.

  “How do I know you won’t hurt me?” He never answers my question, just picks me up and carries me back into the house and up to my bedroom.

  ON SUNDAY I attend the early service at church and then go to see my father. “Daddy,” I call out as I let myself into the house with my key. I walk into the small living room, hoping to see him sitting in his favorite recliner, but when I hear the sound of a television coming from the back of the house, I head to his bedroom. Knocking softly on the door before I walk in, I see my father propped up in bed watching Wheel of Fortune.

  “Hi, Daddy,” I say, walking into the room and sitting down on the side of the bed. I look around the small room. The cherry furniture still looks brand new, as Tanisha dusts it nearly every day to keep the dust from bothering Daddy. The walls are decorated with family photos. The only thing that looks out of place is the portable oxygen tank standing by the bed. He lifts his oxygen mask when he sees me so he can give me a kiss on the cheek. He’s thinner than the last time I saw him.

  “Hey, pumpkin,” he says and smiles. I dump out the contents of the shopping bag I’m carrying on the bed and his eyes seem to light up a bit. There’s a DVD player and a collection of John Wayne movies, plus a few kung-fu movies for my nephew.

  “Thank you, baby,” he says as he squints at the box but can’t seem to make out the words. I place his glasses on his face so he can see.

  “No problem, Daddy. Tyquan can probably hook up the DVD player to your TV for you. Where’s Te?” I hope she’s gone to the store or something so that we won’t have to see each other today and argue over Daddy’s medical care.

  “She’s out in the back messing with the tomatoes.”

&
nbsp; “What about Ty?”

  “He spent the night at a friend’s house.” He pulls himself up slowly in the bed.

  “Daddy, did you eat today?” I ask. I see a plate with a sandwich and a bowl of soup resting on a tray table, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched it.

  “Oh, I ate a little earlier, but you know I got to watch my figure for the ladies.” He chuckles at his own joke and pats my hand reassuringly. I know it’s useless to try to make him eat. I start to fold the clothes sitting in the laundry basket on the floor.

  “Did you bring the statue with you?” Daddy asks.

  “No, Dad,” I say. I explain that even though I don’t get the actual statue, I do get the recognition at work.

  “That’s great news, pumpkin. Your mother would be so proud of you.” As I glance at the picture of my mother from their wedding day on his dresser, I bristle. Actually, I don’t think Mama would be proud at all. In fact, she probably would have been too drunk to acknowledge my accomplishment. It’s not worth arguing over.

  “How are you feeling these days?” I ask, to change the subject.

  “Oh, you know. Good days and bad.” This is a change, as usually my father says he’s doing fine and never lets on if he’s feeling poorly. We talk for a little while longer, and when I finish folding his clothes I turn around to find that he’s fallen asleep. Tucking the blanket up under his arms, I adjust the oxygen mask on his face, then kiss him on his forehead. I turn off the television and then pick up the tray and head to the kitchen. I see my sister, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, is at the sink, rinsing off some tomatoes. Tanisha turns around at the sound of my footsteps.

  “Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” she says.

  “I was in with Daddy.” I set the tray on the table and take a few bites of the sandwich. “He didn’t want his lunch.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much how it goes these days. I try to get him to drink fluids to stay hydrated, but now even that’s becoming a challenge.” She glances at the clock over the stove.

  “Is it time for Daddy’s medicine?” I ask, reaching for the plastic basket in the middle of the table overflowing with prescription bottles.

  “Yep,” she says as she pours a handful of colored pills into her hand. When she returns from Daddy’s room she sits back down at the table.

  “So, I see you got Daddy another new toy,” she says. I can’t tell if she’s baiting me or she’s just making an observation.

  “I also brought you a little something.” I gesture to an overflowing shopping bag stuffed with beauty products, cashmere pajamas, a Swiss Army watch, pearl earrings, and other goodies from the gift baskets TA had sent out to all our nominated clients.

  “Thanks,” she says, not even glancing at the bag. “Daddy should like that DVD player. Tyquan can hook it up when he gets home from Isaac’s house this afternoon.”

  As she puts the pill holder back in the basket, I notice the envelope that I sent with the check for the tests is underneath. I pull it out and see that it’s unopened.

  “You didn’t even open this?” I ask, holding up the letter.

  “I told you that we’d get the money,” she says gruffly.

  “Tanisha, you know Aunt Brenda doesn’t have the money. Now, why don’t you take this money and get the tests that the doctor claims Daddy needs?”

  “I worked out a payment plan with the clinic so we didn’t have to come up with the money all at once. They ran the tests last week.” I am seething at the thought that she didn’t even call to tell me all of this, let alone inform me of the results of the tests.

  “Well, what were the results?”

  “We don’t have them back yet,” she snaps.

  “Gee, what a surprise,” I mumble under my breath.

  “If you’ve got something to say, Trista, just say it.”

  “I don’t have anything to say about the tests since I don’t even know what the tests were or what they were for.”

  “As soon as we get the results I’ll be sure to fax them over to your office.”

  “Tanisha, please don’t try to act like I’m too busy to be concerned with my own father’s health.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. You just pop over whenever you can with your expensive little toys and that’s supposed to mean you care.”

  “I do care!” I say through clenched teeth. I had hoped we could talk rationally about Daddy’s treatment but I should have known better. What did she think I was trying to prove? As if getting the best medical care for him was somehow going to be a bad thing. I decide to try another tactic.

  “Look, Tanisha, I’m not trying to say I’m here as much as you are. You’re right, you do most of the work when it comes to caring for Daddy, but I help the best way I can.”

  “Here we go again,” she says, rolling her eyes and gesturing around the small kitchen. “Yes, Trista, we know you bought this damn house and practically everything in it, to say nothing of your little monthly checks.”

  “Yes, Tanisha, I do pay the bills, but I never throw that in your face. You’re the one that’s always bringing it up.”

  “You don’t have to bring it up because it comes up every time I call you and you ask if I got your check, or when every time you come over here and you bring some expensive new thing or gadget for Daddy or Ty and brag about your job.”

  “Jesus, Tanisha,” I exclaimed, “this isn’t even about you. This is about Daddy. Can you focus on that for once?”

  “For once? Are you serious? Who do you think I’m focused on every damn day of my life? Don’t you dare tell me to focus!” She stands up, knocking over her chair.

  I attempt to lower my voice to what I hope is a reasonable tone to penetrate her thick skull. “What would it hurt to have Dr. Irby at Cedars Sinai look at Daddy’s records?”

  “It’s not about me not wanting to take Daddy to Cedars Sinai,” she says putting her hand on her hip and shaking her head. “Daddy doesn’t want to see a new doctor. Trista, he’s old, and he’s scared.”

  I’m too worked up to really hear her and am determined to make my point.

  “But, Tanisha, we need to get him to see a specialist. Someone that really knows what they are doing.” I pick the envelope up off of the floor, tear it open, and remove the check. “Please think about the specialist. And in the meantime take this check to pay for the tests. I don’t want you guys worrying about the bill.”

  When I hold out the check to her she walks over to me and snatches it out of my hand and rips it in half and lets the pieces fall to the floor.

  “I told you we don’t need your money.” She turns around and walks out of the kitchen. I don’t even know why I bother. I’m too old to be fighting with my sister like we’re still little kids. I’m sick of her acting like I’m the uncaring daughter and she’s the sainted angel there to take care of Daddy’s every need. Doesn’t she know I want to be here more, but I do what I can to make sure he’s comfortable and well cared for? Why isn’t that good enough for her?

  My cell rings when I get in the car. When I answer I hear Viv on the line.

  “Hey, Viv, what’s up?” I ask, happy to have a distraction from my sister’s drama.

  “Hi, I’m just calling to check in to see how you’re doing,” she says. “What happened with you and Garrett the other day?” I give her an abbreviated replay and tell her we’re still together. There’s silence on the line. “What? You think I did the wrong thing?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that… are you sure you can trust him?”

  “About as much as you can trust Sean!” I snap back at her. Who is she to judge what I’m doing when she can’t even stand up for herself with the father of her child?

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I can hear the hurt in her voice.

  “Nothing, forget what I said. I’m sorry. I just had another fight with my sister, so I’m just lashing out.”

  “It’s okay,” she says. “I was also just calling because I ran into Damon
last night.”

  “Damon? Why would I care that you ran into Damon? You could run over Damon for all I care.” Dammit, if he told her what happened at the party, he was going to wish he’d never moved to California. “That man is officially out of my life. Uh, did you forget about girlfriend showing up at Elise’s wedding?”

  “No, but you know that boy still loves your evil ass,” says Viv. “Although, I have to admit, I don’t know why. I could see it in his eyes that night, and now he’s living in L.A., too. Shit, girl…”

  “Whatever, ain’t nobody trying to hear that nonsense,” I say with what I hope is a tone full of finality.

  “Look, I ran into Damon last night when I was covering a party at CroBar, and he told me the whole story about what happened in Atlanta. And seriously, you know I’ve got NASA-certified radar for bullshit. I believe him when he says he was broken up with that girl.”

  “Look, what happened in Atlanta was a mistake,” I snap. “I’m happy with Garrett.” What was Damon doing at CroBar, anyway, I wondered to myself. He hadn’t been in town all that long and already hanging out at the hottest club in town. With all those hoochies up in there, I’m sure he didn’t go home alone. When Viv tries to protest again, I cut her off quickly before hanging up the phone.

  “Look, Viv, I don’t want to be with Damon. It’s over. Let sleeping dogs lie.”

  11

  AMAYA

  Today is the day. According to the tip that I got from my girl Candy, whose cousin, Sharonda, is temping in the Soular Son office, the execs are making offers this morning, and word is, the actress selected for the role is a relative unknown (hello, me all day long). The muscles in my stomach tighten involuntarily. I gotta get up. I’m way too nervous to try to go back to sleep. I slip out of my bed, grab a robe, and head downstairs to my living room, leaving my overnight guest soundly snoring in the bed.

  I grab the cordless off the base and curl up on the chaise. Ring, dammit, ring! Any other day, this freaking phone would be off the hook, but now that I actually want someone to call, it’s dead-ass quiet. Okay, I’m officially panicking. What if I don’t get the role? What if I’m just not good enough? I’ve been telling myself that if only I could just catch a break, I’d show them all. And now look, I finally got my big break and I probably don’t even have what it takes. How will I face everyone? I won’t be able to blame it on anything but a lack of talent. I can just see the looks of pity now. My friends say that they’re completely behind me, but I know that they’ve all had doubts about my ability to make it as a certified actress… especially Trista. Shoot, her ass wasn’t even willing to take me on as a client back in the day, before she started landing the real A-listers. Let’s not forget about Benita. Jesus! More importantly, how can I really expect Keith to leave Trixie for a wack-ass B-list actress? If I’m even that, truth be told, sometimes I’m not even sure. So on top of everything else, I’m also going to lose my man. As my throat starts to clench up, the receiver rings. I inhale deeply, promise to get right forreal, forreal if God hooks me up just this once, and answer the phone.