Her Cajun Valentine

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Her Cajun Valentine Page 3

by Michaels, Vee


  “So, you’ll be here in two hours?”

  Nabirye wished she felt assertive enough to tell her aunt no, but she didn’t. “Two or so, maybe three.”

  “Maybe three.”

  There was pause then her aunt shouted, “Hey! Wash the dog’s feet after you’ve let him run in the yard!” Listen, Nabirye. I’ve got to go. I expect you here in two hours. You know the family depends on you.”

  “I know.”

  Her mouth had tasted like an animal had died in it, and she wondered why anyone drank. After hanging up, Nabirye brushed her teeth. Vaguely, she recalled that T Deaux had brought her home the night before. At least she’d awoken fully clothed, alone, and in her apartment.

  With her head pounding, Nabirye undressed then slipped into the tank top and boxer shorts she wore for pajamas and climbed into bed. For the third time that morning she was awoken by noise. This time, someone was pounding on her door. Stumbling out of bed, she went to the door and looked through the peephole. Upon seeing T Deaux, memories flooded back. Recalling how she’d pleaded with him to stay made her stomach churn. Nabirye wished she could sink into the floor and disappear.

  T Deaux knocked again. “Nabirye!”

  It wasn’t in her to ignore someone who’d made the effort to help her. “One moment!” she called. Rushing to her bedroom, she slipped on a pair of jeans and an orange T-shirt. Crippled with shame, Nabirye opened the door. “Hello.” She averted her gaze.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Horribly, sickeningly embarrassed, like someone did a tap dance in my mouth, and an angry rat is in my stomach. “Fine and you?”

  “Good. I brought you these.” He offered her a box of crackers and a bottle of Seven-up.

  Nabirye put her hand on her roiling stomach. “I swear to you, I have never behaved like that in my entire life. I don’t go to bars, much less go there alone ... I don’t know what I was thinking.” She’d been curious and intrigued by T Deaux. Choosing to go to the bar had been a mental war. But that was nothing compared to her mortification over pleading with him to stay even though she was attracted to him.

  Dismayed, she shook her head making the dull pain throb. She felt nauseous.

  “It’s okay Nabirye. I was flattered.”

  Nabirye lumbered to the couch and lowered herself. “Yeah, but getting so drunk.”

  T Deaux followed her in sitting in the chair across from her. “As I recall, you asked for virgin drinks. I think Olivia sabotaged you by putting liquor in them.”

  “And then I threw myself at you.” Nabirye hung her head with self-disgust. How could T Deaux feel anything but disdain for her?

  “I didn’t mind, but I did have a hard time sleeping last night.” The mirth in T Deaux’s tone was undeniable.

  “I was stupid, stupid, stupid. I can’t believe I came onto you like that.” Nabirye’s cheeks burned and she couldn’t meet T Deaux’s gaze. She’d been taught how women ought to behave. “I have never done that. I am never drinking, ever again. That was a huge mistake, and I’m sorry.” She stared at the floor wishing she could dissolve into a puddle on the carpet.

  “It wasn’t your fault. Give yourself a break.” T Deaux’s voice fell flat.

  “I ruined your Valentine’s Day.” Nabirye glanced at him. Her mixed emotions confused her, and she hated to appear weak. “I can figure out a way to get my car. You don’t have to drive me.”

  T Deaux scowled. “I dragged my butt over here. We’re going to go get your car.”

  He was right. It would be rude not to. Feeling miserable, Nabirye nodded.

  Once inside T Deaux’s car, the lust Nabirye had experienced the night before gurgled to the surface. T Deaux’s scent intoxicated her, and she imagined their contrasting skin as they writhed in each other’s arms.

  Nabirye blew out a breath and tried to stave off the unbidden thoughts. Where were her thoughts coming from? She wasn’t drunk, rather she felt horrible.

  Sitting rigidly, she stared straight ahead and conjured Armondo’s perfect features. Armondo’s smile paled in comparison to T Deaux’s shock of blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and his passion. She’d gone nuts.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated when they got to her car.

  T Deaux exhaled heavily. “For what?”

  “Everything.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” He paused. “But I won’t bother you anymore.”

  Nabirye’s jumbled feelings rendered her mute. She didn’t wish to leave; yet she couldn’t just sit in his car. She wanted to spend the day with him, yet she worried he was disgusted with her. Confused, she opened her door and got out. “Thank you for the ride.”

  T Deaux nodded. “I’ll wait until I know your car’s running.”

  He was a gentleman. He’d be great to be in a relationship with—if only he were black. Nabirye started her car then gave T Deaux thumbs up. While she wanted to go home and lie down, she’d committed to going to her aunt’s house. Unwilling to incur her aunt’s wrath, Nabirye, with her head pounding and her stomach roiling drove straight there.

  ***

  T Deaux’s disappointment weighed him down. Nabirye’s mixed messages were confusing. He still believed she was a resourceful, vibrant, proud, capable, caring woman. But her intense shame for coming onto him had him baffled.

  One thing was certain: he wouldn’t shower her with more gifts. If Nabirye were interested, she’d have to make the next move.

  ***

  It was a Friday morning, and Nabirye peaked over the wall into her cubicle. The corner of her desk was clear. She ought to be happy that T Deaux had moved on. Trying to convince herself she wasn’t upset, she faked a smile.

  Three weeks had passed since the debacle with T Deaux and Nabirye had done a lot of thinking. For one, she’d analyzed her views toward interracial couples and realized they were based on her aunt and uncle’s opinions. Opinions she’d never wanted to contradict, for fear they’d kick her out of their home. That awareness brought up another issue: their ongoing treatment of her.

  Deciding that she didn’t need their approval any longer, Nabirye had refused to work for them on Saturdays. Her aunt had reacted angrily and had turned the trench between them into a sea and Nabirye hadn’t seen them since. To her surprise she felt as if a weight had been lifted.

  Settling at her desk, Nabirye opened her email. T Deaux had sent an all-office email about reimbursement procedures. Because it was from him, Nabirye read it twice.

  “So.” Anita stepped into her office making her start. Nabirye, feeling as though she’d been caught doing something wrong, quickly clicked out of the email. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or what?” Anita asked.

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “Seriously?” Anita cocked an eyebrow at her. “I know you’re reserved and private and I respect that, but I’m tired of seeing you mope around the office.” Anita plopped into the chair across from her. “Now spill it.”

  Nabirye yearned to tell her, but worried about being a burden. “Everything is fine.”

  “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. I can tell you’re lying.”

  Nabirye swallowed. “Stop sugarcoating your feelings. Say what you mean. Sheez.”

  Ignoring her sarcasm, Anita said, “And I’d appreciate your doing the same.”

  Nabirye inhaled deeply. “Fine.” Letting go, she told Anita what happened. When she was finished, Anita began laughing. “It’s not funny,” Nabirye chided.

  “What’s funny is your reaction. I know you had a rough childhood and that you’ve worked really hard to become independent, but jeez girl, cut yourself some slack. Nobody could live up to the expectations you’ve set for yourself. Nobody’s perfect.”

  Is that what she was trying to be? “I know that.”

  “If you ask me, I think Robert is a catch. Seriously, what a gentleman he was. Plus, he’s artsy and a romantic. They don’t make many like that. You could do a lot worse.”

  “What abo
ut my family? They’ll disapprove of my dating outside my culture.” Her aunt was livid with her already, and Nabirye didn’t want to make things worse.

  “Nabirye, we live in America. Being outside our culture is our culture. If they’re so small-minded, that’s their problem. You can’t please everyone.”

  She agreed, but she needed to hear Anita say it. “You’re right.”

  “So, what are you going to do to fix it?”

  “Fix it? I don’t think I can.”

  Anita blew out a breath. “Are you the same girl who survived in an orphanage only to come to America, and not speaking the language, somehow put herself through college while working full time?”

  Although Swahili was her native tongue, Nabirye felt compelled to argue. “I spoke some English, and I’m not through college yet.”

  Standing, Anita plopped a fist on her hip. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a beautiful, sexy, brainy woman. If you can’t figure out a way to rekindle Robert’s interest, you’re not the girl I thought you were.”

  The words cut to Nabirye’s insecurities. Giving away much of her wages, she couldn’t afford flattering outfits or expensive haircuts. She supposed that fed her weak self-esteem.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Anita added. She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get to work; I have a conference call in a few minutes.”

  Nabirye relaxed her face, she needed to process what Anita had said. “Thanks for listening Anita.”

  “You have a whole lot to offer,” Anita added. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Once Anita was gone, Nabirye blew out a breath. She hated feeling inadequate and was curious where things might have gone with T Deaux. Nabirye opened her purse and retrieved the small satin box that T Deaux had given her on Valentine’s Day.

  In her ambiguity, she still hadn’t opened it. It seemed as if doing so crossed a line. A red ribbon tied in a bow protected the contents of the box. Tugging the bow’s ends, she pulled the ribbon apart. She opened the box and saw a folded note on top.

  Nabirye,

  Will you be my Valentine?

  Robert

  So T Deaux had revealed himself. Nabirye closed her eyes. Had she opened the gift on the day he’d given it, she’d have known her secret admirer was T Deaux before their date.

  Nabirye set the card aside. Inside the box was a pair of dime-sized, dark-cherry red, glass, teardrop-shaped, dangly earrings.

  Nabirye smiled. She preferred strong colors and simple shapes. With her cropped hair and dark skin, dangling earrings complemented her. She’d picked one up and was holding it to the light when Armondo stopped at her cubicle.

  Nabirye instinctively dropped the earring in the box then hid the box and the card in her desk drawer.

  Draping his arm across the top of her cubicle wall, he filled her doorway. With his almond-shaped eyes, full mouth, and confident pose, he looked every bit the GQ model. Nabirye’s heart leapt. “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so.” Never taking his gaze off her, Armondo stepped closer. Placing his palms on her desk, he leaned toward her. “Say you’ll go to dinner with me.”

  “Wh—what?” Nabirye stammered. She’d wished for this day, but had never imagined it would happen.

  “How about this Saturday night? I’ll pick you up around seven.”

  Nabirye blinked a few times as she sorted through her confusing emotions. A month earlier she’d have jumped at the proposition, and she didn’t understand her own reluctance. “Can I get back to you?”

  Armondo turned a single palm up. “Is Saturday bad? Perhaps Friday you’re free.”

  Saying yes would be easier than dealing with her feelings for T Deaux, but that was a coward’s way out. “No. I just ... I need to think about it.”

  One side of his mouth drew tight. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  His arrogance bothered her. “I won’t.”

  After he left, Nabirye returned the earrings to her purse and tried to work. Her efforts were muddled. Armondo had asked her out. Her! When lunch rolled around, Nabirye went for a walk to sort through her thoughts.

  Wandering among the throngs at Pike Place Market, she listened to a street performer playing the violin. She recalled T Deaux’s tattoo and envisioned him on the stage singing to her. Anita had been right; T Deaux was a hopeless romantic. Nabirye realized the reason she’d lost interest in Armondo was because she’d fallen, at least partially, for T Deaux.

  An interracial couple stopped next to her. It was a sight she would have normally judged as wrong. Nabirye studied them a moment, and decided it was time she let go of her prejudices.

  ****

  After the dismaying date with Nabirye, T Deaux kept his distance.

  When the first gift from his secret admirer appeared on his desk, T Deaux imagined he was the butt of a cruel joke. But the latest gift, a hand-painted glass with a rendition of the Cajun Peekons’ logo, would have taken too much effort to be a joke. Taking Nabirye’s lead, T Deaux placed a note on his desk for his secret admirer requesting they meet at the Casa Del Pueblo.

  The note disappeared the following day replaced with a miniature sombrero keychain and a card with a single word: Yes.

  Throughout the day, T Deaux’s emotions ranged from cynicism to guarded enthusiasm. He hoped the notes were from Nabirye, but wasn’t sure. Even if Nabirye was his secret admirer, she’d made it clear his skin color was a problem. Perhaps, he warned himself, she wanted to clear the air between them.

  That evening, with frayed nerves, he entered the restaurant. “Are you T Deaux?” the hostess asked.

  T Deaux’s apprehension grew. “Yes.”

  “This is for you.” She held out a card in a red envelope. “I’m supposed to wait for you to read it.”

  T Deaux’s mouth went dry. Had Nabirye changed her mind? T Deaux’s posture went rigid as he opened the envelope. He hoped it wasn’t another diatribe on how embarrassed she’d been to want to be with him. Pulling a plain white card from the envelope, he angled away from the hostess to read it privately.

  Dear T Deaux,

  Will you be my Cajun Valentine?

  If yes, follow the hostess to where I await you. If no, thank you for giving me a little Cajun joie de vivre. You’ve taught me to take chances, and I thank you.

  Yours,

  Nabirye

  His grin stretched across T Deaux’s face, and he pivoted toward the hostess.

  “And you’re staying?”

  Nodding, T Deaux couldn’t stop beaming.

  “Bien. Follow me.”

  The hostess led him through the restaurant to a private dining room and opened the door. Inside Nabirye was seated at a table for two.

  With his heart racing, T Deaux crossed the threshold as Nabirye stood. She wore a red, sleeveless dress that contrasted with her ebony skin. Her huge cocoa eyes complemented her heart-shaped face, but what had stopped him in his tracks was her smile. It was so genuine and gigantic it could make his grandfather weep. T Deaux couldn’t speak.

  “Thank you for coming.” Nabirye glided toward him. The sexy, but conservative dress flowed to her knees, revealing muscular calves.

  “Nabirye. You ... you.”

  Nabirye spun in a circle. “From Nordstrom. Do you like it?”

  T Deaux whistled low. “Oh, yes.”

  “Did I ever thank you for the gift card?”

  “Seeing you in that dress is thanks enough. You’re stunning. You look like a valentine.”

  “I bought the dress to match the earrings. Thank you for both.” She tilted an ear toward him so he could admire his gift. The glass teardrops caught the candlelight and sparkled. “Would you like to join me?”

  “You sure about this? I thought—”

  “Sh.” Nabirye stepped closer and placed a finger on his lips. “Sit down first?” After they sat, Nabirye said, “I’ve done a lot of thinking. First, I was hasty to say no; then I was hasty to say yes.” She pressed her hand over her mouth and cheek as
if trying to hide her embarrassment. Taking a deep breath she laid her hand in her lap. “I was so embarrassed afterward, I shut down.”

  “You’re not shut down now.”

  “No.” She smiled again, and T Deaux’s spirits soared. “I really enjoyed most of our evening and thought maybe we could try again?”

  “But ... I’m still white.”

  Nabirye laughed. “Nothing a little dye can’t fix.”

  “So that’s the plan?”

  “The plan is to take it one step at a time and see where it goes.” She scooted closer and T Deaux extended his hand and cupped her cheek. When she met his gaze, he edged closer.

  She smelled of honey and roses. T Deaux slid his hand to the nape of her neck then leaned in pressed his lips to hers. Their kiss started off sweet, but quickly morphed into more. Nabirye broke it off to study his face. The quiet intensity he’d admired shone in her eyes.

  There was a clunk from behind, and T Deaux startled.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” the waitress apologized.

  “It’s okay,” Nabirye called. “Come on in.”

  The waitress, carrying a full tray of food, rotated toward them.

  “You already ordered?” T Deaux asked in surprise.

  Nabirye winked. “I had something special in mind.” The waitress set bowls in front of them both and left. Green onions floated atop murky liquid.

  “What is it?” T Deaux asked.

  “Crab Gumbo. I thought I’d bring Louisiana to you,” Nabirye beamed.

  T Deaux was taken aback. “Really? Did they make this here?” At a Mexican restaurant?

  Nabirye nodded. “Plus I figured I’d get to taste Cajun food. I’ve never had it.”

  “Thank you.” T Deaux slid a spoonful of the concoction into his mouth then gagged. Grabbing his napkin he discretely spit the bite out then took several drinks of water trying to get rid of the rancid taste.

  Nabirye looked crestfallen. “Is it really that bad?”

  “I think the crab went bad, it’s very fickle stuff.”

 

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