Cafe Mocha

by Brynette L. Turner

  The young children were then permitted to open their packages, followed by the family custom of serving dinner to the adults and babies first while the teenagers watched over the excited, playing children. Sherry had expected to hear a lot more conversation in the family’s native language, so she was pleasantly surprised that English was almost exclusively spoken by everyone other than the when addressing the grandparents and parents. Those conversations flitted back and forth, but everyone else seemed to prefer English.

  While Sherry received a variety of questions sprinkled throughout the meal, all were simply genuine curiosities about her career, education, interests. Frivolity surrounded her and she could see where Omar got his upbeat attitude.

  Before she knew it, the adults were returning to the livingroom to open their gifts.

  There was a traditional order in which the packages were presented, the same order in which introductions had been made. Omarion’s grandparents were pleased with the airline tickets from him and Sherry and the cruise tickets purchased by Rosalee and her husband: ten days along the Alaskan coast. Wow! No wonder he’d asked her not to look shocked. Likewise, his mother fawned over their gift of an emerald and gold tennis bracelet and the accompanying emerald pendant ringed in diamonds. A watch and fly-fishing gear were for his father. And, yes, those also bore her name.

  But Sherry’s greatest surprise was receiving gifts: a monogrammed leather briefcase from the grandparents, a leaded crystal orchid-shaped bud vase from his parents, and gold hoop earrings from Rosalee. Omarion whispered to her that couples usually exchanged their presents in private; her gift to him was in the trunk of his car, as was his to her.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Idara asked later when she passed Sherry in a nearly deserted hallway coming from a lavatory.

  “Oh, yes, I am. Thank you.”

  “Good. We were concerned that you might not come after Tamara’s unfortunate comments.” She reached out and squeezed her son’s girlfriend’s hand. “Would you allow me a few minutes to talk privately?”

  “Of course.”

  Not knowing what else to do, she followed Omar’s mother to a small library down the hall. The petite, cinnamon-toned woman who looked so much like her son quietly closed the door before settling beside Sherry on a loveseat.

  “Let me say right off that Tamara listens to too much rambling from her lovely old great-grandmother. The old ways are wonderful, and we hold on to some respectful African cultural ways, but we are a modern family. We don’t pressure our children into archaic alliances—romantic or professional. Whatever Omar wants for his life, my husband and I fully support. We also supported who Rosalee chose for her husband, and he was from a different tribe than my husband. I am not even from the same tribe as my husband, Kamalu. A couple of the wives are from different African countries, even. And you notice that nearly everyone speaks English all the time. That’s because it would be too confusing for us to teach all of the children four or five languages. So we teach them the one to honor Elijah and Jamilah, as the family elders.”

  “Oh.”

  “You do understand, of course that certain traditions are followed for special events and holidays. But generally, there will be very little interference in your relationship, dear.” She chuckled. “We are very proud of Omarion. He’s a wonderful son, and we trust his judgment.”

  A knock at the door stopped Sherry from having to think of a response. Seconds later, Omar poked his head into the room.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Of course, son. Why wouldn’t it be?” His mother rose and kissed his cheek before exiting.

  Omar closed the door and crossed the room to occupy the space where his mother had been sitting.

  “Do you agree? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine.” Sherry sighed and scooted close so that she could rest her head on his shoulder and link their fingers. “I like your mother.”

  “That makes me happy. She seems to like you, as well.” He squeezed her hand. “I have other plans for the rest of the day, though. I’m dying to give you your present,” he laughed. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Sure, just let me say goodbye to everyone.”

  Hugs and well-wishes flowed freely and genuinely when Omarion announced that they were leaving. His mother and sister waved warmly from the front steps, making Sherry feel completely at ease about the hours she’d spent and a little foolish for having been so hesitant about attending the celebration.

  The ride to Omarion’s apartment was primarily a pleasant silence broken only by a few comments about the wonderful presents or the warmth of his family or the excitement of the children. In reality, Sherry was trying to digest the realization that Omarion’s family was very wealthy. Only after the lavish gifts had been exchanged did other signs register: expensive clothing, original-looking artwork, and all late-model luxury cars parked in front of a house that was unexpectedly larger than it appeared from the driveway.

  Once inside his home, Omar set the gifts on the coffee table, turned on the gas fireplace, and asked Sherry to sit beside him on the sofa.

  “Why didn’t you warn me about your family’s money?” she wanted to know as she slipped off her shoes and tucked a foot beneath her.

  “I couldn’t. You were already nervous enough about meeting everyone.” She watched his amused chocolate eyes sparkle in the flickering golden light. “Besides, like you, I mostly live off of my own resources.

  “Our family’s assets originally came from coffee production in north-central Africa, which is why I chose to open a coffee shop. My grandfather is simply my silent partner, as he is with the businesses of nearly all of his male grandchildren. He controls a variety of commercial transportation companies, now operated by my father and uncles. Actually, I didn’t want you to know this until you’d gotten to know me because their money is not my money, and it doesn’t define me.”

  There, everything was in the open. He assured her that was the only secret he’d kept from her.

  “So what happens now,” she asked.

  “Now we open our gifts.” He wiggled his eyebrows and his easy smile moved them clearly into a new focus. “Me first.” He pushed aside the items she’d already received from his family and opened a gift bag with his name on it: a box with a mohair scarf and fur-lined leather gloves. He kissed her, thanked her, and handed her two boxes.

  A cashmere sweater in the first. Golden topaz earrings in the second. They were exquisite, and kisses expressed her appreciation.

  “Keep doing that and I’ll be too distracted to give you the last box,” he whispered against her temple.

  “We agreed on two gifts; there shouldn’t be another box.” She bit his lip and laughed. “Besides, I’m a little preoccupied.”

  “Wow.” He leaned away from her and said, “Are you really too busy for me to propose and to see the ring I want you to wear?” It was his turn to laugh—and to tell her to breathe and to lightly caress away her astonishment. Then, he reached into his pants pocket and produced a small satin-lined box with a square-cut sapphire flanked by diamonds. “In case I forgot to say it, I love you, Sherry. Will you marry me?”

  What do you think has been happening between us? he’d asked. Until the previous day, she hadn’t been sure about him. As for the proposal, a huge smile now filled her face.

  “Yes,” came out with a sigh and a few tears. She watched as he lifted her hand and slid the ring onto the appropriate finger. Then he wiped away her tears and held her while dropping light kisses all over her face until she could only laugh.

  It was a perfect Christmas.

  But, the next day, Sherry was determined not to release tears of frustration as she sat in the beautiful livingroom of that enormous family home.

  Omar’s grandmother wanted an enormous wedding with extended family and business colleagues—the appropriate protocol for their social circle. Idara’s sweet words about traditions for special events echoed inside Sherry�
��s head. Omarion wasn’t disagreeing with the concept of including the entire world—just asking for their attendance to be limited to a reception; he and Sherry wanted a small ceremony. She listened to her fiancé respectfully argue for what they’d discussed the previous evening as if the couple had no voice in the matter of their own wedding. When she couldn’t tolerate it any longer, Sherry excused herself and walked out of the room. Omar caught up with her before she’d crossed the foyer.

  “I’m sorry; I can’t do this right now.” She fumed but managed not to shout. “I won’t watch you try to persuade them to care about what we say. This is my fault; I didn’t understand that there are social expectations on people who have money. They’re right. Let them do it their way, Omarion. We can rent a grand ballroom and invite two thousand people, and they’ll be happy.”

  “But you’ll be miserable.”

  “I’ll still be your wife,” she conceded with water-filled eyes. “They love you, Omar, and our wedding will be beautiful. Please, stop arguing and just let them plan it.” She opened the door and walked to the car. He spoke with his mother for quite a while before joining her.

  For Sherry, the week was overwhelming. After spending Tuesday afternoon being consoled by her fiancé and trying not to be discouraged about the wedding planning, the couple had shopped and prepared a very quiet meal at his apartment. The following day, she was restless and didn’t sleep well. And on Thursday the café reopened on its regular schedule for customers to stock up on coffee for New Year’s Day brunches. Between replacing Rosalee at the store, facing the immediate inevitability of another holiday with the family that would eventually be hers, and accepting the realities of having her wedding ideas ignored, Sherry was emotionally exhausted.

  Omarion watched her while she napped in the middle of the day and thought about a compromise. His mother had said the wedding couldn’t occur any sooner than nine months because large facilities were in high demand. But he had no intentions of waiting that long or of having an unhappy wife on their wedding day. He sent a series of emails via his blackberry to a couple of friends who could help and had a plan before Sherry awoke.

  “I’m closing the café during the last week of January,” he announced over a large chef salad. “Of course, that’s only if you’ll agree.”

  “Agree to what?” Sherry shoved a chunk of chicken into her mouth.

  “Getting married without the fanfare my mother wants.”

  “Oh.” She washed down the meat with a swallow of ice-water.

  “Actually, I checked on three options. In the U. S. Virgin Islands, there’s an eight-day waiting period after arrival. On Bimini Island, the waiting period is only three days, but I haven’t been out of the country in years. I’m not even sure my passport is still valid. Las Vegas doesn’t have a waiting period and obviously doesn’t require a passport.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “You and I already talked about the type of ceremony we want, so let’s have it. You can plan it and the family will come.”

  Sherry didn’t immediately respond. As she’d seen on Christmas day, Omarion’s family valued tradition and she didn’t want to offend them. What would happen to her role within their ranks if she started out by disregarding their input and expectations? What would happen to Omar’s relationships with them if he hurt his mother’s and grandmother’s feelings on such an important issue? How would the rest of the family respond, and how would that affect the way she’d be treated?

  “I know that marrying you means fitting into your family,” she explained. Her fingers twisted through his. “And, I want to fit, Omar. I want what I saw on Christmas day—children growing up feeling confident and supported, a family that talked and laughed and were kind to a stranger, and traditions that show respect for every generation. Going against your grandmother and mother would mean I don’t understand the value of the family they’ve built.”

  “We aren’t perfect, Sherry. Sometimes rigid tradition has been more dominant than compassion or flexibility. Tradition has kept those same children from exploring their own priorities, and now is one of those times. My grandmother and mother were raised in a different world where women didn’t always have the luxury of being independent. That’s not what I want for you or expect for you.”

  He watched as his fiancée stood and removed the empty plates from the table.

  “The answer is ‘no,’ Omar. I can’t be selfish.”

  “Okay, then think about what I want,” he argued. He followed her across the room and pulled her against him as soon as the dishes were safely on the counter. “Tradition says I can’t make love to you until we are officially married, and I value that as much as my family does.” His lips dropped kisses from the side of her temple to the edge of her collarbone, felt the thumping of her pulse. “I’m ready for you to be my wife, Sherry. Let me stand up for what we want so we won’t have to keep waiting.” He kissed her throat again, then her chin, then her mouth. “I want to get married—soon. My family will respect that if we make them.” He rested his forehead against hers.

  Sherry remained silent. Omarion knew she needed time to think; he kissed her very lightly before going home.

  Chapter Four

  That next morning, her car was parked in front of the café when he arrived at 5:20. He unlocked the front doors and escorted her inside.

  “This is where we met,” she reminded him as they stepped behind the counter. “We’ve been working side-by-side but we still have different careers; each of us is independent. We don’t always think alike nor have the same ways of solving problems. Around your family, I forgot that, and I apologize.” She placed his hands on her waist.

  “You’re right about us needing to set our own course from the beginning of our marriage—that tradition can be a roadblock as well as providing a wonderful sense of belonging. But I’m right about it being important to not hurt your mother: I’m not willing to exclude her.

  “So, if you agree, we can get married in the Virgin Islands in two months. That should be far enough away for your mother and me to finalize a guest list that’s reasonable.”

  Omarion’s chocolate eyes twinkled down at her. “Wow,” he teased. “You’re beautiful and amazing.” His forehead rested on hers as he asked, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “My mom died when I was 15. She never got the chance to help me plan a wedding, but your mom wants to do this with me, and I want her to do it. My grandparents are too old and frail—they barely know who I am anymore. And my aunt couldn’t care less about sentimental stuff like weddings when she barely wanted to raise me. But your family isn’t like mine. Your family will be my family, right? I’ll have parents again, and maybe you don’t know what that means to me because you’ve never been without yours. But, I want to go through all of the steps of planning a wedding with your mother and grandmother because they’re willing to do that for me when they don’t have to. It’s special, and I can’t take that for granted or disrespect them. I will finally have what I lost when my parents died in that car accident and it would mean the world to me to do it this way, Omar.”

  “Then, this is how it’ll be,” he agreed.

  At that moment, there was a tap on the front door. It wasn’t quite 6:00, but a customer wanted to know whether Café Mocha was open for business. As Omar allowed him inside, Sherry took a seat against the rear wall and unzipped the case to her laptop.

  Idara had listened carefully to all of Omar’s concerns when they were discussing the wedding planning. She’d discussed every detail Sherry wanted and coordinated tirelessly with the resort on St. Croix. The wedding would be a private family affair, as her son had suggested, despite the grandmother’s objections—because Idara anticipated what other people didn’t seem to understand. The absence of Sherry’s parents and grandparents, who were too ill to travel, came crashing down on her a few days before her wedding and the emotional pain had been heartbreaking.

  The family woul
d host a large reception in a couple of weeks, but the wedding needed to be intimate and nurturing. It needed to be a way to welcoming Sherry into the family, not a way for her to be lost in a crowd of strangers.

  Because she had also lost her mother, it was Idara’s sensitivity that had been able to prop Sherry up and help her to see the beauty of the day, understand that she was gaining so much support that the future would never be as bleak as her past, and that only happiness awaited her from that point forward. Only people who loved her would surround her on that day—her new family. It was Idara’s foresight and design for the event that had made everything so beautiful.

  “You are my daughter now,” she said as she helped Sherry prepare for her walk down the aisle. “I will always take care of you.” She kissed both cheeks and smiled, her eyes full of love and pride. “So beautiful.”

  “I can’t possibly thank you for everything,” Sherry whispered, fighting to not cry.

  “Oh, but you can, dear. Be happy—and try to give me another grandchild.” She laughed softly.

  “Mom!” Rosalee joined in the laughter. “You know Omar is going to get busy working on that right away, don’t you?”

  “Hush girl! You’re making her blush.”

  “You started it,” Rose mumbled with a lighthearted shrug.

  Sherry shook her head and fanned away the happy tears that threatened to ruin her makeup. Soon, she’d be walking down the aisle to pledge her life to the man who had given her these wonderful women. Could life get any better?

  Soon came very quickly.

  The wedding coordinator that worked at the resort entered the room moments later and started directing everyone on what to do. Less than fifteen minutes passed before Sherry was floating unescorted down a white runner on a beach path that was lit by torches. Vows were said under a moonlit canopy and with soft music in the background.