Making the First Move

by Reese Ryan

  He slowly cracks the door open and surveys the space for a moment before crossing the threshold. He looks around like he’s in a museum studying artifacts left behind by a mysterious ancient people. He runs his hand across the white writing table then across a photo album on the desk. “May I?”

  I nod and plop down on my old twin bed, evaluating whether there is anything incriminating that I don’t want him to see.

  He thumbs through the small photo album filled with pictures of family, friends and neighbors. He glances up. A smile is perched on his lips, but sadness has crept into his eyes.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “You look like you were all frozen in one happy moment. It’s beautiful.”

  “We were. Happy, I mean. I had a wonderful childhood. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. There are so many great memories of me, my sister and Jamie. Of my dad and me. And Mom...we didn’t always agree, but she was there whenever I needed her.”

  “Sounds like you were a lucky kid.” Raine places the photo album back on the desk and sits beside me on the bed. “Not every kid gets to be that lucky.”

  “I know.” I squeeze his hand. “You don’t talk much about your childhood. What was it like when you were growing up?”

  Raine cringes then forces a smile. “You know I have two sisters and a brother. When I was little, my family didn’t have very much, but we were all really close. Things changed as I got older. We had just about anything we ever wanted, but things were...different.”

  There’s a faraway look in his eyes. I want to ask more, but I’m afraid of stirring up bad memories. Raine is open to just about every other topic, but he’s cryptic when he talks about his family. I never force the issue. I know he’ll talk when he’s ready.

  “You mention your sisters a lot. Are you close to the rest of your family?”

  “Sometimes too close.” A smirk crosses his lips. The stormy look that was there a few moments ago is replaced by his patented smile. “I connect with my parents once or twice a week. I talk to my siblings a little more often.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Most days it is.” Raine tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear and leans in to kiss me. It’s a sweet, soft kiss, our lips barely touching. Then he kisses me again. This time he slides his tongue between my lips and presses his mouth firmly against mine.

  Suddenly my bedroom door swings open, and Jamie’s standing in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, a glint in her eye. “Found ’em!” she calls over her shoulder then turns back to me. “We’re downstairs starving, and you’re up here getting busy.”

  “Jamie!” I snap.

  She grins.

  Raine stands and extends a hand. “Hi, Jamie, it’s great to finally meet you.”

  “You, too, Richard Gere.” She winks at me conspiratorially.

  Raine looks puzzled. I cover my face and shake my head.

  “Now enough with the make-out session. I’m starving, already.”

  We follow her down the stairs and into the dining room. The table is already set, and the boys are holding their forks and spoons like they’re ready to start a prison riot.

  “Yay!” Mickey and Dusty shout. “Now we can finally eat!”

  “We do not shout at the dinner table, boys.” My mother’s voice is sweet, but firm. “You two act like you haven’t eaten all day. I gave you both a sandwich to tide you over. You can wait a couple of minutes for your auntie and Raine to get settled.”

  “Yes, Gigi,” they say in unison. Their big, brown eyes drip with apology.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Raine asks as he pulls out my chair.

  “Well, aren’t you a dear?” My mother smiles widely. “Yes, you can help me bring the rest of the food out. C’mon in here.”

  Raine heads into the kitchen with my mother. I don’t like that she’s found a way to separate us so early. I know her game. It’s the same divide-and-conquer method she used on us as kids. Come to think of it, she still uses it now.

  My gaze follows him to the kitchen until he disappears on the other side of the door. I strain to hear their conversation, all of the inappropriate questions my mother is likely asking him. About his job, his family, any possible communicable diseases.

  He bursts back through the swinging door, laughing. He’s carrying a huge casserole dish of sweet potatoes topped with gooey marshmallows. My mother’s carrying a pan of dinner rolls in one hand and a dish of green beans in the other. They place the food on the table and head back in the kitchen.

  “Mom, if you need some help I can help bring the rest of the food in,” I say.

  “Relax, Melanie. The boys and I have things under control.”

  Miles, Jamie’s boyfriend, comes through the door with a huge bowl of salad in one hand and two bottles of salad dressing in the other. He puts everything on the table and looks around. “Hey, Mel.” Miles leans down to kiss my cheek. “How was the game?”

  “We kicked Boston’s ass—”

  “Melanie!” Mimi covers Dusty’s ears.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I mean, we kicked Boston’s hiney. It was great.”

  The boys fall into a fit of giggles.

  “Auntie Melanie said ‘hiney,’” Mickey says.

  “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the game.” Miles takes a seat next to Jamie. He leans across the table and speaks in a loud whisper, “Raine seems like a really cool guy.”

  “Thanks.” I smile, as if I somehow deserve credit for this fact. “He really is.”

  Raine brings the casserole dish of scalloped potatoes out, and Mom places a pitcher of iced tea on the table. They both take a seat at the table. Finally, we’re ready to eat.

  “Hey, I worked hard to make this salad with my own two hands.” Miles holds his hands up. “So you guys better eat it. Especially you.” He points a finger at Jamie. She makes a face.

  “Everything is delicious, Mrs. Gordon...” Raine says. Mom raises her eyebrow, and he quickly corrects himself. “I mean, Ellie.”

  “You never let any of Melanie’s other boyfriends call you Ellie,” Jamie says.

  “I didn’t like any of them.” She smiles at Raine.

  “You didn’t let me call you Ellie either,” Marcus says. “Not until Mimi and I had been married for two years.”

  My mother looks like a child who’s been caught in a lie, but only momentarily. She’s sharp and always on her game. “I never said you couldn’t call me Ellie,” she says carefully. “I just didn’t say you could.”

  We all laugh. Marcus isn’t amused. He quickly changes the subject. “So, Raine, what do you do?”

  Raine’s mouth is filled with ham and scalloped potatoes. He chews his food as the boys giggle. “I run a nonprofit organization called Focused for Life. We teach men in underserved communities how to succeed in the workplace.” Raine takes a sip of Mimi’s tea.

  “Hmm...so you’re in nonprofit. Noble.” Marcus nods sagely. “My brother works in the nonprofit sector. He’s overworked, and the pay is practically criminal.”

  I try to bore a hole in my brother-in-law’s forehead with my lethal stare. Marcus is oblivious to this as he scoops another forkful of potatoes in his mouth. Mimi quickly comes to my rescue with a less telekinetic approach.

  She jabs her husband in the side with her elbow then says, “My brother-in-law teaches literacy to high-risk children in poverty-stricken neighborhoods. It’s challenging, but he adores the kids he works with. You two would probably have lots to talk about. I should introduce you.”

  “That’s a great idea, Mimi! It would be wonderful to see Leo again. He is a truly remarkable man.” My mother gives Marcus a look like she’s just scraped him off the bottom of her shoe. She returns her attention to Raine. “Leo is making such a difference in those childr
en’s lives. His passion for his job is admirable. I guess that’s what makes him so good at what he does—his commitment.”

  “Passion and commitment are essential if you want to make a difference to the community you’re serving. It’s contagious,” Raine says. “It’s what makes my clients trust me and want to work with me, even if they’ve been disappointed a hundred times before.”

  “Must help on the fundraising side of things, too,” Miles adds.

  “It does.” Raine nods. “Donors need to see how we’re impacting the lives of program participants. They need to know they can trust us, that we’ll be good stewards of their donations. That’s why we’re completely transparent about our funding and expenses.”

  The admiration in my mother, Mimi, Jamie and Miles’s eyes has me practically beaming. “Focused for Life was named a top charity in San Francisco three years running,” I say.

  “We could use a program like that here in Cleveland,” Miles says. “Any plans to expand here?”

  “Right now we have the one office in San Francisco. But it was an article I read on the low graduation rate of African American males in Greater Cleveland that inspired Focused for Life,” Raine says. “Though I wanted to launch the program here, I found it much easier to get things started in San Francisco.” He sounds apologetic. “So to answer your question, yes, I’d love to expand to Cleveland and other cities.”

  “I’ve made connections with some local funding sources that would probably be interested in making it happen,” Miles says. “When you’re ready, give me a call. We’ll talk. I’ll introduce you to a few people.” He reaches into his wallet, pulls out a few of his business cards and slides them across the table to Raine.

  “Thanks, man.” Raine picks up the card and surveys it before slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll do that.”

  Marcus frowns. His forehead and cheeks are red. His posture is rigid, his movements tight. He broods in silence. He’s been trying to get Miles and his friends to invest in his online business for months.

  “How many people do you think you’ve helped so far?” Jamie asks.

  “Around two hundred seventy-five so far.”

  “In five years? That’s only fifty-five people a year,” Marcus scoffs.

  Now my mother, Mimi and I are giving him the death stare. Miles gives him a look that tells him to “chill.” He slumps back down in his seat and stabs at his potatoes.

  Raine nods. “That’s the number of people who successfully completed the program so far. While it may seem inconsequential, we’re making a tremendous impact on these men’s lives and the lives of their families. We have a wall at the office filled with pictures of successful clients. Every time I look at it...” For a moment he seems a millions miles away, but then a wide smile spreads across his face. “I know I could be doing other things, more profitable things, but nothing compares to the feeling I get from helping a misguided young man onto a path that’ll raise the quality of his life, the lives of his children, maybe even his grandchildren.”

  “Good for you, Raine.” My mother smiles approvingly, as if he’s just passed an exam he wasn’t aware he was taking. “It’s so nice to meet a young man who’s so well-grounded, so content. I’m sure your parents are very proud of you.”

  Raine raises his eyebrows sharply and sucks in a deep breath. He’s silent for a moment. “Let’s just say my parents equate success with money. They’d prefer it if I did something a bit more lucrative, or at least prestigious.” He stabs a piece of ham with his fork and shoves it into his mouth quickly.

  “That sucks!” Jamie says. “I know what it feels like to have parents who don’t support you. Hell, I know what it’s like to have parents that don’t give a—”

  “Jamie!” my mother says sharply.

  “Care,” she says. “I know how it feels to have parents who don’t care about you, or what you want, or what’s best for you. It hurts. A lot. It never stops hurting.” Jamie’s voice cracks. Miles squeezes Jamie’s hand.

  We sit at the table, stunned. James is no bleeding heart. In the twenty years I’ve known her, loved her, called her my best friend and sister, she’d sooner kick a man in the teeth with her heavy black Doc Martens than tell him she loved him or show any emotion in front of him.

  I’ve only seen Jamie cry a few times: when her dad disappeared, when we first learned my father was terminally ill and the day he died.

  I realize her relationship with Miles has made her softer around the edges, but I didn’t expect a gooey center. None of us knows what to say.

  “It does hurt,” Raine says finally, “not to have the people you love behind you a hundred percent. Don’t get me wrong—my parents are wonderful people in their own way. I love them and I know they love me. They just don’t get me. I don’t know if they ever will. But I keep hoping.”

  Jamie smiles feebly and nods. Like she and Raine have just passed a message to which the rest of us aren’t privy. “I guess there’s always hope,” she says.

  My mother, Mimi and I exchange looks. Jamie has never spoken this way about her parents. She’s spent the past twenty years actively hating them. Her bitterness and resentment seethed from her pores like lethal venom, sabotaging every relationship she attempted with people outside our family, slowly poisoning her from the inside.

  Jamie’s mother has been trying to reconnect with her over the past year. She’s convinced the woman is incapable of change. For Jamie’s sake, I hope that she’s wrong.

  “That’s right, baby.” Mom smiles, her eyes wet with tears. “There’s always hope.”

  There’s a brief, uncomfortable lull in the conversation. Raine steps in to fill it by returning the favor to Marcus. “So, Marcus, what about you? What do you do?”

  “I’m an entrepreneur.” Marcus shifts in his seat. “I’m managing a little start-up, a graphic design firm. We’re still at the ground phase.”

  “And you have been for quite some time,” my mother says underneath her breath, one eyebrow raised.

  Marcus’s face reddens. “Like I told you, Ellie, these things take time. It can take a new business up to five years to really get going.”

  “Uh-huh.” My mother stabs her salad and pushes it around her plate. “Well, like Jamie said, I guess there’s always hope.”

  “Melanie,” Mimi jumps in, “how are things coming with the Great Lakes branch of Jasper & Graevel?”

  “Wonderful! We landed two big clients on Friday,” I say, thankful to move on to more positive conversation. I’m terrified Raine will think my family is insane and creep out the back door. “There’s been a real shift in our business over the past month or so. I’m excited about the way things are going.”

  “It’s a good thing you met up with Jax at that luncheon, then,” Marcus says. “Mimi says you’re working closely with him.”

  I stare daggers into Marcus’s forehead. “He’s been quite helpful,” I say tersely.

  “You’re working with Jaxson?” Panic rises in mother’s voice. “Melanie, you never mentioned that to me.”

  I glance at Mom. She’s biting her lip, and her face seems to have aged ten years in the last ten seconds. I understand why Mimi and Mom are so alarmed by the idea of Jax inching his way back into my life. The dissolution of our relationship had been like a wrecking ball that tore through my world. I’d slowly retreated from my life here. Eventually I moved away, where the distance between my family and I expanded over time, like a crack in a windshield. So I don’t blame them for being scared shitless. But what they don’t understand is that Jax truly is different now. More importantly, I have no intention of letting him back into my heart. “I didn’t mention it because Jax and I have formed a strategic business alliance. And since when have you ever wanted to talk about my work?” I reassure her with a smile, my eyes pleading with her to just let it go, at least for now.


  Raine looks at my mother, her face still etched with genuine distress, then at me. He casually drapes his arm across the back of my chair and leans into me. “I got a chance to meet him briefly last night. He gave us tickets to today’s game,” Raine says. “Speaking of the game, Melanie and I had a great time.”

  Nice redirection. I smile at him, appreciative. “We really did.”

  “I wanna go see basketball,” Dusty says sadly. “Mommy, can we go?”

  “You know Mommy doesn’t like basketball very much, and Daddy is always busy,” Mimi says. “But Mommy will play basketball with you on the hoop in the basement. How’s that?”

  “It’s not the same!” Mickey protests.

  “Yeah!” Dusty says.

  They both pout, heads tilted, their sad little cheeks propped on their fists, elbows on the table.

  “Elbows off the table.” Their grandmother reminds them. “And remember, big boys don’t pout. You know your mother works very hard.” She narrows her eyes at my brother-in-law.

  “Hey, I’ll tell you what, guys. Next time I come to town, Melanie and I will take you to the game. Would you like that?” Raine asks.

  “Yay!” They cheer, raising their arms in the air.

  “Can we get cotton candy?” Dusty asks.

  “And sodas and hot dogs?” Mickey adds.

  “If it’s okay with your parents.” Raine puts a hand on Mickey’s shoulder.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Mimi says in a hushed whisper.

  “I want to.” He reassures her with a grin.

  “Then, yeah, I guess it’s okay.” She smiles. “Just don’t spoil them with a bunch of junk food. They’ll be bouncing off the walls if they get hyped up on sugar.”

  The boys let out another loud cheer.

  “Thanks, man.” Marcus offers a pinched smile, a seeming mix of gratitude and apology.

  I lean over and whisper into Raine’s ear, “Mimi’s right. This is nice of you and everything, but...”

  “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to do it.”