by Tiana Laveen
“Thank you.” Ma kept her gaze averted, as if she’d burst in flames if she even peeked at him. The chatter resumed, breaking the awkward moment.
“Yasmine, Nix tells me you’re a lawyer, too,” Dad stated, grabbing his glass of water.
Soon, the coffee a few of them had ordered arrived.
“Yes!” Yasmine smiled proudly. “I’ve been doing it full time for over ten years and that’s something else that Nixon and I have in common.”
“Yeah, yeah… nice. So, did your parents want you to get into law, or was that your idea?” the old man went on. He seemed genuinely intrigued.
“It was all my idea. I had always been interested in it. I was addicted to mystery books as a teenager and I enjoyed police, law and crime shows, documentaries, just like Nixon had. We even had an attorney come to our school and speak one day, and that spurred me to keep pursuing this path. I was also interested in ways to help my community and felt that African Americans don’t always get fair representation in the penal system.” Dad nodded in understanding. “My parents were incredibly supportive and did everything they could to help me follow my dream.”
“That’s fantastic. It’s important to have family support. We encouraged Nix, too. He was always too smart for his own damn good. Bossy, real headstrong. Argumentative… always had to be right, too, a Brainiac but always tried to hide it around his friends, shit like that.” Chuckles burst from the table. “He made great grades in school, but got into a lot of trouble… just kid stuff though. Being a lawyer was right up his alley. That way, he could wear the expensive fancy suits he likes, talk real big, show off and get paid for it.”
Nix grimaced while everyone tittered at his expense. That time, even Ma laughed. “Police and law and crime shows, huh? Yeah, you’re right. Nixon was the same way, Jasmine, I mean, Yasmine… Loved Law and Order, programs like that.” Yasmine was glued to his father’s words, but in all fairness, Dad was entertaining even on his worst day. “Nixon knew he wanted to be a lawyer early on, too. Well, actually, I know you probably already know this, but he said at first, he wanted to be a surgeon.”
“What?” Yasmine exclaimed.
“Yeah. He went back and forth between that and wanting to be an attorney. His grades in high school were good enough. I think he only got like one B in his entire life; everything else was straight A’s. He actually started undergrad intending to go to medical school, but then he changed up and said he really felt law was a better fit for him. I said, ‘All right.’ I knew, either way, he’d be successful. Anything this boy of mine set his mind to do, he did it. He could have been a doctor, a scientist, anything.”
‘I got it from him,” Nix interjected. “My father, Yasmine, is really intelligent. Nobody gave him the credit he deserved, made assumptions about him because he worked blue collar jobs, but he knows a hell of a lot, and was always reading, trying to learn more.”
Dad waved him off as if it were no big deal.
“I’m just sayin’, young lady, you’re lucky is all. You got you a fellow lawyer, but ya coulda had a doctor, too. He’s got the brain for it. All my kids are magnificent. Alice and I hit the jackpot. They all have special gifts, don’t get me wrong, but for Nix, the books, you know, shit like that just came so damn easy.”
“I had no idea you were going to go into medical school!” Yasmine smiled.
Nix shrugged. “It was fleeting. I mean, I could have done it I believe, but I realized I wasn’t passionate about it.”
She nodded in understanding.
“He’s a kick ass attorney, I know that much.”
“Yes, he has an incredible reputation and so does his law firm.”
“So… Nix said you have a lot of brothers and sisters. That’s good, ya know? Because you both come from big families, so you’re used to that sort of thing.” Yasmine nodded in agreement. “What you see here is just the tip of the iceberg. Our family is huge!” Dad chuckled and sprawled his arms out wide. Nixon hadn’t seen his father smile that much since he’d arrived back in Chicago from New York. He was Mr. Chatterbox, too. “So, Yasmine, what kind of—”
“Hi! Does everyone know what they want to order, or do you need more time?” the waiter interrupted.
Everyone stated they were ready to eat. Nixon leaned to whisper in Yasmine’s ear, “Thanks for coming.” He rested his hand on her thigh under the table, rubbing it back and forth. “I’m gonna spend some time with my father tonight, let him see my place. But tomorrow, I want some ass. I’ll have to squeeze you in the schedule.” A pretty blush formed on her cheeks as she looked down at the menu.
“I think I’m going to get the lasagna,” she stated in a low voice. “Is it good here?”
“Yeah, but not as good as what I’ve got. You’re gettin’ this sausage tomorrow.” She burst out in a fit of giggles as he kept on talking in her ear, ensuring no one else heard.
“I don’t think so. I think my cycle is getting ready to start,” she whispered back.
“I fuck with the Red Sea, baby. Just give me a towel and a fuckin’ surfboard.” She playfully popped him on his shoulder and turned away.
After placing a kiss on her cheek, he checked out the others, who were giving their orders to the waiter. Ma was speaking to Tonya, Dad to Leo and Maria. They were all having a good time. A part of him though wished things were different. Like Dad and Ma still being married. But as quickly as that thought came to him, it vanished into thin air. The last thing he wanted was for them to be unhappy, and from what he recalled all too well, they’d made each other miserable.
Perhaps it was the sad expression on Dad’s face from time to time as they all sat there, or maybe, it was how he always asked about Ma every time they spoke. The man was still in love with her, it was obvious as hell. His marriage to Sophie was evidently not meeting his expectations, and here he was, with the ghosts, the memories of what ‘once was,’ all around him. This had to be why he’d make a million excuses as to why he couldn’t come back to Chicago.
Nix wanted more than this. He wanted his father to walk on the ground he’d lived on when he was a kid, when they were a family, long, long ago…
Maybe that was it? Did Dad fear the heartbreak all over again? The pain coming back, revisited. Dad looked at Ma with such sorrow, such love while sitting at that table, it broke his heart. The love definitely wasn’t returned. Ma had meant everything she said, and she was done, over it. She must still have some sort of love for Dad, but only in the sense that he was the father of their children. What a burden for Dad to have and forced to accept. The fact that what he thought could be, would never come to pass again.
Worry pinched his chest. He glanced at Yasmine, who was immersed in a conversation with Jamie. Some were still giving their orders, sometimes changing their mind, dragging out the entire ordeal. He’d been sitting there looking at his parents for so long, time had gone on for everyone except for him. He was stuck. Stagnant. Maybe it’s not Dad that’s stuck in the past. Shit, maybe it’s me? The truth hit him like a ton of bricks, crashing his entire reality – and now it was exposed. He could see it, feel it, so clearly.
What the hell is wrong with me? Is this what I’ve been running from? I wasn’t afraid of being committed in a relationship, thinking I’d grow bored and want new pussy. I wasn’t afraid of falling in love, and staying in love… I was afraid that that love would not being returned, or worse yet, being loved on so good, that if for some reason that love stopped, I’d be destroyed.
Like Dad.
I don’t want that kind of hurt. It scares the shit out of me. Having one-night stands, brief flings, or even falling in love but not going so deep I could never retreat… These were safe bets. I never took myself as a coward though.
Looking at Yasmine made him feel some type of way. He wanted to pull her to him, hug her, kiss her.
That’s just the risk we have to take, Nix. I’m not a fucking punk, and I’m not going to start being one now. Nothing worth having is without risk. I tell people that all
the time. I have to apply it to myself; talk is cheat. All I can do is continue to be me and live without fear. What shall be, will be… And this woman next to me will one day be my wife. And we’re not divorcing, and that’s final.
“Sir, can I take your order?”
“Yeah, hey. I’d like the house salad with extra dressing. It’s just like your vinaigrette, right? I haven’t been here for a while, but I think that’s what it comes with.”
“Yes, it’s a balsamic vinaigrette.”
“Fine, and for my entree, the Carbonara, please. Oh, and Dad, I’d like to be considerate here. What would you like to drink? Anything special?”
Dad’s cheeks darkened as he smiled, and his eyes lit up.
“I want you to get any wine you want for the family, Nix. Wine is a part of our tradition, so it’s no sweat to me.” Dad threw up his hands. “As for me, I’m not gonna indulge. Instead, I’ll get something else. Do you all have a nice cider? Something like that?”
“We do! We also have assorted sparkling waters, teas, you name it.”
“Perfect. I’ll take a plain sparkling water.” Dad went back to his chattering, happy as can be.
“Yeah, I want a few more things with my dinner, but let me do this then before I forget. Bring three bottles of wine, please. I’d like a Bruno Giacosa, Cantina Mascarello, and an Azienda Agricola Rabajà. We’re celebrating my Dad coming home for a visit! Chicago is always going to be home!” He smiled big and winked at his father, who smiled back, proud as ever. “This is a big deal… the man of the family. Wanna show everyone a good time tonight.”
“Certainly! I’ll get those bottles and glasses for you.” He then went on to take the last of the orders.
“Mr. Big Spender tonight!” Ma teased, clapping. “Bring on the wine. I’m ready!”
“Ma, you got it. Nothing’s too good for the people I love. Money can be made again. It comes and goes, ya know?” His sisters nodded in agreement. “With the right business plan, it can be replaced. My family can’t. I love each and every one of ya. I mean that.”
“Awww! Nix is all sappy tonight! He musta got drunk before he even came here,” Tonya teased, causing people to laugh.
When the laughter died down, he said to the waiter, “We’re going to be here a long time tonight. So you’ll be working your ass off, but I promise to give you a big, beautiful tip.”
The waiter laughed. “No problem and thank you!”
“Yeah, good service is important. It should be rewarded. A gathering like this is important too, with family. The bloodline. Like love. Love should be treated like a cellphone, ya know?” He looked at Yasmine, his heart beating so damn fast… so hard… “Once you get it, you should never leave home without it…”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Damage Control
The special DJ mix of ‘Sara Smile’ by Hall and Oates and Bootsy Collins’ ‘I’d Rather Be with You’ played out as they entered his dwelling. The vaporwave sound, a type of digital musical manipulation that caused the song to play slower, gave the music a nostalgic air and felt so pleasing to the ear. Nixon took his father’s coat and hung it in the closet.
His father looked around, then his gaze settled on the fish tank. Nixon debated on turning the lights brighter. The room was dimly lit, as he always liked it when he got home. He didn’t care for strong illumination, maybe due to the lighting in hospitals, which triggered discomfort.
He picked up the remote and turned on the fireplace. Dad took a slow, leisurely look around, his footsteps echoing, hands in pockets. It was unusual for him to be that damn quiet. Finally, the old man sighed, and slipped a cigarette out of his pocket. Nixon did a mental check in his head, trying to remember if he’d put all of his personal belongings away, out of sight. He’d had a fuck fest with Yasmine the previous day, and he’d fucked her in almost every room. Lube is put away… I put that up right after I fucked her in the ass… I remember that. The handcuffs, the scarves, spreader, chains? Yeah, put those up. Wait a minute. Shit. I hope I put the damn cords and that belt away… Yeah, I did…
“Hold on, Dad. Put that cigarette down. I have something better than that.” Nixon retrieved a black velvet box from a tall glass dresser. He opened the lid and removed two cigars. After putting everything back, he handed one to his father. Dad gave it the once over and smiled.
“Illusione Epernay l’Alpiniste…” he read slowly. “Wow, fancy schmancy looking.”
“I like many brands of Nicaraguan cigars. These are high quality.” He ran it slowly under his nose and closed his eyes, savoring the aroma. “A boutique cigar.” His father nodded in appreciation. “These ones in particular are produced at the Raices Cubanas factory. Heard of it?”
“No, I haven’t. I don’t know about shit like that, Nixon. That’s more your speed… expensive stuff. I’m not sophisticated.” Dad’s smile was tinged with sadness.
In fact, the man had been acting different all day. At dinner, he’d been jovial, talkative, and in a great mood. Now, he seemed withdrawn. Even during the ride back to the house, he’d barely spoken. Maybe he needed rest after the flight. Nixon felt it was deeper than that, but didn’t want to keep asking how he was doing, and he’d done that several times in the car.
“So, tell me more about these cigars.” Dad sniffed it and sighed. “You were getting into where they were made.”
“Well,” Nixon whipped out a chrome lighter and lit both of their cigars. It felt a bit ceremonial: two men, two generations, two sets of tension… “These cigars are the absolute best, hands down, Dad. This particular brand came out in 2008. A limited release. I made sure I stocked up on them because they are my absolute favorite. If you like it, I’ll send you some.”
Dad nodded and followed him into the eating area.
“This is obviously my kitchen… not sure I need to explain anything, but since I know you’re interested in gadgets, this is an electronic refrigerator.” He pointed to it.
“You got that Alexa shit?”
“Yeah. Alexa saves me time. Over here is a nice sink with a pretty neat garbage disposal.” His father moseyed over to check it out. “There’s a built-in odor trap. All I have to do is pour this liquid down in there a couple times a month and it smells good as new. You know how they can get gunky sometimes, start stinkin’ up the place.”
Dad wrapped his hands around the silver edge of the basin and looked down into the sinks, as if they were twin wishing wells. Nixon caught their reflections in the faucet. They favored one another, though Nixon felt he was a good blend of both his parents’ looks. He turned on the valve to show his father the flow, then tinkered with the dials. The man was into things like that. Electronics, household appliances, and the like. “See? This controls flow, this helps the water get hotter quicker, this right here adjusts the pressure… Nice shit.”
“This is cool, Nix!” Dad chuckled, clearly entertained. “I like it. Let me see the rest of this great place.”
Nixon turned off the water and they made their way down the hall.
“Dining room.” His father peered at a large open room that was done in rich earth tones. Large plants sat in two corners and a huge stained-glass window was the main attraction. Nixon’s pride and joy. The twelve-seater table had a sizeable dried flower display at the center and ivory place settings, with crystal goblets. On one wall hung an enormous, ornate painting of a beautiful Geisha sitting on the lap of a fierce-faced Japanese warrior. One of her milky white breasts spilled out, exposing a rose-colored nipple, and her legs were wide open, allowing the warrior to dip his fingers inside her vagina. Dad’s gaze landed on it… and stayed there for a long ass time.
“Interestin’ painting.” The old man scratched his jaw, his eyes wide, then he squinted as if trying to ascertain if he was really seeing what he was seeing.
“Yeah, I got it about five years ago. The artist is well known in San Francisco. Jaqui is his name. I attended an art show there, had travelled in on business and stayed for a few days. I
bought it and had it shipped back home.”
“Hmmm. Was it expensive?”
“Very.” They headed further down the hall. “This is the study. My office is right next to it.” Dad did not even try and disguise his nosiness. He set about opening desk drawers and flipping through a couple folders. He then plucked a heavy, leather-bound book off a shelf, an ancient Greek Law book that Nixon had picked up from an auction. He perused it for a few seconds, then placed it back, upside down. They left that area and kept going, pausing near the three bedrooms. Nixon opened the door to the smallest one. The window had sheer blue drapes, each wall was a different shade of blue, and the floor, though marble, had a long blue rug in front of the bed. The art on the walls hung in blue frames, all of them featuring naked blue-skinned mermaids or serene seascenes.
“This looks like a showroom place, somethin’ outta Ikea. I could move right in here and you’d never hear a peep outta me.”
“First of all, you and I will never live together again, or I can assure you there would eventually be a homicide. Secondly, that’s an insult. Ikea fuckin’ sucks.”
“Ohhh! So sorry, your fuckin’ highness.” Dad said, doing jazz hands. “I do apologize, Mr. Duke of Earl and Fine Tastes of gold, ’nd diamond bullshit!” Nixon shook his head and laughed. “Do you keep it like this or do you have somebody come over and fix it up this way? I never really took you for an interior decorator. Your room used to always be a mess.” Dad peered in the closet.
“I had a professional decorator, but I also made it clear what I liked and didn’t like. This space is never used. I do store some things in here,” he pointed to the dresser, “but it’s more for show.”
“For show? Who are you tryna impress?”
“No one. What I mean is, I went with a three bedroom, versus two, because it helps for re-sale. I may not live here forever so I see each large purchase as an investment. Even my car, regardless of it depreciating in value once off the lot, it’s rare, so I’ll get more for it than I paid eventually.” He killed the light and opened another bedroom door, exhibiting a similar space. Once he reached the master suite, he placed his cigar in his mouth and slipped a key out of his pocket. His father cleared his throat behind him. When they entered, the motion lights were activated.