My Daughter's Boyfriend (14 page)

“Yes, Tracey,” he replied, sounding insulted because I needed confirmation.

“But why?”

He paused. “Because I—I miss you.”

I stood there in shock, and wondered if an already big-ass nose could grow any bigger.

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t have to. I know what I feel in my heart.”

“What heart?”

“Very funny, Tracey.”

I sighed. Rubbed my temples hard and long. Him calling me definitely made things more confusing. Weeks ago, if he’d called, I would’ve jumped up and rushed to his side even if it was three o’clock in the morning and the Malibu’s gas needle was on
E
. But now?

“Hello?” he asked, after my long silence.

“I’m here,” I said, amused. I wondered if my silence made him feel insecure. Wouldn’t
that
be awesome?

“Well,” he hesitated, then asked, “when you gonna come see me?”

“I have no . . . I don’t know what to say, Steve. I just—woo, this is so shocking.”

“You don’t know what to say?”

“No, I don’t.”

“What, you got somebody else already?” he laughed, like he knew my hooking up with another man was unlikely. Maybe that’s because while he and I were dating, his confidence tripled once he recognized how dedicated I was to him.

“And what if I did have someone else?”

“That would be cool,” he claimed in an unnatural-sounding, high-pitched tone. “No rain on my convertible.”

“Don’t worry, Steve. You’ll never see any love residue on my lips.”

“What did you say?”

“Never mind.”

“Hmmm. Well, anyway, I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice, Tracey. I didn’t want you to be over there still pissed off and crying over me.”

“Don’t worry,” I murmured. “I’m not.”

“What are you not? Pissed off or crying over me?”

“Yeah, right.”

The return of silence made things awkward. What else was I supposed to say? Do? Stroke his gigantic ego because he was praise deficient? Given a choice, I’d rather hold my tongue until the Klan sliced it off. Besides, I knew silence was an effective weapon, that the one who remains silent the longest is the one who wins.

“Well, Tracey”—he cleared his throat—“when you do want to hook up, I’m here. I’ll let you go now. Bye.”

He didn’t wait to hear my good-bye.

That’s because he probably didn’t think I had the heart to say good-bye. But Steve Monroe had better think again. For the first time in a long time when it came to Steve and me, I had the motivation to think. And in my mind and heart, I sensed and accepted that he wasn’t the one. That no matter how hard I tried, if something wasn’t meant to be and left me in continuous despair, feeling like a mental case, and questioning my own self-worth, then it was time to name things exactly what they were, instead of how I hoped they could be.

Tracey 16

Early the next Sunday morning, Indira invited my daughter and me to her home for an after-church dinner. I twisted the phone cord around my waist and told Indira, “Well, I don’t have anything to bring.”

“Bring yourself.”

“Hmmm. You know I really am tired.”

“From what? You don’t go to church anymore. What you tired from?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Indira.”

“Girl, the only thing tired is all your excuses. I don’t care what’s going on, ain’t no reason why you and Lauren can’t come visit. Free home-cooked meal? Don’t have to wait in line? Don’t have to search for a parking space? Bring your tail over here, girl. Dinner will be ready by one-thirty.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

THE WEATHER THAT SUNDAY AFTERNOON
was cool and breezy, clouds resembling an ocean dotted by clusters of orchids. I wore my favorite tan jogging suit and a brand-new pair of running shoes. Lauren, who’d ducked out of going to church with her dad, was pensive, refusing to initiate conversation all morning. We were on our way to the Colliers’ when I cast Lauren a piercing look.

“Girl, I don’t know what your problem is, but you better hope you’re not speaking because you don’t feel well. I will not have you disrespecting me.”

She gave me a look that made her resemble the devil’s niece, and turned around in her seat so that her back was facing me. I was so upset I wanted to shove her out of the car and onto the freeway. Lucky for Lauren I wasn’t adept at reaching across her seat, opening the door, and keeping myself from crashing all at the same time.

“What’s the matter with you, anyhow?” I asked her.

Silence.

“Oh, forget it. So moody.”

More silence.

I started singing along with the radio and purposely screwed up the words to a Mariah Carey song, but Lauren still wouldn’t act like she had a pulse. Had a feeling I should have turned around and went back home, but it seemed like it was too late to change my mind.

“Okay, Lauren, we’re here. Tuck in your lip and act civilized before we go inside that house.”

“Whatever,” she muttered.

“Hold up, what did you say, girl? Don’t you know I’ll slap the—”

“What, Mom, what will you slap?” she asked with a piercing, wide-eyed look.

“M-mind, mind your manners and you won’t have to find out what I’ll slap.”

I let Lauren get out of the car first, and I waited a few minutes before I felt I could handle getting out.

Even though I was frowning when I knocked on the door, I smiled like I was Miss America accepting her crown as soon as Indira answered. She wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. I took one look, turned around, and headed straight for my car.

“Woman, get your paranoid behind back here. It’s not like I’ve put the back of my hand in the food.”

My hands found my hips. “Prove it.”

“Tracey, get on up in here and give me a hug.”

I returned. Smiled. We hugged. Held each other.

Once we entered the dining room, I took a look at the spread arranged by Indira: a platter of southern fried chicken, a bowl of steaming hot mashed potatoes with a tub of real butter on the side, collard greens with some of those yummy ham hocks, a pan of hot-water corn bread, candied yams, pistachio salad, peach cobbler, and a cooler filled with diet sodas.

After washing our hands and saying our hellos and how-you-doings, Indira blessed the food and we began pigging out.

“So, what’s been up, Miss Thang? What you know good?” Indira said, once we were seated at the ivory dining room table.

“Oh, nothing much. I’ve just been working and . . . working.”

“Hmmm! How’s the job?” said Indira.

“It’s coming.”

“How long you been at the University of Houston now?” she asked.

“Let’s see. Almost eight years.”

“That long? You like it?”

“Well, a job’s a job. If it weren’t for the benefits, I’d be like
hasta la
vista
. You know, we usually get a week to two weeks off at Christmas, depending on what day Christmas falls on. I mean, I could complain, but what good would it do?”

“Y’all get pretty good raises?” asked Indira.

“What’s pretty good?”

“Anything at all?”

“Oh, uh, I guess we get pretty good raises.”

“Well, praise the Lord, then,” she smiled. “And what’s up with, uh, you-know-who?” Indira asked, casting a glance at Lauren, who was busy letting Regis fill her ears with whatever cockamamy stuff she could think of.

“Well, you-know-who is still no more. But he did call me this week.”

“Oooh, Tracey, did you cuss him out?”

“Mmmmm, no,” I laughed. “I was nice.”

“So, with him gone, that means you have a lot of free time on your hands, huh?”

Lauren looked up at us.

I squirmed.

“Penn State,” I said looking at Indira.

“Penn State” was the code Indira and I used whenever we needed to let the other know we couldn’t talk freely.

“Oh,” she nodded.

We ate and talked for another twenty minutes. Then my cell phone, which was on the table in front of Lauren, started singing “The Entertainer.” She picked up before I could intercept.

“Hello?” she answered, looking bored. Her brows creased; she stared at the phone, then disconnected the call.

“W-who was that?” I asked, putting down my fork laden with yams.

“Don’t know. They hung up.”

Indira eyed me, and I stared at my plate. “Must not have been important,” I said.

“The Entertainer” started playing again.

“Pass me my phone, Lauren.”

She scowled and pushed it across with table with her hand.

I grabbed the phone and left the dining room with everybody staring at me like I’d just kidnapped Elian Gonzalez.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hey, there, it’s me. I just called—”

“I know,” I snapped, and walked toward Indira’s front door.

“Didn’t sound like—”

“That wasn’t me, it was Lauren.”

“Ooh, damn.”

“Yeah, damn,” I said.

“Hey, how am I supposed to know where you are and if the phone is near you or not?”

“My point exactly.”

“Well, where are you, Miss Lady?”

I was now outside Indira’s house, heading for my Malibu.

“I’m actually at a friend’s.”

Silence.

“A
girlfriend.
I’m over Indira’s house; she’s Regis’s mom.”

“Oh, okay.”

Pause.

“So, are you having any fun?” he asked.

“Nope. Miss Lauren is acting like an authenticated I’ve-got-my-certificate-to-prove-it asshole. Have y’all been fighting or something?”

“No, not really. Last night she wanted me to come get her,” he explained. “But I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“ ’Cause.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just wasn’t feeling Lauren last night, and so I gave her the slip. I guess she’s pissed about that. She kept questioning me why I do this and why I do that. Sheesh, I don’t know what to tell her.”

“Hmmm! Thanks for the heads-up. Now I know why Lauren’s in a salty mood. She’s coming very close to getting slapped. But I’ll lighten up. Seems like a little boyfriend-girlfriend stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” was all Aaron said.

“You still there?” I asked after a while.

“I’m here.”

“Barely, you’re there. What’s wrong with you now?”

“Can we hook up today?” he pleaded.

“Mmmm, I want to, I really do. But I need a plan . . . Have you talked to Lauren at all today?”

“Nope.”

“Expect to?”

“Noooo.”

“Well, maybe I’ll leave her here and act like I gotta make a run. We can pick a place once I leave. I’ll call you on your portable. Have the power turned on.”

“Don’t worry,” he told me. “The power’s already turned on.”

“ ’Bye, Aaron.”

I sat in the car another three minutes, moving my mouth like I was still talking on the phone. I imagined that everybody in the house was stealing a look at me from the windows. Things felt very strange, surreal. I wondered what I had gotten myself into, but didn’t give myself enough time to really think about it.

Being caught up. Enduring the pressures of doing what felt good to me but wasn’t exactly good for me. And some days I wished I could just die, just disappear, or at least make things different from how they were. I wanted to pretend being with Aaron wasn’t so bad. Two consenting adults, right? Two people who didn’t get tired of being around each other.

“It’ll be okay,” I told myself. “If there was anything wrong with this, it would be far more difficult than it is,” I said before getting out of the car.

“Well, took you long enough,” Indira teased, giving me a wink once I returned to the dining room.

Lauren was in the midst of a conversation with Regis, but as soon as she saw me, she squinted until I sat down at the table and looked back at her.

“What?” I asked.

She looked me up and down real slow, and then leapt from the table.

“Come on, Regis.”

Regis grinned at us and trailed behind Lauren, running upstairs and laughing.

“What’s up with them?” Indira asked.

“Don’t know and don’t want to know,” I commented, annoyed at Lauren’s behavior and anxious to get out from under her moodiness. “Hey, I realize this is sudden, but something’s come up and I want to leave Lauren here. I’ll come get her in a few hours. That okay?”

“Go on, girl,” Indira said, “Take care of your business. She’s safe here. Hey, as a matter of fact, she can even spend the night with us, since the kids are on Christmas break now. Don’t worry. Just give me a holler in the morning, all right, sweetie?”

I fought hard to hide the smile that tried to spread across my face, coughing and hacking like something was caught in my throat. And it was.

Relief.

I RACED HOME LIKE A BILLION PIECES
of cheesecake were waiting on me. On the way, though, I did take the time to call Aaron.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Well, just wanted to let you know that . . . I’m on my way home to pack a bag and . . . we’re going to spend the night together. My treat.”

“Damn. What brought all this on?”

“Lauren is staying over with Regis. She doesn’t have to be back at school until January, and I’m calling in tomorrow and taking a too-damn-lazy-to-work day. Since you’re out of school, too, I’m hoping you can cancel everything else you may have planned and be with me.”

“Hey, now. I’m game. What you need me to do?”

“Well, pack yourself a small overnight bag and I’ll call and make a reservation at . . . meet me at . . . hmmm, what about the Marriott on Eldridge Parkway in Katy?”

“Cool. I’m on my way.”

I laughed and hung up the phone. Fifteen minutes later I was home, trying to find something sexy to wear. I changed from my jogging suit to a skort set and slipped on a pair of small black slingbacks. I brought along two different expensive bottles of perfume, a new pair of leopard print panties, and several bottles of scented lotions.

When I arrived at the hotel, Aaron had just pulled up. We waved and strapped our overnight bags on our shoulders. Kissed in the parking lot. Started walking toward the hotel’s entrance, but stopped and kissed again.

“Damn, woman, can’t you wait?”

“Aaron, I feel like a kid out on prom night.”

“You are a kid.”

“No, I’m not.”

He smiled and grabbed my free hand, kissing my fingertips and making me blush.

By that time it was almost five o’clock, and the lobby was crowded with people coming to register for some kind of convention. Aaron hung back while I got the room. We got our keycard and waited until there was an empty elevator before getting on. Our suite had a mini fridge, two queen-size beds, a hair dryer, a coffeemaker, two telephones, and a big color television.

“Man, baby, you got us a cool room with a view,” he said, looking out the window as the twilight gave way to evening. “Isn’t it the bomb?”

The sky had a reddish orange glow to it, peaceful, illuminating, mysterious. Once we snapped out of our scenic view zone, we made ourselves at home by unpacking the few personal items we’d managed to toss in our bags. Aaron removed his shirt and only wore some black sweatpants with a white border, some leather house slippers, and a gold chain. His chest rippled, called out to me, but I averted my eyes and concentrated on combing my hair.

“Woman, what is your problem? Why are you combing your hair now? By the time I get through with you, your hair’s going to be all over your head.”

“I don’t know about all that,” I said moving away from him as he came up behind me.

“Well, I do. Last time was
sooo
good. Let’s sneak some real quick.”

“No, no, Aaron, not now.”

He stopped following me, and his playful mood slowed its roll real fast.

“Whassup with you, Tracey?”

“Nothing,” I told him, and shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I—I’m not lying. I just don’t think . . . hey, we have plenty of time. It’s only, what”—I glanced at my watch—“it’s not even six yet.”

“So?” he said, giving me one of those “and your point is?” looks.

“So we have time. Let’s talk.”