My Daughter's Boyfriend (18 page)

“Okay. You and uh . . . what’s his name again?” she said, sounding a bit embarrassed for not remembering.

“Aaron,” I told her. His name rolled off my tongue like melted butter, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, you and Aaron are talking. Uh-huh,” she said, sounding like it was the most boring so-what-ish news flash of the week. “What y’all talking about?”

“Nooo, Indira.” I laughed like I was releasing something and glad that there seemed to be something to laugh about. I don’t know, maybe Indira would be happy for me. Maybe this thing wasn’t as bad as I thought it to be. Maybe.

“It’s more like a we-like-each-other kind of talking.”

“Uh-huh, hmmm.”

“Indira—”

“Okay, let me process this. And Lauren—she doesn’t know, right?”

The air thickened and so did my throat, and so did my guilt, and so did my conscience.

“Right,” I muttered. “She does not even know.”

“Good,” she said, and sucked in her breath. “Well, has it gotten . . . uh, has it become intim—”

“Yes!” I told her. Because she was my friend, I didn’t want to lie to her; I wanted to let out all that was inside, that is, if I could afford to be transparent without suffering too much. At this point, what difference would it make? The cat was all the way out of the bag and looking me smack in my face.

“We’ve gone there, Indira.”

“Okay . . . okay,” she said, sounding like she was trying to be supportive but finding it challenging. And at that moment it seemed that the thing I hoped was so beautiful might not have been as rosy as I yearned for it to be. Why couldn’t the thing that I wanted run smoothly, have no ramifications, and at the same time be something that couldn’t be judged as right or wrong?

“Indira, I’m doing things with my daughter’s boyfriend that I didn’t even want my own daughter to do.”

“Jesus, Tracey, my God,” she exclaimed, sounding like she hoped I’d say no and was wounded to hear me say yes.

Then silence. Whether it was the silence of judgment or the silence of comfort, I couldn’t tell. I sat in the dark and picked at my fingers, surrounded by thick air, tall ceilings, and thin walls, walls that I wished I could walk right into and then mercifully become a part of, because if that disappearing act happened, I’d be unknown, unaccountable, and free from having to make confessions.

“How are you feeling, girl?”

The sound of her soothing voice made me wrap both my arms around myself and rock back and forth, back and forth, so very desperate for understanding, so full of need. “Happy, terrible, desired, afraid.”

“Wow, Tracey. I hardly know what to say. I’m not judging, I’m just—”

“Repulsed?” Ewww, it hurt to say that, to think that.

Indy made a quick gurgling sound inside her throat. “No, sweetheart, liking a younger man ain’t nothing new . . .” Her voice drifted away slowly, the sound of a distant thunder.

“But why do I have to like
this
particular younger man?”

“Tracey, what exactly do you like about Aaron?”

I smiled through my scattered emotions.

“Our conversations, his kindness and attentiveness to me. He’s very affectionate, and I know it sounds strange, but I like what he’s giving to me.”

“And—so, how does
he
feel?”

I raised my chin, thankful there was something solid to tell her. “He lets me know how he feels by the way he treats me. It’s strange, Aaron may be younger than me, but sometimes it seems like he’s on the same level. Sometimes.”

“So, it sounds like you like all this, yet you’re . . . hesitant?”

“Absolutely. My child—she doesn’t know a thing. I think that we— that
Aaron
—is going to break things off with her. Soon.”

“So y’all can be free to get together?” she said matter-of-factly.

“Indira, you’re judging me?”
Can I please find someone else to blame
beside myself?

“Nooo, I’m not.”

“I can tell by your voice. You’re talking in that she-can-believe-that-junk-if-she-wants-to type of voice.”

“Wait a sec, Tracey. What you tell me doesn’t extend beyond me. Shoot, who the hell am I to judge you? All I can do is listen and be supportive. For all I know, my own day may come when I’m telling you some tripped-out stuff about my own life. I’m doing this now because should I ever be in your position, I’d want you to do the same for me, girl.”

I closed my eyes and a gush of tears flowed and swirled across my cheeks, but at that moment all I wanted to know was if my tears would eventually stop falling or were my eyes just beginning to well.

A HALF HOUR LATER, INDIRA WAS
in my living room, perched on her knees, with her bare feet exposed. She removed a large red brush from her purse and started raking it through the back of my hair, sweeping its thickness over and over again. With every stroke of her brush, I moaned. I felt so blessed to have her there with me, especially because I hadn’t asked her to come.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before now, Tracey?” she gently fussed.

“Huh! Ain’t like anyone is going to rush out and spread news like that. Gotta think long and hard before you go telling people stuff like that.”

“I hear ya.”

“So, Indy?” I said, turning my head toward her. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“I’d take ’em off,” she said, rocking back and forth on her knees.

“Funny,” I said, ducking and covering my head with my hands, which she promptly removed and resumed brushing my hair.

“Hey, babe, it’s easy for me to say what I’d do, but I’m not in your shoes. I—I guess anything is possible, though. We usually end up with a guy we never thought we’d be with, am I right?”

“Yours truly is living proof of that. I mean, I never would have guessed that I’d be digging Aaron . . . hanging out with Aaron . . . and
liking
it.”

She set down her brush and began massaging my shoulders, making several swirls on my tingling and aching flesh with the tips of her fingers.

“So, Indira, even though you haven’t been in my shoes, just pretend like you are. Think about how it would be if you met someone younger. And that isn’t even the main issue. The fact that he’s dating your kid or hangs out with your kid, that’s the clincher. What would you do?”

“Girl, I can’t believe you’re asking me, but okay. I’ll try and imagine myself in something like that.”

Indy removed her hands from my back and sighed. I turned around and faced her to get a good listen. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, her right hand holding her chin, the other hand supporting the bottom of her right elbow.

“Okay, I’m forty and Regis is hanging out with that Spotty, Spooty, or whatever his name is, and I look up one day and old Spotty looking kind of cute to me. It’s been two years and counting on the celibacy thing. My birth control pills have disintegrated into dust, death, and hell, and I got needs. So me and the young man maybe look at each other one day and it’s the kind of look that a man gives a woman when he wants her, when he likes what he sees and maybe, just maybe, I’m kinda digging him and blushing over the fact that he’s scoping me and maybe at first I tell myself, ‘Self, uh-oh, no way, nooooo,’ but then again, maybe my ego is saying ‘Why the hell not?’ and perhaps my body is saying yes to how the guy is making me feel. I mean, he’s paying attention to me, telling me I look good with my forty-something self, and you know at that age we need every compliment we can get. So one day I get weak and the next thing I know we’re in bed and he’s proving to me that he knows how to work it.”

She stopped looking at the ceiling and stuck out her neck to gawk at me. “Dang, Tracey, now I kinda know what you might be going through.”

“You do?” I squealed. “You get what I’m talking about now?”

Indy nodded, not repeating her affirmation, but a nod made perfect sense.

“So, Indy, does it seem so absurd now that you’ve thought about how something like that can happen to you, to anybody?”

“Well,” she said carefully, “by thinking about it I’ve come as close to it as I can get. And I can imagine that possibly happening, but baby, the reality is these were just my thoughts—but you’re the one who’s in deep in the midst of this thing. Ain’t like it’s something you can turn off once you’ve finished enjoying your fantasy,” she said, and twisted her hand like she was turning a knob. “Baby, you’re
living
that fantasy. Plus a fantasy can be controlled, and I’ll bet anything that you’re going through some things right now that you just cannot control.”

“Indira, you’ve never lied. Take the other night, for example. You will not believe who saw me and Aaron at a hotel.”

“Who, girl? Was it Pastor Solomon?”

I burst out laughing.

“I wish. All Pastor would have done is prayed for me, and hey, that would’ve been cool compared to what I really went through.”

She just stared at me, motionless for a change.

“Derrick,” I told her.

“Aw, boo, so what did you do?”

“I could have really freaked, but Aaron handled things.”

“My God. Mmmmm. You think he’s a threat?”

“Girl, I don’t put anything past Derrick. Think about it. Why would Derrick cover for me? He loves Lauren more than he loves me.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then he might cover for you. Why would a father go out of his way to hurt his daughter?” she said sympathetically, covering her heart with both her hands.

“And why would a mother go out of her way to hurt her daughter?” I blurted. “Oh, Indira, I
can’t
do this.”

“Oh no, Tracey,” she said, shaking her head furiously. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you—”

I jumped up.

“I know, but it’s very odd how that came out, isn’t it? You think you thought of something like that arbitrarily? Maybe it’s the Lord talking to me through you.”

Indira’s eyes fluttered like she was about to hit the floor headfirst.

“No, baby. God can talk to you directly. He doesn’t have to speak through me. You know that.”

“God doesn’t have to, but he will. Since I don’t go to church anymore, he may be trying to get a message to me the best way he can.”

“Tracey, you’re paranoid. Just because you feel you don’t measure up in comparison to all the other church members doesn’t mean the Lord won’t speak to you anymore, or has forgotten about you. That was a poor excuse to stop going to church anyway.”

“Well,” I coughed, feeling self-conscious. “I still think you’re a better spiritual vessel than me.”

“Look, Tracey, I believe in God, but trust me, I am not him,” she said, raising her eyes to the ceiling and bringing her hands together as if she were not worthy.

“Yeah, but . . . getting back to what you said about me and Lauren . . . it means something, Indira.”

“So what’s really going on with you and Aaron? It’s not like you two are discussing a commitment or anything . . . right?”

“Not at all. I think we just want to be free to be together. If we’re up front with Lauren, we won’t have to sneak around and lie and hide. We’re hoping she can deal with this and somehow give us the space to have a relationship.”

“Tracey, I’m your friend, but I think you have your work cut out for you big-time,” she said, wiggling two fingers like she was using a pair of scissors.

“I know,” I sighed, smiling to myself about how Indira was so animated just about every time words came out of her mouth.

“You really like him that much?”

“I know it seems like ‘why I gotta be with him?’ Out of all the fine-ass chocolate brothers in Houston, why him?”

“Right!”

“Well, problem is, I don’t know all the fine brothers in Houston. They aren’t all running after me and trying to get with me. Only one fine brother is doing that.”

“I tell you, your life is a lot more interesting than mine, Tracey. You believe in drama, huh?”

I couldn’t believe she said that. To me she was the dramatic one. But I dramatically waved one finger back and forth and told her, “No, I don’t believe in drama. I believe in going after what I want, and if drama is a part of it, then I’ll just have to go through it.”

Lauren 20

Daddy came and got me just like he said, ten minutes
earlier than what he said. That was odd, since I know him to run late some days. He smiled at me in a distant kind of way, like his body was there but his mind was still stuck in traffic somewhere. I didn’t pay him a lot of attention. Was just glad we were on our way to grab a burger.

He was taking me to Fuddruckers, which claims it makes the world’s greatest hamburgers. I love those big, juicy burgers, mounted with sliced onions, pickles, lettuce, ketchup, and diced tomatoes, all quietly sitting on a soft bun. Yummy, I could taste those onions already and almost choked on disbelief when Daddy pulled his car into the lot of a Shell station.

“Daddy, what are you doing here? We have a full tank of gas.”

“I know that. Need to use the pay phone.”

He opened the door and got out of the car so quick I thought he’d seen hundred-dollar bills falling from the sky or something. I noticed the outline of Daddy’s hands while he fumbled in his pockets and pulled out change. And even though I could see him, I couldn’t hear him, but he turned his back toward me just the same. I turned away from him, too. Why would he think I’d want to hear whatever he had to say to whomever he was saying it? I just wanted my gigantic cheeseburger with French fries and a large root beer.

Daddy took so long I had to stop my neck from snapping. More tired than I ever thought I could be at seven in the evening. I wondered what Aaron was doing. We really hadn’t talked like we usually did, thought he should’ve called me first, and maybe he thought I should have called him. So even with all that thinking going on, nobody was calling anybody. I couldn’t believe how stubborn Aaron was. If I meant anything at all to him, couldn’t he lay aside whatever it was that stopped him from dialing my number?

Then what Regis said the other day really tortured me: that if Aaron and me weren’t doing it, then Aaron had to be rubbing up against some other babe. I couldn’t see it. Or didn’t want to. There’s no way I could believe Aaron would betray me like that. Regis just didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

Daddy finally finished his long phone conversation with the mystery person and got in the car without even saying “I’m sorry.” He didn’t say much to me at all, and even when I said something to him, he mumbled back at me—saying things that didn’t make sense. I figured he was mad at something, or as hungry as I was and maybe that’s why he didn’t feel like talking right then.

When we arrived at Fuddruckers, it was crowded just like always. I scanned the restaurant and the first thing I saw was the ever-present Elvis Presley replica, and a long line of teens, young adults, and families eager to place their orders. When Stevie Wonder’s
For Once in My Life
thumped from several mounted speakers, I found myself twisting my butt and bobbing my head.

We placed our order, were issued an electronic pager with the number 79, and found our seats. As soon as I sat down, I got back up to get us some straws, a plastic knife, and, most important, a dozen napkins. That’s how big and sloppy my burger would be.

We hadn’t been there a good ten minutes when Daddy casually pointed toward the entrance. “There’s Aaron.”

“Who?” I asked, like I forgot who my boyfriend was. Sure enough, Aaron Oliver had stepped inside the restaurant. It must have just started raining, because he was shaking water from a long black umbrella. He craned his neck like he was looking for somebody. I ducked in my seat, hoping to see nothing, yet anxious to see something. I wished I were invisible, but I’d learned early on that wishes hardly ever come true.

Daddy had the gumption to stand up and wave. I like to died. He was messing everything up. Nobody will cheat if they know somebody is looking. Apparently, Dad wasn’t hip on how to play the game.

Aaron walked toward our table in a confident stride, but the second he noticed me, it looked as if his legs were walking against tall, invisible ocean waves. He slowed his pace and looked directly at me, blinking rapidly, but not able to make my image go away.

You know when people are glad to see you, and you can damn sure tell when they’re not. I noticed this rotten, punkish, awful smirk that only a man who’s full of embarrassing regret can give. We hadn’t seen, talked, or kissed each other in I don’t know when, and that’s the best he could offer?

Once Aaron reached our table, he acted like Daddy was the only one in the whole room.

Aaron smiled and looked disgusted at the same time. “Mr. Hayes.”

Daddy stood up like a meeting of some kind was about to start. I felt uncomfortable; nobody acknowledged me. Felt like I was intruding, and I hadn’t done anything except be there.

I looked at Aaron and forced a smile of greeting, but it was wasted effort. He never looked at me once. Just stared at Daddy something strange. Looked at him like he was the only thing he wished he could see.

I rose to my feet.

“Did they beep our number yet? I’m starving.”

“Go and see what’s taking so long. I know we got here before those people, and they’re eatin’ already. Go on, Lauren,” Daddy said rushing me off with his hands.

My droopy eyes suddenly popped open like a trunk, acutely awakened by the smell of raw onions. I waved my electronic pager in the cashier’s face. She yelled to the back, and soon a uniformed employee handed me a plastic tray with our food.

I returned to the table, wanting to rush, yet taking my time. Aaron was bent over the table, leaning toward Daddy. The lines that appeared in Aaron’s face told me he didn’t like what he was hearing. I started to go sit at an empty table, but Daddy turned and saw me and waved me over with his hands.

“Girl, I paid for that food, you better bring me my dinner,” he complained reaching toward his burger. I snatched back the tray. His hands flailed the air and he couldn’t help but laugh.

One bite into my thick, juicy, delicious smelling burger, and I was ready to forgive the network for yanking
The Wayans Brothers
off the air.

“Aaron, what made you come here tonight?” I asked after sipping some soda.

He looked at my dad but didn’t say anything.

“Why you looking at Daddy? What’s up with—”

“I asked him to come,” Daddy said with lifeless eyes.

As juicy as my burger was, right then it tasted like a jar of flour.

“For what?” I wanted to know.

Daddy lifted his sandwich and talked to it like I was inside the bun.

“He needs to tell you something, Lauren.”

“Hey, can’t this wait? Let her eat first,” Aaron pleaded.

Aaron looked sick. But then again, “peculiar” may be an even better description. Eyes were red, face ashy, his fingers drumming the tabletop, really getting on my nerves.

“Okay, as you wish,” Daddy replied, and shook his head like a hundred-year-old regret.

I averted my eyes, trying to keep Aaron from chasing me with his odd-looking stares. I felt resentful, worried even. Why here? Why now? Whatever happened to Southwestern Bell? My number hadn’t changed.

He watched me eat, tapping his foot on the floor. Whether the rhythm was to the beat of the music or to his own anxiety, I really couldn’t tell.

With my burger being three-fourths gone and root beer now sipped down to ice water, I wiped my mouth with a napkin and asked, “What’s wrong, Aaron?”

My dad rose from the table and shuffled about to linger a couple of tables over. Once he was out of listening range, Aaron cleared his throat and reached across the table to grab my rigid hands.

“Lauren?”

He sighed and his eyes dropped downward.

“Spit it out, Aaron.”

“Lauren, uh, I don’t know how to say this other than to say it. We’re going to have to stop seeing each other.”

“Oooohhhh, nooooo. Nooooo,” I shook my head, wanting to snatch back my hands, but Aaron held them in a tight grip.

“Yes, Lauren, yes,” he said to me and managing to still look at me without dropping his gaze. “I know you won’t understand right now, but we gotta break it . . . off.”

“No, no, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Mmmmm, no,” I wailed.

“Lauren, you’re not listening, but you’d better, because I’m serious about what I’ve said. Not a joke, it’s for real.”

“But . . . what do you mean, ‘gotta,’ like you have no choice?”

The music was still thumping, folks still yapping, and I wished I could be swallowed up deep inside the noise, becoming a forgotten melody.

I recognized Daddy across the way and wanted to make some type of visual contact, but tonight his eyes were hidden and unavailable, blinded by the pain of a daughter’s heart.

“Well, if I had all the time in the world to try and explain things to you, you still probably wouldn’t understand. Just trust me that this is real, it’s happening, it’s right now, and there’s not anything that can be done about it.”

“But why so extreme? I mean, is this like temporary or permanent? You never, ever want to get back with me?”

“Lauren, don’t even try to figure it out because I don’t think you can. I just need you to accept this. Please don’t question it. Please?”

“Well, how did Daddy know about this? I mean, I don’t get it.”

“And you won’t get it,” he said.

I felt like I was suffocating, like his mouth was a vacuum that consumed my sensibilities. Didn’t seem possible that Aaron would say those things to me, yet I couldn’t deny what I knew I heard.

“So what does this mean?”

“Lauren, we’ll still be friends.”

“How can you tell me we’ll still be friends? Like that means something?”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help—”

“Your help feels like hurt.”

My freaking lips started trembling like I gave them permission or something. Didn’t mean to, but hurt has a mind of its own. I started sputtering and choking away tears right there in the restaurant. By then Daddy had returned to my side, and he asked Aaron to leave. My brand-new ex-boyfriend shrugged his shoulders, jammed his umbrella under his arm, and walked away without even saying “Thanks for the memories.”

For the longest I couldn’t even look at my dad. Wished he had gone away too, and left me there to suffer alone. But he refused to leave. Daddy sat next to me and stroked my arm and shoulder. I sat rigid, thinking and rethinking everything I could have done wrong that had brought on Aaron’s decision. I felt so humiliated. How could I tell Regis? My mom? Who else would understand such pain? Pain that didn’t make sense.

Daddy may not have been a woman, but that night I felt he somehow understood.