My Daughter's Boyfriend (27 page)

I flinched and felt like an asshole of the worst kind. I tried to reach out and touch his arm, but he backed away a bit and it didn’t bother me. “Hey, I’m sorry, Aaron. I didn’t know. Go ahead and be with your dad, I’ll get with you tomorrow.” I turned and headed back to my car, feeling Aaron’s eyes on me all the way.

THAT WEEKEND LAUREN INITIATED
a conversation with me, something she hadn’t done in weeks. I was holed away in my bedroom, reshelving my hundreds of books: my Sidney Sheldon collection, the E. Lynn Harris trilogy, and the others were giving the impression that they’d been all shook up, and I was sick of looking at the disorder. Lauren’s knuckles made light tapping sounds on my half-open door. I turned away from my work, swallowed the shock that was lodged deep in my throat, and asked her, “What’s going on?”

She stood in the doorway, twisting and digging her big toe in the carpet until I gaped at her so hard that either bravery or fear lifted her feet and she entered the room and stood next to me.

“Well, um, I forgot to tell you that the band is, uh, going to Dallas next month. S-s-statewide competition at Reunion Center.” She stood there staring at my piles of books and yanking on her beaded necklace, which made a clinking sound.

“And you’re saying that to say what?”

She hesitated. “I need you to fill out the permission slip.”

I waved my hand. “That’s all? Well, give it here. I’ll fill it out right now.”

She remained immobile, like I hadn’t even said anything.

“Lauren, why are you acting so weird? Just go and get—”

“Well, uh, Daddy’s already paid for my airplane ticket, but we need, uh, since you have all this, this, this,” she said rattling the necklace more rapidly, “extra money to use for hotel rooms, what about . . . spending some of it . . . on me?”

A couple of Nelson George novels fell from my hands. I turned and faced her.

“What did you say?”

She took a few steps back, but continued to look at me.

“Mom, I don’t think it’s fair you have all this money to be throwing away . . . and I have a little cash in my savings account, but not enough to buy it.”

“Buy it? Buy what? Lauren, what are you talking about?”

“Uniform,” she snapped, like I ought to be able to know what she was thinking automatically. “They want us to wear these new uniforms, but they cost a lot of money. Daddy can’t buy the plane ticket
and
the hotel room
and
the uniform, so since you . . . could you pay for it?” She stopped to pick the Nelson George books up off the floor.

“Well, if you just need some money, that’s all you gotta say. I don’t appreciate your bringing up how I spend my money. My cash is my business. I’m grown, I work, and I can do whatever the hell I want to do, and if you don’t like it, you can always go live with your father.”

I rose up and started to stomp over to my nightstand, but instead snapped, “Bring me my purse.”

She trudged with her head hung low, dragging her long legs like a female Charlie Brown. I turned my back. My hands jerked and convulsed when I began throwing Whitfield’s, Briscoe’s, and Mosley’s books on the shelves, forgetting to put them in alphabetical order.

She returned with my purse, but the way she was holding it, I would need arms the length of King Kong’s to reach it.

I folded my arms. “Lauren, either hand me the purse or you can figure out a way to pay for your uniform yourself.”

She turned up her nose and mouth, her eyes thin slits, and pressed the purse hard in my hand, but it dropped to the floor.

One, two, three,
I whispered, aiming for a count of ten, but what good would it have done?

“Look, Lauren, I may be your mother, but I don’t have to do jack for you. I gave birth to you, but I won’t have you treating me like vomit just because you don’t understand how things operate in a grown-up world. But if you live long enough, you’ll see, and if you don’t watch it, I’ll let you see it sooner than you think.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, and placed her hands over her ears.

I dumped the contents of my purse on the bureau. Tore off a blank check.

“How much is it again?” I asked.

She mumbled something.

“Lauren, please speak up. I don’t interpret mumbling.”

“Uniform is a hundred and fifty bucks, but could I get two-fifty? I could use a little spending money.”

I really didn’t want to come up with that much cash, and started to say “hell, no,” but thought how that might make things worse, so I hastily scribbled out the check.

“When is this trip again?” I asked.

She snatched the check and examined it closely and looked back at me.

“The second week in February. On a Thursday.”

“That’s two weeks from now,” I told her, realizing how soon that day would get here.

“Yeah, and I’ll need you to take me to Hobby Airport that morning and pick me up on Saturday,” she said, folding the check and sliding it in her pants pocket.

“Gee, thanks for letting me know all this. Dang, Lauren.”

She shrugged and looked at the floor. Maybe relieved that she got some money out of me, but still failing to look the part. But considering everything, maybe I owed her that; maybe a monetary blessing would be one of my sacrifices.

“So, Lauren, you have to spend the night, huh? Where are you staying?”

“At the Days Inn. Daddy’s paying for my meals and lodging.”

I reeled back, irritated. “You already told me.”

“And my airfare.”

“I’m not deaf.”

“Umph.”

“Well, Lauren,” I said, “seems like you told Derrick about this trip before you told me.”

She just looked at me like I didn’t have brains for brains.

“Why was I the last to know?” I asked. I knew I sounded insecure, but it was certainly a blow to my ego when I realized how hurt I felt (yes, hurt) about being left out. Sure, I knew she was upset about what had transpired between Aaron and me, but shouldn’t the fact that I gave birth to her count for something? Was it too much to expect my daughter to still honor my position? And wouldn’t all the other things I did right as a mom make up for the things I flunked at?

Lauren squinted at me for a moment. “Truthfully, you’re hardly ever here anymore, and by the time I see you, I just forget to tell you some things. But that’s not important. The deal is I’m going now and I can’t wait to leave. I doubt that you’ll miss me,” she said, and stormed from the room.

IT WAS HARD TO GET IN TOUCH WITH
Aaron all the next week. I’d call his cell every two minutes just to get one of those “the customer you’re trying to reach, blah-blah-blah” messages. He didn’t call me, and I wasn’t about to go by his place again unannounced.

“Hmmm, I wonder what’s going on with him,” I said to Indira one weekend while we were malling at First Colony. We’d already combed the anchor stores like Dillard’s, Mervyn’s, and Foley’s. Now we were browsing in Walden Books. I was hovering in the magazine section; she was raking her hands over books at the nearby bargain book display.

“Girl, who you asking? If he hasn’t called you in a week, something must be wrong. Doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“What you think could be wrong, Indy?”

“Girl, if you could see the look on your face,” she said, flipping to the back cover of a Michael Jordan book. “Say, Tracey, I don’t know the degree of your feelings for Aaron and vice versa, but if you have a bond that’s strong, then you will hear from him, that I’m sure of. You can’t have a thick and solid relationship with someone and it just breaks up without warning.”

“Lauren and Aaron did.” Gosh, that rushed out of my mouth fast.

“But did they really? Maybe Lauren was disillusioned over what she thought she had with Aaron. Maybe he wasn’t as into her as she thought, or else—well, you know what I’m trying to say.”

“Hmm! I guess,” I said, picking up and staring at a ton of plain-looking yet pricey journals.

Right then my cell started ringing. I dropped the journals on the floor and fumbled for the phone.

“Hello? Aaron?”

He laughed in my ear, his voice thick and hoarse, yet sounding like a sweet melody.

“Aaron, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Memorial Hermann Southwest.”

“At the hospital? What’s wrong?”

“Daddy. That damned cancer again. Has to take a liver test. I’ve been back and forth to the hospital the past few days. Sorry for not calling. Lots going on.”

“What’s going on, Aaron? Is he all right?”

“Yeah, looks like he’s going to pull through. We almost lost him, though.”

“Aaron.” My voice softened. “You should have called me. I wish you would have called me, let me do something.”

“No, no, baby girl.”

That brought on a smile, the baby calling his baby a baby.

“Nothing you could do. Hey, I can’t talk long. Just wanted to get with you about what’s up. I’ll be back home tonight. I want to see you, too. Can you swing by, say around eight?”

“Sure,” I said softly. “You take care of yourself and I’ll see you tonight.”

Indira cocked her head and smiled.

“See, I told you so.”

I PULLED UP OUTSIDE AARON’S BUILDING at seven-fifty. His car was there, but instead of rushing to him, I forced myself to remain outside for another few minutes. I’d wondered what I’d see when I next saw his face. Six days is a long time not to see someone you want to be around.

When I finally did go up, he answered the door with a damp body towel hanging around his glistening neck.

“Excuse me, babe, just got out of the shower. Make yourself at home. I’ll be back.”

My eyes followed him until he disappeared from my sight.

When he returned, I pointed to the breakfast bar stool. He slumped in the chair and I walked over to him and started massaging his shoulders, rubbing little circles on his back.

“Uh, uh, lower, lower, right there. Ssssss, thanks, Tracey.”

“My pleasure. Anything I can do for you? Your dad?”

“Pay the hospital bill.”

I playfully smacked him on his head with the nearby cable TV guide.

“No, being here with me is enough. God, how I wanted to see you, but it was . . . there wasn’t much I could do. Some of my relatives, aunts and uncles, drove in from Alexandria, Louisiana. People I hadn’t seen in years. I knew it was serious then.”

“Oh Lord. That must’ve been hard to deal with.”

“Hey, we had our moments. Grown men crying over my dad. But he’s pulling through. They have him on an IV, and he’s responding and eating pretty well. Hopefully, he’ll be home within a few days.”

“That’s great.”

“But,” Aaron said, holding up one finger, “he’s not out of the woods yet. He needs someone around to help him, give him his medicine and baths and stuff. Mom can only do so much, so I expect to spend more time over in Conroe than I’d usually spend.”

“Uh-huh.” I squinted.

“And what I need you to understand, Tracey, is that with my father getting sick and all, I can’t promise you I’ll be able to give you all the attention you might want. You know, those three simple things you said you want in a relationship? Attention, affection, and uh, I forget—”

“Being made to feel valuable,” I mumbled, and frowned.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Well,” I said wistfully, “I can understand how you need to be there for your dad, your mom. When it boils down to it, family is all you got.”

“Yeah, my parents have come through for me many times, mostly financially, but other times, too. Like when I was a kid, Daddy would come out to all my Little League games. Even though he was working and trying to keep his business afloat, he’d sacrifice and be there. He’d be late—” Aaron’s face flushed, his voice cracked. “He’d be late . . . but he’d always make it in time to see me at bat, hitting those doubles and stuff. He’d be the loudest one in the stands. You know, I’d be so embarrassed when my pops would yell and shout, raising the roof before there was even such a thing as raising the roof, but on the inside I was proud, glad he was doing that, all on account of me.”

I touched Aaron’s hand, ran my fingers alongside his knuckles, picked up his hand and pressed it against my lips.

“Babe, you’re so good to me,” he said.

“What did you say?” I asked.

His eyes widened. “I said something wrong?”

“No, usually I’m the one who says ‘you’re so good to me.’ I’m surprised to hear you say that. Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Well, it’s true. I know I should have called you sooner than what I did. But I was so exhausted and Daddy’s health was key. I was just hoping you weren’t getting pissed at me and feeling like I was out doing something behind your back. Because I wouldn’t do that to you, and even if I were to do it, it would be in front of your face.”

“Oooh, you make me sick,” I told him and fell against Aaron’s head, pressing upon him like my bones had melted and I was fainting.

“Hey, I’ll help you get better too . . . baaabbbyyy.”

My insides warmed over like a sudden wave of heat showing up on a frosty winter day. I kissed the sides of his face and his moist nose, and blew my warm and sweetened breath on his eyelids. Even though I could tell he sucked in his breath so as not to smell mine, I didn’t hate on him, didn’t pop him upside the head. I held Aaron close in my arms, feeling like I was his mother in a way, yet loving him like his lover.

Lauren 29

The first Saturday in February, I worked the 10:30-to-
2:30 shift. Once I punched out, instead of asking Mom to pick me up, I caught Metro. First thing I did when I got home was dial up Regis. Earlier in the week she’d mentioned something about hanging out.

“Rege, what’s up this weekend?”

“Hey, heifer. Uh, me and some of the crew going joy-riding tonight. Wanna roll?”

“Sure, I ain’t got nothing better to do. Who is ‘some of the crew’?”

“Well, Justine’s sister gave her a car last Christmas, and she’s our chauffeur. My cousin Hope is over, so she game. Then Zoe and Lia coming, too.”

“What about Charisse?”

Regis laughed. “What about her?”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh? Well, anyway, shoot, how many of us are going? One, two, three . . . six people. We can all fit in Justy’s car?”

“Yeah, we’ll fit. Don’t even sweat it.”

After that conversation, it felt good to know I had the place to myself. I mostly poked around the house, opening and closing the refrigerator every ten minutes until the girls came and scooped me up. That was around seven. Since my mother never showed up that afternoon or even bothered to call home, I decided not to leave her a note on the fridge.

Let her worry.

If only I were that fortunate.

“HEY, Y’ALL, WHAT’S HAPPENING?” I said, sitting down and fastening my seat belt.

“Whassup? Your hair looking cute, girl,” Zoe said. I turned my head around so she could see the back, too.

“Thanks. I know I’m blazing,” yelled Regis, who was sitting up front. Regis’s hairstyle, a display of tiny ringlets bunched up on top of her head, was so crisp it crackled. I could smell the holding spray before I even got in the car. She started patting the top of her hair and smiling.

Zoe stared at Regis. Then she turned back toward me and laughed. “I like those knots in your hair, Lauren.”

“Thanks, Zoe.” Ever since the beginning of the year, I’d been sporting Nubian knots on the crown of my head; the edges were resting at my shoulders in a light flip. Guys would usually look at me longer than a little bit, and I’d look back at them, but so far no phone numbers had been exchanged, no love connections made.

“Hey, boo, we ain’t seen you in a while. This is going to be fun, y’all. Just like at the slumber party.” That was Lia.

“Yeah, I could use a girls’ night out. Hey, can someone turn up the radio?” I asked.

I was squeezed behind the driver’s seat, next to the window. The seating arrangements were myself, Zoe, and Lia in the back. Up front Justine had the wheel, Hope was in the middle, and Regis had the window seat.

“Happy now?” asked Hope turning up the radio and bouncing and waving her hands. “The Thong Song” by Sisqo was on.

“Aw, heck. Every time I turn on the radio, that song is either coming on or going off,” complained Justine. She was heading north on Beltway Eight.

“What, you got something against Sisqo? Shoot, he sexy,” yelled Regis.

“Define sexy.”

“Uh, Justy, what planet are you from? The boy got the moves, the money, and the mike. What else he need? What else
you
need, Justy?” asked Regis.

“I like intelligence,” Justine said firmly.

“Duh, this is Houston.” Regis laughed. “Ain’t too many intelligent guys here. You gotta go to Austin to get that.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Justine. “There’s some intelligent guys here. You might have to go to a college campus to find them, but they’re here, right, Lauren?”

“What you say?” I yelled, and leaned toward the front.

“Lauren’s not the one to ask. She and her college guy bit the dust,” shouted Regis, who was rocking in her seat and singing.

“Ooohh. What happened? I thought y’all were tight,” Lia asked, and leaned across Zoe to peer at me.

“Aaron dumped Lauren like a pot of burned rice.”

I reached across Zoe and squeezed the flab on Miss Bigmouth’s neck.

“Ouch. Lauren, stop. You know I’m telling the truth,” Regis moaned, rubbing her pinched skin.

“Well, no one asked you to do that, Regis. I know how to talk for myself.”

“Well, talk, sister, talk.”

“Regis, you need to quit,” I told her, almost wishing that I hadn’t agreed to hang out with the crew.

“No, I don’t. Now go ahead and tell us, Lauren. I wanna hear this one myself, ’cause you never told me the whole story.”

“Thank the Lord I didn’t. It’d be on Headline News by now.”

“Seriously, Lauren,” urged Justine. “Please tell us what happened.”

“Okay,” I told Justine. “But first, could Hope turn down that music? I can’t even hear myself talk.”

“Well, make up your mind,” said Hope. “First you want it up, then you want it down. What I look like? Kunta Kinte cloth?” she said jokingly.

With Sisqo’s voice now a faint cry, I leaned toward the front and looked around at all the crew. “Well, my boyfriend, rather ex-boyfriend, dumped me because . . . I wouldn’t give him none.”

“That bastard,” said Hope.

“Ole scrub,” added Lia.

“Ah, that sucks, Lauren,” said Zoe. “I mean, how did it happen? He just came right out and told you the reason why?”

“Well, he didn’t say it directly, but he did in so many words. I still can’t believe it, and it’s been about six weeks now.”

“If he dumped you over that, you didn’t need him anyway. You’ll find someone more deserving of you, girl.”

“Thanks, Justy.”

“So, when’s the last time you talked to the foul Negro?” asked Lia.

I squirmed in my seat. “You know, I don’t know. I—I try not to think about it.”

“I know that’s right. Huh, I’ll bet he was screwing someone else, tipping out on you while you trying to be faithful to his cheatin’ ass,” said Regis.

I smiled. I hoped that wherever Aaron was, he knew we were talking about him.

“So tell me something, Lauren. Did you have any idea that he was cheating on you, assuming that he was?” asked Justine.

“I didn’t have a clue.” I said this with bitterness. “Aaron was as slick as Clinton, and Clinton ain’t that slick.”

“Huh, I don’t see how you missed that one, Lauren. Ray Charles could have seen that,” claimed Regis.

“Well, Ray better be glad he wasn’t dating Aaron,” I said softly, and looked out the window.

As soon as I let those words out of my mouth, Justine made a right turn, heading east on Westheimer. Westheimer is Houston’s primary street for joy-riding and hanging out, kind of like a scaled-down version of Hollywood’s Sunset Boulevard.

Soon after making our turn, Lia yelled, “Hey, any of y’all’s wallets flowing tonight?”

“Sounds like yours ain’t,” murmured Regis. She pulled out a bill. “I got a five. Why?”

“How ’bout the rest of y’all?” Lia said looking around at us.

“I’m broke,” snapped Hope.

“I got a ten,” chimed in Justine.

“I got three bucks and fiddy-two cents,” said Zoe.

“And I have about seven or eight dollars, I think,” I said.

“Hey, y’all, let’s go and get two twenty-piece McNuggets,” Lia suggested.

“Oh no. In case you forgot, I work at Mickey D’s,” I reminded Lia.

“So what? It still tastes good, and I want some nuggets.” She laughed like what I thought didn’t mean a damn thing.

“Justy, there will be a McDonald’s on the left-hand side, right before you get to, uh, South Voss, I think,” said Zoe.

I rolled my eyes and slumped in my seat.

Seems like a few minutes later we pulled up to the McDonald’s.

With Regis leading the way, us girls filed into the restaurant.

Soon as we neared the service counter, I noticed them: my mom and my ex pulling up to the pickup window. Aaron was in the driver’s seat. Mom sat next to him, smiling. I got this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’d just got the news that someone died, and I didn’t want to believe it even if it was true.

But as close as they seemed, I was relieved that they were outside, that we didn’t suffer the drama of them actually coming inside the restaurant.

Thank God for small blessings,
I thought, when I saw the car lurch away.

We went ahead and placed our order and were glad to find empty seats.

“So, Lauren,” Justy was saying to me while we waited on our nuggets, “do you regret not giving Aaron any loving?”

Fortunately she was sitting right next to me and talked in a low voice so that Regis and the others couldn’t hear. When I heard her question, it seemed like an opening that I’d been waiting for. Although I’d hardly admitted it to myself, I realized that, yes, I was very torn up over what had happened between me and Aaron, especially since I’d decided to wait to have sex based on Mom’s recommendation. The fact that she could advise me, yet didn’t know how to keep her own self in line, just made me wish I hadn’t listened to her in the first place. She got to know what I was missing out on, and somehow that just didn’t seem fair. Somehow it seems when you’re committed to doing the right thing, the wrong things happen.

“Well, Justy, I’d be lying if I said I don’t have some regrets. I mean, I didn’t want to be with Aaron because every other girl seems like she’s already been with her boyfriend,” I said, and swallowed deeply. “More than anything, I wondered if he was the right one, and the fact that he couldn’t wait for me, well, that made me wonder . . .”

I couldn’t go on, unable to imagine that the guy I strongly believed was the best real boyfriend—the
only
real boyfriend—I ever had, turned out to be someone who I wasn’t really sure cared about me. I felt major dumb, used in a way, even though I never even gave Aaron a significant part of my body. It was the principle. The fact that he could promise me one thing and do another, and then to get with . . .

I decided to hop up right then and fill my cup with Sprite and lots of ice.

By that time Regis, Lia, and Zoe were coming toward our table, carrying a couple of trays. Just as I was passing them, Regis stopped walking and pointed. “Hey, y’all, look over there.”

I saw what she saw, and wished for the first time in my life that I didn’t have the gift of sight.

“What?” Hope asked.

“Lauren, what’s your momma doing here with Aaron?”

“It’s not what you think it is,” I blurted, and looked at the floor.

“Uh-uh, I don’t even believe them,” Regis said. “They got some nerve. Your momma’s acting like she in high school or something. Hanging out on Westheimer. Girl, you need to get that shit straight.”

Her voice was loud and booming; the rest of the crew was torn between staring at Aaron and my mother, and trying to not steal peeks at me. I felt someone grab my elbow and I began walking backward. The vision of the two people in the world who had hurt me the most became smaller and smaller.

As loud as Regis was, I felt relieved that it appeared neither my mother nor Aaron saw us. They were standing at a register holding a white paper McDonald’s bag and looking like they were talking to the store manager. Justine ushered us together and waved at us girls to grab our food the best way we could, and we then ducked out of the restaurant. I looked at Justine and thanked her with my eyes. Eyes that were too shocked to produce moisture.