Rhythm (5 page)

“I will share it to you someday, but not now.
Thank you for understanding.”

He gives me a dismissal nod. “C’mon, let’s
unpack the food you prepared. I’m starving,” he changes the topic
so the mood and my past is set aside—for a while.

“Hmm . . . these are good. Did you prepare
it?” he asks.

“Who else would prepare it?”

“Lola?”

“Seriously? You can’t trust Lola in the
kitchen, it would be a disaster.” I laugh, reminiscing the one and
only time Lola tried to cook. She was upset and wanted to eat our
favorite comfort food, chocolate chip pancake, but I wasn’t home
yet. She didn’t want to wait for me so she tried making it herself.
The next thing she knew, she almost set our dorm on fire.

“So, you cook?”

“Yeah, but nothing fancy. I cook to eat. I am
not big on food presentation.”

“Like a chef would do in a cooking show.”

“I know, right? I don’t waste my time doing
those. I would rather waste my time eating my food.”

He laughs. “I am amazed by your appetite. No
one will have a hint of how big of an eater you are by just looking
at your body. And you’re funny. I like this side of you. I always
thought you’re serious, and that you don’t have a funny bone.”

“That’s because that is what I want to
portray.”

“Why?”

“Because. There’s a reason, but . . .”

My heart sinks.

“Rip, are you okay?”

“Yes . . . no. I am not.”

“Help me here, I’m baffled. Did I say
something wrong?”

“Let’s just say that you question things I
don’t want to answer, but I am conflicted because I want to answer
you.”

“So, will you answer me or not yet?”

I give him an apologetic look. Can I do this?
Can I be in a relationship without being honest? To think that it
is my first rule: no secrets, all honesty, and open communication.
But he doesn’t need to know my past. Does he?
What is happening
with you, Rhythm? Tell him!

After a lifetime of pause, I tell him,
“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you. Besides, I don’t want
to keep secrets from you. We agreed on being honest, so I’ll do my
part.” I exhale. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” He smiles.

“I have a hard time allowing people to enter
into my life because I don’t want to be attached with anyone.
People I love always leave me. Always. My father left Mama and me
when I was seven. Apparently, we are his illegitimate family. He
has a wife, three kids, and a home. He has a
real
family.
Mama had a trouble moving on because of that. She didn’t know Papa
has a family until I was six. Her first decision was to let him go
but decided against it. She continued to be his other woman until
Olivia, Papa’s wife, went to our house. She talked with Mama, cried
to her, and begged her to let Papa go. Olivia said she forgave Mama
already and promised not to charge them anything if Mama would just
let them be a family. Mama didn’t want to, but she saw me listening
to their conversation. She told Olivia her apologies and her
promises, led her out of the house, and called me. She asked what I
have heard, I said, “Everything,” and then she wept for a long time
in front of me. I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t do anything.
I saw how she broke into smithereens. After all the tears left her,
she tried her best to compose herself and talked with me. That
would be the most memorable time I have with her. She was very
attentive with my needs. She showed me how a loving mom she was. We
had a mother-daughter bonding. We shopped, we played, we watched a
movie . . . She even brought me to a parlor. We had our hair cut,
our nails done, and our bodies massaged. We were happy, but it only
lasted that day. The next day, she didn’t acknowledge me. She
didn’t leave me like how my dad left me, but she left me on my own.
From that day, I didn’t feel that I have a mother, and it’s like
that until now. I don’t know if she even knows that I am already in
college, if she knows that I am living on my own. I don’t know if
she even cares. Although Papa didn’t fail to support me
financially, I still felt I am on my own. What I need is more than
what he’s giving. I need them and where are they? Not here. They
are the two best examples of the people who left me. There are
more, but I think they’re enough to let you know how I assume
people will just leave me.”

“I understand, but let me tell you this. I’m
not your papa or your mama, Rhy. I will never leave you.”

“Don’t say that, Grant. You don’t know the
future.”

“You’re right, but I know me, and I know that
I will never leave you—never, Rhy. Never.”

“Don’t you ever make that promise again.
You’ll just break it.”

“Negative much?”

“Positive much.”

I know he wants to say more but restrains
himself, so we leave our conversation at that.

Grant

“Okay, your turn,” she breaks the tension
built by our silence. “Tell me about your family.”

“I’m from Pennsylvania. I live with Dad, Mom,
and my brother,” I answer without hesitation.

She can’t hide the shock on her face. “You
have a brother?”

“Yup.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger. He’s what? Eight. Yeah, eight years
old,” I reply with much reverence. I miss him.

“Really? What’s his name?”

“Isaac.”

“You miss him, don’t you?” She reads my
expression.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here in South Carolina,
anyway?”

“You know
why
.” I’ve told her before
that I will follow her wherever she goes, and I meant it, so when
she transferred here from Michigan, I followed her.

“You’ll stick to the
I will follow you
wherever you will go
drama? There must be more than that,
Grant. Come on.”

I find her amusing because she doesn’t see
herself as enough reason for anything that I do. Okay, I’ll give
her my
other
reason just to satisfy her. “I want to live on
my own, to be independent, so I chose a college that’s not in our
neighborhood.”

She nods, signaling her approval. “How’s your
family like?”

I reminisce our happy times together. “We’re
close enough that Dad and Mom had a hard time accepting that I
wanted to leave, but they understood me, so they let me do what I
wanted.”

“Tell me more about them—your parents first
then Isaac.”

Her excitement is apparent and my heart
breaks a little seeing how a simple story of a family makes her
happy. “Dad and Mom love each other so much. They met when they
were sixteen. They are their each other’s first love, but they
broke up when they were twenty for a reason they didn’t share.
Anyway, they reconciled after a year or two then got married when
they were twenty-six—on their 10th year anniversary. They weren’t
able to conceive a child right away but told me that they were
still happy. They didn’t feel that they lack something or someone.
They already feel so much blessed by just having each other, but on
their 4th year of being married, they had me. They named me Grant
after realizing that they both secretly prayed for a baby—their
prayer was granted.”

“Why did they keep it a secret with each
other?” she interrupts.

“Because they didn’t want to let each other
feel that they were not happy with their situation. They were, said
both of them, they just felt that they would be happier if they had
a child.”

“Okay. Go on,” she asks me to continue.

“Isaac came when Dad and Mom were forty years
old that’s why they named him Isaac—because they had him in old age
just like Abraham and Sarah in the Bible. I told them they weren’t
that old like them but disregarded me, so Isaac. He’s adorable
since day one. They always say that he looks up to me, but what
they don’t realize is that I look up to him. He’s teaching me many
things even he’s younger by ten years.”

“Wow. Your family seems super close and that
you love each other so much,” she observes.

“Yeah, definitely,” I acquiesce.

“What I do not understand is why did you
leave them behind?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t. I’m just
studying.”

“You could attend your senior year in high
school and college there,” she insists.

“I could, but like I said, I wanted to learn
how to be independent, and I want to be where you are.” I smirk.
“About my senior year in high school, have I not told you?”

“What?”

“I was a hopeless case. They needed to place
me in a new environment. All I did then was make trouble. I was
trouble.”

She blinks rapidly, grasping my new
revelation.

“C’mon, Rip. Do I look like a troublemaking
kid?” I chuckle. Her face looks like she’s imagining me punching
someone to death. “Rip, I’m kidding. There’s no drama behind my
transfer from Pennsylvania to Michigan. It was a plain, “Dad, Mom,
I want to live on my own.” I was still in high school, so of course
I needed to convince them. And transferring to a place where some
of your relatives lives made sense.”

“You were not a troublemaker?” Is that a
disappointment in her tone or relief?

“Never.”

“You just want to live independently? You
left them for independence?”

I can sense that she’s troubled with the fact
that I left my family. I don’t want her to feel bad.

“Look, babe. I’m going home after college. I
want to live and grow old there. I look forward to live with my
future family in my hometown.”

I hope that her mood will change with what I
have said.

“Oh,” is her only reply.

Her mood worsens.
Shoot.
“What did I
say that warrants that reaction, honey? Please be honest,” I
appeal.

She hesitates for a moment but vocalizes her
thoughts. “You look forward to live with your future family in your
hometown.”

“And?” I signal for her to keep talking.

“And . . . I feel that I am not part of your
future.”

I am shocked by her declaration. “Why would
you feel that?”

“Uhm. I don’t know. I just don’t feel like
it.”

“Rhy, of course I consider you as my future
family, but right now, I don’t want to scare you by making plans
about going home with me. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Really?” she confirms with a hopeful
tone.

“Really.”

I smile at the thought of bringing her home,
introducing her for the first time to my family. I know that they
will adore her.

“What are you thinking?” she interrupts my
line of thought.

“You really want to know? A little warning,
this may be a little advanced for you.”

She nods.

I take a deep breath. “I was thinking of
bringing you home and introducing you to my family—I’m looking
forward to that day.”

“You think we’ll reach that point?”

“Of course, but don’t worry, no pressure on
your part. I will never make you do something when you’re not
ready.”

“You know what? I’m also looking forward to
that day. I want to meet your family.”

Is it possible for a guy to blush because I
swear, I’m blushing. “You’re doing crazy things to me, Rip.”

She convulsed with laughter. “Are you really
blushing? I want to see you blush often.” She fixes her gaze on me,
straight in the eye, as she taunts me. “Grant, I want to meet your
dad, mom and Isaac.”

“Stop it, Rip,” I warn her as I blush some
more.

She stands up and runs away from me. “I’m
going to meet your parents and sibling, Grant.”

I run towards her to stop her from teasing
me. “If you will not stop, I will tickle you to death.”

“Don’t you dare.” She shifts from teasing
mode to pleading mode. “Don’t do it, Grant. I will never forgive
you.”

“Oooh. So, you’re afraid of being tickled?” I
feel smug.

“Just don’t dare, okay? Promise me,” she
commands me in a much serious tone than needed.

“Okay, okay. I promise.” I check her if she’s
all right. “Are we good?”

“Yes. I’m sorry for teasing you.”

“Hey, no worries. You okay?”

She bobs her head.

I want to turn the wheel and ask her some
more personal questions like what’s with the tickle-to-death that
throws her off balance, but I believe I reached my quota for the
day.

“Happy 1st week again, Rhy. I pray for more
weeks with you. I love you, baby.” I try to shift the mood because
I want to end our day on a sweet note.

“Happy 1st week, Grant. Thank you so much for
everything, and you know that I love you too.” She beams at me.

Thank goodness.

Grant

I didn’t expect Rhy to open up on our 1st
week date, but she did, and I am happy that she told me those
things. At least now I have an idea where she’s coming from. I am
confident that I won’t leave her. In fact, I’m afraid she might
leave me.

Anyway, I have to make our time together
worthwhile. I will do everything in my power to make her happy.
Today, she will be with Lola—whole day of no Rip. I will miss her,
but I don’t want her to be indulged in too much of my presence. I
will let her breathe.

Cale and I decide to hit the gym, and then
we’ll go play ball.

On our way out from the gym, I heard a
familiar, annoying voice.

“Hello, Grant. Headed out? Done already?”

I fight the urge to say, “No, we’re just
heading in. We’re just starting,” because it’s obvious that we are
headed out and that we are already done, but she’s still
asking.

“Yes, we’re going,” I answer petulantly.

“Hi, Cale. Your friend’s not in the mood,
huh?”

Cale laughs. “Yes, he’s
RIP
ped.”

“What ripped?” she asks, confused with the
inside joke Cale just delivered.

I’ve got to end what Cale has started.
“Nothing, Riley. We’ve gotta go. Bye.”