The Last Boyfriend (18 page)

“Did you date
Angelique?”

“Angelique?” He looked
back at me brusquely. “Why?”

“I was just curious. You
were very cozy with her at the party, but I never saw her with you
at the diner.”

“I never
took her to the diner.”

“So she was more than a
one-time date?”

“Why are you asking me
these questions, Lucky?” He sighed. “We have to get going, Mr.
Johnson will be wondering where we are.”

“Why is my bedroom so
feminine?” The words shot out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“Did Angelique design the room?”

“What’s your sudden
preoccupation with Angelique?” He sighed. “Can we talk about this
later?”

“Why won’t you tell me?” I
continued, now frustrated. “Was she your girlfriend or
not?”

“Look Lucky, Angelique was
not my girlfriend, and neither are you. Stop nagging me please.” He
opened the door and waited for me to walk through.

Tears stung my eyes as I
walked through the front door, my heart was beating so loudly that
I was positive Zane could hear it.
You’re
not his girlfriend, Lucky. You’re not his
girlfriend
. That’s all I could think about
as I got into his car silently. His words hurt me to my very core
and I stared out the window. Well, that puts you in your place, I
thought to myself. We may be lovers and we may have a developing
friendship, but that’s all it was and all it would ever be. I
sighed as I sat back. I wanted to go home. This was a lot harder
than I thought it was going to be, and if I was honest with myself,
I knew that I wasn’t cut out for rejection. Not after everything. I
wasn’t the sort of girl who could and would put up with anything
just to get the guy she loved. That realization hit me like a ton
of bricks. I was falling in love with Zane, and I didn’t want it to
be an upward battle. I wanted him to know and realize, as surely as
I do, that we had a connection. I wanted him to be the one pursuing
me, and not vice versa.

“I didn’t mean to be rude
to you back there, Lucky.” Zane started talking slowly as he drove.
“You know I think you’re special. I’m just not one of those guys
that likes being questioned.”

“I understand,” I mumbled,
continuing to stare out of the window.

“I met Angelique through
my brother, Noah. We have a special relationship.” His voice was
soft.

“Does she know I’m staying
with you?”

“I don’t answer to anyone,
Lucky. I thought you understood that.”

“Do you love
her?”

“I don’t do love.” He
sighed. “If you don’t think you can handle an unconventional
relationship, we should end this now, Lucky.”

“End what?” My voice rose.
“You mean, we should stop fucking?”

“If you aren’t able to
separate sex from a commitment, then maybe we should.” His voice
was gruff. “I know you haven’t been in a relationship in a while
and I understand if you can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I laughed
lightly, trying to hide the pain from my voice.

“I know it’s hard for
girls to sleep with a guy and not develop feelings, but I thought
after our conversation that you knew the deal.”

“I do
know the
deal
.”

“I don’t want to argue
with you, Lucky. I’ve enjoyed two week so far, but I’m not going to
put up with you trying to go down the relationship and jealousy
road.”

“What jealousy?” I said,
feeling mortified. “I was just asking you a few questions. It’s not
a huge deal, Zane. What’s your fucking problem?” I started
shouting. “Why is everything a secret? Shit, we’ve all got issues.
We’ve all been hurt. Deal with it. Okay? Just deal with
it.”

“Calm down.” Zane’s voice
became cold. “Take a deep breath and calm down. We are going to
pull up to Mr. Johnson’s house in a few minutes. I don’t want him
seeing you look like a shrew.”

“I don’t look like a
shrew,” I screamed at him angrily. I was upset that he had turned
it all around on me and hadn’t addressed my questions.

“Do you have the questions
ready you are going to ask him?” He changed the subject. “We’ll
need accurate dates and names from him. Write down every detail. We
should also confirm when he is available for us to come back with
cameras.”

“So we’re not going to
talk about it anymore?”

“Lucky, you have a
decision to make.” He looked at me briefly, and I quickly averted
my eyes from his gaze.

“I have a decision?” I
laughed sarcastically. “I don’t think this is about me.”

“If this is too hard for
you, we don’t have to continue.” His voice was soft as he pulled up
in the driveway. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I felt his arm on my
shoulder and I continued staring out the window. I could feel tears
welling up in my eyes and my head was starting to pound.

“Lucky, look at me
please.”

“What?” I turned to face
him, and I was surprised by the hurt in his expression.

“I don’t want to hurt
you.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. I was starting to realize
that was his tell sign for when he was feeling stressed out. “Maybe
this wasn’t a good idea.”

“Maybe
it wasn’t.” I replied slowly, and sighed.

“I like you a lot, Lucky.”
His words were slow. “I love waking up to you in the morning. I
love spending time with you. I love talking to you about history
and movies.”

But you’re not in love
with me
. I stared at him and studied the
cut of his jaw. It was so square and sharp. His face was so
classically handsome. I thought he could have been a chiseled
statue of a Roman God. He was so hard and unflinching. To some he
would also appear uncaring, but I knew that he was not at all what
he appeared to be. Inside, he was one of the most caring and
wonderful men I have ever met.

“Are you going to answer
me, Lucky?”

“Let’s go inside.” I took
off my seatbelt and opened the car door. I was not willing to have
this conversation now. I needed time to think. I knew that I should
just tell him it was over, but there was a part of me that loathed
the thought of saying the words. I didn’t want to give him up
already. He had already wormed his way into my life, and I didn’t
want to let that feeling go.

“Okay, let’s go and see
Mr. Johnson.” He nodded at me as he closed his car and walked
towards the front door. I followed him in silence, hoping that I
would not start crying during the interview.

***

“Thanks for allowing us
the opportunity to do a pre-interview with you, Mr. Johnson.” Zane
shook the elderly man’s hand, and I nodded my
affirmation.

“No problem.” The man
ushered us in to his house. “We’ll sit in the kitchen if you don’t
mind. My wife has made some tea and cookies.”

“That sounds great. Thank
you.” I beamed.

“No problem. We are happy
to have visitors.” He chuckled. “My Betty and I don’t know many
people here in California.”

“You moved from Chicago,
right?” I smiled, trying to impress him with my
knowledge.

“Yes.” He shivered. “We
moved to get away from the cold.”

“Sidney’s arthritis
couldn’t take the winter’s anymore.” An elderly lady came up to me
and gave me a hug. “Hello, my dear. I’m Betty Johnson, Sidney’s
wife.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs.
Johnson.” I gave her a big, genuine smile, happy to forget about my
conversation with Zane for a while.

“No problem. Sidney and I
were happy to hear that a documentary was going to be made about
residential segregation. You don’t hear much about it these
days.”

“That’s why it’s so
important for us to make this documentary,” Zane
interjected.

“Well,
what do you want to know?” Sidney Johnson smiled.

“Everything.” I
laughed.

“Lucky’s a history major,
with a focus on the Civil Rights Movement.” Zane explained. “She’s
also my assistant.”

“Oh, so then you know some
of what happened then?” Sidney looked at me with kind brown eyes. I
grinned back at him and thought of my father. They had the same
aura to them, and in some inexplicable way, I felt a certain
connection to this elderly African American man.

“I’d like to hear about it
from your perspective.” I looked at Zane and he nodded. “I had some
questions, but I thought maybe you could just sort of run through
your experience first?”

“Sure. Y’all better have a
seat.” He laughed. “And some tea and cookies.”

“Sidney can talk, so I
hope you have a long time.” Betty laughed at us, and I smiled back
at her.

“Thanks.” I helped myself
to a cookie and sat back.

“Well, I was born in North
Carolina, you know. Back in those days, most of us were still in
the South. I was born in the 1930s, right before WWII and the Great
Depression.”

“Sidney, that was long
before WWII.” Betty rolled her eyes.

“Well WWII began in 1939,
when were you born, Mr. Johnson?” I asked.

“He was born in 1930.”
Betty laughed.

“Wow. You look great for
your age, Mr. Johnson.” Zane complimented the older man.

“It’s because my wife has
treated me so well all these years.” He laughed, and Betty hit him
with a cloth.

“He is always trying to
butter me up.”

“So, like I said. I was
born in North Carolina. But back in those days, we didn’t really
have any opportunity for jobs or school. My parents had six kids,
you know. They had a lot of mouths to feed and they wanted us to
get a good education.”

“So they couldn’t get jobs
in North Carolina?” Zane interrupted.

“No, not back in those
days.” I interrupted. “The South was still very much full of Jim
Crow. I’m sure his parents would only have gotten sharecropper jobs
or work on some farm.”

“Exactly.” Sidney smiled
at me and nodded. “My momma got a job cleaning houses for some of
the rich white people in town, and my pops worked on a cotton
field. They made okay money, but they got no school for the blacks
in the town we lived in.”

“Whites didn’t want blacks
to get education.” I interrupted, as I noticed Zane’s puzzled face.
“Back in those days, not many people went to school. Only rich
whites. Poor whites had some opportunity, but blacks only had
access if another black decided to teach them, or if a teacher came
down from the North.”

“Thanks.” Zane smiled at
me, and I noticed the respect at my knowledge in his
eyes.

“And boy, let me tell you.
There was no opportunity for any education in my town.” Sidney
shook his head. “So when the man came down from the North, telling
my parents that he had jobs for them and that there was schools for
us to go to, well they got real excited.”

“I was already in the
North.” Betty interrupted. “So my family didn’t go through
this.”

“Yes, Betty’s great
grandfather freed himself.” Sidney nodded. “He was a butler for a
rich white family in New York.”

“They treated my family
real nice.” Betty nodded. “The whole family was real nice. They
treated us well.”

“He freed himself from
being a slave?” Zane leaned forward excitedly. “I bet that’s an
exciting story.”

“One we don’t have time
for today, Zane.” I reminded him gently and Sidney
laughed.

“You two
remind me of me and my wife.”

“Oh, we’re not—” I
started, but Zane frowned at me, shaking his head
slightly.

“Continue with your story,
Sidney.” Zane spoke over me. “This is all new to me, and I’m
excited to hear what happened next.”

“Well my pops packed us
all up and we moved up to Chicago.” He paused. “It wasn’t normally
like that though. Most times, the man went up to the North by
himself and got everything ready and sent for the family later. But
my daddy didn’t want to be without my momma.”

“That’s so sweet.” I
exclaimed touched.

“Yeah. Well, it may have
been sweet, but I’m not sure it was smart.” He shook his head. “By
the time we got to Chicago, the Great Depression had hit. They
weren’t giving the jobs to blacks no more. There weren’t enough
jobs to go around and we was at the bottom of the pile. It didn’t
help that neither of my friends had a high school diploma
either.”

“So what did they do?” I
leaned forward.

“They had some money
saved, so they tried to rent an apartment in Hyde Park. It was a
nice part of Chicago and they had good schools. They wasn’t
segregated at the time and so we could go to them.”

“So it seems like all went
well?” Zane looked at Sidney curiously.

“It wouldn’t be worth a
documentary if it went well, would it?” Sidney cackled and shook
his head. “At first we thought it would, we got a two bedroom place
and my momma found a job as a cleaner for a nice family. But then
they raised the rent. They wanted us to pay double what the whites
were paying or we had to leave.”