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| Reconstructing Jada Channing; AKA: My thesis hee | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 7 2006, 08:17 AM (1,961 Views) | |
| bana05 | Feb 7 2006, 08:17 AM Post #1 |
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Hi, all. This is a new story, though not really new, as I'd been working on this longer than Being Plumville. This one is not as completed as BP however, because a thesis could only be so long, but I'm going to post what I have here as I continue, because y'all give me such great advice. (esp you, mirevas). I hope you enjoy! bana Reconstructing Jada Channing ~~~~~~~~~ One The soft click of a door jerked her awake, and a chill greeted her. This chill wasn’t merely from the temperature of the room, or the empty spot next to her on the bed; it was from the feeling something drastic had happened, affecting her for the rest of her life. Never mind she’d lost her virginity last night, or the man who found it wasn’t in the bed with her anymore. It was something far worse. She’d become a traitor. Well, perhaps “traitor” was too harsh of a word, but why did she feel this shame settling in the pit of her stomach, digesting and traveling throughout the rest of her body in her veins? It was a burning sensation, as if the blood itself was rebelling because she’d contaminated herself by lying with this man, this white man, the kind of man her family had always told her to leave alone. She shuddered. “Jada?” He was leaning against the doorway, towel haphazardly tied low on his hips, black hair still damp and water dripping from its curled ends. His head rested on the arm he was leaning against, and he stared at her with slumberous eyes. If he’d been in any other setting, you would consider him drowsy, but she knew better. He was very alert and all his attention was on her, filing her in a compartment in his brain because he couldn’t live his life in chaos. She pulled the sheet around her bare torso tighter as if to shield herself from his eyes and whatever category he’d designated for her. However, it was too late for that; he’d broken down whatever defenses she’d had long before last night. “Aaron.” It was a flat sound, a plateau of a name whose owner meant far more to her than he should. Jada never would’ve imagined this when they met three years ago as tutors at a community center in Roxbury. They had been colleagues at first and treated each other with the typical polite detachment of co-workers, only asking superficial questions and responding with superficial answers. The age difference had had much to do with it—she being a freshman in college while he a semester away from starting at the business school—but there was something more salient keeping them at a distance, and, if she were honest, it was more because of her than him. Jada didn’t do well with anomalies. That was what Aaron was—an anomaly. The genuine warmth with which he had greeted her that first day had surprised Jada. The firm handshake, so unlike the half-hearted grasps she’d received from others like him, disoriented her to the point where she had to limit contact with him. This forced Aaron to initiate the conversations that usually, seconds later, ended with his awkward chuckle, a small smile, and a shy wave. He eventually gave her a nickname—Jaybird. It was an ironic one because, unlike the bird, she rarely spoke, least of all to him, but what Jada didn’t realize was that each small, brief, impersonal conversation paved the way to greater intimacy, to friendship. It was as if she was a block of stone and Aaron was the sculptor, his conversations a chisel to chip away her unnecessary hardness and reveal the woman who was Jada Channing. She wasn’t quite sure when the sculpture had been completed—perhaps it wasn’t yet—but she knew she felt far more exposed now than she had at any other point in her life. And that fact had nothing to do with their current nudity. Jada watched him approach, his towel falling away in mid-stride, and she detached herself from the situation to appreciate his body. Slightly muscular, yet strong, her preferred body type. He was well defined and hard, but his body had yielded to hers so well last night, and she shivered at the memory. Gentle was the first word she’d think of whenever she remembered last night. His gentleness alone made her want to cry—soft touches of his hands and lips; soft caresses of his breath and voice along her skin; soft embraces that left her too weak to leave. There was even a soft declaration of love she’d all but convinced herself she’d imagined, and Jada didn’t have the courage to ask him now to confirm it. She was so sure that now, since the heat and passion of the moment was gone, the answer would change. Jada couldn’t take the retraction. A retraction would mean her family was right, her community was right, that a white man like him could never fully understand or love a black woman like her. This was the one time she needed her upbringing to be wrong, to know what she did last night could not be a mistake, that the feelings she’d been nursing for almost two years could blossom and grow into something that would survive long after both had taken their last breaths. The bed dipped upon his arrival, and he crawled next to her, sliding a damp, pale arm around her dry, darker waist. The black, wet hairs on his arm tickled her skin and her body quivered from the contact. He moved her curly tresses from her neck and replaced them with his lips, causing Jada to sigh and give him more access. “Good morning, love.” That was certainly a matter of opinion, but Jada responded in kind, not wanting him to know her inner turmoil. The “adverbial questions” of last night, which had been suspended due to overwhelming feelings and long pent-up desires, seeped into her consciousness and she drew up her covers to hide from them. What would happen now? He was leaving for New York that night and probably wouldn’t be back until his graduation in the spring. When would they see each other again? Where would last night lead them today or even two months from now? How would they continue this relationship—as friends, as lovers, or, God forbid, as strangers? Why should it even matter? It did matter. It mattered because Jada felt like she had turned her back on everything for this man, compromised her very self because she loved him. She wasn’t the kind to hop into bed with anyone; she was taught sex was about giving something so personal and sacred about herself that she had to be explicitly sure and confident about its receiver, regardless if she was a virgin or not. The fact Jada chose Aaron McKensie had consequences that reverberated well beyond themselves. But Aaron would never know that. “You’re so quiet, baby,” he whispered against her skin as his mouth traveled along her jaw line to her chin. “Why are you so quiet?” “Thinkin’,” she said on a sigh, pursing her lips as he kissed them lightly. “Oh? About me, I hope.” “A mind reader, you are.” He laughed and kissed her again, this time cupping her cheek to kiss her more intensely. Heavy thoughts moved away like the rings of a ripple, disappearing into the far corners of her mind only to be revealed later. They made love again, communicating only by touches and breathy moans. She ran her hands through his silky hair, so different from her own kinky, curly strands, and kissed lips that were fuller than those typical of his kind. Jada stared into eyes so green they’d make emeralds jealous, and fully gave herself over to this man, loved herself some Aaron McKensie, that she was sure she loved enough for the both of them. As they lay there after their climaxes, spent, sheened with sweat, and panting, Jada’s thoughts were only on the man who held her in his arms. He was staring at her as she looked at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing the skin underneath her right breast, dropping tiny kisses along her neck, collarbone, and shoulders. There was no logical reason for Aaron to be lying next to her; he was a man whose life was full of Europe and boarding schools, private jets and penthouses. The first time Jada had been on a plane was when her high school choir went on an all-expense paid trip to New York to sing at Carnegie Hall. Jada had never even visited Canada, let alone traveled overseas, but Aaron had promised to take her to Italy to dine at Ricci’s—his maternal family’s flagship restaurant. There was a Ricci’s in New York City, but Aaron assured her the flagship restaurant in Florence was where the best Italian cuisine could be found—only the best for his Jada, after all. Admittedly, Jada had been intimidated when she learned he was a Ricci from the Ricci’s Pasta products she had seen in the grocery stores—the products that were too expensive for her grocery budget. Though, Jada didn’t glean this information until well into their friendship, the shock was still the same. Jada was even more surprised when she realized his father was Alexander McKensie of McKensie Lowman Accounting. Granted that name had meant little in her small Georgia town, but at college, especially during recruiting season, McKensie Lowman Accounting was everywhere—on fliers, on mailing lists, on the lips of many a senior who needed job security upon graduation. To know she worked with and befriended the heir-apparent to the company had made Jada wary of him for a couple of days, until he admitted to her that he’d rather be a teacher than the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Jada never pressed as to why he didn’t just become a teacher, but she knew the answer: family. Family meant everything to Aaron, just as it did to her, and both had a hard time divorcing familial wants with personal ones. This was part of the reason why Jada was faced with such a dilemma. Her grandmother wanted her to find a good black man, an educated black man, a black man. Aaron McKensie, half Irish and half Italian, certainly didn’t meet the third requirement, but two out of three wasn’t bad. Was it? Cool fingers touched her cheek, applying pressure so her head would turn. Those green eyes, the very first feature she noticed about him aside from his skin color, were clear and bright as he stared at her. “Still thinking about me?” “Maybe.” He shifted so he could kiss her temple. “I’m thinking about you.” “Really.” “Yes. I’m thinking about how much I’m going to miss you . . .” A sharp pulse sent her heart into her throat before falling into her stomach, right next to the shame. She didn’t respond to him, shifting on her back to look at the ceiling again. For some reason the words rang hollow and Jada didn’t know how much of that was true or her projecting what she’d been taught. Missing a person was so . . . unpredictable. Who knew how long that feeling would last, or how strong it would be? What would be done about it? Jada had no doubt he’d miss her immediately, maybe even weeks after today, but what about months? Years? Deep inside, Jada felt this separation was going to last a while, maybe even for the rest of their lives. She wasn’t too thrilled by that reality, but she accepted it as the way things were. She almost wished he wouldn't miss her; Aaron missing her gave her hope. Aaron moved from her shoulder to rest his head on her chest. Immediately her hand went to his hair, loving how it felt sliding through her fingers. Aaron twirled her hair around his own finger and sighed, pressing a kiss to the space above her heart before closing his eyes and falling asleep. It’s yours, Jada thought, her fingers tracing his hairline behind his ear. Everything about her belonged to him. Her grandmother would be so disappointed if she found out, and Jada didn’t even want to think about her cousin Zeke. Jada thought they’d probably be more mad at her willingness to give herself to someone she knew wouldn’t keep her instead of the fact that “someone” was white, but then again, Aaron’s color wouldn’t help matters. Jada had heard the stories of White Man A taking advantage of Black Girl B; read the textbooks of how white male owners did whatever they wanted to their black female slaves; saw the movies of black female degradation at the hands of their white employers, neighbors, whatever. She even had her own share of stupid callous comments shouted at her in the hallways in middle and high school, and had glared at the silly white boys who thought they owned the world and all that was in it was at their disposal. Yet even with all this knowledge and experience, Jada entered this new phase of the relationship with Aaron because, in the end, all that mattered was how he made her feel. She never felt degraded or used or any of the other things she was supposed to feel at his hands. She felt loved, cherished, adored, and despite the fact he had never said those things to her, his actions spoke volumes. As it was, the first time she knew he cared about her was when he gave her a ride back to campus from the community center. It had been pouring when it was time for her to leave, and though he was due to catch an air shuttle to New York in the next hour, he had gone out of his way drive her back to campus. He even went so far as to loan her his umbrella so she wouldn’t get wet on the trek between his car and her dorm. Obviously, he didn’t have to do that; more importantly, he didn’t have to do it for someone who had been treating him as coolly as she did, but Aaron was just one big, generous heart who either didn’t see color or didn’t care as much about it. And with all her desires and hopes to be treated as “Jada” instead of “a black girl”, the minute it had happened, Jada didn’t know what to do with herself. It was as if a veil had been lifted and the images were so clear she couldn’t process them in her mind, couldn’t recognize them without that small tint of darkness in which she’d been born. The beautiful part about it, however, was Aaron hadn’t known exactly how profound his act of kindness was in her eyes. What he considered nice and mannerly and part of his upbringing was life altering for her, because he, unconsciously, included her as someone important enough to deserve his best behavior. So often the white people in her little town treated her and those like her as afterthoughts, a part of the populace to be tolerated because it was the law rather than because it was the right thing to do. This was not to say white people were mean; on the contrary, they were nice and full of that famous Southern hospitality, but it was nothing more than lip service—on both sides. Aaron put action behind his words, authenticity, and it compelled her to do the same with him. It was the least she could do. The arm behind her waist tightened and the finger in her hair tugged at it, drawing her attention to Aaron. “Yes?” “Why are you so far away?” She looked pointedly at his arm, which he’d dropped on her stomach and laughed a little. “How much closer do I have to be?” His hand slid from the plane of her stomach to her heart, keeping his hand there for a few beats until it traveled up her chest and neck to the back of her head. He kissed her lips intensely. If that was how close Aaron wanted to be, then he had nothing to fear. He was already in her heart, unpacked and lounging in the La-Z-Boy with a Budweiser in his hand and a TV remote in the other. Of course, the Aaron currently kissing her probably didn’t know what a La-Z-Boy was, let alone sat in one, but he was comfortable and cozy in her heart all the same. He broke the kiss with last little pecks before resting his forehead against hers. His warm breath tickled her nose, and she brushed it against his chin. “Don’t you have a plane to catch, Mr. McKensie?” “Don’t you?” She did, but she wasn’t eager to leave her room, much less the bed, to go a town far too small for her now. She’d grown in the last three and a half years, much of that thanks to Aaron. He climbed on top of her, kissing her again, and she made herself ready for him. He was warm and hard against her inner thigh, so when he made no move to enter, she became confused. “What’re you doin’?” Clearly, he wasn’t worried about his flight either, by the snail-like speed his hand traveled along her body, or the un-hurried nature of his kisses. That was all he did—touch and kiss–never going further than that, seemingly not needing to go further. Jada was glad; it exhibited his control as well as the fact it wasn’t just about sex; real affection existed above the carnal, and the realization eased her worries a little. “Stay here,” he whispered against her neck, placing one final kiss to it before leaving the bed. Jada grinned as she watched him go down the hall. When he returned, his manhood bobbing against his thigh, Jada averted her eyes, suddenly fascinated by the plain white of her sheets. There was really no reason to be shy now of all times, having felt it inside of her more than once, but there was something very personal about that part of the body, something intimate. Nevertheless, she was surprised when he kneeled by her side and squeezed her knee, forcing her to look at him. “May I?” he asked, holding up a damp cloth for emphasis. “May you do what?” “Trust me?” Jada nodded, and allowed him to draw the sheet away from her body. Goosebumps broke out along her skin, though she didn’t know if it was because of the cool air hitting it or Aaron’s eyes. His hand went to the juncture of her thighs and she instinctively covered herself, squeezing her legs tightly. Without the haze of arousal, Jada could not expose herself so freely to him, but his whispered reassurance and a squeeze of his hand around hers relaxed her just enough so he could complete whatever he set out to do. A red spot greeted her when Aaron spread her legs, and her stomach clenched. She knew there would be blood; she just didn’t expect that much of it, as it was stained in a noticeable spot on her sheets and dried on her thighs. There was also other excretions mixed with the blood, and she felt embarrassed. Aaron kissed the back of her hand, saying this, except for the blood, happened all the time, and was another element of lovemaking—pleasurable but messy. She laughed and so did he, but her laughter turned into a gasp at the first touch of the warm, damp cloth against her inner thigh. He worked in silence and she let him, stunned by the care he put into the act of cleansing her. She felt as if she were being baptized, cleansed of a sin that didn’t really exist, yet was made real, visceral by her family and community. When Aaron was done, he folded the cloth and kissed her hip, then kissed her stomach and rested his head against it. Jada played with his hair again, feeling the time tick away with every heartbeat. “What time is your flight?” he asked her, lips brushing against her navel. “Six o’clock.” “Taking the shuttle to DC right?” “Yes, then goin’ to Atlanta.” “Good . . . gives us a few more hours together . . .” Jada looked at the clock and sighed. So what it was a little after noon, and his flight had been for eight o’clock last night? The snowstorm from last night had grounded flights anyway, but Aaron would’ve long been in the air had he not been with her and eating a home-cooked meal they made as a send-off dinner to celebrate their friendship and his successful completion of his final semester at the business school. The dinner had been impromptu and at Aaron’s insistence, even as Jada reminded him of his impending flight. It had begun innocently enough and they even had a gift exchange. Jada had given him a very nice ballpoint pen with his name engraved in gold on the side. She’d told him she hoped he’d think of her whenever he signed important documents, especially if he decided to start an internship program at McKensie Lowman for inner city youth as they’d discussed over the years. He could use the pen to sign the acceptance letters for the program as a reminder of their time together at the community center. Aaron, meanwhile, gave her a photo album, also to remind her of the center. On the cover was a picture of her and Aaron at the center’s Christmas party last year. He was holding mistletoe above their heads and pressing a comical kiss to her cheek as she scrunched up her face in mock disgust. He had surprised her with that particular gesture, and only in hindsight did she realize the gesture meant they’d reached a level of intimacy that didn’t make the kiss odd. There were other pictures in the album as well—specifically one of her staring out of a window, eyes squinted slightly and arms hugging her middle, a slight smile on her face. Aaron had told her that was his favorite, because she seemed so serene and open. Jada was far from that now in the dying hours of their time together. Aaron pressed another kiss to her stomach, then lifted his head and met her eyes. Jada saw what she needed to see there, and gave him a small smile in response. “Want me to give you a ride to the airport?” “I’ll never understand why you’re not driving down to New York. You have a car!” “I’ll get it later.” “But the garage charges—” “I can handle it.” She shook her head. Of course he could; he was Aaron McKensie! He stood and took her hands to make her do the same, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead for a long time. Aaron would do this even before they became intimate, and for him to do it now brought their relationship full circle: they met as friends, and they would separate as friends. It didn’t matter both were still nude; there was nothing sexual about the embrace, and Jada put herself fully into it, drawing comfort from his heartbeat under her ear. “Walk me out?” he asked softly. “Yeah.” They changed, she into a robe and he into the clothes he wore yesterday, and they went to the door, neither touching the other. “I’ll be back at three,” he said, standing just outside of her door. She tightened the already tight ties of her robe and nodded, staring at her slippers. “Hey.” Fingers tipped up her chin, and lips quickly touched hers. “See you.” “Bye.” Alone. The chill came back tenfold, and she went in the shower to rid herself of it. Before she even picked up her shower poof, though, she just stood there, letting the water beat the tension out of her shoulders, the dread out of her body, the chill out of her soul. It worked briefly, taking her mind to that place of relief and pleasure as the hot water gave her a full-body massage. She shivered when she washed her hair, her face, her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her crotch, her legs—his favorite places. She knew this because he’d told her so, and she wondered why they were. They were all darker, softer, probably bigger than what he was used to seeing, yet he’d behaved almost in a similar manner as she, as if it were the first time he’d ever been intimate with someone. Perhaps it was different with a woman of color, but as soon as the thought appeared, she quickly dismissed it. The last thing Jada wanted to do was pass off the experience as an experiment, something to catalogue in the back of his mind until he was with his buddies and would pull out the file that said: Jada, 20, African-American, not as wild as black women were supposed to be, may need further testing. She didn’t consider him a Petri dish and hoped he had extended her the same courtesy. But as she remembered his caresses, the almost reverential way he’d treated her last night and this morning, Jada knew, deep down, her fears were unfounded. Jada honestly didn’t think he’d work with her, befriend her, become best friends with her all for one night of loving. There was an easier way to do it, and beyond that, far more willing girls than she who would’ve gladly taken him to bed. Last night was just something that happened, something so right and perfect for that one moment in time as if the planets were aligned for it. The transition from friends to lovers was natural, particularly because neither thought they had anything to lose. They would have a morning after and that was it, and it was enough for Jada. She’d rather have one spectacular night with the man she loved than fifty years with his runner-up. She would be all right, she reasoned; these past twenty-four hours will be enough to sustain her for the rest of her life. Jada left the shower, dressed, and packed the last remaining things for her trip home. Felicia, her roommate, had left for the winter break early, so it was Jada’s job to make sure the apartment was all shut down. Jada then sat with the lights off when she finished her inspection, appreciating the soft gray glow of outside light filtering in through the windows. The buzzer startled her. “Yes?” “I’m here.” “Coming.” Jada didn’t ask for help with her luggage; it was only a small carryon and her backpack; but when she met Aaron at the elevator, he chastised her and took both pieces of luggage from her. Jada let him do this; it felt good for someone to take care of her. The traffic wasn’t so bad, and Donny Hathaway and Roberta Flack serenaded them as they made their way to Logan Airport. It was her mixed Donny Hathaway CD she let Aaron borrow almost a month ago, and she was surprised it was still in his CD changer. “I wish I could spend this Christmas with you,” he said as they waited in the tollbooth line to get on airport property, Donny singing “shake a hand, shake a hand” in the background. “Me too, that would be very nice.” “Maybe we will again one day . . .” Possibly, but that was assuming they would remain close in the interim. He’d gone away before, taking some time off to go to Italy when Ricci’s opened a new restaurant in Milan. Aaron had managed to keep in contact with her regularly through phone calls and e-mails; the only way he would’ve been closer was if he were sitting next to her. But this separation would be different; he wouldn’t be returning next semester or any semester after that. He would be put to work—maybe in New York, maybe in Italy, maybe in London where a new McKensie Lowman office was—but he wouldn’t be in Boston . . . he wouldn’t be with her. Jada would come to terms with that eventually. Aaron pulled up in front of the airline terminal, telling her to go inside while he found a place to park. She was glad Zeke booked her an electronic ticket so she could avoid the very long line of people waiting at the counter. She went to the kiosk, got her ticket, and went to stand in the security check line. It moved slowly, so slowly that Aaron had time to park, get his ticket from the kiosk, and meet her in the line, but at least she was closer to the front by this point. They passed the security check on the first go, and went to their gate. Hers was all the way at the end of the terminal and his was three gates earlier, but he sat with her, sat beside her, linked their fingers together as they people watched and made idle chitchat. Her head lay on his shoulder and her eyes drifted closed. His thumb caressed back of her hand, and both were content. Contentment was quiet, tactile, Aaron’s presence, and the ironic privacy of the airport terminal. Jada didn’t hear the wailing baby in the two rows ahead of her, or the static sounds of the intercom paging “Anderson, Jan” to gate 16; she didn’t feel the rolling suitcase bump her foot, or the man next to her confuse her arm for an armrest, or the little kid tugging her hair from behind her. She didn’t smell the pretzels or the Chinese food or anything else. Just Aaron. Just Aaron caressing her hair . . . telling her about an annoyed passenger’s heated conversation with the ticketing agents . . . laughing as a little girl threw a fit and her just-made ice cream cone on the floor. Just Aaron saying her flight was ready to board. “So?” He gave a sigh, a deep one that expressed the frustration and sadness she shared with him. “Gotta go home, Jaybird.” She was home. “Okay.” They stood slowly, Aaron taking her carryon as she put her book bag on her back. They went to the line, but not in a hurry to board the plane as everyone else was. There was a long hug, a hard hug, tears flirting with her eyes when Aaron pressed a long, hard kiss to her temple. “Have a safe flight, okay?” he whispered into her hair. “You, too.” Separation, less than a half a foot, but it felt like gulf was between them. Sad green eyes stared at her, and Jada thought he very well might cry. Aaron didn’t cry. Irish-Italian men didn’t cry. Jada wanted to maintain that belief so she turned away from him and boarded the plane. Aaron would be fine; he’d make a ton of money, start internship programs in multiple cities, marry a beautiful woman and have beautiful children. Jada would be happy for him because she loved him. Life was about beginnings and ends, and though this ending was sad, there would be an even better beginning on the horizon . . . maybe not immediately, but eventually. But for now, Jada would cry enough for both of them. |
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| bana05 | Feb 12 2006, 05:27 PM Post #2 |
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Two “Mommy where you goin’?” Jada smiled into the mirror as she put on the diamond earrings Zeke gave her as a graduation present, looking at her son who was the spitting image of his father—all except for the gray eyes and curly hair. Those had come from her side of the family. “Where am I goin’?” she repeated, straightening out the sapphire cocktail dress she splurged on at TJ Maxx last year, loving the way it gently highlighted her more-pronounced curves instead of grotesquely magnifying them. It would be the first time she wore the dress in public. “Your Auntie Deshae is takin’ me to a party.” “Can I go?” Jada frowned sympathetically, twirling her mass of straightened hair into a bun. “I’m sorry Little Man, but they don’t allow kids.” “I’ll be good . . .” She turned and kneeled, opening her arms to him. The little boy ran into his mother’s arms, snuggling up to her as she stood and walked him down to the room he shared with Deshae’s son Malcolm. It would be the first time Jada went out for something fun—not for work at her family’s restaurant Charlie’s Grille; not for classes for her Masters degree in education; not even to visit her grandmother, who lived thirty minutes away in the suburbs. Admittedly, she felt a little guilty. What right did she have to send her son to her grandmother’s house while she went to a party, especially when she was certain she would want to leave within an hour of arrival? “You know what, Joshua?” Jada said as she packed an overnight bag for him. “I don’t think I’m gonna go—” “Oh you goin’, Jada Mae Channing, and you gon’ have a good time, too!” Deshae said, standing in the door with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow arched. “Because everyone loves being the third wheel!” Jada teased, reluctantly continuing to pack. She looked over her shoulder again and smiled at her friend. “But you do look beautiful; Jamal’s gonna love it.” “Really?” The transformation was immediate, no-nonsense melting into shy insecurity. “You think?” “I know,” Jada said assuredly, zipping up Joshua’s Pokemon book bag and standing. Deshae wore a floor-length, off the shoulder champagne evening gown with her hair free around her shoulders and a small matching purse dangling from her wrist. Truth be told, Jada was proud of her friend, humbled by all Deshae Singleton had to overcome in her life. She’d been a child from a broken home and had a mother who spent more hours outside the home than in it, working hard to pay the bills and buy clothes and food for her daughter. With little parental guidance, it had been easy for Deshae to go with the wrong crowd, using drugs for a time and then ending up pregnant and a mother by the age of sixteen. She’d been a woman in and out of abusive relationships, a woman who seemingly had no way out of her rut. Deshae’s was the life Jada studied in her sociology classes during undergrad, one of a thousand other “black single mother” stories many liked to analyze but few wanted to solve. Yet Deshae transcended statistics. Deshae had graduated high school, gotten cleaned up, went to a training school and studied massage therapy. Now she had a job at one of Atlanta’s exclusive spas. One of her first clients was Jamal Green, the star running back of the Atlanta Falcons. Small talk had lead to a date, and that had begun their current relationship. Jada wished she had half of her friend’s perseverance. “Do I really have to go to this party?” Jada whined. Deshae laughed and hugged her tightly, pulling away to frame Jada’s face. “Yes. You will have some fun, dammit, even if it’s forced upon you! Besides, it’s almost Christmas!” “Can’t we go putt-puttin’ or somethin’—?” “Putt-putt in the middle o’ winter?” “Putt-putt!” Joshua exclaimed, jumping up and down before running to his mother’s legs. “I wanna go putt-putt!” Deshae smothered a laugh under her hands at Jada’s weary expression. “You said it, not me!” “Oh shut up,” Jada said, her grin taking the sting out of the words. Jada ran her hands through her son’s curls, frowning and pulling the index finger that had found its way in his mouth. Joshua grinned at her, gray eyes bright and happy, and Jada’s smile widened. Perhaps it was cliché to think it, but Joshua was the best thing that ever happened to her. Of course she was a bit out of sorts when she discovered she was pregnant—ironically on Valentine’s Day. She had been fearful of what she would do, but more importantly, of what her family would think. Felicia had been a great friend to her, giving her strength to figure out what to do and tell her grandmother Candace when she went home for spring break. Needless to say, Candace was disappointed, and that was the most heartbreaking thing for Jada. Her grandmother had pinned all her hopes on her grandchild, praying Jada wouldn’t be a young, unwed mother just as the other women in her family, that Jada would be a woman who would do something with her life other than raise her children alone. And the fact Joshua’s father was a white man . . . “C’mon Little Man, let’s go to GG’s.” After ten minutes of negotiations by Malcolm for “one more play” on his NBA Live video game and chasing Joshua around the room trying to get him in his coat, the foursome was finally off to Candace’s house. When Jada and Deshae were younger, Candace would often act as a surrogate mother to both, regardless of the fact only one was related to her by blood. Between Jada’s mother dying of cervical cancer when Jada was eleven and Deshae’s mother’s perpetual absence, Deshae and Jada considered each other sisters in every way; consequently, Malcolm and Joshua were more like brothers than anything else. In fact where they grew up, everyone was family—the older women were Aunt or Auntie, and the older men were Uncles. Everyone watched out for everyone else, sometimes to the annoyance of the children. Rest assured, if one misbehaved in school, two spankings came—one at school and the other at home. It only took Jada one time to learn that particular lesson. Jada was glad her son belonged to such a tight-knit community, hoping he understood there was a stable, secure network of people upon which he could rely. Her grandmother, cousin, teachers, the local barber, the cooks in the restaurant—they had all supported her while she was growing up, looked after her, loved her as one of their own, and the fact they now accepted her son made Jada’s heart swell with respect and love. Of course, this was not to say it was perfect. Jada had heard the whispered comments; had felt the stares as her belly swelled without a ring or man to show for it. She heard the derision in their voices as they commented on “how light” her baby was and the “told you so’s” whispered to her grandmother, though no one had the courage enough to say it to Jada herself. But really, Jada had found she didn’t care. She had thought she would, but as she felt her baby quicken and remembered the night of his conception, Jada realized these people had no idea of what had occurred between her and Aaron. They thought she had been mindless and simply suckered into bed, but in actuality, she had wanted it as much as Aaron did. She wanted that night with him, wanted the opportunity to show him how much he meant to her, and if a baby was the fruition of those feelings, then so be it. It made Jada angry when others made disparaging comments about her son, the most perfect little boy who didn’t deserve the snide remarks, and she would call those people out on it. “Seems Joshua gave you a backbone,” Deshae had teased her during one particular episode in the grocery store, when Jada, quite politely yet pointedly, told another man to stop staring at her son as if he were some freak of nature. When the man started calling her outside her name (white man’s whore among others), Jada merely said she didn’t have time to respond to simple men with simple minds and left the man ranting and raving behind her. But things had gotten easier as time passed, no doubt helped by Joshua’s charm. He had the ability to wrap any woman around his little finger, especially his mama, and Zeke had all but adopted him. Consequently, Jada and Joshua spent much of their time at Charlie’s Grille, a popular neighborhood restaurant established by Zeke’s father Harold. Harold had started the business after returning from Korea where he and Lincoln, Jada’s grandfather, had been mess cooks, and he named the restaurant after their father Charles. Harold had liked their assignments (Lincoln had not, saying he didn’t learn to shoot a gun only to be somebody’s cook), preferring the heat of the kitchen than the swamps and firepower on the Korean battlefields, and had gotten the idea after one of their superiors had commented it was "almost like eating in a restaurant." It didn’t take much for Harold to convince Lucille to start the restaurant, and he opened the neighborhood carryout and catering service from their home. Eventually Uncle Harold finally persuaded the bank to take a chance on the restaurant and got the loan for a lease into a small hole-in-the-wall, then not located in Atlanta proper, but still in the black section of town. There it blossomed to a town restaurant, and become a popular spot. It hadn't been easy at first. There were early hours and unpleasant customers and recipes that just didn’t work. There were threats of vandalism and threats on their lives soon after white customers began coming to their restaurant. There were times Uncle Harold thought it would be best just to close down the place, but Aunt Lucille and even Candace wouldn’t let him. Their neighborhood needed a place like the Grille. More than food was served there. Yet almost thirty years after it first opened it doors, Charlie’s Grille remained, and it stood tall and proud. Granted, it wasn’t a Ricci’s, but it didn’t have to be. It served its function as the neighborhood kitchen, where people could come for good food and good conversation. Jada loved working there, loved being a cook—especially when she could prepare dinner meals for the family there and then take them home. The hours were convenient and the money was enough for her to pay her part of the rent and go to school. Besides, she wanted to her son to know the people from her childhood, and there was no better place than the Grille to do it. “Mama, can we go see Zeke,” Joshua asked when they passed the Grille. They were a few streets away from Candace’s house now, but she and Deshae were already running late for this party, so Jada had to deny her son’s request. Jada saw him pout in the rearview mirror and promised she would call the restaurant to see if Zeke could stop by GG’s house before he went home. That compromise brought a smile to Joshua’s face. They pulled into the driveway of a modest, one-story brick structure with green awning over the windows and a front porch. It was a quaint little home, but Jada loved it, childhood memories flooding back whenever she saw that screen door and the perpetually on porch light to greet her home. There was a simple candle in one of the windows, Candace’s contribution to the holiday spirit. The kids tore to the front door once Jada unbuckled Joshua out the car seat, leaving their mothers to gather their belongings and bring them in the house. Candace had let the children inside and they were already set on the floor in front of the television, watching the Disney Channel and eating cheese puffs from a bowl Candace had prepared for them. “Well ain’t y’all somethin’?” Candace exclaimed when she saw the two young women. Both women hugged and kissed Candace’s cheek before going down the hall to put the stuff in the boys’ room. The house had three small bedrooms and one bathroom, not counting the master bath in Candace’s room. When Jada first had Joshua, she had lived with Candace, and she would never forget the kindness her grandmother, Aunt Lucy, and the other women in the neighborhood had given her. Jada had insisted she pay a little rent once she was able to get some work at the Grille, but before long she and Deshae, who’d been living in her mother’s apartment across town, finally decided to break out on their own and get a new apartment. They still came over often, particularly because Candace lived alone, and at seventy-seven years old, Jada wanted to make sure her grandmother knew she had family and would never be lonely. “This must be some party, huh?” Candace said, sitting gingerly on the couch once Deshae and Jada returned to the living room. “Yes ma’am. Jamal invited us,” Deshae said with a small smile. “Y’all still datin’?” “Yes ma’am.” “Betta than that other fool you were carryin’ on wit—” “Miss Candy!” “Lawd girl, Jada Mae you shoulda seen this fool, comin’ up in my house with gold fo’ teeth yet no money to pay fo’ gas! Glad you got yo’ mind right and found you a good man, Deshae!” “Agreed,” Jada added, tightening her coat around her. “Jamal’s a good role model for Malcolm, too.” Candace glanced at her then at Joshua, who was happily laughing and clapping along with the action on the television. Jada went to the boys and kissed her son’s head, Deshae doing the same to Malcolm. “Mommy will get you tomorrow okay?” “Yes Mommy. Bye Auntie Deshae!” “You two be good for Miss Candy, now!” Deshae called as they went to the door. The boys nodded and Candace arched an eyebrow. “We’ll see how long that’ll last,” the older woman said, walking them to the door. Candace kissed Deshae’s cheek but framed Jada’s face in her hands, looking deeply into her granddaughter’s eyes. “You have a good time tonight.” “Grandma—” “I want you to have a good time tonight! Find you someone like Deshae did! Joshua’s daddy ain’t ever comin’ back fo’ you, you hear me?” “I never said he would, Grandma.” “But you want him to.” Jada glanced at Joshua briefly, then pasted on a smile and kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “We’ll be back before noon tomorrow. Oh, and call Zeke and see if he would come over. Little Man wants to see him.” Candace frowned after her granddaughter, clucking her tongue and shaking her head but said she would. Jada gave Candace one last kiss before getting in the car, and before she knew it, they were on the freeway to downtown Atlanta. The drive was full of the local radio station and Deshae making comments about the ineptitude of the other drivers on the road. Her grandmother was right; Jada did want Aaron to come back, and not necessarily in the romantic sense either. She genuinely missed Aaron’s friendship; ironically, he was one of the few people with whom she could be herself. He never expected her to act a certain way because of her race or her education; just accepted all her quirks and flaws and high points as a friend would. Aaron was similar to Deshae in many ways, except he was male, white, and the father of her child. “You all right over there?” Deshae asked as she maneuvered the car into the acceleration lane. “You all quiet . . .” “Just thinkin’.” “About?” “Life.” Deshae laughed, tapping her fingers along the steering wheel. “Instead o’ thinkin’ about it you should live it! You used to be so full of life before—” “I’m a mother now, Deshae.” “So am I; don’t mean I died because of it.” But you’re in love, Jada wanted to say, but didn’t, staring out of the window and trying to isolate the concrete hexagons along the freeway’s walls. Jada knew she was in love with Aaron, but also knew he didn’t feel the same, regardless of the fact they’d slept together. Emotions had run high that night, culminating in sex and the conception of a child, but that didn’t mean one was in love. Deshae and life in college had awakened Jada to that fact quickly, but Jada would put all the love she felt for the father into the son. Jada settled back into the seat and stared out of the window. She would try to have fun at this party, at least for Deshae and her grandmother’s sake. It seemed, however, fun wasn’t to be had, and not thirty minutes after arriving Jada found herself outside on the terrace. The cool air and the solitude were very welcoming to her; she had been feeling claustrophobic and suffocated amid the dancing, tipsy bodies of the party. As soon as she and Deshae had arrived, they spotted Jamal chatting with his teammates and having a good time. It didn’t take long for Deshae to get into the party mood, and she had rarely left Jamal’s arms or side throughout the night. Jada had either staked out the party spread or reluctantly coaxed into dancing with Jamal and Deshae,, but she had quickly grown tired of the staged fun and went onto the terrace for a breath of fresh air. I would’ve had more fun at home reading Joshua a book, Jada thought to herself, smoothing out her dress although she’d done little to crease it. The party was lively, the people were nice . . . but she had no desire to be an actress. She just wasn’t having the good time her grandmother and best friend wanted her to have, and she felt guilty for it. “Suck it up,” Jada told herself, grasping the railing and taking a deep breath, being calmed by the view of the Atlanta skyline. Lights dotted the skyscrapers and a spotlight beamed, no doubt for another swanky party in the city, and cars zoomed and honked from below as they tried to get to their own destinations. How Jada wished she could be in one of those cars with her son and far away from this party—maybe at a beach somewhere, enjoying the crashing waves and the salty air as they built sandcastles and she taught him how to swim. It would be just the two of them as she raised a fatherless but happy child, free from the pressures of everyone’s expectations of her. But in the meantime, Jada would go back inside and brave the party; it was getting a little too cold for her liking. She took one last breath of fresh air for the road before turning towards the glass doors and froze in her tracks, exhaling a harsh breath and falling back against the railing for support. Jada could only blink, disbelieving her eyes. He stood not even five feet away from her, wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo (Versace if she remembered his tastes right) and looking every bit as handsome as he did five years ago, even with his new beard. His hair was shorter though, yet the waviness of it was still apparent, and his green eyes looked right through her, as if he had X-ray vision to see all the secret pining for him she’d hidden for years. Jada gripped the railing tighter when he came closer, slowly, as a hunter closing in on his prey. He put his hands in his coat’s pockets and stopped a foot away from her, eyes darting all along her face. “Jaybird?” She closed her eyes at the familiarity after not having heard that name in years. She counted to ten and opened them again. “Aaron.” He smiled and Jada instantly felt warm. She smiled in return because it was an automatic response whenever he did. His smile widened and he enveloped her in a large hug, lifting her off the ground with ease despite the fact she’d filled out a bit since the last time he saw her. “It’s been so long,” he whispered in her hair as he set her on the ground, his hands cool against her bare shoulder blades as they slid up her nape to tangle underneath her bun. “Five years,” she said softly in his neck, eyes closed as she allowed her body to settle into the intimacy and naturalness of the embrace. It was as if they’d just seen each other yesterday and not five years ago, as if they hadn’t exchanged the first words to each other in over four. She pulled back, but not before he snuck in a kiss to her forehead. “You’re beautiful,” he said seriously, rubbing his hands along her arms. She gave him a skeptical look and shook her head. “You are. You’re absolutely glowing.” “It’s the shimmer makeup.” “Still can’t accept a compliment, can you?” he said on a light chuckle. “You always flattered me too much.” “Every word I say I mean,” Aaron said, his stare intense and revealing. Jada laughed and stepped away, needing to put distance between them. He was making it too easy to fall back into their friendship, but too much had happened for that to be the best thing to do. There was an entire seaboard separating them anyway, and she didn’t have the freedom she once had while in college. Jada had responsibilities now . . . “How’s McKensie Lowman doing? And Ricci’s? Everything going well there?” Jada asked, steering the conversation to safer territories. “Both are doing well. In fact, we’re opening up a McKensie Lowman building here, and I’m overseeing it.” Panic briefly flitted across Jada’s face before she settled it into a smile again. “Really?” “Yes. I thought it was about time we had a southern division; makes us more accessible to our clients that way.” “And the Falcons are one of them?” “Yes. Besides . . . I won’t deny I had a personal motivation to open up offices down here . . .” Surreal was the only word Jada could think of during this entire reunion. But she gathered her bearings quickly. “Is that right?” “Yeah . . .” Jada wouldn’t entertain the fact she could be this “personal reason,” no matter how tempting the thought was. It was clear Aaron wanted to fall back into their easy camaraderie, but Jada couldn’t allow that. Things were different and far more complicated now than they were before. Surely he realized this. Jada pasted on another smile, and held out her hand. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in Atlanta, Aaron.” He took her hand and closed his other on top of it, a small frown on his face. “What’s wrong? You act like you don’t want to be near me?” “It’s just that my friend is inside and—” “There you are, Dearest!” another voice sounded from behind Aaron, and Jada had to work not to tense at it. The woman’s heels clicked against the stones as she came toward them, and though Jada tried to tug her hand from Aaron’s, he wouldn’t let go of her, smiling over her shoulder at their guest. “I’m not lost, sweetheart.” “But I still couldn’t find you,” the woman laughed, but it petered out when she saw who was with Aaron. Jada gave a small smile, and the other woman arched an eyebrow but returned the gesture. “Well . . . aren’t you going to introduce us?” Aaron was staring at Jada again, and she cleared her throat. “Oh!” Aaron exclaimed, then chuckled embarrassingly. “Of course! Jada this is Veronica Prescott, Veronica, this is Jada Channing . . .” “Charmed,” Veronica said, holding out a hand. Jada accepted it. “Likewise.” Veronica’s handshake was as flimsy as her act of genuine pleasure, and they dropped hands after a quick interval. Jada shrunk a little at her introduction to Veronica, with her beautiful black hair and beautiful blue eyes along with a model’s lithe form. Jada felt self-conscious. “Did you need me for something?” Aaron asked Veronica. The woman slid her arm through his free one and gave him a large, bright smile. “One of the owners wanted to talk to you about financial forecasts for the Falcons if they go all the way to the Super Bowl . . . I told him I’d come find you.” Aaron groaned and gave Jada a sympathetic smile. “Even at a party I’m on the job. I guess we’ll have to cut this reunion short . . .” “That’s fine,” Jada said kindly. “I have to find my friend as well.” “Well, how about we get together later so we can catch up more?” Aaron asked, looking earnestly at her. Jada didn’t look at Veronica though she felt the other woman’s eyes on her. It wouldn’t be a good idea for Aaron to re-enter her life; they should just leave this meeting as an aberration instead of making a habit of it. “I’m going to be really busy, as I’m sure you will be—” “Oh c’mon Jada, you know I’d always make time for you.” Then what about these past few years? Jada only smiled, squeezing his hand unconsciously. “We’ll see.” “Yes . . .” He pulled his arm from Veronica to reach into the inside of his tuxedo jacket, pulling out a business card. “Here’s my information to my office. And—oh wait—” He pulled his hand from hers to take out a pen and write a number on the back of it. “That’s my cell number,” Aaron said, closing the card in her hand and his own hand over the card. “Unfortunately, I don’t have yours anymore; I think I accidentally erased it when I got a new cell phone a few years ago.” All three laughed, but only one was genuine. “But now we’re reconnected, right?” “Hmm.” Aaron’s smile turned soft, and he cupped her cheek, bringing her other one to his lips. “It was really wonderful to see you again,” he said lowly, for her ears only. “It really made my Christmas . . .” “Mine, too,” she said. He rubbed her cheek with his thumb before dropping his hand and leaving, Veronica slipping her arm back through his as they left. The chill was back, and Jada wrapped her arms around herself, but she didn’t go inside until the crowd swallowed the couple from her sight. Jada was dazed as she finally went back to the party and searched for Deshae, who, upon sight, was slow dancing with Jamal. Their arms were wrapped around each other tightly and they were whispering private words to each other. Jada didn’t want to break up their dance so she went back to her station at the table where the punch and snacks had all but disappeared. “Lovely party, isn’t it?” Jada poured some punch, holding out the cup to her guest. Veronica hesitated, yet accepted the offer, and Jada poured her own cup. “Very lovely.” Veronica took a small sip from her plastic cup before speaking again. “You look different from the pictures . . .” “Pictures?” “Yes. He has two pictures of you—one in his office and one in his study at home. You two were close?” If only she knew . . . “We were friends.” Veronica looked at her though Jada had turned her attention to the dance floor. The song was ending, and Deshae and Jamal starting rearing up for the new, up-beat song. Jada wanted to go home now. “Close friends by the looks of it.” Jada laughed humorlessly, staring into her cup and watching the ice swirl in the red liquid. What did it matter now? It was obvious Veronica and Aaron were serious if she knew he had a photograph of Jada “at home” . . . “We haven’t spoken since college.” Veronica shrugged and finished her drink. “Well, I’m sure you and he will have plenty of time to catch up. Very nice to meet you, Jada.” She turned away from Jada then, disappearing in the dancing bodies, and Jada finished off her punch. She needed to leave before she burst into tears in front of all these strangers. There was a break in the music and Jada took that opportunity to find Deshae again, seeing her and Jamal talk to his other teammates. She put on a smile and went into the crowd, pulling Deshae away so they could speak in private. “Can I have the valet ticket for the car please?” Jada asked, trying to ignore the pointed look her friend gave her. “Why? The party just got started!” “I’m tired, Deshae. I’d like to go home.” She was about to say something else, but she pursed her lips and gave her friend a suspicious look. “What happened, Jada Mae? You seem . . . spooked.” “You say spooked, I say tired. Besides, ain’t like you gon’ miss me.” A guilty look passed across Deshae’s face and Jada sighed, shaking her head and drawing her friend into a hug. “You should forget about me, girl. I’m just a drag and you’re here with yo’ man all happy and stuff. You don’t think he’d mind bringing you home?” “No, but—” “Then let me take the car. I’ll get the kids from Grandma’s and you can have a good time here.” Deshae pulled back, still reluctant to take on the suggestion. “But that’s the whole reason you here, so you can have a good time!” “Girl, I have a good time readin’ Clifford books to Joshua and helpin’ Little Malcolm with his homework. I don’t need to get all dressed up to have fun!” They stared at each other, and Jada couldn’t help but wonder what she did to deserve such a good friend. Sure, they had had their rough spots, particularly when Deshae was strung out on drugs, but they had gotten through them together. Jada had tried, really she did, to have a good time that night, but some things just weren’t meant to be. “C’mon . . . I’ll go with you to coat check . . .” It didn’t take long for Jada to retrieve her coat and the ticket. Deshae watched her friend’s progress with a distressed look. Jada knew she deserved an explanation, but her nerves were shot and she didn’t want to ruin Deshae’s good time anymore than she already had. “We’ll talk in the mornin’,” Jada promised. “Ya damn skippy we will!” Deshae exclaimed, and Jada laughed. “Always lookin’ out fo’ a sista . . .” “That’s because you are . . .” Jada squeezed Deshae’s hands and whispered goodbye, went to the parking garage, and presented the valet with the stub. She felt the chill come through the garage and she tightened her coat around her, but she wasn’t prepared for the gentle hand on her back and she jumped. “Sorry,” a deep voice said apologetically. “That’s all right . . .” Jada didn’t look at him, wondering why and how he had known she was leaving. She’d looked around the room just to make sure she could made a clean getaway, but apparently her sight had failed her. “So you were going to leave without saving me a dance?” “Oh . . . I didn’t think you would want to,” Jada said lamely. That sounded false even to her own ears. “But you’re my best friend . . .” “Still? After all these years?” “Don’t sound so doubtful.” Jada merely shrugged, not trusting herself with speech at the moment. Didn’t this man realize they could not be best friends anymore? That last night together was supposed to be the last night—no more friendship after that; there was only to be mere acknowledgements of someone from the past, not someone who would mean something in the future. Of course, Jada didn’t live up to her end of the bargain, she had gotten pregnant, but the least Aaron could do was relieve some of the burden from her shoulders, couldn’t he? “I’m just being realistic,” Jada said finally. It was Aaron’s turn to be silent. They really had little to say to each other now that their lives had moved on without the other in it. However based on his reaction to seeing her and what Veronica had said, Aaron still held a fondness towards her. Jada didn’t know how to reconcile that just yet. The car pulled up and Jada went to it, not saying a word to Aaron. She hoped he’d get the clue and go back to the party, but instead he followed, not letting her slam the door shut as she wished. “Yes?” “I’m sorry.” The apology disarmed her, yet Jada knew, instinctively, why he apologized. She smiled at him, a genuine one this time, and shook her head. “No need to be sorry. We both knew it would come to this—” “I didn’t want it to.” Good intentions paved the way to hell, she wanted to say, but refrained, staring out of the dashboard window. “I know.” Aaron pushed the door shut and she drove away, not once looking back or even waving to him. Once on the freeway, she shuffled through her purse where Aaron’s business card had disappeared and fingered it gently before letting in cool December air even as she let the card out. “Don’t start no mess, won’t be none,” was one of Deshae’s favorite sayings, and never more was it more pertinent than now. |
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| bana05 | Feb 24 2006, 12:00 PM Post #3 |
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Here is another update, and please forgive errors. Enjoy! PS--someone who reviewed (thanks for it!) asked me if I was from ATL--I'm not, but I'm from SC, and I had just been to ATL in the last year, so I'm using that experience and broader Southern experiences to paint the picture in the fic. withouth further ado  ~~~~~~~~~~ Three He honestly hadn’t expected to see her . . . really ever again. He’d prepared himself for a life without her, had moved on and tagged those years with her as among the best in his life, but always as in the past, very fond memories to treasure throughout the rest of his days. His past had stared him straight in the face that night, and never had it been so beautiful. “Aaron?” He was proud that he didn’t jerk at the sound of her voice, but he only spared her a small glance. “Veronica . . .” “You seem a million miles away—are you all right, honey?” “Fine, thank you.” That was a lie. He wasn’t fine. Aaron hadn’t been fine since the moment he saw Jada that night, standing there looking lush and full on the balcony. He hadn’t recognized her at first, but he still couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Those curves would make any man stop and take pause, and when she’d finally turned around to face him, his heart had swelled and dropped as if he were going down the first hill of the world’s tallest rollercoaster. “Thinking about your friend?” “Hmm?” The bed sunk behind him, and Veronica’s delicate hands began to massage his shoulders. Aaron let his body relax, lazily pulling off his tie and dropping his head forward to give Veronica as much access to his tense muscles as possible. She was a very good girlfriend, the niece of his father’s partner, a girl he’d known all of his life. She’d always been beautiful, and there had been much teasing when Veronica had been in various magazines and commercials during their younger years. They had had a bit of a fling when they were in college—she at Wellesley while he was at Harvard—but they had parted amicably. He was too involved with life on his campus and she with hers, and they didn’t make much of an effort to see each other after the summer of junior year. However, it had been serendipity when they met again, in Paris of all places, where she was a buyer for one of the high fashion boutiques there and he was visiting a friend from boarding school. At first, they had only gotten together to reunite and reminisce, but Veronica had filled a void in his life, and they had been going strong ever since then. The soft press of lips to his neck took him out of his thoughts, and he smiled at Veronica’s tender look. Her chin was on his shoulder, and Aaron kissed her nose playfully. “Yes?” “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she whispered. “What’s on your mind?” “Actually, you?” “Oh?” Aaron heard the humor in her voice and chuckled. “Just thinking about how much you mean to me . . . how wonderful you’ve been.” “Hmm . . . as wonderful as Jada?” He tensed, bristled at the sound of her name coming from Veronica. He didn’t understand why, but he didn’t . . . like it—it seemed, off . . . wrong. “Veronica . . .” “What?” she asked, taking her chin of his shoulder to massage it again. “I just mean . . . that was an awfully intimate reunion you two had, and she seemed awfully tight-lipped about your relationship when I tried to ask her about it.” “You were snooping.” “Oh I wasn’t . . .” Aaron didn’t reply. He didn’t blame Jada’s reluctance to talk about their relationship to Veronica. It would be awkward, and really, it was a non-issue. Aaron was sure Veronica had relationships from college that she wouldn’t talk about with him, and his with Jada was one he wouldn’t talk about with her . . . he liked to think of that relationship as his most treasured, personal secret anyway. But why did it have to be a secret? “She was cute, I suppose,” Veronica continued, “though I cannot figure out for the life of me how you’d ever come to meet her, let alone be friends with her . . .” There was something about Veronica’s tone that rubbed him the wrong way, despite the fact there was genuine confusion in her voice. Of course it wasn’t that strange she would be confused—amongst their circle of friends and acquaintances there weren’t many minorities, and Jada was a little too rough to be a refined society girl. That had been one of the things that had drawn Aaron to Jada when they first met—she was raw and real, if a bit reluctant, and he’d found that refreshing. “She worked at the center—you remember Philip’s mentoring program he started?” “Oh right,” Veronica said. Suddenly her blue eyes lit up and she smiled slyly. “Philip’s still smarting over his break up with Carla, no?” Philip Ingram—black, wealthy, smart, handsome—perfect for Jada. “Veronica.” “What? It was awful how that all went down—Carla with her chauffer—but . . . hmm . . . perhaps not. I don’t think Philip’s parents would like her.” “Why wouldn’t they? She’s beautiful, smart, funny, witty . . .” He turned to fully look at her. “Besides, she’s not for them to like; he’s the one who’s going to make a home and life with her!” “Legacy, Aaron,” Veronica said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Pedigree is still important, and she . . . doesn’t have it.” Aaron stood from the bed and went to the bathroom. Jada wasn’t a puppy; she was a human being! Aaron hadn’t been thinking about her last name when they first met, nor when they forged a deep and dear friendship. He certainly hadn’t been thinking about it when they made love that night . . . He had never been closer to someone in his life. He hadn’t been a virgin, but making love with Jada was a new, most beautiful experience he’d ever had. It hadn’t been planned; they were snuggled on the couch like always, watching a nameless Christmas special as they wound down from a party-filled day at the center and a nice homemade dinner of spaghetti and meat sauce—all Ricci’s products of course. He had kissed her temple, nothing out of the ordinary—he’d always been very affectionate with her—and she’d looked up at him with a small smile. His heart had kicked over at that look, however, because it was then he had realized he wouldn’t see that smile . . . wouldn’t see her . . . for a long time again. He had kissed her upon the realization. She had kissed him back. Everything had fallen into place upon that kiss, everything he’d tried very hard to deny was suddenly undeniable. He felt more than platonic love for his young friend. It had been easier when they had first met and she as a shy girl, newly arrived to the big city from her small Georgia town. She had blossomed during her time at the center and the kids had all loved her. He hadn’t been surprised—she was relatable, funny, and smart. She didn’t come from much money though her family owned a small family restaurant. She had a wit that made people laugh and think at the same time. She would think of clever exercises to get the kids to want to learn, and when they succeeded, was the first to give them a high-five or a hug. Jada had fascinated him from the beginning, and during that friendship, the fascination turned into something much more. Aaron shook his head and splashed water on his face, the droplets catching in the whiskers of his beard. “You, my friend,” he said to his reflection, “are an idiot.” A scared idiot. Sex changed everything . . . love changed everything. He’d been so cool and collected the morning after, thinking he had to keep it together because it had been obvious Jada had been shell-shocked and out of sorts. She had been a virgin before than night, he knew. When things had started to get heavy, he’d tried to pull back, but he couldn’t. She had made such an alluring picture with her well-kissed lips, disheveled hair, a flush he could see creeping up her neck to her face. He’d only asked if she was certain she wanted to continue, and when she kissed him in response, he had lifted her in his arms and taken her to her room. Discovering Jada had been indescribable. She had been soft and warm and lush and . . . perfect. He couldn’t stop touching her and loved making her lashes flutter against her cheeks or her brown eyes darken to black whenever he touched an eager spot on her body. She had had a womanly body, complete with a stomach pudge he loved to nuzzle and enough meat on her body that he didn’t feel bones whenever he squeezed her. He had been glad to see that hadn’t changed in the years since then, but that light, that fire in her eyes from before hadn’t been as bright as he’d remembered. He wondered what had happened during their time apart, and cursed himself that he hadn’t contacted her as he should have once he’d gotten to New York. At first, right after he’d arrived, they had been very good about it, both using Instant Messenger services that provided conversation almost as effectively as if they were in the same room together. Soon, however, he’d gotten swamped at work and she with school and thesis until they could only spare short, sparse e-mails. Then the e-mails stopped altogether, all intentions to call had never materialized, and then, funnily, almost five years had passed. The fact it had been so easy to lose touch with Jada unsettled him. “Aaron?” He’d been in the bathroom too long, doing nothing but staring at his reflection. Droplets of water were still caught in his beard, and he shook his head to release them. “Coming.” He brushed his teeth quickly and left, dropping a minty kiss on Veronica’s forehead as she passed by to use the bathroom herself. She would be leaving to go back to New York in a few days to spend Christmas with her family, while his parents were in Italy spending it with the maternal side of his. His mother hoped he could join them, but as of yet, he’d not decided whether he would or not. However, Christmas alone wasn’t what he wanted to do, but as his relationship with his father was, at the moment, strained, he was sure he could find other options. Jada . . . His boxers tightened as he remembered how they spent their last Christmas together and he cursed himself for it. Now was not the time to go there . . . Aaron got into bed, bunching up the covers over his burgeoning crotch to hide his reaction to a simple thought . . . he was still riding the emotional high of his reunion, that was all. And if she was really “just your friend” Mini Aaron wouldn’t be trying to come out and play! He groaned and turned on his side, facing the wall. Perhaps he coming down here really had been a bad idea. When his father had announced they would be opening southeast offices, Aaron had jumped at the chance to help open them, but Alexander had been adamantly against it. “What about Veronica? You can’t make her wait forever!” Alexander’s question had made Aaron roll his eyes at its lack of sense. He knew his father wanted him to marry Veronica; she was Keith Lowman’s niece and she was the perfect, and obvious, choice for a McKensie. The only way Veronica could be “more perfect” was if she was Keith’s daughter herself, but Mary Lowman could only give her husband two sons. “Keep it in the family, son,” Alexander had said on numerous occasions. Aaron would be the third generation McKensie to inherit the company, and it had grown exponentially since his father had taken over it. Aaron’s grandfather was still involved, but more as a silent partner than anything else, and both men had groomed him to be CEO in the future. The next twenty years if they could have their way . . . Aaron had been surprised that grooming him for the top position meant he had to be a groom as well. He wasn’t ready to get married, least of all to Veronica. He loved her, thought she would make a wonderful wife and a wonderful mother someday, but he didn’t see that happening for a long while. He wanted what his parents had—spice, flair, genuine affection, and unfailing love. He didn’t feel half of those things with Veronica yet . . . She stepped out of the bathroom wearing some silk number that, on a regular night, would have Aaron sharing the secret smile his girlfriend was wearing, but he couldn’t bring himself to be excited . . . for her anyway. Veronica slid into bed and wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing along his shoulder blades and spine. He tried to relax, but the erection he’d had earlier dissipated to nothing. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. She stopped kissing him and he rolled onto his back, dragging his knuckles along her cheek. She kissed the back of his hand. “That’s okay, dearest,” she said. “Hold me?” “Of course,” he murmured, turning so that she spooned into his front. She turned off the lights and not soon after, Aaron heard Veronica’s soft snorting. After waiting a few moments, Aaron eased his arms from around her and sat up in bed, sliding his fingers through his hair. He was too wired to fall asleep, and padded from the bedroom to his study. He did some reading and walked on his treadmill, trying to get his body fatigued enough so he could fall asleep. After about two hours, his body was starting to get weary, and decided he could go to sleep. However as Aaron passed by his desk, a sudden thought occurred to him. He flipped open his laptop and opened a web browser. After typing in a web address, he began filling in the text boxes and pressed the submit button. Aaron grinned when he got back the results, saving the page to his hard drive and printing it as well. He would need it later. ~~~ Jada sat at one of the dining tables, a number two pencil between her teeth as she tried to read three books at the same time. Since there was no more room on the tabletop in front of her, she was balancing her notebook in her lap, bouncing her thigh ever so often to keep the spiral steady. She had stolen a free moment at work to get some studying done, glad it was a relatively slow Monday evening. The weekend had turned blessedly busy after the party on Friday night, which meant she had been too distracted to think of Aaron. Well . . . so much for that, she thought wryly. It really was a waste of time. He’d obviously moved on with someone more his type—gorgeous, thin, wealthy, and white. Veronica Prescott was the perfect woman for Aaron, and he seemed to be happy with her. All the more reason not to disrupt it. “You study too much.” Jada grinned around her pencil and shook her head. “Do not . . .” Her guest took the seat opposite her, pulling away one of the books she was reading to read it himself. “Zeke!” “Jada!” Zeke mimicked, still perusing the pages as if he was enthralled. “You really think you need to know all this stuff to become a teacher?” “Doubt it,” Jada admitted, holding her hand back out to reclaim her book. Zeke sucked his teeth and gave it to her before sitting back in the booth. Zeke, or Ezekiel, was the only child of Harold and Lucille Channing, and more like an older brother than a first cousin once removed. He and her mother had been close growing up, practically siblings, and Zeke was her godfather. In fact, she’d slipped and called him “Dad” sometimes, and neither of them seemed to mind. However, Zeke certainly didn’t often behave like the forty-seven year old man he was, nor did he look it. He barely passed for thirty-five. “I thought you liked your job at the daycare.” “I do, but with a Masters, I can command more money and maybe, eventually, save up enough for a down payment—” “You know I can just give you that money, Jada Mae,” Zeke said seriously. “With all the work you do around here, you’ve more than earned it—” “And yet it would still feel like a handout,” Jada said softly. She smiled at Zeke and nodded. “You’ve done so much as it is, I want to do this for myself and Joshua.” “Joshie! How’s my Little Man doin’?” Zeke asked, a smile immediately forming on his face. Just as Zeke had done with her, he had willingly stepped into the role of father for her young son. Joshua adored Zeke, and Jada was glad her son was able to have a male presence in his life. “Joshua is fine, though he’s startin’ to wear me out about all the toys he wants to get for Christmas. I swear I’ve never been so close to putting my foot through the television screen in my life!” “Oh really?” “Yes really, and Malcolm ain’t no better. I swear those two are going to put a serious dent in my wallet!” “Not if you get Jamal to buy them for you,” Zeke chuckled. “I ain’t gettin’ that man to buy them nothin’,” Jada said. “Besides, he’s dating Deshae, not me—he’s not obligated to do anything for Joshua.” “Yeah he is if he wants to stay on Deshae’s good side,” Zeke said. “If he wants Deshae, you, Malcolm, and Joshua come along with her.” “That’s not fair . . .” “Maybe not, but it’s true and you know it.” “So then, even more reason for me to get this Masters and get a house,” Jada insisted. “It’s time for Joshua and me to strike out on our own anyway . . .” Jada liked Jamal very much, and felt guilty that he was spending so much of his time and money on herself and Joshua. Every time he had a gift for Malcolm, he had one for Joshua, and whenever he brought something for Deshae, he had something for her as well. He might be a successful football player, but his money was not inexhaustible. “Or you could just contact Joshua’s daddy and tell him what the deal is,” Zeke said. Jada closed her eyes and counted to three. Zeke had been trying to get her to tell Aaron about Joshua from the moment she came home, telling her if she loved someone she would give that person a chance to step up to the challenge. Jada knew it wasn’t that simple, and honestly, didn’t think she was strong enough to have Aaron walk out on her as she was certain he would do. A baby changed everything—it represented permanence, legacy, commitment. One night of sex did not a committed relationship make. “Must be an Ames thing with you,” Zeke muttered. “Falling in love with men y’all ain’t supposed to—” “You ain’t had to go there,” Jada said, glaring at her notes. “Besides, my grandfather is your uncle . . .” “And what a ray of sunshine he was,” Zeke said. “Ebenezer Scrooge would be better company than Lincoln Channing!” “I don’t think that’s fair, he was certainly nice to me . . .” Zeke snorted. “That was because he knew he was gonna die soon.” Jada’s grandfather Lincoln died when she was six, but while he was alive Jada had adored her grandfather. He would take her to the pond to fish, and though more often than not they didn’t catch anything, Lincoln would sit her on his lap and let her hold the pole while he told her stories of his youth. “He treated Aunt Candy and yo’ mama like they were strangers,” Zeke said, his face in a small scowl. “And he wondered why Lynn acted out like she did—” “Sorry to interrupt, but Jada you have a call.” Jada glanced at Zeke before setting her notebook and pencil on top of the books on the table. She followed the hostess to the front and picked up the phone at the podium. “Jada Channing.” “Jaybird.” Jada’s eyes bugged out and she turned away from the hostess who was doing a very poor job of minding her business. “How did you get this number?” “Your family owns a restaurant, love. All it takes is a few keystrokes and mouse clicks to find a site that will find the number,” Aaron said on a slight chuckle. “Not that hard.” “And how did you know I was here?” “I didn’t; I asked if she knew Jada Channing’s number and she said you were here, and since I wanted to talk to you, I asked if she would get you for me. Simple as that, love.” He really needed to stop calling her “love”; it was distracting and far too wonderful. “What do you want?” “Wow . . . did I catch you at a bad time?” Jada winced and sighed. “No—I’m sorry I just—I didn’t expect your call.” “Why not? I gave you ever number imaginable and my e-mail—why would you think I wouldn’t want to talk to you?” “Because you haven’t,” Jada said before she could temper her mouth. She sagged against the post and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was bad, and the last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel too guilty. She’d not contacted him either, but then again, she had extenuating circumstances. “And damn me for trying to rectify that?” Aaron said lightly, though Jada could feel the hurt seeping through his voice. “I’ll admit I’ve been awful contacting you, but we both kind of drifted apart, didn’t we?” “Yeah . . .” “But fate or whoever decided for us to drift back together, and who am I to say no?” “Maybe not you, but I’m sure your girlfriend would have something to say,” Jada muttered. “Girlfriend?” the hostess said, then slapped her hand over her mouth when Jada gave her a quelling look. “Imma go . . . somewhere else . . .” More than likely to pick up another phone, her nosy self! Jada thought dryly. “Why would she have something to say? You’re my friend and she knows that,” Aaron said. “And what about you? Should I have to worry about your boyfriend?” Jada rolled her eyes and scoffed. “You know good and well I ain’t got a boyfriend . . .” “Pity that,” Aaron said. “Any man would be very lucky to have you.” She should not have felt warm at the compliment, but she did, and had to bite her lip to stop the grin that wanted to form. “Flattery, Aaron.” “Yes, I’m hoping it gets me dinner tonight with a very dear friend of mine.” “And you’re calling me because . . . ?” “Jada,” Aaron said, his laugh husky. “I’m serious. Didn’t you feel it the other night? How it felt as if no time at all had passed since seeing each other?” “Yeah . . .” “That’s what friendship is, Jaybird. To pick up where you left off no matter how much time had passed.” It was an interesting theory, but Jada had never been the kind to test it. Then again, if Jada hadn’t called Deshae often enough, Deshae would have picked up the phone and called her to chew her out before going into whatever discussion they were going to have. “So . . .” “So what?” “Dinner?” “Dinner?” “Are you going to repeat everything I say now?” Aaron asked, again laughing. Jada did smile this time, remembering she used to mimic whatever he said when Aaron was being particularly annoying or difficult. This was again one of those times. “You tempt me greatly, but no I’m not,” Jada admitted. She sighed, tapping a beat against the post. “Dinner?” She usually made something in the kitchen and took it home. Besides, she had a child; she couldn’t just drop things and meet with him as she did back in school. “Yeah, and I even picked out a place.” Dear Lord . . . “Where?” “Waffle House.” “Waffle House?” “Yes, with the way you raved about it in college, I feel it is high time I learn experience it myself, no?” Jada bit her lip and closed her eyes. Her mind screamed this was a bad idea, and knew instinctively that if she met with Aaron in a familiar setting she would let her guard down. She couldn’t do that . . . not anymore . . . “Aaron—” “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to shoot me down?” Jada blew out a breath. “I have responsibilities now; I can’t just drop things at a moment’s notice—” “Then why don’t we set a time then? Not necessarily today but . . . whenever you’re free?” Damn him for being reasonable. “Um . . .” “How about I give you time to think about it,” Aaron suggested, “and then I’ll call back—what’s your home phone? Your cell?” “I’ll give you my cell,” Jada said. “I have . . . roommates and I remember your penchant for calling at all hours of the night—” “Still have it,” Aaron laughed. Jada smiled and gave him the number, and after a few more moments of chatting, hung up the phone. Talking to Aaron had always been easy, and she knew she could have easily spent hours with him on the phone doing just that. But she thanked God she was at work, so she was forced to cut the conversation short. When she walked back to her table the hostess grinned and winked at her, mouthing “you go, girl!” as she passed. Dear Lord in heaven above, Jada thought, sitting back down and looking at the books as if it were the first time in her life she’d ever seen them. She knew studying was out of the question. Jada packed up her books and went to the kitchen to tell Zeke she was heading out, and smiled when she saw he had already prepared takeout for her. “Where would I be without you?” Jada said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Luckily we’ll not have to find that out for years to come,” Zeke vowed. “Tell everyone I said hello.” “I will,” Jada promised, grabbing the takeout and heading home. When Jada arrived home the boys were watching television and Deshae was taking a nap, so she put the food in the microwave for Deshae and fed the boys and herself. Joshua’s happy chatter had her smiling and noticing all the similarities between him and his father. Both talked faster the more excited they become, and both loved to use their hands to emphasize whatever it was they said. Joshua’s gray eyes sparkled just as his father’s green ones did, and they were always intensely focused on the person to whom they were speaking. It was uncanny for Jada, because she felt like she was actually looking at a younger version of Aaron himself, not just his son, and she concluded Aaron must have been adorable all his life. She knew she was in for some trouble with Joshua. Not long after dinner, Jada bathed Joshua and put him to bed, then spent the next hour helping Malcolm with his homework. Deshae padded from her room during the middle of the session and ate dinner opposite them. “Next time you think you or Zeke can pack a sister some ribs? I know we black and all, but damn, we like other meat besides fried chicken!” “Why you went there?” Jada asked, though she chuckled at her friend. Deshae might have been complaining, but she was clearly enjoying her meal since she was licking her fingers with much gusto. “Just sayin’,” Deshae said, winking at her son. “How you doin’, Mac?” “Fine. Auntie Jada’s helpin’ me with Spanish homework.” “Ain’t that somethin’? Givin’ ‘em Spanish already . . .” Deshae asked, scooping rice and gravy on her fork with her biscuit. “This food is good . . .” “I wish they’d done that with us, or I wouldn’t have had to struggle through middle and high school!” Jada chuckled. Though eventually she learned it well enough to be conversational, she still had yet to reach her personally desired proficiency. “Done,” Malcolm announced, showing his mother and adopted aunt his work. “Yeah, you sure are,” Deshae said, nuzzling her son’s cheek. “Now go to bed—” “Ma!” Malcolm complained, looking to Jada for an ally. “Don’t even try it,” Deshae said, pointing down the hall to where his room was. “Jada’s been workin’ all day and I know she’d like a little peace for herself. Besides, it’s after nine and you have school tomorrow.” Jada shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile. “At least tomorrow is one day closer to Friday, no?” Malcolm rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep a small grin from forming. “Nice try Aunt Jada.” He kissed both women’s cheeks and gathered his belongings. “Good night.” “Night,” they replied, Deshae going back to her dinner and Jada cleaning up her place in front of her. She began washing the dishes even though they had a dishwasher, just to have something to do. She became so focused on her task she didn’t notice Deshae had finished and was snapped out of her zone when Deshae put her plate underneath the faucet. “What’s wrong.” “Wrong?” Jada asked, taking Deshae’s plate and washing that as well. “Nothin’.” Deshae sucked her teeth. “You don’t wash dishes unless you’re thinking about something or it’s broken, and since I know it’s not broken . . .” Jada had to grin. “Is that right?” “Since I’m always right, then yes,” Deshae said, and bumped Jada with her hips. “Spill.” Jada finished her task, buying herself more time before answering her friend’s question. Deshae was practically on her heels as she followed Jada to the couch, and once they got comfortable pinned Jada with a no-nonsense look. “Why I left the party early,” Jada began, glancing at Deshae before focusing on her hands. “Aaron was there.” “Aaron? Aaron who? Aaron as in yo’ baby’s daddy Aaron?” “One in the same.” Deshae could only gape at her, and then suddenly she punched Jada’s arm. “Heffa why you ain’t tell me!” “Ouch!” Jada hissed, rubbing the smarting area. “What was there to tell, really? He’s in town for business, has a girlfriend, the end—” “Hell no it’s not ‘the end’ and it won’t be ‘the end’ for at least another eighteen years! Honey it’s called child support and Lord knows you need it!” Deshae said, glaring at her friend. Jada rolled her eyes and burrowed herself into the couch. “He’s moved on—” “You let him,” Deshae interrupted. “You should’ve told him the moment you were pregnant—” “And what good would that have done? You and everyone else keep tellin’ me he wouldn’t have stayed—” “He doesn’t have to stay to do right by you and his son,” Deshae said. “Now I know your grandmother’s still mad about her grandfather, but Aaron ain’t Mr. Joseph, and he’s certainly ain’t Malcolm’s daddy. All women are fools in love, and up until this point you had been one of the least foolish among them—you were always particular . . .” Deshae had teased Jada about her lack of interest in dating back when they were in high school. Though given Candace’s strict rules about dating anyway, the lack of interest had been a blessing instead of a curse. “You called me uppity,” Jada pouted, remembering. “Well you were,” Deshae said unapologetically. “You were very specific with what you wanted, and you wouldn’t settle for anything less.” “So then explain Aaron to me,” Jada muttered. “I don’t remember ever saying I wanted some rich white man from New York . . .” Jada wouldn’t lie and say she had never been attracted to white men before—both she and Deshae had giggling conversations about them—but they were those guys she knew she could never have, so felt comfortable in the attraction. Perhaps that was why she allowed herself to be attracted to Aaron in the first place—he seemed far too out of her league for it to be anything more than harmless. But then, they had become friends, and out of reach became too close for comfort. Or not close enough . . . “Sometimes the heart knows more than it tells the mind,” Deshae said on a sigh. “You thought you knew what you wanted, but the heart told you who you needed.” “Stupid heart.” “And hormones,” Deshae laughed. “Girl, you’re a stronger gal than I am, because I woulda been let him dip some o’ his cream in my coffee!” Jada threw a pillow at her, but buried her laughter in the couch cushions. She’d been very good about hiding her attraction to Aaron at the beginning, but the more time they spent together, the harder it had been, especially when she saw him returning those long stares or touching her longer than was necessary. Of course she had convinced herself she was seeing things, but during their last semester together, it had become apparent that Aaron had been at least as attracted to her as she had been to him. “Well, see what one dip gets you,” Jada said after a few moments. “A beautiful baby boy,” Deshae said, putting the pillow on Jada’s hip and laying on it herself. “Are you going to see Aaron? Talk to him?” “He called me at work,” Jada admitted. “Suki now!” “He wants to see me . . .” “Tell him about Joshua?” Jada didn’t answer her. “Gonna tell him about Joshua?” Jada sighed and rubbed her eyes. “If I do it won’t be right now. I can’t just dump something like that on him . . .” “He’s missed four years of his son’s life, Jada Mae,” Deshae said seriously. “If he’s half the man you’ve said he was, you at least owe him the opportunity to meet him. You ain’t gotta marry him, but still . . . you do have to be fair.” Jada nodded but didn’t say anything, letting her friend’s words seep into her brain. She didn’t know how much time had gone by before Deshae went to bed, and Jada turned on the television low, watching the local news with half interest. Deshae was right—she had to at least meet Aaron again, and though Atlanta was a major city, it was only so big before someone put two and two together. Jada dozed off just as the sportscaster began talking about the Atlanta Falcons’ upcoming game against Tampa Bay. |
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| bana05 | May 22 2006, 04:06 AM Post #4 |
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This update was a long time coming, but it's finally here. I hope you enjoy and please forgive errors! bana ~~~~~ Four Three days had passed since Aaron and Jada had spoken. He’d been a good boy, Aaron thought as he stared at the phone on his desk, in giving Jada space and not calling her, but in his down time, he felt his resolve starting to slip. It was late and he was still at the office, tying up loose ends for a presentation he would give tomorrow. He had to speak with the sponsors of the team and give them financial outlooks based upon different scenarios of what it would mean for them in the postseason. Of course, the ultimate goal was to win, but even a nice run at the Super Bowl would make the sponsors and investors much more money than not . . . Aaron sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. Veronica was back in New York and had called earlier, extending an invitation to spend Christmas with her should things die down, but Aaron had given her a vague, yet plausible excuse “just in case” he didn’t come. Truthfully, he wasn’t all that against spending Christmas by himself; then again there was always— “No,” Aaron whispered to himself, shaking his head. His mind shouldn’t go down that all too tempting path. His mind flashed back to five Christmases ago in Boston, with Jada, and he groaned at the memory. How many times had he dreamed of her, of that night? Too many to count, and he had a feeling tonight would be another one. They were friends—friends—who for one night became lovers. In every sense of the word. At least in his mind. They had said things were okay with each other, that they would remain the best of friends, but that never happened, and now he was staring at the phone, yearning to make a call that at one point in his life had been as automatic as breathing. How had things come to this? How long would they go on like this . . . . Not for long, he whispered to himself as he picked up the receiver and dialed her cell phone number. “Hello?” She sounded as if she hadn’t been asleep yet, though she did sound tired, and suddenly Aaron felt very guilty. “Jaybird . . .” “Aaron?” He chuckled a little. “Yeah, Jada, it’s me.” “It’s almost midnight—somethin’ wrong?” “No . . . nothing’s wrong . . . just that I missed you . . .” He heard her suck in a sharp breath and he smiled to himself. “Didn’t you call me earlier this week?” she asked in response. He lazily pulled his tie off and began unbuttoning his shirt to get more comfortable. “Yeah, I did. Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you in the interim.” “So am I to assume you haven’t missed me in the last four years, based upon that logic?” Ouch. She’d gotten him there. “No. You’re to assume that I’m an ass, and that I’m also very sorry for not calling you or e-mailing you. There’s no excuse for my behavior and for that I apologize—” “No . . . no . . .” she said, breathing deeply. “It takes two. I didn’t call you, either.” He imagined her breath fanning against his bare chest like it did the last time they were together, holding her nude form close to his, squeezing her to him as if he would never let her go. But he did, in the worst possible way. He’d had every intention to call, but he hadn’t been ready to face what that night had meant to him, what that would mean for the future of their relationship. With each subsequent call after that night, he became increasingly aware he couldn’t have Jada in his life as “just a friend”—he wanted something more from her, something for which he hadn’t been ready, and even if he had, hadn’t had the courage to pursue it. “Meet with me,” Aaron said impulsively, suddenly struck with the need to see her. “Now.” “What?” “Waffle House—you said it was twenty-four hours, right?” “Have you lost your mind?” “It's just me.” Jada snorted, and Aaron imagined she was shaking her head as well. “There's nothin' 'just' about you, Aaron.” “Meet with me,” he said again over her, though felt a shiver at her comment. “We used to do this all the time, remember?” “But it’s not the same—” “I’m still at work, and I hadn’t had a chance to eat. Besides, you did promise . . .” “I can’t—I’m finishing this paper that’s due tomorrow—” “Study break,” Aaron interrupted, becoming more excited by the prospect of seeing her. “If you’re still like anything from before, you’ve been up all night perfecting an already perfect paper. What’s what—an hour—going to really do?” She was quiet for a while, then she chuckled. “I can't believe I'm doing this.” Aaron smiled, pumping a fist in the air in triumph. “I can—it’s because you love me.” “Aaron . . .” “You do!” Aaron teased. “Don’t bother denying it! You love me!” She laughed and he joined her, suddenly aware of how much he missed hearing her do so. “You are so silly.” “Silly and right,” Aaron insisted. “At least it’s mutual.” “About me being right, yeah,” Jada laughed again. “No . . . about me loving you,” Aaron said, suddenly serious. “Because I do.” “Okay, Aaron,” Jada said after a few silent moments. There was something in her tone that sounded wistful and skeptical at the same time. They’d told each other “I love you” before, but always with a platonic meaning. He could understand her hesitancy to believe him now, but Aaron wanted to at least reassure her of that. Distance or no, Aaron would always treasure her dearly. “Let me get you the directions to the restaurant . . .” Aaron scribbled them down messily on his legal pad, grinning madly when he was finished. “I’ll see you in thirty?” “I can’t believe I’m doing this . . . .” “You’re heaven sent, love,” Aaron proclaimed. “I can’t wait to see you, Jaybird.” “Bye, Aaron,” she said, almost wearily, and he chuckled as he hung up the phone and closed down his office. He arrived at the Waffle House fashionably late, not wanting to seem too eager, yet she wasn’t there. He took a booth towards the back of the restaurant, giving him access to the parking lot’s entrance. Aaron was on his third cup of coffee when the bright fluorescent lights of the park lot hit the golden side of an old model Acura. The car turned in the parking spot right in front of his booth, and his heart sped up as he watched Jada get out. Aaron hid behind his cup but she gave him a shy smile through the window, one he acknowledged by lifting his eyebrows amusedly. Jada was wearing Snoopy pajama pants, a large jacket, and a winter hat complete with a bobble. She was the very picture of adorable. “You always were a coffee nut,” she muttered, dropping her purse on the orange seat across from him. “My third cup.” She shook her head. “And the sad thing is you probably don’t have a buzz yet.” He winked at her and grinned. “You know me too well.” Jada shrugged. “We were close once . . .” “I’d like to be that close again.” Jada seemed hesitant, tucking a stray tendril of curly hair behind her ear. Her hair was in a sloppy bun at the top of her head—a usual hairstyle for her when she’d been in college—and when she shrugged out of her overcoat, Aaron saw she was wearing a Harvard sweatshirt—a sweatshirt that used to belong to him. “I’ve been wondering where that one was,” he said lightly, taking another sip of his coffee. Jada looked at her attire and her lips quirked. “You had a habit of leaving things in my room, and I’d had every intention of getting it back to you except . . . I like it too much for myself.” “Looks better on you anyway.” “It’s a little snug as I’ve gained some weight since college,” Jada murmured apologetically. “You look better in it now than before, love,” Aaron said sincerely. “You look better now than before.” “There’s that coffee kicking in!” Jada laughed. “Perhaps caffeine is more narcotic than we thought it to be!” “Silly,” Aaron muttered, grinning at her over his cup. The conversation was steady until the server came, and Jada perked up, enthusiastically telling him her favorite meals and giving him suggestions. The easy camaraderie they had before returned and soon they were laughing and reminiscing fondly. Two hours later Jada sighed and checked her watch. “An hour, huh?” She shook her head. “I gotta get goin’. Gotta finish my paper and I have a long day tomorrow.” She pulled out her wallet and a couple of bills but his hand closed around her hand. “I got it.” “So do I.” They stared each other down until she relented, replacing her money and wallet in her purse. “Thank you.” “My pleasure,” he replied. Jada licked her lips and folded her hands on the table. She started to say something then stopped, and did this a few more times before she blurted it out. “This was nice, Aaron . . . thanks.” He chuckled and nodded. “Likewise, Jaybird.” She smiled sadly. “Makes me really regret all the time missed.” “I don’t think I can apologize anymore if I tried,” he said, resisting the urge to cover her hand with his. “I didn’t do my part, either,” Jada said with a shrug. “But that won’t happen again,” Aaron vowed. “You have to give me a tour of Atlanta . . .” “Do I?” “You promised,” Aaron reminded her with a little grin. “But when? Aren’t you going to go back home for Christmas?” “I don’t think I will.” “Why?” “My father and I are having a . . . disagreement.” “About?” “Me being down here.” “He doesn’t like the South or something?” Aaron grinned a little at that, but he couldn’t tell her the real reason. “Difference of opinion about where to take the company.” “I thought he was all about expanding office sites. Did he want another site or—” “That, though he agreed Atlanta was the best place, then he didn’t want me to establish it—” “But you’re his son!” Jada said, coming to Aaron’s defense, “and not only that, you can’t tell me he’s stopped trying to get you to be more involved in the company. He’s still trying to get you to be CEO by 35?” “Yes,” Aaron chuckled. “You still remember that?” They’d talked about that often when they were in school, his being groomed for his father’s company though he was more partial to the restaurant business. However, the main heir of Ricci’s was his mother’s oldest brother, and Alexander McKensie wanted more for his son. “Of course I remember that,” Jada said. “I remember mostly everything you’ve told me—” “Is that a good thing?” Jada rolled her eyes but grinned a little at him. “Depends . . .” Aaron grinned in return, looking up at the wall to see it now was pushing 2:30 AM. “It doesn’t feel like so much time has passed—” “Damn!” Jada exclaimed, standing and bundling herself back up. “I have class in the mornin’ . . .” Jada was having problems with her zipper, and Aaron went up to help, removing her hands and zipping up the coat himself. “Thanks,” she whispered softly, not looking at him. “You’re welcome,” he returned, smoothing his hands down her shoulders to her biceps. “Can I walk you out?” She shrugged and he took that as a yes. They said nothing as they went to the car, and leaned against it watching her put the key into the lock. He touched her shoulder again before she could slide into the car, causing her to look at him. They stared at each other silently . . . intently, before she spoke again. “I’m glad we got to meet,” she said staring at the ground. He hugged her in response, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She snuggled into him and he kissed her temple. “It won’t be the last time, love. The tour, remember? And other times.” She chuckled slightly and separated. “We’ll see.” He touched her cheek and sighed before giving a wan smile. “I really want to kiss you right now.” He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but he did—actually since the moment he saw her again at the party. He wanted to know if her mouth tasted the same. Jada eased her cheek from his touch. “That wouldn’t be—” “I know. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to.” “We can’t always have what we want” He merely grasped her face in his hands again and pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “And that is most unfortunate,” he whispered against her skin. Her fingertips caressed his cheeks and he leaned into them. This closeness, this intimacy, was what he’d been lacking for so long, what he’d been trying to achieve with Veronica but to no avail. “I really have to go,” she said quietly. He nodded and stepped away from her. With one last smile and a whispered goodbye she left, leaving him standing in the parking lot and wondering why there was a car seat in the back of her car. Jada’s heart was speeding almost as fast as she did as she drove home, and she let out a long breath to calm her emotions. What had she been thinking? She’d lost her mind! Everything in her had told her going to meet Aaron was a bad idea, except for her heart. The damned thing overruled her common sense, and she’d just spent the past two hours talking with the father of her child, a child Aaron didn’t even know existed. Deshae and her grandmother would kill her for doing such a stupid thing. Jada turned into her apartment complex and parked, shutting off the engine and just sitting there. Groaning, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, wondering how on earth she was going to pull herself together enough to go to class and both jobs tomorrow without falling out from exhaustion. She was wondering why she didn’t regret her decision to go . . . why she didn’t invite Aaron to spend Christmas with her . . . why she didn’t tell Aaron about his son. “You are such an idiot, Jada Mae,” she muttered to herself. She was so busy berating herself she didn’t register her car door being opened until it slammed shut, causing her to spring up like a jack-in-the-box and swallow a scream down her throat. “And just where the hell have you been?” Jada groaned again, returning to her previous position as she felt Deshae’s glare at the back of her head. “Leave me, ‘lone, Shae!” “I know you ain’t tellin’ me that! You better have a good reason fo’ bein’ out all hours of the night like you are! You got class in, oh, five hours!” “I know the time, Shae—” “Miss Candy all right?” Deshae asked, cooling her temper just a bit. “’Cause that’s the only good reason fo’ you to be out like this . . . lookin’ a straight mess—you clearly ain’t went on a date.” “No, not a date,” Jada said, now moving from the steering wheel to the back of her seat. She exhaled harshly. “I met Aaron for . . . a meal.” “Aaron? Baby daddy Aaron? Rich white man Aaron, with you lookin’ broke like you is!” Deshae asked. “I am broke,” Jada chuckled. “Besides, it wasn’t a date. He was hungry and wanted to try Waffle House—” “And what that got to do wit’ you?” “I had promised him I’d take him to one—” “Homeboy can’t tell time? He know you got class this mornin’? Got a paper you been moanin’ and groanin’ about all night—you finished it?” “I could’ve said no,” Jada said in his defense. “And I only got a few finishing touches and then print it out—” “And you didn’t tell him no because . . .” “Because . . .” “Because you sprung, that’s why,” Deshae answered for her. “You can’t just be doin’ that anymore, Jada Mae! You got a little boy now. What woulda happened if he come up sick? How I was gon’ get in touch with you?” “You act like I don’t have a cell phone, Shae,” Jada muttered, irritated by her well-deserved lecture. “You coulda called.” “Yes, but the point is, I shouldn’t have to—” “Ain’t you, and Grandma, and Zeke, and everybody else in this damn town tellin’ me I should get out more?” “But not at no one o’clock in the mornin’!” Deshae said. “Figure when you decide to listen you do somethin’ like this just to still be ornery!” Jada began to laugh, and not soon afterwards did Deshae join her, until they were leaning against each other, sides hurting and tears streaming from their eyes. It was cathartic for Jada to laugh like this, still riding the emotions of her time with Aaron and her reprimand from Deshae. When both women had settled down, Deshae was smoothing down Jada’s hair from her newly uncovered head as Jada rested her cheek on Deshae’s shoulder. “Well?” Deshae started after a moment? “How was it?” “Was what?” “Waffle House?” A deep breath. “Like nothin’ had changed.” “Really?” “Really.” Deshae whistled then shivered. “Mind if we continue this discussion in the house. We may be in Georgia but that don’t mean it don’t get cold as a mug down here!” Jada agreed and they went inside, and by the time they’d finished talking it was five fifteen. Two hours later Jada was back up getting the boys ready for school and printing out her paper before heading to class, but not before stopping by McDonald’s for a cup of coffee. While not as addicted as Aaron to the drink, when she needed a quick pick me up, coffee was no better. On the drive to campus she heard her phone vibrating, and considering she had one cup of hot coffee in one hand and the steering wheel in the other, she let it go. Jada hoped it wasn’t anything important. She made it into her class with five minutes to spare, pulling out her paper and setting it on the professor’s desk before settling into hers. As she caught her breath and waited for the professor’s arrival, Jada vowed never to cut anything this short again—especially for Aaron. The professor, apparently in the holiday spirit, decided to put on a movie since it was the last class before break, and Jada let her body relax, trying to fight off the nap that had been flirting with her all morning long. She was just about to throw in the towel when her phone vibrated again, earning irritated looks from her classmates sitting beside her. She muttered an apology and looked at the display before putting the phone on silent. Aaron. “You got some nerve,” she whispered to her phone. Half a day hadn’t gone by and he was calling her again. Irritation and excitement warred within her, but she put the phone away and tried to watch the movie. However that proved unsuccessful, judging by the fact that someone behind her had to nudge her awake at the end of the movie. She muttered her thanks and went back to her car, deciding to blow off the rest of her classes and go home. She all but collapsed on the couch when she entered her apartment, and slept so soundly that it wasn’t until Joshua jumped on her back in greeting did she awake. “Hey, Mama!” “Joshie,” Jada groaned, burrowing her head in the couch cushion and wincing as he began climbing along her back. “You slept on the couch, Aunty J?” Malcolm asked, setting his bookbag at the foot of the couch before going into the kitchen. “That’s against the rules?” Jada asked teasingly, turning onto her back so she could snuggle with her son. Joshua kissed her chin and laid his head on her chest, his fingers playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. “No, ma’am,” Malcolm said with a grin. “Just weird.” “You callin’ yo’ Aunty ‘weird’? That’s not nice!” “You are a lil’ weird sometimes, Jada Mae,” Deshae said with a wink as she walked in the house, bags from Wal-Mart in her hands. Jada stuck her tongue out at her friend. “Aunty Shae let me get some cheese puffs,” Joshua announced, climbing off his mother and riling through the shopping bags for the orange package. “See!” “Well you can’t have any o’ that right now, Little Man, it’ll spoil yo’ appetite,” Jada said. “But Ma—” “No.” Joshua held the bag to his chest and pouted before stomping off to his room. Jada sighed. “Malcolm, make sure he don’t open that bag. Just because I’m tired, don’t mean I’m not too tired to give him a spankin’!” “All right, Aunty J,” he said, and followed Joshua into their room. Deshae came over to the couch, lifting Jada’s head so she could sit before replacing it in her lap. Deshae massaged Jada’s temples and Jada hummed. “You skipped class, didn’t you?” “Ain’t like I’m missin’ anything. Besides, I’ve been a good student all term and it’s the last day before break—” “Girl I was just makin’ an observation, not handin’ down a sentence!” Deshae defended. “Besides, I don’t blame you, either. You turned in that paper?” “Yes ma’am.” Deshae’s hands moved down to Jada’s neck and shoulders. “Aaron called you again?” “You psychic?” “So he did?” “I didn’t talk to him—he called durin’ class.” “Hmm,” Deshae said, then sucked her teeth. “Maybe I need to surprise Jamal in some sweats every now and again—” “Shut up,” Jada laughed. “I’m just sayin’! You show up in sweats and sleep in your eyes and creases on your cheek and he’s sweatin’ you like that—” “We had good conversation last night,” Jada admitted. “And he’s down here by himself. It’s natural for him to gravitate to someone he knows—” “And someone he knows,” Deshae snickered. “You’re such a punk.” “Don’t mean I ain’t right . . . .” Jada remained silent and enjoyed her friend’s massage. Eventually Joshua came back into the living area, finger stuck in his mouth, face full of contrition, and climbed onto his mother and snuggled his apology. Jada smiled softly, kissing the top of his head in acceptance of his repentance. Deshae eased from underneath Jada’s head and began preparing dinner. It would be spaghetti—that was the only thing Deshae could do well. “How was your day, baby?” Jada asked, sinking her fingers into her son’s curly hair. “Fine. We had a party.” “A party! Was it fun?” “Yeah . . .” Jada chuckled. Her son was tired, or else he’d be tearing through the apartment with no sign of stopping. “Sleep, my baby,” Jada murmured, reaching blindly for a pillow and putting it underneath her head. “Dinner’ll be ready in 15,” Deshae announced. “Okay . . .” Jada asked, her eyes growing heavy. She’d rest them until it was time to eat. Mother and son awoke with an afghan draped over them the next morning. |
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| bana05 | May 29 2006, 07:39 AM Post #5 |
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Update! Please forgive errors! ~~~~~~ Five Aaron’s headache was building slowly, layer by layer, feeling it climb from the back of his neck to the top of his head. His father was an excellent architect, his materials guilt, threats, and bribery. “Your mother misses you,” Alexander said flatly, as if that alone would make Aaron get on the phone with a travel agent. “This will be the first time you’ve not spent Christmas with us—” “I miss her, too,” Aaron conceded, “but I doubt it would be much of a ‘Merry Christmas’ if I was there.” Alexander’s sigh crinkled through the computer speakers, his image clear and sharp on the computer’s monitor as they spoke via webcam. Even in the tiny box, Aaron’s father seemed imposing, but Aaron took comfort that there was 800 miles separating them. “Son, why are you doing this?” “You forced my hand, Pop.” “I saw Veronica yesterday. She looks great . . . she’s going with her parents to Austria for Christmas since you’re staying in Atlanta—” “She’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions,” Aaron ground out, bristling at his father’s accusatory tone. Alexander stared at him through the camera. “Have you seen her yet?” Aaron didn’t even pretend he didn’t know of whom his father referred. “Of course.” Alexander looked away as if trying to formulate the next thought . . . or how to put it delicately. “Is she with you now?” “No.” Aaron didn’t like talking about Jada with his father; it was frustrating and unproductive. “Are you spending Christmas with her?” “I don’t know.” “You want to.” “I do, yes. She’s the only person I know down here.” “Then come up here and spend Christmas with people you know—your family and friends.” Aaron merely stared at his father’s face on the monitor. Alexander only wanted Aaron there so he could keep an eye on him . . . so that all the plans he and Veronica’s father had been making since her birth wouldn’t be corrupted because of Aaron’s . . . wandering eye. He’d been too naïve to see it . . . too willing to take the out his father offered him. But not now . . . not anymore. “Goodbye, father,” Aaron said, closing the window and throwing down his mouse in disgust. He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. Admittedly, he really hadn’t thought this thing completely through, too concerned with seeing Jada to even consider she might have other plans . . . plans that could in no way include him. Aaron’s pride wouldn’t let him book a flight home anyway; the last thing he wanted to do was prove his father right. He needed to talk to Jada . . . just hear her voice . . . she always knew what to do in tight situations, anyway. Though it was 8 AM on a Saturday, Aaron banked on the fact she’d been a morning person. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial to her number. “Hello?” “It’s me.” She didn’t say anything for a moment, but he heard her groan with such fervor that he had to quell the moan that had bubbled in his throat. He remembered that sound vibrating against his throat once upon a time. “Sorry about that . . . I had to stretch . . . are you okay?” “I should be asking you that question,” he teased. She sucked her teeth. “Shut up. I had to stretch, so I’m sorry for sounding like a sputtering engine!” “That’s okay,” Aaron said with a grin. “Did I wake you?” “Not really . . .” Jada admitted. “Just . . . slept wrong.” “Hmm . . . and it always takes you awhile to fully wake up.” “True! Awake—yes. Functional—not so much . . .” Her chuckle was deep and husky, and Aaron wished he’d been there with her as she met the new day. He knew from experience she looked breathless in the early morning glow. “Are you working?” she asked. “Is that why you’re up?” “Sort of . . . I talked with Pop.” “How did that go.” “It went.” “That well, huh?” “Yeah.” “I’m sorry.” “Why are you apologizing?” “Because you sound sad and upset. It’s Christmas . . . maybe you should go home and try to patch things up anyway? You should be with your family, Aaron. He misses you.” This woman didn’t even know Alexander, didn’t even know how cutthroat and ruthless the man could be, had been in regards to her, and yet she wanted Aaron to mend fences and concede because she thought it would make his parents—his father—happy. Aaron sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Though it may seem like a good idea, it really isn’t. We wouldn’t talk to each other, and then that would make Mama sad.” “How is she doing?” “Pop says she misses me, and I miss her, but . . .” “That Irish-Italian pride of yours,” Jada said on a chuckle. Aaron joined her. “Yeah.” “That’s one hell of a pedigree for you, McKensie.” Aaron knew that well, often wondering how his stubborn, prideful father managed to woo and keep Isabella Ricci for the past thirty years. His mother, though soft-spoken, was not a pushover, and was not easily intimidated. Get her mad enough, she could curse very fluently in English, Italian, and Spanish, and no one could get her that mad except for his father. Nevertheless, Alexander doted on his wife so much so that one of his partners had feared he’d gone soft. He found out how "soft" Alexander was when he bought out his share of the company. “That pedigree serves me well in the boardroom,” Aaron said in his defense. “Yes, but this is your father. Maybe you should go home and patch things up? You’re not homesick? This is one helluva culture shock to be down here alone—especially for Christmas.” “But you’ve been helping me not feel that way,” Aaron said softly, sincerely. “You’ve always been able to put me at ease.” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and Aaron worried he’d been too frank. He knew they couldn’t just jump back into their earlier relationship, as if time had gone on but they had been put on pause. However much he wished for that, or how well their late night dinner had gone, Aaron had to take it easy, go at her pace. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. “Is that why you called?” Jada asked finally. “Am I bothering you?” “No.” She said it firmly, without hesitation, and it gave Aaron the push he needed to ask his next question. “Can I see you today? Are you busy?” Her hesitation pressed upon him like deadweight and he hurried on. “You owe me a tour, remember?” “You ain’t gonna let me forget that, are you?” “Do you want to?” “That question isn’t fair. Things are different now.” She kept saying that, and Aaron didn’t understand why. He didn’t things were so different that it meant not seeing each other! “Not so different you can’t give an old friend, an old chum a tour of your fair city?” Suddenly there was rustling on her side, then a high, sweet voice saying “Aunty Shae” and “breakfast.” “Go wash up okay?” Jada murmured softly, and the wet smack of a kiss filtered followed by dampened pattering filtered through the phone. Aaron grinned. “Babysitting?” She chuckled slightly. “You could call it that . . .” The image of Jada with a child flitted through his mind. He imagined her beautiful and glowing with the child smiling broadly. She’d always been good with kids. “I bet he loves you.” “When he gets his way, yes,” she teased. “All the time. No one could know you and not love you,” he said seriously. “Aaron—” “But yes, we can meet up later since it sounds like you’re busy?” Aaron plundered on, wincing at the obvious hope in his voice, but he knew she wouldn’t begrudge him of it. “I’ll call you,” she promised. “I’ll be waiting.” They ended the call, and Aaron felt antsy. He put on his running shorts and a t-shirt and went downstairs to the gym to do a few miles and weight training. That should keep him appropriately occupied enough to not sit by the phone like a little schoolgirl. Jada stared at her son setting the table with Malcolm, smiling widely and shrieking with laughter as they raced to see who could set the most places. Her son was happy, healthy, and fatherless—all because she was too scared to tell Aaron about his son. When Joshua had interrupted the phone call, she’d almost had a heart attack, and then Aaron had commented . . . That had been the first time Aaron had ever heard his son. Jada took a deep breath, the afghan tangled in her lap and legs as she drew her legs up on the couch. Deshae walked into the living room fully dressed and wearing a smirk. “Mother and son were pooped!” Deshae teased. “We were, yeah.” Deshae stood in front of Jada and ran her fingers through Jada’s hair. “Jamal and I were goin’ shoppin’ today and wanted to know if you and Joshie wanted to come.” “I need to talk to Grandma.” “What’s wrong?” “Aaron.” Deshae nodded, moving her fingers to the back of her neck. Jada moaned. It paid to have a masseuse living in the house! “Talked to him?” “He heard Joshua on the phone,” Jada explained. “Did you tell him? “He wants to see me,” Jada whispered helplessly. And she wanted to see him. Deshae cupped Jada’s chin and tilted her face until they were eye to eye. “You’ve kept this secret long enough, Jaybird,” Deshae said. “What are you so afraid of? If he won’t stick around, he won’t stick around. You’ve raised Joshua beautifully thus far and if for nothing else, Joshua should know the McKensie side of him—the reason why he doesn’t look like the rest of us . . .” Jada’s son was already starting to ask those difficult questions, and he was just four years old. Jada had he and GG’s mama were the same color, and though Joshua had been satisfied with that answer, Jada had felt guilty for giving it. Of course, Calliope Ames and Joshua Channing were the same color for a reason—white daddies—but unlike Mr. Joseph, Aaron didn’t know about his child. The guilt and fear of keeping this secret increased ten-fold for every year Joshua got older. “I know,” Jada said. “I thought I was strong—” “You are,” Deshae insisted, squeezing Jada’s chin. “This is not easy and I appreciate that, but if what you and Aaron had was a real, true friendship, then he’ll understand.” Deshae’s words remained with Jada throughout their breakfast of biscuits-in-a-can, eggs, and ham. Joshua was in a much better mood this morning, and he happily regaled them with stories from his class’s party. Aaron should be here, Jada mused, not tasting the eggs she just fed herself. She imagined him being just as excited listening to his son’s story as Joshua was telling it, and Jada winced at the realization. She offered to clean up the kitchen, needing to distract herself and so the boys could shower and change for their shopping excursion. Though there was a perfectly functioning dishwasher to her left, Jada hand-washed the dishes . . . it helped her not to feel so restless. How had things come to this? Felt so pressing? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, best for all involved, to keep her pregnancy a secret, especially when his phone calls and e-mails stopped coming. She hadn’t realized she was pregnant until she was almost three months along because she never had the morning sickness, and waved off her missed periods and fatigue for stress. She’d been tutoring, going to classes, writing a thesis, missing Aaron . . . more than once her roommate Felicia had found her sleeping on the couch drooling over books or her laptop. “I was stressed all right,” Jada muttered, setting the cleaned plate in the drying rack. Felicia had made her go to the doctor after she’d gone through a frightening dizzy spell, and that was when Jada had gotten the news. Candace had cried when Jada told her. Jada could still hear her grandmother’s wail, her keen of “Jada Mae no . . .” Candace had known who the father was before Jada even told her. “Don’t let that boy get you in trouble!” Candace had said more time than Jada could count, and at the beginning of her association with Aaron, she’d thought her grandmother’s warning was silly and empty. After a year had gone by, however, Jada knew she was sinking further and further into it. Aaron’s charm was an undercurrent, a riptide from which Jada had been too weak to fight. He’d lured her into the uncharted waters that was their friendship, had convinced her she could still feel the soft sand of reality under her feet. Even when she could only touch it with the tips of her big toes, Jada had thought she was still close enough to swim to familiarity’s safe shore. Then, in her junior year, “one day” happened. It was a random day, ordinary and unexceptional. She couldn’t even recall the day except for it was not yet winter, but fall was definitely over. She’d been tutoring a student who was having difficulty in English, and towards the end of this particular session, tutor and student had a significant breakthrough. Jada’s hubris from had lasted long after the tutoring session had ended, and she floated upon it as she said goodbye to Aaron for the night. He had stood, looked at her with pride and something that made her breathless, and hugged her. “I’m proud of you, Jaybird,” he’d said feather-light against the top of her head. He had held her close, squeezed her, his large hands kneading her back slightly, his thumbs caressing. She’d sighed and snuggled into him, offered a light, whispered “Thank you,” and allowed herself to go under. That had been the moment she realized she no longer held platonic feelings for her friend . . . that trouble felt like strong arms and smelled like Ivory soap and sounded like decadent chocolate and looked like Aaron McKensie. He hadn’t gotten her into trouble—he was trouble—and he didn’t even know it while she found out too late. “Mama! You not comin’?” It took all of Jada’s control not to jump or drop the plate she’d been holding limply underneath the now lukewarm running water. She gave her son a smile as she passed the soapy sponge over the dish. “No, sweet love, Mama’s gotta handle some stuff, but you have fun with Aunty Shae and everyone, okay?” Joshua nodded and came to her hip. She set the plate in the drying rack and bent down to adjust his coat and cap. “You be my good Little Man, okay baby?” Joshua kissed her cheek. “Okay, mama.” “We’ll call you before we get back—should we bring back dinner?” Deshae asked. “I’m gonna stop by the Grille today so . . . no, you don’t have to.” Deshae nodded and winked at Jada as she beckoned Joshua to her. “We’re gonna get somethin’ nice for Mama, ain’t we?” she asked the little boy. “Yeah!” Malcolm walked into the living area twirling a football in his hands and Deshae arched an eyebrow. “Boy, please!” “But—” “Put it back!” Malcolm sucked his teeth but did as instructed. “Jamal spoils him,” Deshae muttered. “Jamal loves him.” “And if you give Aaron a chance, he’d love Joshua, too.” Jada watched the three of them leave as she hunched over the still-damp sink, now more conflicted than ever. Candace Channing set down the crochet needles and yarn she’d been manipulating and immediately became suspicious when she saw her granddaughter walk into the house unexpectedly looking far too weary for a woman of her age and circumstance. She knew the holiday season could be particularly stressful, but in the twenty-five years she’d known Jada, Jada had always managed to avoid the “ba humbug!” that seemed far too contagious during December. She frowned when Jada dropped a perfunctory kiss on her cheek, and her large, rough, wrinkled, nutmeg-colored hand grasped its younger counterpart and squeezed. “What’s wrong, baby?” Jada didn’t pull her hand free and sat on the edge of the couch that was situated perpendicular to the easy recliner in which Candace sat. She looked around the living room of her youth, at the newly updated television set where before was a too large Zenith model had sat on the floor and doubled as a mantle for pictures and albums. The lace curtains, which used to belong to Candace’s grandmother Dorcas, hung on the large window behind the television where it looked out onto the main street. They could see the streetlamp shine on Jada’s golden Acura Integra and Candace’s across-the-street-neighbor’s son doing the late-day task of taking out the garbage. There was the coffee table that had been an anniversary present from her husband Lincoln, the rug that Mr. Joseph had insisted on giving Candace “just because” resting underneath it, a brand new ceiling fan whirring on low above them though it was the middle of December and the heat was one. Candace would’ve cracked a window, but she was too afraid of it getting stuck. “Joshua’s father is in town . . . indefinitely . . .” “Lawd, Lawd,” Candace murmured and squeezed Jada’s hand. Why did he have to come back? Jada was doing just fine and making a decent life for her and her son, and now that man was back to mess it all up again? “You seen ‘im.” Jada didn’t have to affirm it; it was plain all over her face. It was the same Candace’s grandmother had whenever she saw or spoke of Mr. Joseph. “Accidentally,” Jada said hastily, defensively. She glanced at Candace and shrugged. “At the party earlier this month.” “Lawd, Lawd . . .”Had Candace known Aaron McKensie was going to be there, she would’ve told Jada to stay home. “Jada Mae—” “I know, Grandma . . . I know . . .” So had Dorcas Ames, but that hadn’t stopped her from carrying on with Mr. Joseph for the better part of sixty years. Dorcas had missed out on a loving husband and a respected family, instead lived in sin and shame, taking scraps from a man who could never love her the way she should’ve been loved . . . deserved to be love. A little girl had come out of that ill-fated union—her mother—and to see this happening again with Jada made Candace hurt, angry, and disappointed. Candace sighed deeply, as if trying to expel all of the negativity out of her body in order to be supportive of her granddaughter. Jada needed good advice now, not a lecture. “I think you should leave him alone—” “It’s not that simple, Grandma . . . he has a son . . .” “You really think this white man is gonna devote the necessary time to you and his black son—?” “Have you seen Joshua? He looks about a black as chalk—” “So did my mama, that didn’t mean Mr. Joseph treated her as his daughter, even though the entire world knew she was! My mama went off to Europe because of that, do you really want to alienate yo’ son the way Mama Dorcas did wit’ her daughter?” “No, I don’t, but I don’t think that will happen. We have a good support system here, and . . . Aaron isn’t Mr. Joseph.” Candace sucked her teeth. “So you think! You should ignore that man, Jada Mae! He got you in enough trouble as it is, and all he gonna hafta do is say some purty words and get you in trouble again—” “He has a girlfriend—” “Mr. Joseph had a wife,” Candace interrupted. “They don’t care! You ain’t worth nothin’ than some change minutes at night . . . at yo’ house, because you ain’t good enough to darken their doorstep and ruin the purty little picture they think everyone believes o’ ‘em . . . but they don’t . . . everybody knows . . .” Candace, Miz Dorcas’s granddaughter, daughter of the white black lady who sang in seedy nightclubs an ocean away. Everyone waited to see what kind of nefarious dealings she’d become, for an Ames woman wasn’t an Ames woman unless she’d done something to sully her reputation. For Dorcas it was a white married man. For Calliope it was a passing-for-white nightclub singer. For Candace, it was having Dorcas as a grandmother and Calliope as a mother, but people had been surprised she’d managed to skip the shame and marry respectably. That had been all Candace had wanted—people to call her Mrs. Somebody instead of Miz Candy with illegitimate babies hanging off her hip. She’d managed to do all right by that, but then she had Lynn, and Lynn messed it all up again, and though Candace had thought she’d finally get it right with Jada, had finally learned from her grandmother’s, mother’s, and daughter’s mistake, Jada had to regress all the way back to Dorcas to repeat a mistake. Why couldn’t Jada do as I did and enter into a loveless marriage? Candace often wondered. That, at least, still kept a woman’s reputation in tact . . . and kept her with a modicum of common sense! “Aaron never treated me that way,” Jada said, though it was a quiet declarative, with the tiniest hint of doubt. Candace pounced upon it. “Have you ever met his parents? Gone to his home? Met his friends? He hadn’t treated you like a friend . . . he treated you like a kept woman—” “Grandma, I understand where you’re comin’ from . . . . I really do, and I appreciate it. But . . . I don’t know . . . maybe I didn’t give this the proper shot? Maybe I didn’t give him enough of a chance—” “Oh you gave him enough of a chance, all right,” Candace contended, “the proof o’ that is currently walkin’ around at four years old!” And as much as Candace adored her great-grandson, she thought he’d come in the world far too early and turned out far too light. Candace wished she had a nickel for every time someone had asked her who she was babysitting for, then looked at her in shock and some repulsion when she answered, “My granddaughter.” Everyone in town knew who Jada was—the first black salutatorian at the high school, the first person to be admitted to Harvard University from the school, the first black person admitted to an Ivy League in the district’s history. They all knew the history of her lineage, and for Jada to do so well, everyone thought that she would be the one to break the cycle finally. There had been such high hopes for Jada Channing, and none of them had included a white-looking baby at the age of 21. Then again, at least she waited until after college to sully her name. “It’s a different time—” “Ain’t that different,” Candace muttered. “It was—it is.” Why were all the Ames women so naïve? Candace had thought some Channing blood would smarten them up down the line but it seemed to cower underneath the Ames influence. “Has he asked you to marry ‘im yet? Has he talked to you since he knocked you up and lef’ you pregnant and before he came down here? Chile, all that man is is lonely and he knows you so much o’ a sucka as to go there and keep him some ‘company’—” “Grandma, give me some credit—” “I’m givin’ you all the credit you deserve!” Candace said. Perhaps she was being too harsh, but Candace was too old to raise another great-grandchild. Why couldn’t Jada be like Deshae and move on with a successful black man? Deshae had outside children she moved on with a loving, caring, wealthy black man. Candace was sure there would be one out there willing to take care of a white man’s child . . . Candace shook Jada’s hand to get her granddaughter to look at her. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted for you is to not live yo’ life wit’ regrets. You live a longer, happier life without ‘em, and everything I’ve taught you was my way o’ makin’ sure you had as few regrets as possible. Now, I know this is a new century, I know things have changed from the last one . . . but one thing hasn’t changed—black women are the mules in this society. Hard enough for us to find a decent black man, but you . . . why you had to go make your life more difficult and run around after a white one?” “The heart wants what the heart wants,” Jada mumbled. “The mind is stronger than that . . . it’s got to be.” Jada covered Candace’s hand with her free one, rubbing the veins and wrinkles of it. “You don’t think I should tell Aaron, do you?” “I don’t see what good that would do. All that’ll bring is heartache and give poor Joshua a complex that he ain’t good enough. I saw it happen before . . . I don’t wanna see that happy child think that way. You’ve done good raisin’ him by himself—wait until Joshua gets older and has more sense o’ himself before tellin’ Josh.” For Candace, anyway, an absent father was better than a part-time one. Jada frowned and sighed, turning her attention to the television. Some crime drama was on, but only because Candace kept the set on one channel and the volume just loud enough to be heard. She used the television as a glorified radio more than anything else. “I can’t keep them in the dark forever. It’s not fair,” Jada said, staring at the television instead of her grandmother. “Life’s not fair. If it was fair, Mama Dorcas would’ve been able to marry Mr. Joseph. I would’ve had a mother . . . you would’ve had a mother . . . and you would’ve met a man who could love you like you ought to be loved.” Jada nodded and squeezed Candace’s hand. It hurt Candace’s heart to see her granddaughter so confused and distressed. A black woman in love was the worst place of her to be—it brought nothing but heartache and misery. “I gotta go,” Jada said flatly, standing but keeping their hands locked. “Stop by the Grille.” Candace had no idea if Jada would take her advice, though if given past history, Jada would ignore it. She never could think right when that Aaron was involved. “You give Joshua a thousand kisses for me,” Candace said. Jada kissed her grandmother’s weathered cheek and nodded. “I’ll call you when I get home.” Candace nodded, staring at the yarn she’d been working on earlier as she heard Jada pull out of the driveway, wondering if she should stop making a scarf and start making another pair of baby booties. |
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| bana05 | Jul 4 2006, 03:02 PM Post #6 |
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Been a long time but, here's part 6! Happy Fourth of July! ~~~~~~~~ Six Aaron wasn’t nervous . . . too nervous . . . “Liar,” he whispered to himself, glaring at this reflection in the mirror and pulling off his top only to throw it on the ever-growing pile of garments on his bed. He wanted to be casual, but not too casual . . . not too formal. He felt like Goldilocks trying to find something ‘just right’, but it was taking much more than three tries to do it. He’d tried very hard not to sound like an excited puppy when Jada had agreed to take him on a tour of the city, and though he’d just finished a six-mile run on the treadmill and an hour-long weight-training session, Jada’s voice provided him with a second wind. The tips of his inky hair was still damp from his earlier shower though his beard was dry, and his charcoal trousers he’d ultimately chosen to wear rode low and unzipped around his slim hips. His chest was bare and cool as he draped shirt after rejected shirt across it, the mantra “This is not a date . . .” running through his head. He didn’t bother to think about how he was more stressed out over this “non-date” than he had been when he had been for his first board meeting presentation. Finally, he decided upon a dark blue button down shirt with black buttons and opted out of wearing a sweater. That was too New York . . . too Hamptons . . . he wondered if Jada was this stressed. His apartment door buzzed and the foreign flutter in his stomach had him exhaling a harsh breath as he walked through his dwelling to press the intercom’s button. “Who is it?” A brief moment of silence before, “Jada . . .” Aaron took a deep breath. “Come on up.” He unlocked the downstairs door for her, then ran back into his room and threw the piles of clothes into his closet. He checked himself one last time before going into his living room, debating whether or not if he should wait by the door or sit on the couch. He stood in indecisive limbo until he heard the knock on his door. He shook himself, looking like an out of control puppet, before walking slowly to the door so that he wouldn’t give into his urge to run to it. He gripped the knob tightly when he saw Jada on the other side of the threshold, looking radiant. Her light pink turtleneck brought out the red undertones of her skin, and her hair was in two braided pigtails tied together by a rubber band at her nape. Dark blue jeans and black boots completed her ensemble, and Aaron was glad he erred on more the more casual side than less. “Hi,” she said, offering him a tiny smile. His returning one was instinctive, reactionary, and he released his death grip on the knob to grasp Jada’s hand and pull her into his apartment. “Come in . . .” He gave her a mini tour of his apartment; though sparsely furnished, it was staring to feel like home. “I think your living room is bigger than my entire apartment!” Jada chuckled. Aaron laughed and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry?” “Not your fault,” she said and eased her hand out of his. He hadn’t been aware he was still holding it. Her finger ran along his black leather couch and she stared at his flat panel HDTV. “Malcolm wants one for Christmas.” Aaron’s heart constricted painfully. “Malcolm?” “My girlfriend’s son. Jamal has one at his house, and Malcolm fell in love with it.” “Jamal?” “Jamal Green? Star running back of the team you work for?” “Oh . . . right.” Aaron had no right to feel as relieved as he did, and he slipped his hands in his pockets to keep from pumping them in the air in victory. So Jamal dated Jada’s friend . . . they should have a chat soon . . . “And you kept the coffee table,” Jada grinned. “It’s a good table.” Aaron walked towards the glass table that had seen much pizza, Indian, Chinese, and laptops in its seven-year history. “I wrote the majority of my thesis on that table,” Jada murmured. “Well, the first draft.” “How did you do on that, by the way?” She ducked her head and mumbled, “Magna.” “Congrats!” Aaron said with a large smile. “Not that I expected anything less!” He’d stayed up many a night with her as she worked on the first draft of her thesis, providing her with snacks, caffeine, and support: Brown v. Board’s Fine Print: How Latent Racism and Lowered Expectation Undermine the Promise of Integrated Education, if he remembered the title of her thesis correctly. He’d learned much from reading her drafts, how her personal experiences had inspired her focus of study. He also understood why she was so passionate about tutoring at the community center. She didn’t want these children—mostly poor, mostly children of color, mostly “at-risk”—to fall by the wayside because no one supported them . . . had faith in them. Everywhere around them were messages of “you can’t”, “you won’t”, “you aren’t”, and if Jada had to be the lone voice saying, “you can, you will, you are”, then she’d shout it from the rooftops if necessary. Aaron had been naïve when he first started the mentoring program with Philip. He thought it would look good on his resume, and he had been feeling guilty about his wealth when there were people . . . just down the street . . . who were lucky to scrape up enough money to pay a rent that was less than a pair of shoes he owned. Philip’s interest was similar to Jada’s, but not nearly with such passion, as he had come from money, too. Jada, though her family owned a restaurant, wasn’t rich . . . not like he and Philip were, so she appreciated the value of a dollar more than those two did, and it helped make them more sensitive to their young charges. “It’s hard,” Jada had said once as she worked on her thesis. “To fully appreciate how much of a pariah you can become if you decide to succeed academically instead of athletically—not that there should be a choice, you should do both—but when everything around you says, “be a basketball player! be a football player!”, and there’s a certain kind of status and celebrity and instantaneous payback to it . . . it’s often the most attractive route of the two.” “But it’s fleeting,” Aaron had said. “And there’s the rub,” Jada said. “There’s the rub . . .” Yet here she was, going to school to become a teacher, to follow through on the work she’d started in college. Jada humbled him. “Are you ready to go?” He started, unaware he’d drifted off into his memories. She was twirling her keys in her hands and looking at him expectantly. “Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Lead the way.” The day was cloudy and chilly, so they stayed in car for most of the tour. It seemed very well lived in, and the car seat he’d noticed earlier was no longer there, in its place a pile of textbooks and a burger wrapper from Wendy’s. “How did you do on the paper?” he asked. He’d inquire about the car seat later. “I think I did all right on it,” she said, making a left onto Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive into downtown Atlanta. “Even if I had to rush through the editing process.” Aaron grinned, drumming his hand on the handle above the car door. “Do you want me to apologize for wanting to spend time with you?” She sucked her teeth. “Why do you have to say it like that?” “Because it’s the truth.” Jada’s response was to point out the campus of Georgia State University. The tour took about an hour, accounting for traffic, and the fact the really good sites were best seen in warmer temperatures. As Jada began the drive back to his condo, Aaron was struck by a thought. “What about your place?” “My place, what?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “It’s not included on the tour?” Jada snorted and shook her head. “Why not?” “Why the fascination? It’s not nearly as grand as your place . . .” Aaron wouldn’t be deterred, however, his desire to see where she lived growing even more because of her reluctance. “What if I want to visit you? Isn’t that what friends do? Or . . . how am I going to get your Christmas present to you—” “That’s really not necessary—” “It is,” Aaron insisted. “I have about five years’ worth of Christmas presents to give you.” Jada stopped abruptly at a red light, causing Aaron to clutch the handle he’d been drumming on in surprise. “All right?” “No . . . I feel sick . . .” She looked sick, too, or at the very least distressed, and Aaron placed a gentle hand to her cheek. She didn’t feel warm, but it was better to be safe about these things. “Pull over,” Aaron demanded. “I’ll drive.” She didn’t argue, pulling into a strip mall’s parking lot and getting out of the car. In a flash, Aaron was at her side, assisting her to the passenger’s side of her car. He was just opening the door when her forehead rested against his chest, and he, unable to resist, put his arms around her in comfort. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” he murmured. She let out a deep breath and nodded. It would have to be his home, he realized as he got into the driver’s seat, since he didn’t know where she lived, and her eyes were closed as she tried to rest. Aaron couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the prospect . . . it meant he had a few more minutes with her before she left him again. “Do you need me to carry you?” He’d said it seriously, but his eyes sparkled, his mouth fell into a boyish grin, and Jada didn’t know whether to smack him or kiss him. “I can walk,” Jada said instead, and he helped her out of the car into his building. His building. It had to be his building because he didn’t know where she lived . . . and couldn’t know that until she told him about his son. He held her close throughout the trip from her car to his condo, but not too close to make her uncomfortable, although she was fairly sure that wasn’t even a possibility. He kept shooting her concerned looks as well, and it was all she could do not to sag against him. Once inside his place, Aaron eased her onto the couch and took of her shoes, then draped a blanket over her body. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, then disappeared around the corner into what she assumed was his kitchen. Jada blew out a breath and drew the blanket over her face. She couldn’t do this . . . she couldn’t keep this secret from him, not now that he was here. It was much easier to do when they were 800 miles away, when she thought they’d never see each other again, when she thought he hadn’t cared, but between the Waffle House and the tour, five years’ worth of building barriers was falling down as if they were little more than popsicle sticks. Her stomach roiled and she moaned. Her head pounded and she burrowed deeper into the cushions. It was as if her body was rebelling, repelling the lie out of her body, as if she’d been carrying a dormant disease that all of a sudden decided to activate. But Aaron had his own life now, with his own girlfriend—what would it accomplish to tell him their one night stand had produced a child? “A clear conscience,” she muttered to herself. Since Aaron’s return into her life, her guilt had gone from a pebble in her shoe to a two-tone weight she dragged on her back. She wasn’t strong enough to haul it around anymore. So consumed she was in her thoughts, she didn’t hear Aaron’s return, but she turned away from him when he pulled the blanket from her face. “It’s aspirin,” he said, holding out his palm with two circular white pills sitting atop it. “Thank you,” she whispered, taking them from his hand and popping them in her mouth. He gave her a glass of water and she drank from it, nearly draining the contents in one gulp before laying back down on the couch. He set the glass on the coffee table and kneeled beside her, smoothing his hand over her hair. She closed her eyes at his comforting touch, and the image of him doing this to their son came unbidden and sharp, bringing tears to her eyes. “You work too hard, Jaybird,” he said quietly, fingers tucking tendrils of hair behind her ear before the hand cupped her cheek. “Studying, early-morning breakfasts, babysitting . . . when do you ever make time for you?” They’d barely been reunited for two weeks and he was already reciting Deshae’s and Candace’s speech. “It’s not that simple,” Jada whispered. “You were never the type to say ‘no’ to anything,” Aaron said, and she heard him chuckle. “There were times I threatened to fire you from the mentoring program because you practically lived there . . . remember that?” She did, as she has spent the majority of her “free time” at the center that it got to the point she would feel bereft when she didn’t have to go. “You ought to let someone take care of you once in a while,” he said. That was a luxury she couldn’t afford, especially not now. Jada clasped the hand at her cheek, and he rested his forehead against hers. She’d missed this, this easy closeness she had with Aaron, and was a little disconcerted it hadn’t taken more time for them to fall back into it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath fanning against her nose and mouth. “Why?” He sighed. “Abandoning you the way I did.” Jada’s throat tightened and she shook her head. “You didn’t—” “I did,” Aaron insisted. “I stopped calling, emailing . . . everything. I wasn’t able to handle—” “Handle?” Jada’s heart clenched, and so did the hand holding his. Did he know? Did he know about Joshua? Aaron drifted his nose against her hairline and cheek. “My feelings for you . . .” Jada blew out a deep, harsh breath, her heart beating to hard she felt it would break through her chest. She sat up, Aaron moving away from her, but not too far as he kneeled in front of her and rested his arms outside her thighs. “Jada—” “I have something to tell you . . . show you,” she whispered. “You can tell me anything, love.” “I would’ve told you sooner . . . maybe . . .” Jada murmured, looking into her lap rather than at him. Shaking her head, she reached blindly for her purse, giving Aaron a small thank you when he placed it in her hands. She was surprised she was going to tell him now, but she couldn’t keep the secret any longer. Her hands trembled and her breath was shallow as she shuffled through her purse for her wallet. Aaron caressed the outside of her thighs as if to calm her, but Jada didn’t quite know if he was succeeding. She founded the wallet, and she squeezed it before pulling it out. She felt his eyes on her, his curiosity, but she ignored it. Opening the wallet, she flipped through the photographs until she found one in particular. She gave the wallet to Aaron wordlessly, still not looking at him, not having the courage to do so. For a minute . . . a lifetime . . . all she heard was breathing, her heartbeat . . . his, until finally— “Jada . . .” She couldn’t tell by his tone what he was thinking, and she still hadn’t garnered the guts to look at him. She was preparing her excuses in her head, her reasons from keeping him in the dark, when suddenly his hands grasped her face and forced her eyes to his. “I have a son?” Jada nodded, closing her eyes again, but he shook her head to keep them open. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered fiercely, his eyes getting teary. “He’s . . . my God, Jada—four years—and I didn’t even know!” “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, her throat too tight for her to use her voice. He shook her head again, then, to her immense surprise, hugged her. When she heard him sniffle, she let loose her regret, sadness, and shame onto his shoulder. His grip around her waist tightened almost to the point of pain. How long they remained that way she didn’t know, but soon his hold slackened, her tears stopped, and they were reclined on the couch again, touching each other as if to reaffirm the other’s presence. He lay half on top of her, but she didn’t mind his weight; she drew comfort from it. “You should’ve told me, Jada,” he said, his lips brushing her neck. “I wanted to—” “Why didn’t you?” When she didn’t answer right away, he tilted her chin so she would look at him. “Are you angry?” Jada asked instead, bracing herself for his answer. “Honestly? I’m more hurt than angry,” he said. “I thought we were friends . . . best friends . . . that we loved each other and trusted each other—” “We had sex and I got pregnant,” Jada said. “One night stand and now . . . I knew you didn’t plan on having children—” “I didn’t,” Aaron conceded, moving his hand from her chin to her neck. “And neither did you. It takes two to create a baby, Jada, and it takes two to raise it.” “I’ve had plenty of help—” “But not mine, and I’m the one who should’ve been there the most,” Aaron said with an edge. Was he really that naïve? “What about your girlfriend, huh? Your parents? You think they’ll be happy to know you got a black baby runnin’ around—” “He’s not all that black—” “Oh no you didn’t!” Jada whispered, bristling at his comment, despite the fact she’d said the same thing on numerous occasions. She made to get up but he pressed her back into the cushions. “He looks just like me, love,” Aaron said, then he sighed and nodded, “but I would love him if he was purple and orange with yellow stripes. That’s my son . . . and he’s beautiful.” He moved his hand to her too soft, too rounded tummy, and Jada held her breath. “I regret not being able to see you grow with him inside you.” “You really shouldn’t say things like that.” His green eyes were dark when he met hers. “There’s a lot of things that should be said but haven’t been, Jada.” “I was afraid,” Jada admitted, ducking her head. “I was afraid you’d hate me for ruining your life—” “Don’t you know that’s an impossibility?” he asked sharply, lifting her hands and kissing the backs of them. “I could never hate you—!” “Or that you’d regret it once you found out—” “I regret,” he began, running his nose against hers, “not being there for you . . . that you thought you couldn’t depend on me—” “Aaron—” “I regret,” he continued, kissing her cheek, “that I didn’t tell you that I love you.” Jada shook her head. “Aaron—” “I should’ve told you that from the beginning.” “We’re friends—” “I love you as more than a friend, Jada.” “Don’t say things like that.” It was easier to deal with her feelings when there wasn’t the possibility of him feeling the same, of him breaking her heart . . . without seeing her happiness staring at her in the face. There was a safety in dreams that reality didn’t offer; there was no risk in fantasy. “Veronica,” Jada whispered. That was her ace and she would play it. Aaron sighed. “Jada . . .” “Don’t tell me you two are ‘just friends’. You are more than friends, Aaron, if you sleep with her.” Jada knew his history with her, and when she’d seen him at the party with the raven-haired beauty on his arm, she was struck by how well they fit together. It was appropriate . . . natural . . . for them to be together. “So does that mean we’re ‘more than friends’?” he asked quietly. Jada paused, wincing. “It was a one time thing with us—a fluke—” “Liar.” Jada gasped at his audacity. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” Aaron said, hands sliding up her sides to her underarms. “You never do anything lightly, Jada . . . you would’ve never slept with me if I was only your ‘friend’—” “I had wine—” “You had no barriers,” Aaron corrected. “You were true to yourself for the first time . . . and so was I.” Jada shuddered and closed her eyes. That night had been a touchstone in her life, and the fact Aaron had realized that left her disconcerted. That had been the first time she’d succumbed to her heart’s desire, turned off the background noise that was her grandmother, her society, her history, and allowed herself to make a decision that was solely and genuinely hers. “They seem down again.” Jada kept her eyes closed and let out a small breath. “They what?” His grip tightened around her and she felt the soft flutter of lips at her jaw. “Barriers.” “Mine?” “Ours.” His finger drifted down her nose and he sighed. “You’ve left me open with this revelation, Jada. Raw.” She opened her eyes and frowned at him. “You have to be angry.” “That’ll probably come later,” he said honestly. “Bur right now . . . I just want to see my son.” “Just like that?” “Like what?” “You just accept him like that? Want to see him?” Aaron’s hands went to her stomach again. “We created a child, Jada. How could I not love him?” Jada dropped her head and she began to weep once more. All of this wasted time because of her fear and lack of faith in him . . . in the reason why she loved him. She’d been born with the curse of second-guessing, and she almost denied a father his son because of it. She realized then she didn’t need him to be angry with her—she was angry enough for the both of them. “Don’t do that, love,” Aaron said, wiping her tears and kissing her forehead. “We’ll get through this . . .” We. Jada latched onto that word even as she latched onto him. There was a saying that the first step was always the hardest, and for Jada, that was never more true, but hopefully, now that it had been taken, they walk down that path toward healing. |
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| bana05 | Jul 15 2006, 09:44 AM Post #7 |
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Another update. Thank you so much for your reviews! I very much appreciate them! *hugs* ~~~~~~~~~~ Seven It wasn’t until later, when Aaron was staring at his own phone, that he fully appreciated the hesitancy that had prevented Jada from contacting him all those years ago. The receiver was just inches away, and he knew the number by heart, yet he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone and call his parents to tell him they were grandparents. He sighed. Jada was asleep in his bedroom, exhausted from the emotional wringer they’d just endured, and though he wanted nothing more than to go in there and watch her sleep, hold her while she slept, Aaron had thought this news far too time sensitive to procrastinate. Too hard . . . This effectively shot to hell any plan his father may have had about “keeping it in the family”. Jada was not family. She was so far from the realm of family she was a non-issue . . . or had been, until she bore the next McKensie in the line. He was a beautiful baby boy. Aaron didn’t think that because of Joshua’s uncanny resemblance to his papa, but rather because, even through the picture, they were was a joy and an innocence that had been nurtured by Jada, and that beauty went beyond physical. Then again, with Jada as his mother, how could it not? The phone rang, but it wasn’t the phone he’d been staring at all this time. Instead, it came from Jada’s purse, which was half falling off the coffee table. He checked the clock and winced, not realizing how late it was, and knew someone was concerned about her. He picked up the phone. “Hello?” “Jada?” “I’m sorry; she can’t come to the phone right now—” “Aaron?” Well, wasn’t he at a slight disadvantage? “This is he. May I ask who is calling?” “This is Deshae—is she all right?” Deshae, Jada’s best friend. He’d never spoken to her before, but with all the stories Jada had told him, Aaron felt as if he knew her. “It is finally nice to talk to you.” “Is she all right?” Deshae asked again. Aaron chuckled silently. No nonsense. He liked that. “She is sleeping. She hadn’t been feeling well . . .” “Do you need me to come get her? Where do you live—?” “I’d rather not wake her up,” Aaron said honestly. “And I can bring her home tomorrow if that’s okay . . .” I can see my son . . . Deshae didn’t answer right away. “You know.” Aaron didn’t even bother to ask her to clarify. “She told me, yes.” Deshae blew out a breath. “Dang gum, I ain’t think she would do it . . .” “How is he?” “Who? Oh, Joshua . . . he’s fine . . .” Aaron’s heart clenched and he smiled. “Is he sleeping?” “Right tuckered out he is,” Deshae answered with a small laugh. “Damn near wore me out with goin’ from store to store—” She abruptly stopped talking and Aaron held his breath. “I understand now.” “Understand what?” “You make it very easy to talk to.” Aaron flushed a little at that. “Is that a bad thing?” “I’m not sure,” Deshae said honestly. “What are your intentions to them?” “I intend to be there for them,” he answered without hesitation. “Them?” “Yes, them.” Deshae sighed this time and lowered her voice as if she didn’t want to be overheard. “Listen, Aaron. I realize you’ve just gotten the mother of all bombs dropped into your lap, and from what Jada has told me about you, you always want to try to make things right with the world, but you have to realize that some things can never be made right.” Aaron didn’t like where this was going. “What’s your point, Deshae?” “My point is you think real long and hard before you go makin’ promises you can’t keep,” Deshae said, her tone firm and full of caution, though a bit wistful as well. Aaron opened his mouth to respond, but changed his mind. Deshae was right. He had to think. Everything about this was complicated and messy, and he realized it would’ve been complicated and messy even if Jada had told him as soon as she had realized she was pregnant. Well, less messy since he would not have been with Veronica. Veronica . . . Aaron groaned and swiped his hand over his face. Not only would he have to tell his parents about Joshua, but Veronica as well. He was looking forward to that conversation about as much as he would a root canal. She’d be even less happy about it, especially given the undercurrent with which she had talked to him about Jada not weeks before. “You understand?” Deshae asked. “I understand, doesn’t mean I have to like it.” “You think Jada’s been thrilled about this predicament—” “If she’d had told me when she was pregnant—” “What would you have done, Aaron?” Deshae asked seriously. “She made the best decision she knew at the time. You weren’t beholden to her, and she wasn’t beholden to you. Young working class black girl going to Harvard all of a sudden knocked up by one of the richest men in the world? You really think she wanted the scrutiny? She gets enough of it from this little town, let alone the rest of the country!” “She never gave me the chance to step up to the plate! I would’ve! I love that woman!” That seemed to drain whatever fight had been in Deshae, if her gasp was any indication. “Aaron . . .” He’d picked a hell of a time to own up to his feelings, hadn’t he? Now, when he wasn’t in a place to explore fully any of them, he decided to claim them. Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he doing it to Jada? He had a little boy to think about now, and he had to think what was best for him. It wasn’t the time to be selfish, although he’d wanted nothing more than to whisk them all away to his villa in Tuscany and hide out there, play house without his parents or Veronica or anyone else interfering. “You never told her,” Deshae deduced. “I just did,” Aaron muttered. “And she didn’t believe you.” “Not really . . .” “Idiot,” Deshae said under her breath. “She just can’t allow herself to be happy . . . sometimes I blame her grandmother for that, but she does a hell of a good job of it herself—” “Her grandmother?” Deshae ignored him. “Well, when you bring Jada home tomorrow, I’ll have Joshua all dressed and ready for you. My son and I—” “Malcolm,” Aaron murmured, recalling that tidbit of information from one of his and Jada’s previous conversations. “Yes,” Deshae said, and Aaron could hear the smile in her voice. “We’ll make ourselves scarce for the introduction—” “I’d like to meet you,” Aaron found himself saying. He’d like to meet the woman who meant so much to Jada . . . who had clearly helped her when he himself couldn’t. “Oh don’t think you ain’t!” Deshae chuckled. “But we’ve had a fairly decent conversation now and . . . your son is more important.” My son . . . “You’re going to love him,” Deshae said tenderly. “I love him already.” “There’s a lot of you in him—more than just looks,” Deshae said. “She says so all the time.” Aaron blinked back tears. “God, this is all so fucked up.” “And the beauty of this is, it can all be un-fucked. It’ll be as hard as hell to do, but it can be done.” “Priority one is my family,” Aaron said, having the first clear thought since the revelation. “Your parents?” “No. My child and the mother of my child. They’re my family now, no matter what anyone else says.” “Even if Jada herself says differently?” “Especially Jada herself,” Aaron said. Deshae, to his surprise, laughed heartily. “I so see why she fell in love with you now! I do . . .” “She loves me?” Deshae still didn’t stop laughing. “You just as slow as she is if you ain’t figure that one out!” He had, he just couldn’t deal with it, but it was good to know she still did. Actually, quite excellent to know that. “She doesn’t hate me?” “She couldn’t if she tried,” Deshae said honestly. “Has she?” “No. But she’s tried to move on without you, though it’s kind of hard with your clone staring at her in the face every single day!” “I don’t want her to move on without me,” Aaron said, his voice steel. “Then you’re going to have to make it safe for her to stick with you. You’re a dangerous S.O.B.,” Deshae said. “And Jada’s all about self preservation.” “Dangerous?” “You’re in Atlanta now, son, you’ll figure out why soon enough.” Deshae sighed. “It’s late, and I should get my black ass to bed. Can’t wait to meet you tomorrow!” “Good night,” Aaron said, then folded up Jada’s cell phone to end the call. That had been a most . . . enlightening conversation, as enlightening as it was unsettling. He had a sneaking suspicion his danger had something to do with which he couldn’t control, and it made him irritated. It was the twenty-first century! Things like that shouldn’t matter anymore . . . Even though they did. “Shit.” He stood and went back to his bedroom. Jada was hugging his pillow underneath her ear, still fully clothed, as Aaron hadn’t had the guts to make her more comfortable. He shook his head and went into his drawers. He had a full set of pajamas somewhere, and he knew his usual attire of boxers would be inappropriate. Finally finding a set, he went into the bathroom and began to change. His face looked foreign now, older, he determined as he slipped on the bottoms. Like a father’s. A switch had been flipped, one that turned on his protective nature, his desire to provide almost overwhelming. His need to love. His arms suddenly felt bereft of the son he’d yet to meet, of needing to see and hold his future. Jada had provided that for him, and he couldn’t help but grin. It had been a dream that he hadn’t even realized he’d had until it came true, and it explained much. It explained his hesitation to move things along with Veronica though they had been exclusive for almost three years. It explained why whenever his father talked about marriage and “the next generation” he grew frustrated because he couldn’t see any of that—or at least didn’t see the image he wanted to see. Who knew that all along he’d had it already? A crash jarred him out of his musings, and he opened the door quickly. The bed was empty, but his lamp was in pieces on the floor. “Shit!” he swore again, dropping the top he’d been about to don and going into the living room. Jada was there, trembling, fumbling, and he went to her, cooing at her to calm down. “I’m such an awful mother! I didn’t call! Deshae must be so worried! And Josh—” “They’re fine, love,” Aaron said, his hands grasping her shoulders gently. “Deshae called—” “She was worried,” Jada said, bottom lip going between her teeth. “Yes,” Aaron said, and he squeezed her shoulders. “But she knows you’re here and that I’m going to take you home in the morning—” “In the morning?” “You should sleep.” Jada frowned, her purse limp in her hands. “She can’t come get me?” “I told her I’d take you home.” “My car—” “Will be all right in the parking lot for another day,” Aaron said. “Please, Jada . . .” “I have errands . . . work . . .” Jada was far too practical for her own good sometimes, and Aaron’s face fell. “Where do you work?” “The Grille,” Jada murmured, staring at a spot on his chest. Her cheeks were flushed slightly, and Aaron blushed himself. He’d forgotten he was shirtless. “You haven’t changed at all,” she said, voice still soft. She dropped her purse in favor of touching him, and Aaron couldn’t have stopped his shiver if he tried. “Not fair.” He held her hand to his chest and his voice dropped low. “I have changed. I’m a father now.” Her mouth quirked and she shook her head. “And I’m a mother, but I have the body to prove it, too.” “It’s as beautiful as it’s always been.” “Always?” She sounded so unsure, and Aaron cursed himself for all of those missed opportunities. “I’ve always thought you beautiful, Jaybird.” Jada pulled her hands away and stepped back, slipping her hands into the rear pockets of her jeans. “I think I’m all right to drive home.” “I don’t think—” “I can’t stay here.” Aaron didn’t move, though he wanted to touch her again. “Why not?” “You know why.” “It’s late,” Aaron said lamely. “And I can sleep on the couch.” “I came to the Waffle House and it was late. And I drove home.” “You can be so stubborn,” Aaron muttered. “If you really can’t stand to be with me why don’t you just come out and say it?” Truth be told, he couldn’t stand it, either. If she stayed, they would be on dangerous ground because he knew that he wouldn’t be able not to touch her. Not kiss her. “I should go home for Joshua—” “Don’t you hide behind our son, Jada,” Aaron demanded, feeling a slight flutter at “our son”. That forced her eyes to his, and she smiled a little. “Sometimes I think he’s more yours than mine.” “He’s ours.” “He’s more of a McKensie than a Channing.” “He’s both.” “Yes . . . biologically.” “In every way possible,” Aaron said, going up to her and framing her face. “I’m not going to abandon you two. Sorry to say but you’re stuck with me.” Jada sighed heavily, and she stepped further into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling into him. “That’s sweet of you to say—” “And it’s even sweeter since I mean it,” Aaron said with a little grin, resting his cheek atop her head. They didn’t say anything for a while, and Aaron was content just to hold her. He didn’t want her to go back to her apartment. He didn’t want her to leave him ever again. As far as he was concerned, she could move in tonight—her and Joshua. He could turn his study into another bedroom for their son, build up a wall and section of a space in the living room for his new study— The future was damn easy to embrace when it was the one you wanted. “Stay tonight,” Aaron whispered. “What are you really asking me, Aaron?” He held her closer. “I want you to stay indefinitely, but we’ll start with tonight.” She shook her head, but her hands slid up his back to his shoulder blades, then back down again. “This is a bad idea, Aaron.” “The best idea I’ve ever had,” he insisted, his own hands sliding underneath her sweater to touch the bare skin of her back. He felt her tremors and smoothed them away. She pulled back, and they stared at one another, hands still caressing, soothing. Comforting. He kissed her forehead slowly, then rested his against it. “Stay,” he said. He needed her to stay. “Okay.” He couldn’t help it as he smiled. Kissing her nose quickly, he pulled out of the embrace, his fingers tangling with hers, and led her back into his bedroom. She tightened her hold on his hand and he stopped. “Yeah?” “You’ve got something for me to sleep in?” He eyed the pajama top on the floor and he picked it up, shaking it out a little and holding it out to her. “Will this do?” “Will it fit?” He spread the shirt over her torso and cocked his head. “I think it should. May be a little snug, but you won’t get any complaint from me.” Jada rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “Pervert.” “No, just a heterosexual man who appreciates the beautiful feminine form,” Aaron said with a devilish grin. “Do you have shorts I can wear for bottoms?” Jada asked, smiling a little at his comment and grin. “Why don’t you go slip this on and I’ll knock when I find some bottoms,” Aaron suggested. She nodded and went into the bathroom. He looked through his workout wear drawer, finding a pair whose elastic was gone and knocked on the bathroom door. “I got some shorts.” “Okay.” She slipped a hand through the crack of the door and Aaron gave them to her. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” The door closed again and Aaron picked up a pillow from the bed and looked on the shelf of his closet for the blanket. He would sleep on the couch, despite his desire to sleep next to Jada and hold her. He would be a gentleman about this, even if it pushed his self-control to the limit. He’d just garnered purchase to the blanket when the bathroom door opened again. “Do you need help?” Aaron had to snort at that. Jada was almost a foot shorter than he was! “I’ve got it—” The blanket gave way, to his surprise, and it sent him tumbling back onto the bed, the blanket flying with him and covering his face. He heard Jada’s bark of laughter immediately go to muffled giggles, and his cheeks burned in embarrassment. So much for being smooth! “You all right?” “My pride isn’t,” Aaron muttered. The blanket was moved from his face only for Jada’s upside down one to command his vision. Unthinkingly, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her chin. “And you don’t think you’re beautiful . . .” She ducked her head slightly, then eased it out of his grip before taking the pillow and the blanket away from him. “Where are you going?!” “To the couch—” “Oh no—you’ve got the bed and I’ve got the couch—” “This is your place—” “When has that ever stopped me from giving you the bed before?” “I’ve never slept in your bed, Aaron.” She was right. They usually had stayed on the couch because that was where they had ended up falling asleep. “You did earlier.” “I hope you didn’t haul my heavy self—” “I didn’t,” Aaron admitted. “I got you awake enough to walk you there. But trust me; I would have not qualms carrying you anywhere.” She held the blanket and pillows tighter to her chest. “I don’t want to put you out.” “As far as I’m concerned this place is as much yours as it is mine.” Jada rolled her eyes. “Aaron—” “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we both need sleep.” He approached her, prying the blanket and pillow from her grasp. “I call couch,” he said, smacking another kiss on her forehead and leaving her in the room. “Good night!” Even as he set up his couch for sleeping, he expected Jada to march in and fight him on this. However, when he slid under the blanket and put his head on the pillow, there was still no Jada, and he grinned. Another barrier down. The sunlight tugged her out of sleep as it usually did—that was, when Joshua didn’t get to her first—and Jada stretched, though she kept her eyes closed. She didn’t need to open them to know she wasn’t in her bed, or in her apartment for that matter. She was in his bed, his apartment, and groaned in jealously that his sheets and mattress were ten times softer than hers were. She decided to open her eyes and she winced at the broken glass and lamp on the floor. She’d have to pay him back for that, but in her disorientation last night, had accidentally knocked it over where an alarm clock should’ve been had she been in her own room. She stretched again as she sat up, careful not to place her bare feet on the glass. Looking around his room, she felt warm, though the colors were cool, ranging from black to brown to blue. Cozy. Jada shook her head of that all too enticing thought and left the bed. She went down the little hall and saw that Aaron was still asleep, one leg hanging over the armrest and the other on the coffee table. Jada thought he looked adorable, especially since that was how Joshua often ended up asleep—sprawled. She smiled to herself as she made her way to what she assumed was the kitchen, but paused right at its threshold. Stainless steel appliances, black marble countertops—space! It was a chef’s dream come true kitchen. She stared at the pot rack where top of the line cookware hung, and her fingers itched to give them a test run. Jada averted her eyes quickly, looking for a closet that would be big enough for a broom. She spotted it next to the oven, and upon opening the door, saw a cordless sweeper and a vacuum. Jada grabbed the sweeper, knowing the vacuum would make too much noise, and went back to Aaron’s room. The clean up didn’t take very long, the little sweeper surprisingly powerful and compact. She went back into the kitchen and dumped the debris in the trashcan underneath the sink before putting the sweeper back in its place. However, she was unable to dispel her curiosity, so she began investigating the kitchen, going first to the refrigerator. It wasn’t stocked very well, but then again, Aaron didn’t really have time to cook. Beer, orange juice, lunchmeat, butter, cheese, take out cartons were the primary fare inside. However, there were some eggs that hadn’t gone bad yet, a brand new carton of milk, bell peppers and a long rope of Italian sausage. She snorted at that one. “Omelette.” Impulsive as the thought was, she couldn’t help but get excited. It was the least she could do, and it wouldn’t take that long . . . Never mind her selfish desire to get her hands on that cookware! Grinning to herself, she washed her hands in the sink before pulling out the ingredients, washing the peppers, and looking through the cabinets until she found a nice sized glass mixing bowl. She prepared the eggs in there before going to tackle the pot rack, smiling when she saw the stools at the breakfast bar. Jada climbed upon it, knees on the seat, and reached out to grab the handle. Just a little further . . . “You know you could always ask for help.” Jada squealed, and would’ve toppled off the stool had a solid body and arms prevented it. Her heart beat wildly, and she sagged against the body holding her. “Sorry,” he said, voice deeper than usual. He removed one arm from around her to grab the frying pan she’d wanted, and he handed it to her. “There.” Jada growled. “You (thwack!) are (thwack!) such (thwack!) a (thwack!) punk! (thwack!).” Aaron merely laughed, seemingly unaffected by the fact he’d just been abused by his own frying pan, and he placed his lips to her ear. “You’re welcome, love.” “Ooh!” Still laughing, he helped her set her feet on solid ground, and Jada refused to look at him, marching to the sink to wash the frying pan. “Oh, come on, Jaybird,” Aaron cooed, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” “You did!” He shrugged. “Well, maybe a little, but I had no intention of making you almost fall.” She took a deep breath, trying not to think of how wonderful his arms felt around her. His fingers pressed against her belly and she made a sound of protest. “Stop.” “Stop what?” He squeezed his arms, then reached out and took the pan from her hands and finished washing it. He took the towel from its rack and dried first the pan, then his hands, and then hers, causing her to chuckle. “You are so silly.” “One of these days I’m going to sue you for slander!” he muttered, drying each finger individually and thoroughly. Jada laughed. “It’s not slander if it’s true!” She sighed as he kissed the back of her now dry hands. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome,” he smiled. “Omelettes.” Jada nodded. “I’m excited.” “Sorry for snooping.” “Mi casa es su casa,” he said. “What? No Italian?” He chuckled and bent near her ear again. “Mia casa è la sua casa.” She shivered again and he chuckled, putting his nose near her neck. “You smell good.” “What?” She hadn’t washed yet, so she was confused. “Yes. You smell like me.” Jada was too stunned to respond, especially when he snuck in a kiss to her neck and abruptly moved away from her. She stared at the frying pan on the drying rack as if it held the clarity her muddled mind sought. Shaking her head again, she took the frying pan and put it on the stove. Aaron decided to stay and actually be helpful instead of a nuisance. They worked in tandem, seamlessly, and Jada thought of the times Joshua would help her fix whatever breakfast they would have on the weekends. “This is good,” Aaron said after a few bites, a forkful of omelette hovering at his mouth before he slid it inside. “I am a cook, y’know,” Jada said with a smile, staring at her own plateful of half-eaten omelette. “About as good as Mama,” Aaron said. “Then I have succeeded,” Jada said idly. Another stretch of silence followed, and they finished their meal. As soon as she ate the last bite of her breakfast, Aaron stole her plate and took it to the sink to rinse it off before putting it in the pull out dishwasher. He turned around, elbows resting on the countertop above the machine, and they stared at each other for a moment. “I reckon I should get dressed and go back home—” “I’ll take you.” “I’m fine,” Jada insisted, sliding from the stool, her hands bunching in the hem of his pajama top. “I can make it home by myself.” Aaron blinked at her, not moving from his spot, but she saw his muscles tighten. “Jada—” “I’ll call you—” “You’ll forgive me if I don’t have as much faith in that promise as I should,” Aaron said frankly. Jada jerked as if he’d slapped her, and she left the kitchen. The rebuke hurt, his lack of faith in her wounding. She grabbed her clothes and went into his bathroom, ignoring his calls of her name. “Jada, I’m sorry,” Aaron called through the bathroom door. His pajama top and his shorts were removed. “But you meant it,” Jada said back, not accusatory, but declaratively. She yanked on her sweater and hiked up her jeans over her hips. He blew out a breath. “I didn’t—” “On some level you did and you have every right to feel that way.” That was what had hurt the most—his righteous anger . . . the fact she’d put it there. Jada tried very hard not to make people upset, to make everything as painless as possible, and this had been one giant backfire. She folded his clothes and hugged them to her chest as she opened the door. He looked startled by her sudden appearance, and she thrust his folded clothes into his arms. “Thank you for putting me up for the night, and I will call—” “Don’t leave like this,” Aaron said softly. The clothes fell onto the floor as he grasped her upper arms gently. “Don’t leave angry—” “I’m not angry . . .” At least not at you . . . He squeezed. “I want to see him today.” “I’ll call you,” Jada reiterated. His shoulders slumped and he looked at her with those piercing green eyes of his. His thumbs rubbed the balls of her shoulders, and he hung his head. “If you don’t call me by noon I’m calling you. It’s been four years too long, Jada. I’m not waiting anymore.” Jada gave a quick nod, a whispered goodbye, and all but sprinted out of his condo. She was surprised she made it to her apartment in one piece, since her mind was not on the road or the traffic. When she entered her apartment, Joshua all but tackled her, so glad to see his mama, and she picked him up and held him close, so glad to see her son. “He ain’t comin’?” “Who?” Jada asked, grunting slightly as Joshua tried to hug his legs around her waist. She hung her purse on the peg by the door and all but plopped onto the couch, her son a barnacle around her. Deshae looked pointedly at Joshua as she cleared the table from their earlier breakfast, then quirked her eyebrow. “I talked to him last night.” Jada boggled at that. “He ain’t said a word about that to me!” “Is he? I was just about to get Joshua dressed . . .” Joshua was looking at her with those big gray eyes of his, finger snug in his mouth, and she pulled it out with a sigh. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly. “I love you, baby.” “I love you, too,” Joshua said, kissing his mother’s cheek and snuggling back into her neck. “Today?” Jada asked, not bothering to qualify it. “Why not? It’s a Sunday. You ain’t got work, and apparently neither does he. Joshie doesn’t have school . . . no more excuses, Jada Mae. I’ve already called Jamal and he should be here around noon,” Desha said, walking towards the hall. “But I think you have something to say to Joshie, first.” With that, Deshae disappeared into her room, leaving her with a drowsy, yet curious four year old in her lap. Three hours, Jada had, until her world was forever rocked again. “Little Man?” Jada said quietly. “Yes?” Joshua replied, just as softly. “Mama’s got somethin’ to tell ya . . .” |
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| bana05 | Aug 4 2006, 04:11 AM Post #8 |
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Eight “Relax, Jada Mae.” Deshae watched Jada go through all the outfits that little Joshua owned, though not many, but how did one dress a son who was meeting his father for the first time? Deshae knew it didn’t help that Joshua kept running around their little apartment, shrieking at the top of his lungs that his daddy was coming to see him. Joshua hadn’t asked any questions when Jada had told him about his father, but to be fair, Jada had been as forthright as one needed to be when talking to a four year old. “Daddy had been away, but he’s coming back now, and he’d love to meet you.” No explanation of why because it wasn’t necessary, at least not right now. The main point was “Daddy” was coming, and that was all Joshua needed to know. Deshae thought the picture had helped, too. In fact, Joshua hadn’t let that picture go since Jada showed it to him—a picture of her and Aaron hugging each other and smiling into the camera. A Christmas party was the place, during Jada’s first year at the tutoring center. “I have a shoe box full of things about Aaron,” Jada had admitted quietly when Deshae had followed her to their sons’ room. “Malcolm! Calm that boy down before he gets too tired to meet his daddy!” Deshae called out into the living room. “Can I meet ‘im, too?” Malcolm called back. “Maybe . . .” Deshae responded, though she let the thought peter out as she studied her friend. Jada still hadn’t decided on an outfit, her brows furrowed and head shaking as yet another option was deemed inappropriate. “Stop,” Deshae finally said, moving from her space in the doorframe to Joshua’s bed. “All the boy needs is a top and bottoms—” “I don’t want Aaron to think I ain’t doin’ right by Joshie—” “Girl, if he thought that he woulda come last night and took Joshua, and you know it.” Jada’s frown deepened and Deshae sighed, picking up a yellow and blue striped shirt and dark khaki cargo pants. “This will do just fine.” “But—” “You think Aaron’s gonna come here in a suit and tie to meet his kid?” Jada shook her head. “Then . . . calm down. Nothing’s gonna go wrong—” “Then why am I so scared?” Jada asked on a whisper. Deshae hugged Jada to her, rubbing her friend’s back in soothing strokes. It had been easy to tell Malcolm’s father that she’d been pregnant; she’d not had any expectations that the jerk would be there for her or her child, and she’d been proven right. Deshae had been much more scared to tell Miss Candy and Jada about her pregnancy, scared that the only family she’d really ever had would leave her to rot as everyone else did. Miss Candy had been beyond disappointed, but Jada . . . Jada hadn’t lectured or given her pitiful looks, merely hugged Deshae and told her they would figure things out. Now it was Deshae’s turn to be the support. “I wish I was like you,” Jada muttered into Deshae’s shoulder. “No you don’t,” Deshae laughed, smoothing down Jada’s hair. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” “I do. You’re so strong and together even despite all the curves life threw at you. I got one curve ball and I’m . . . not even back in the batter’s box—” “You have a degree from Harvard!” Deshae said, pulling back and framing Jada’s face. “You were pregnant for the second half of your senior year, but instead of pulling out, you worked twice as hard and you graduated with honors! Ain’t too many people who can do that, Jada Mae—only the strong ones—” “You had Malcolm in high school—” “And I had you and Miss Candy to help me with that. You were pretty much by yourself, except for Felicia, who is, by the way fantabulous. And as much as I love Malcolm, I wish he had a different daddy,” Deshae admitted. “I wish Jamal was his daddy, but, then again, he is. He’s as much Malcolm’s daddy as if they had the same blood pumpin’ through their veins. But you . . . you got the daddy you wanted for your child—” “He’s all wrong—” “Fo’ who? Fo’ you? Girl, please! Ain’t a man who loves you and wants to do right by you ever ‘wrong’!” Jada took the clothes from Deshae and held them to her chest. “I haven’t been this nervous since Joshua’s birth!” “Ain’t no reason to be nervous, Jada Mae. It’ll all work out—you’ll see.” Jada nodded, folding up the other clothes and replacing them. “Aaron sounded . . . anxious when I called him. He said he’d be here before two. And that can be now—” There was a knock on the door and both women froze at it. Malcolm’s “I got it!” didn’t help matters and both women sprang into action. “Joshie!” “Malcolm,” they called to their respective sons. Joshua came into the room just as Deshae was leaving. “Don’t you open that door!” Deshae said just as Malcolm grasped the knob. Malcolm scowled at her and she gave him a look. “Try me.” Malcolm’s scowl lifted slightly, and he let go of the knob and went to the couch, sulking. “Dang!” “Excuse me?” Deshae asked. “Nothin’ . . .” Deshae let it go, having more pressing matters that needed her attention. She took a deep breath, suddenly as nervous as she imagined Jada to be. The knock sounded again, and after exhaling a deep breath, Deshae opened the door. Aaron stood on the other side, in a long overcoat with one hand in the coat’s pocket and the other clutching the handles of a paper shopping bag. He looked at her through his eyelashes, and his lips quirked into a lopsided grin. Deshae definitely understood why Jada fell for him. “Deshae,” he said, his voice deep, though kind. “Aaron. Come in . . .” He nodded, and Deshae spied a look into the bag. It was exploding with toys and other items, and Deshae felt her eyes sting. “Tryin’ to spoil ‘im?” she asked, moved by Aaron’s consideration. “I’ve got four years’ worth of spoiling to do,” Aaron chuckled. “I’m Malcolm.” Deshae glared at her son for interrupting, but couldn’t help but feel a little proud as Malcolm offered his hand to Aaron. Aaron smiled and took it. “Aaron, nice to meet you.” “You Joshie’s dad, right?” Aaron nodded, letting go of Malcolm’s hand and slipping it back in his pocket. “Yeah.” “Dang y’all look just alike!” “Mac!” “Sorry . . .” “Don’t worry about us; we’ll be goin’ soon—” “It’s okay, Aaron chuckled, looking around their apartment. “Nice place . . .” Deshae snorted at that. Jada had told her about Aaron’s place, and while she knew he was trying to be polite, she even thought that attempt was a bit of a stretch. “It could definitely be worse,” Deshae settled for instead. “Do you want to take off your coat?” Another lopsided grin, and he nodded. “That makes sense, doesn’t it?” Deshae helped him out of his coat and hung it on the peg. “Have a seat. My son won’t bite—” “Ma!” Deshae chuckled and winked at Malcolm as she went to the kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink? We have juice? Kool-Aid—” “The red kind—” “Malcolm, don’t make me send you to your room!” He settled back in the couch with a pout. “Kool-Aid,” Deshae began again, shaking her head and opening the refrigerator. “Sweet tea . . . water . . .” “Water would be great, thanks.” Deshae pulled out the good glasses and filled it. “Ice?” “No, thank you.” So formal! Deshae grinned and took a sheet of paper towel before going back into the living area. She handed him the glass and the folded up paper towel. “We don’t have coasters so we have to improvise . . .” “It’s fine, thank you,” Aaron said again, taking one large gulp of water. “Thirsty, ain’t he?” “Room.” “But Ma—” “Now.” “Nice meetin’ you, Aaron,” Malcolm muttered as he left the living area, and Deshae shook her head. At least he still displayed his manners. “Nervous.” Deshae snapped her head to Aaron who was grinning wryly at the now empty glass. Deshae smiled and took the glass from him. “You’ll be fine, Aaron.” He didn’t dress in a suit and tie, though for some reason Deshae wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. He was wearing khakis and red, long-sleeved Polo shirt—unassuming . . . hopefully approachable. “I’ll go see what’s up with them,” Deshae said. Aaron nodded, rubbing his hands on his thighs and blowing out a breath. Deshae went into the boys’ room, Malcolm chasing a half-naked Joshua while Jada glared at the two. “I don’t have time for this,” Jada muttered. “What’s happened?” “Malcolm was playing his handheld video game, Joshua wanted to play it, Malcolm said no, Joshua snatched it out of Mac’s hands and you’ve now walked into that drama’s latest development . . .” “And you’re lettin’ ‘em do this?” Deshae asked with a raised eyebrow. Jada was no pushover when it came to raising their kids. “He’s out there . . .” Deshae sighed and rolled her eyes. “Jada—” “I know—Joshie! Give him his game back now.” “Mommy!” “Your father is outside waiting to see you.” That got Joshua to stop abruptly, and he threw the game on Malcolm’s bed and almost tore out of the room, but Deshae was quick and wrapped her arms around the excited child. “You’ve got to get finished dressin’, Joshie!” Deshae laughed, messing with his hair. “Daddy!” he exclaimed, holding his arms up so Jada could slip his shirt on. As soon as he was dressed, he launched himself in his mother’s arms and arched his back. “Daddy!” “We’re goin’ to the movies,” Deshae told Malcolm. “What we seein’?” “Anything that’s PG or below,” Deshae said, grinning with Jada when he sucked his teeth muttering he was old enough to see PG-13 movies even if he was only ten. Jada finished dressing Joshua, her hands running through his curls in an effort to make him “presentable” . . . to procrastinate the meeting between father and son. “For some reason I don’t think Aaron’s above comin’ back here to find y’all,” Deshae said simply. “He’s not . . .” Deshae smiled when Joshua climbed into his mother’s arms, his earlier energy seemingly gone. “C’mon, Mac. Let’s get this show on the road.” She ushered Malcolm out before her, blowing mother and son a kiss. When they appeared in the living area, Aaron shot up, clearly thinking it was Jada and Joshua, and wasn’t able to mask his disappointment before Deshae could see it. “They’re comin’,” she reassured him. Aaron grinned with embarrassment. “Obvious?” “Ain’t no reason not to be.” “Ma, I’m goin’ to the car,” Malcolm said, taking the keys from the peg and opening the door. “Bye, Mr. Aaron!” “Goodbye, Malcolm, nice meeting you,” Aaron said politely, and he turned his green eyes to Deshae. “You, too.” “We’ll have to have dinner sometime—just you and me . . . typical best friend procedure to interview the father of best friend’s child and all that . . .” “I look forward to it,” he replied, and Deshae knew he was sincere. A throat cleared from the small hallway, and Deshae heard Aaron’s voice catch. She turned and saw Joshua curled into his mother’s arms, finger in his mouth, and staring at his father with an openly curious expression. Jada looked at her son, fingers combing through his hair or pulling down his shirt. Aaron was frozen, mouth slightly agape, hands clenching and relaxing at his sides, and Deshae felt tears in her eyes again. It was beautiful, sad, poignant, and she felt like an interloper. “Baby,” Aaron whispered, and Deshae honestly didn’t know if he meant Joshua or Jada . . . perhaps both. Joshua curled even tighter into Jada’s arms, but something about Aaron’s whisper got Jada to move from the sanctuary of the hallway into the unknown of the living area. Aaron remained rooted to the spot, watching Jada and Joshua approach, and Deshae eased toward the door to offer them a little privacy. Deshae couldn’t leave, however, wanting to witness the first time Joshua spoke to his father. Jada offered Aaron a shaky smile. “Hey.” Aaron reached out, hand hovering by Joshua’s cheek as if he didn’t know whether or not he had the right to touch his own son. “You shoulda seen ‘im earlier—runnin’ around all excited he’d get to meet you . . .” “Yeah?” Aaron asked, his tone reminding Deshae of when Joshua would ask for reaffirmation that he was going to get or do something he really wanted. “Yeah . . .” Jada smiled wider, and Aaron smiled in return. “Are you my daddy?” Joshua asked, a small frown on his face. Both parents inhaled a sharp breath, but Aaron nodded and softened his smile. “Yeah, buddy . . . I’m your papa . . .” Frown still firmly in place, Joshua looked to his mother. “Yeah?” “That’s your daddy, baby,” Jada whispered, kissing her son’s temple. Joshua’s frown deepened and he pulled the photograph from the waistband of his pants. “He don’t look like ‘im!” Aaron looked at the picture, and he chuckled. “I’m clean shaven in that picture, but now I have a beard, see?” He rubbed his face. “I look like I do in the picture when I shave.” In a move that surprised everyone, Joshua leaned, almost dangerously, so he could touch his father’s face, and his eyes went wide with surprise. “Can I grow hair like that, too?” Aaron relieved Joshua from Jada since it was awkward for the shorter woman to hold him, and Joshua wrapped his legs around his father in the same way he’d do with his mother. Two tiny hands caressed Aaron’s cheeks, and Deshae saw Aaron blink rapidly. “When you get older.” It was a raspy promise, but Joshua smiled nonetheless. “You mean I’ll look just like you?” Aaron nodded, then hugged his son tightly to him, a sob escaping. “Oh God . . .” Joshua wrapped his arms tightly around Aaron’s neck, empathic enough, it seemed, to know his father needed his support. “Are you sad?” “I’m very happy,” Aaron whispered, hands smoothing along Joshua’s head and back. “I love you so much.” “I love you, too, Daddy.” Another sob, but this one came from Jada. Deshae was sure that nothing could have prepared her for this—not even her deepest dreams about it. It was overwhelming for all of the, but to see a dream come into fruition was often too much for anyone to bear, especially when that dream seemed as far off as the sun. Deshae went to her and pulled Jada in her arms, letting the woman cry into her shoulder, and shedding a few tears herself. “How could I have done this to them?” Jada croaked. “How could I have denied them each other for so long?” “Shh,” Deshae comforted, kissing Jada’s temple briefly. Shoulda, Coulda, Wouldas didn’t have a place here—not then. Aaron and Joshua’s meeting eradicated them for now. She’d meant to pull them out before Aaron came, but due to his early arrival, her procrastination, and Joshua’s excitement, she’d not had the opportunity. But now that Deshae and Malcolm had gone, and Joshua and Aaron were too immersed in each other, Jada had stolen her moment. They were two albums, one almost completely full of Joshua’s baby pictures, and the other was still in progress—its latest addition snapshots from Joshua’s latest birthday party. The first album, however, was thick, bordering on explosion. She had to keep it closed with two rubber bands and the edges of Polaroids would dig into her forearms every now and again, though most were photos from Zeke’s digital camera that she’d asked to turn into hard copies. Each picture was meticulously labeled for posterity and easy remembrance . . . or introduction. These albums were really more for Aaron than for her, though admittedly she’d had no timetable for when she would have given them to him. She’d flirted with the notion of giving them to Joshua when he was older, and leave it up to him to determine whether or not he’d show them to his father. Now there was no need, for father and son were currently in her living area playing with toys Aaron had bought for Joshua. Just as well she was in her room, holding a swollen photo album while they spent alone time together. They deserved the chance to learn about one another without her interference. Jada now worried about the ramifications of this meeting—what it meant for her grandmother, Zeke, Deshae, Malcolm . . . Joshua and herself. Joshua had a new set of grandparents . . . a whole other side to learn about . . . maybe even meet. Aaron’s side was wealthy and white; hers was almost the complete 180 of that. Charlie’s Grille was no Ricci’s—not even a poor man’s one. A tiny three-bedroom apartment in Atlanta was no mansion in the Hamptons or a penthouse on Park Avenue. Clothes from K-mart were not clothes from Bloomingdale’s. A family who looked like him was not a family who didn’t. Stories about Candace’s mother passing took root in Jada’s mind, and though Jada knew Joshua loved her dearly, and that it was now the twenty-first century, Jada still had the fear that Joshua would prefer the life the McKensies could offer rather than the one the Channings could. Joshua didn’t even look like he could have a black mother—in fact; no one would disbelief he belonged to Veronica and Aaron. No one would ever need to know the truth . . . Though Jada knew Aaron would never do that, but she also doubted Mr. and Mrs. McKensie would be overly ecstatic to learn they had a half-black, bastard grandchild. The world wasn’t nearly as progressive as people wanted to believe. “Mommy!” A high-pitched squeal and laugh followed the call, and Jada grinned. She hugged the album to her chest and went back into the living area where she found her son giggling and writhing on the carpet as his father tickled him. “What are you doin’ to my son?” Jada asked with mock seriousness. Aaron lifted Joshua effortlessly into his lap, and father and son gave her large, almost identical grins. “Playing,” he answered innocently, then started tickling Joshua again. She grinned back at them, setting down the album on top of the television set, and began picking up the toys strewn on the floor. “Mommy cleans too much, doesn’t she?” Aaron asked in a stage whisper. Joshua giggled and nodded while Jada rolled her eyes. “Mommy needs to chill out—” “Chill out!” Joshua exclaimed, then fell into more peals of laughter. “Mommy is straightening up so that Mommy doesn’t trip over something and break her neck,” Jada said. “Can’t have that, because Mommy has a pretty neck, doesn’t she?” Aaron agreed. “In fact, all of Mommy is pretty.” “Yep!” Joshua chirped. “Mommy thinks Daddy wants somethin’,” Jada muttered, but she couldn’t help but feel flattered by Aaron’s compliment. “Daddy thinks Mommy has no idea . . .” Jada cleared her throat, having a very good idea because she’d entertained the fantasy, too—the three of them as a family. It happened when her guard was let down, the dream always catching her unawares and vulnerable. Joshua came to her and grabbed her hand. “Mommy.” “Yeah, baby?” He tugged, and Jada set the toys in a neat pile at her feet before following. She sat opposite Aaron, and Joshua climbed back into Aaron’s lap with Aaron immediately winding his arms around his son and kissing the top of Joshua’s head. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, and Jada didn’t find the need to fill it. Joshua was rubbing his father’s cheeks again, and Aaron would blow them big and smile to get his son to laugh. They were behaving as if they’d known each other all their lives; there had not been one awkward moment between them since they first laid eyes on each other, and Jada was relieved and humbled by it. Family was family, no matter how long the separation was, and they proved it. “I think someone’s getting sleepy,” Aaron murmured after a while. Jada grinned as Joshua rested his head on his father’s shoulder and stuck his index finger in his mouth. Aaron laughed, brushing Joshua’s curls from his forehead. “And I sucked on that finger, too, when I was little.” “I told you he was all you,” Jada said. Aaron gave her a soft smile. “He has your dimples . . . when he smiles . . . and your good spirit. Maybe I gave him his physical attributes, but the spiritual ones . . . those are all you.” Jada ducked her head, hiding the motion as she stood. “I’ll take you to his room so you can put him down.” She ushered him into the boys’ room, standing in the doorframe as Aaron took of Joshua’s shoes and changed the little boy into his pajamas. Once Aaron tucked Joshua into bed, Aaron gave him a long, soft kiss to the forehead. When Aaron stood and started for the door, Jada was about to go back into the living area, but he grabbed her hand, turned her to face him, then pulled her into his arms. She felt his heart beating underneath her forehead, his arms squeeze her, his breath tickle the top of her head. She felt him. “How did we create something so perfect?” Aaron asked softly after a moment. “Something so utterly and incredibly perfect and precious?” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I don’t know . . .” “For four years I didn’t even know he existed, that I had had a hand in creating something so wonderful . . . that I missed you growing and changing as a result of that creation . . .” Jada pulled out of his embrace and went back to the living area, Aaron following right behind her. She grabbed the album and turned to him, smiling slightly when his eyes grew wide. “Is that—?” “From random moments of me during the pregnancy, baby shower, delivery room—every minute detail of Joshua’s first year . . . up to his first birthday,” Jada said. There was also home video, but they could save that for later. He took the album from her reverently, and Jada moved passed him into the kitchen. “Are you hungry? We have leftovers in here—chicken, collards, rice . . . um . . . I can make you a sandwich? Ham? PB&J?” “Jada.” “Hmm?” “Why don’t you go through the album with me?” Her hand grasped the refrigerator’s handle. There was really no reason why she shouldn’t, but to do so meant to be near him, and being near him was problematic. “What are you so afraid of?” There was knowing in his tone, and she suddenly grew angry. “Stop doing that!” “Doing what?” “Talkin’ to me like that! Lookin’ at me the way you do! You’re sending mixed signals—” “And here I thought they were all pretty explicit.” “Explicit and wrong,” Jada insisted and she looked at him. He was still standing right where she’d left him, a small frown on his face. “I doubt the emotion I’m feeling could ever be called wrong by anyone.” It would always be the same argument, and there would be nothing she could do to get him to see her side of things. She opened up the refrigerator. “Well, I’m hungry.” “No. You’re a coward.” Jada slammed the refrigerator door shut and glared at him. “How dare you!” Aaron approached her. “I dare because there’s a little boy sleeping in the other room who I just met today—four years too late! I dare because you didn’t even bother to pick up the phone and tell me I would be a father, and I don’t think I ever would’ve known had I not come down to Atlanta on business! Were you ever going to tell me, Jada?” She averted her gaze. “Eventually—” “Not good enough!” Aaron said, careful not to raise his voice, though she didn’t know if that was for her benefit or Joshua’s. “I have just as much right to be a part of his life as you!” “Have you told your parents yet?” Jada asked quietly. Aaron could talk about “rights” all he wanted, but those were precious and difficult to come by, and part of Jada knew that if he secured his “rights”, she was in danger of losing hers. “And your girlfriend? You need to tell them before you go breakin’ promises—” “Give my parents some credit, huh,” Aaron said. “And Veronica . . . she’ll understand that we conceived Joshua before I got together with her—” “This is a child, Aaron, with lasting ramifications—” “Ramifications—?” “Everything ain’t gonna be all ‘Pollyanna’ and nice! There is a distinct possibility you’ll lose everything you’ve worked so hard to have! Your friends, your family your wealth—” She stopped talking abruptly and took a deep breath. And if he didn’t lose everything, she could—Joshua was her everything. She didn’t have the resources the McKensies did; if Aaron or his parents decided to sue for custody, there wasn’t a judge in the world who wouldn’t give her son to his father; the one who would be able to “provide” more. “Ham sandwich,” she muttered to herself, opening the refrigerator door again. It closed, suddenly, and not by her own volition. Aaron’s tanned hand stared her in the face, fingers flexing against the white plastic door. Like lightning, his hand grasped her chin roughly and he brought her face to his. “When will you get it through that pretty skull of yours that those things don’t matter?” “When you prove it to me,” Jada said. “And family does matter to you, or else you wouldn’t be tryin’ so damn hard to make Joshua a part of it—” “You’re a part of the equation, too,” Aaron growled. “No. I’m the remainder,” Jada said, and she sighed. “We aren’t ‘just friends’ anymore; we’re parents. That’s a damn different relationship than I think most people are ready for—your parents and your girlfriend in particular—especially your girlfriend. You think she gonna like the fact that you have an outside child, and to make matters worse, I’m his mama! You’ve got more sense than that!” “Jada—” “No!” She jerked her chin out of his grasp and left the kitchen, pacing in front of the television set. “No. I can’t do it! I can’t! I won’t give my son a complex to think he ain’t good enough because I’m his mama—to be tolerated instead of loved! My family may not have all your wealth but they love that little boy regardless of what his daddy looks like or how much money he makes. You think your people can do the same? You think you can stand on your own two feet and do somethin’ for yourself instead of what your father wants you to do? And what about when you and Veronica have your legitimate white kids . . . what about Joshua then?” What about me? Aaron stared at her briefly, then went down the hall, obviously to Joshua’s room. After a few moments, he emerged again, eyes set and green eyes dark. “I have to go out of town for a few days,” he said flatly, pulling his coat from the peg. “Joshua’s still asleep and I gave him a kiss and promised to be back as soon as I could.” “You didn’t have to—” “Yes I did,” Aaron said, pinning her with a hard look. Jada recoiled, and his eyes and posture softened. “I’ll call you, call Joshua, every night. I’ll read him a bedtime story—what does he like?” Jada rubbed her hand over her face and blew out a breath. “Anansi the Spider stories.” “Never heard of them,” he said with a frown, putting on his coat. “African folklore,” Jada said absently. “He also likes Berenstain Bears; that may be easier for you to find, or Aesop’s fables.” She started to say something, then paused, shook her head, and continued forward. “I think . . . if you don’t have any plans, I’m sure Joshua would love it if you spent Christmas with us.” The holiday was in a week, and Jada would at least make an effort to include Aaron in his son’s life from now on—it was only right. The issues would be worked out as they went. “There is no place else I’d rather be,” he said. Suddenly he crossed the room to her, cupped the back of her head, and placed a long kiss to the corner of her jaw underneath her ear. “Every day,” Aaron whispered in her ear. “I promise.” Before Jada could respond, he left her apartment, and she felt more confused than ever. |
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| bana05 | Aug 10 2006, 04:07 AM Post #9 |
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I don't know how my computer will behave--he's sick :cry:, so I'm posting this hopefully this will not be my last post in a while! Please enjoy and forgive errors. Thank you for reading and your wonderful, informative comments! bana ~~~~~~ Nine Not twenty-four hours ago, Aaron was in a tiny three-bedroom apartment playing with his son; now, after an impromptu jet ride 1000 miles north, he was standing on the front porch of his family’s Hamptons estate. If not in Ireland or Tuscany, the family would spend the last two weeks of the year at the estate, his mother preferring the peace and open space to the bustle and tightness of downtown Manhattan. He didn’t call before coming, wanting to make it a surprise . . . and so his mother wouldn’t break him into telling the news over the phone instead of in person. He rang the doorbell, knowing his mother would answer it because she believed that the owner of a house should always greet her visitors. He smiled when the door opened, and a breath of relief left his body. “Mama . . .” “Tesoro!” Isabella exclaimed, squealing and wrapping her arms around him. Aaron lifted her and spun her around. How he’d missed her. She’d been the first love in his life, and the most constant. “You decided to come for Christmas?” Isabella asked once Aaron set her on the ground, and pulled him into the house. The house appeared to be an explosion of Christmas with wreaths, garland, and ribbons creeping on banisters and columns, oozing out of walls, and dripping on mantles. The Christmas tree was tucked in a corner on the far side of the room, almost ten feet tall and bough to bough full of silver and gold ornaments. He felt soothed by the sight, and immediately thought little Joshua would absolutely love Christmas here. “Rosa did a good job this year, didn’t she?” his mother asked, standing in the center of the living room and lifting her hands to present the space to her son. Rosa was his youngest uncle’s wife and was a very successful interior designer. “As always,” Aaron replied, setting his bags down beside one of the sofas. “I’m surprised she eked out enough time to get it done—double the orders she had last year, and you know how involved she has to be with all of her contracts . . . come to the kitchen,” Isabella said, already walking and trusting her son would follow. He grinned as he did so, remembering when he was younger when she would use a similar tone with his father. Just as he did, Alexander McKensie would stop whatever he was doing and paid her heed. It was funny how this sweet, diminutive woman could make a man over a foot taller, and much bigger . . . much surlier, bend when not even the most intimidating business foe could make him blink if he didn’t want to. As it was, Isabella had her dark hair piled high atop her head in a messy bun, black slacks, and an old blouse—probably his father’s—all underneath a pink, full length apron. And even though there were faint lines along her eyes and across her forehead, Isabella Ricci McKensie looked as flawless as ever. Aaron stopped in the threshold of the kitchen. “You’re beautiful, Mama.” Isabella whirled towards him, eyes wide. “Oh, hush you!” she said, even as she blushed prettily. She walked up to him and cupped his cheeks. “When are you going to shave, tesoro? I miss seeing my bambino’s face . . .” He chuckled, feeling his mother’s soft, delicate fingers dance along his jaw. “Though I will say you remind me of your father—” “Ma—” “You do!” Isabella said with a little grin. “You McKensies are really too handsome for your own good, y’know.” “Everyone says I look more like Ricci than a McKensie.” “I’m not talking only physically, tesoro,” Isabella winked. “Come. Help your mama make this cheesecake . . .” Aaron didn’t bother with an apron as he took his place beside his mother and began cracking eggs. They worked in tandem seamlessly, following his mother’s instructions exactly. It was an old Ricci recipe, and as with most things, Isabella had committed the instructions to memory. More than once Aaron dipped into the mix, unable to resist sneak peaks of what the final product would be. He grinned, wondering if Joshua helped Jada like this in the kitchen. He imagined their flour-dusted faces baking a pie or a cake and dipping in the mix as they went along. “So . . . when are you going to start telling me what’s bothering you?” Isabella asked, adding vanilla and candied fruit into the mixture. Aaron could only gape at her, but before he could answer, someone else entered the kitchen. He smiled immediately, wiping his hands on a towel and approaching the new person. “Charlotte,” he said, embracing the other woman excitedly. Charlotte Manning had been their family’s housekeeper for as long as he could remember, and though her golden hair now had wisps of silver, she remained the same sweet-faced woman of his youth. “You did not let me know you were coming, Master Aaron,” Charlotte said, her faint Irish accent giving her voice a musical lilt, “Or else I would’ve made ye shepherd’s pie—” “Charlotte,” Aaron moaned, already tasting the food in his mouth. He kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “You’re still trying to fatten me up?” “Ye can always use a mite more meat, eh, Miss Izzy?” “I think he’s turned out all right; definitely not the bean pole he used to be!” Aaron rolled his eyes and blushed. He’d been tall and skinny as a boy, and it wasn’t until the summer before his senior year in high school, as he worked on his nonno’s farm in Tuscany, did he finally add muscle to his frame. Nonno had made him lift just about every bushel and crate on the farm, and though for that first week, one crate might as well had been fifty, and it had hurt just to breathe, by the end of his stay, three crates at one time were a breeze. “You still call me beanpole sometimes,” Aaron said wryly to his mother. Either tesoro, treasure in Italian, or beanpole when she was feeling particularly playful. “I am your mama! It is a perk I have,” Isabella defended, slapping him playfully on his bum. “I’m not yet done with the laundry yet, but once I’m done I’ll start in on the Stout Chicken we’re having for dinner—” “Stout Chicken!” Aaron said happily. Though he loved just about anything Charlotte prepared, he loved her stout chicken. “I know, laddie,” Charlotte asked. “Just call me when you’re done, Miss Izzy, and I’ll start on it right away.” “Thank you, Charlotte,” Isabella said as the housekeeper left. A few more moments went by before she spoke again. “Well?” “Well what?” Isabella grinned. “Atlanta treating you well, tesoro?” “Mild weather; I almost forgot it was Christmastime.” “No snow?” “Not even a threat.” “Hmm.” Aaron glanced at her making the graham cracker crust. “Pop’s at the office?” Isabella nodded, her fingers pinching the crust to make scalloped edges. “He said he had to pick up some files, and then meet with Marcos at the restaurant to go over figures.” Marcos was Isabella’s oldest brother and heir to Ricci’s. “He’ll be back tonight?” “Yes. So you can test your news on me before you tell your father.” Aaron laughed and knocked the spoon against the side of the mixing bowl. “How do you always know?” Isabella chuckled. “I am your Mama! It’s my job to know!” Aaron kissed the top of her head. “I love you so much.” “Sì. Dirme.” Aaron took a deep breath, suddenly unsure and nervous. Though he and his mother had talked about problems through baking before, he thought this development would need their undivided attention. “When we finish this,” Aaron said quietly, starting to stir the mix again. Isabella said nothing of the change in tack, and Aaron was grateful. In the meantime, Aaron spoke of the new satellite offices in Atlanta, of the Falcons and how the season was going better than anyone had hoped or projected. The team was experiencing more sold-out stadiums than the previous season, which meant more revenue and more options for the team in terms of trades and contracts. Once they put the cheesecake in the oven for baking, Isabella squeezed her son’s hand and gave her a tiny grin. “The sunroom?” “I’ll meet you there.” Isabella nodded, and Aaron made a quick detour into the living room, opening up his suitcase and pulling out the photo album. He’d not had time to look through it, too busy making plans for the trip, and he hadn’t wanted to go through it on the plane, too afraid he would lose a photograph and not be able to recover it. But what better time, and with what better person, to look through the album than his mother? The sunroom was one of his mother’s favorite places in the house, other than the kitchen, and whenever possible, she would entertain her guests there. It was glassed in and heated, which made it perfect regardless of the season. She was sitting in a white wicker chaise and he sat adjacent to her on the couch. There were ficus and palms placed around the room to give it a more natural, tropical atmosphere, and there had been many occasions where Aaron had come here to read a book only to fall asleep not soon afterwards. This time, however, he would not fall asleep, and he drummed his fingers on the top of the album. “Is that for me?” Isabella asked. Aaron cleared his throat. “Mama—” “Let me see,” Isabella said firmly. “I need to tell you—” “Aaron.” “Mama, please. I need to say this before I show it to you.” Isabella, who had been reclining on the chaise, suddenly sat up and swung her legs so her feet touched the ground. She was facing him now, eyes unreadable. Was it this difficult for Jada? Should he just give his mother the album and let her see for herself? There were so many different ways to go about it, and what was the right way for one person was not the right way for another. He needed to tell his mother before he gave her the visual aids to prove it. He took a deep breath. “I have a son.” Isabella stared at him, unmoving. “What?” “He’s four years old and his name is Joshua,” Aaron continued on, unable to look at his mother as he said this. “He’s the most beautiful little boy . . .” He heard her exhale slowly, and she stood. “A son?” “I met him yesterday—” “Yesterday? Met him? You mean you didn’t know?” “No . . . I just found out this past weekend.” Isabella sat down next to him on the couch and framed his face. “Are you sure he’s yours? What kind of woman would keep something like that from you for so long unless—” “She’s not like that,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Jada’s not like that!” Isabella blinked again. “Jada?” Her hands dropped from his face and she sat straighter. “Oh my . .” “Yeah . . .” “I thought you two were just friends,” Isabella asked after a moment, as if trying to process everything. Aaron was still trying and he found out three days ago. “Remember that Christmas, five years ago, where I wasn’t all that happy or merry?” Isabella sucked in a breath. “Oh . . .” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t talk to anyone—not even Rodrigo—and you two are best friends!” Rodrigo was Marcos’s middle child and only son, and Aaron and Rodrigo were the closest in age. They behaved more like brothers than cousins, yet he’d not even told Rodrigo about Jada, either. Not that it mattered right then, Rodrigo was currently splitting time between Milan and Tuscany working with their nonno at the latest Ricci’s. “I figured things out too late, Mama. I thought I’d missed my shot, and once I had, I wasn’t . . . I was scared,” Aaron admitted. It felt good to get that confession out. “And that along with your father telling you to forget about her . . .” Isabella sighed. She slid her fingers in his hair and he leaned his head on her shoulder. “I knew she meant a lot to you when you would sneak off to call her every night—same time without fail—when we were in Italy that year. When I asked you who it was you would say ‘Just a friend’, but I knew differently, even if maybe you didn’t.” “I’d promised I’d call her everyday,” Aaron murmured. “I didn’t want to break it.” “Integrity—I raised you well,” Isabella teased gently. Aaron chuckled and kissed her cheek. “You did.” “And now I’m a nonna!” Isabella said on a laugh. She suddenly pouted. “I’m too young to be a nonna . . .” “If Pop had had his way you would’ve been a nonna long before now,” Aaron said, sitting up and rubbing his face with his hands. “He’s not gonna be too happy about this.” “No, he’s not, but what’s done is done,” Isabella said. “And Veronica . . .” “Caso—” “Language!” Isabella exclaimed, slapping him on the back of the head. Aaron grinned even as he rubbed the injured spot. “Sorry.” “Does she know?” Aaron shook his head. “You’re the first person I told . . . I figured you’d take this the easiest . . .” Isabella nodded, then pointed to the album. “So, will you show me now?” “Yes,” Aaron said, putting the album in her lap. “I haven’t seen it yet, either, but Jada says she took about every picture she could up until Joshua’s first birthday . . .” When Aaron opened the album Isabella gasped, a trembling finger tracing over the first picture—a Sears photograph of Joshua for his first Easter. “Aaron!” “Yeah,” he replied, his throat tight. “Yeah . . .” “If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you stole this from one of your baby albums!” Isabella said, picking up the book for a closer look. “Well . . . she’s not lying, is she?” “Jada wouldn’t lie to me,” Aaron defended quickly. “She did, by not telling you,” Isabella said, though there was no anger in her voice; just hard truth. “Seems like you weren’t the only one scared . . .” Aaron nodded, and flipped over the page. There was a picture of Jada and her roommate Felicia while they were still in school. Jada’s stomach wasn’t big, but she was already starting to show. She looked happy, or at the very least serene. As they got deeper into the album, Jada’s belly swelled, and by the time he and Isabella got to the baby shower pictures, Jada’s belly seemed to take up most of her body. “Pregnancy agrees with her,” Isabella murmured. “She’s a beautiful girl . . .” “And I missed it,” Aaron muttered. “All of it—I should’ve been there!” “How would you have been there, tesoro?” Isabella asked quietly, still flipping the pages. “Every other weekend? Until she gave birth? Permanently? You had obligations, Aaron.” Aaron didn’t answer, transfixed by the picture of a tiny Joshua held in the arms of a big black man—no doubt Jada’s cousin Zeke. He barely registered his mother’s fingers sliding through his hair, but her kiss on his cheek broke his trance. “You did well, Aaron,” Isabella whispered. “She did all the work,” Aaron said absently, looking at another picture of Jada who, despite her exhaustion, gave the camera a pleased, relieved smile. Her hair was in shambles and she was sweaty, but Aaron didn’t think she ever looked lovelier. “All by herself . . . stubborn, prideful woman!” With each subsequent picture, Aaron fell more in love, until the last photograph of a beaming, cake-smeared Joshua had him and Isabella laughing uproariously. “What’s so funny?” Isabella and Aaron’s head shot up, and his eyes widened when he saw Veronica standing in the door. “What are you doing here?!” he asked, then shook his head, wincing at how that sounded. “I mean . . . I thought you were going to Europe?” Veronica grinned and approached, kissing him on the lips. “I decided to stay instead. Though skiing in Austria is fabulous this time of year, I really wasn’t in the mood.” “Not in the mood to ski?” Aaron asked skeptically. “You love skiing.” “With you I do,” Veronica said, kissing the top of his head. “With my parents . . . not so much . . .” She eyed the album in his lap and grinned at Isabella. “Breaking out the baby albums?” Aaron blushed when he felt his mother’s eyes on him and heard her chuckle. “In a matter of speaking . . .” “Let me see—” Aaron slammed the book shut and stood abruptly before Veronica could take the album, and he smiled apologetically. “They’re embarrassing, really . . .” Veronica gave him a weird look, then glanced at Isabella. “Is he serious? You were a cute baby!” “Cute or not . . .” he blushed. “Aw!” Veronica giggled, sliding her arms around his waist and kissing his lips again. “Always cute. You’ve been cute since I’ve met you! What are you afraid of—I’ll see naked pictures of you?” She nipped his earlobe and whispered, “Not like I’ve never seen you naked in general . . .” This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his mother three feet away, and he stepped back. “You’re bad.” “Perhaps later I can show you how ‘bad’ I can be,” Veronica promised. With one final kiss to his cheek, she waved to Isabella and left the sunroom. There were a few moments of silence before Isabella began laughing softly, and Aaron scowled at her. “This is not funny!” “Your father invited her for the holiday, thinking it was a shame she would spend it alone . . . and possibly using her as leverage for you to come up here,” Isabella revealed. “Leverage,” Aaron snorted. “He thinks he’s so clever—” “Yes, but you have an ace not even he anticipated,” Isabella said wryly. “This is not a game—” “I know it isn’t,” Isabella said. “I appreciate your dilemma, I do . . . but I do not envy you right now, and whatever you may or may not feel about Alexander or Veronica, the sooner you tell them, the better.” “Yeah . . .” She stood and winked. “In the meantime, I have a cheesecake that needs to cool. I was thinking we could have it for dessert tonight.” “Sounds good.” “All right, tesoro.” She gave him another wink and left as well. Aaron knew he wouldn’t drop the news tonight; he wanted at least one day of relative peace before revealing everything. His mother, at least, had taken the news relatively well, and it gave him hope, but Veronica and Alexander . . . they were the real tests. Alone in the sunroom, Aaron hugged the album to his chest, hoping his brand new family would give him the strength to face his old one. “Is Daddy comin’ today?” Jada sighed and shook her head, wiping away the sweat that had dripped along her temples and neck before starting to scrub Joshua’s back. It was his bath time, Joshua playing with a rubber ducky and boat that Aaron had given him. Jada hadn’t told anyone that Aaron knew about his son, not outside of Deshae, and the fact she hadn’t had to go to work at the Grille had also helped her keep that bit of information to herself. “Daddy had to go out of town—” “Again?” Joshua’s bottom lip poked out and his eyes shined. Jada sighed again and kissed the top of his head. “Daddy’s a busy man—” “He comin’ back?” She lifted his arm and washed underneath it. “He says he is.” “When?” Suds on his pale torso now. “I don’t know, Joshie. He didn’t tell me.” He sported a full on pout now, crossing his arms in front of him and now allowing Jada to wash his other arm. “I want my daddy.” “And I want to wash you,” Jada said, prying his arms apart and attacking the other arm. It was around seven o’clock, and Aaron hadn’t called yet. Part of her wondered if he’d forgotten his promise, and then she chastised herself. One of the reasons they were in this predicament was because she hadn’t let him meet the challenge of fatherhood, and here she was, trying to fail him before he even tried. “Be fair to him, Jada,” she whispered to herself, pulling Joshua to a standing position to wash the bottom half of his body. When the bath was done, she wrapped Joshua in a large bath towel and pulled him from the water, his toys spinning around the drain as the water left the tub. Joshua was still scowling, though not mad at her, because he held her close and rested his head against her shoulder. Jada hummed softly, a tune Candace had hummed to her when she was younger, and by the time she got Joshua in his pajamas, he could barely keep his eyes open. “Read me a story, Mommy,” Joshua asked drowsily. “You’ll be out before I even get halfway done!” Jada chuckled. “Please?” “What do you want me to read?” “Winnie the Pooh . . .” Joshua yawned. She went to her son’s little bookcase across the room, fingers going over the spines as she searched for it. He had multiple, and she didn’t think he cared which book, so she grabbed one and went back to him. Knowing he liked to cuddle as they read, she slipped into bed, having him lean against her as she opened the book. “Let’s see here—” The telephone stopped her, her heart, and she grasped the edges of the book tightly. For all she knew, it could’ve been Deshae calling to say she and Malcolm would stay over at Jamal’s that night, but something inside her said it wasn’t. She knew who was on the line, and she gave her son a little grin. “Mama will be right back, okay?” she whispered, kissing the top of Joshua’s head. “Okay . . .” Jada went to the living room to grab the cordless, pressing the “Talk” button and holding the receiver between her ear and her shoulder. “Hello?” “I told you I’d call.” Jada grinned a little, walking back to her son’s room. “You did. How are you?” “I told Mama.” Jada stopped walking. “What? Where are you?” “Hamptons estate . . .” A thousand curses went through her head. “You told anyone else?” “Just her.” He remained silent for a few moments. “You sound upset.” “Warning would’ve been nice—” “Like the warning you gave me?” Jada grit her teeth and she continued walking. “You want to speak to your son.” Joshua was asleep, not able to keep his eyes open though she hadn’t been gone long, and though Jada loathed awakening him, she knew Joshua would be more upset if he missed his father’s phone call. “Jada . . .” She let the phone drop from her ear as she nudged Joshua awake. She waved the receiver in front of his eyes. “It’s Daddy.” He perked up a bit at that, and grabbed the phone with excited hands. “Hi, Daddy!” Jada gave Joshua some privacy as he spoke to Aaron, going into her room and changing into her pajamas. She checked her cell phone, seeing that Deshae had left a message about her and Malcolm staying at Jamal’s, and a pang of envy shot through her, followed immediately by guilt. She shouldn’t be jealous Deshae found someone who could love her and her son the way they deserved to be loved; everyone should be so lucky to have that. When she returned to Joshua’s room, he was snuggled underneath the covers, barely hanging onto the conversation. She chuckled and kneeled by the bed next to him, brushing his curls from his forehead. “Say goodnight, baby.” “Goodnight . . .” He was out before he could finish the word, and Jada took the phone from him. “I’m sorry about that—he was barely awake when you called . . .” “That’s all right, dear. It actually gives us time to have a little chat.” Jada almost fell over from surprise. His mother! Aaron’s mother! “Oh?” Very articulate, to be sure, but Jada never thought she’d speak to the woman. “He sounds as precious as he looks, Miss Channing.” “You may call me Jada, Mrs. McKensie,” Jada said breathlessly, going into the living room and sitting on the couch. She needed to be alert for this conversation, and climbing into her bed would not make her be so. “Then you call me Isabella.” “Yes, Miss Isabella.” The other woman chuckled, but Jada got the impression it wasn’t at her, so she remained calm. “So . . . Aaron’s told me his side of things, and I’d like to hear yours, if that’s agreeable to you.” “You mean why I didn’t tell him about Joshua,” Jada clarified. “About everything,” Isabella said honestly. “My son is . . . how shall I put? . . . is usually very careful with his paramours. The fact he . . . wasn’t so careful with you is very intriguing—” “We did use a condom!” Jada interrupted hastily, then groaned. “Lord . . .” This time Isabella did laugh at Jada and she felt even sillier. “Oh dear Jada! You’re certainly no practiced lover that’s for sure!” “No . . .” “Do you have any other children?” “Only Joshua, Miss Isabella.” “I’ve seen the album, Jada. He’s a beautiful little boy; looks just like my tesoro. He wants for nothing and he is happy.” “Thank you, ma’am.” “But your side, dear. You must tell me your side of things . . . I don’t even know the mother of my first grandchild!” This woman wasn’t nearly as threatening as Jada had anticipated, and found once she started talking, the entire story flowed easily. It shouldn’t have, should it? considering this was Aaron’s mother, but the only time Isabella spoke was to ask for clarification, and even then the questions were genuine curiosity, not a cross examination. When Jada finished her story, she was snuggled into the couch and clutching a throw pillow, waiting for Isabella’s judgment. Isabella took a deep breath. “The way I see it, both of you are sciocco.” “Ma’am?” “Silly.” Jada’s cheeks burned. “Miss Isabella—” “I mean that with affection, dear,” Isabella laughed. Warmth spread through Jada at the endearment, and it gave her hope. “You are not angry?” “I am a little angry,” Isabella admitted, “but perhaps not for the reasons you think.” “Oh.” Masterful articulation once again. “Wasted time, the both of you. I’m actually more surprised at my tesoro than I am at you, for you’ve not had any experience in such things. But tesoro . . . fear is not a word in the McKensie vocabulary, mind.” “The night wasn’t planned—” “Not by you two, maybe,” Isabella said, and Jada heard the other woman’s smile, “but there are forces at work greater than the two of you. You may not be Roman Catholic, dear, but I know you know that.” Right then, Isabella sounded like her grandmother. “I’m sorry.” It was the best she could do, a mere band-aid to a scabbed over wound. “Apology accepted. Now. When will I be able to meet both of you? I’ve seen the pictures, but now that I have voices to go along . . . I’d like to meet you.” “I don’t know . . .” Jada couldn’t afford a trip to New York, not with bills to pay and school starting up again soon. “We’ll figure out something,” Isabella promised. “But in the meantime, I’ll let you speak to tesoro. It was nice finally to talk to you, Jada dear.” “You too, Miss Isabella.” She didn’t have to wait long for Aaron to get to the phone, and she didn’t say anything for a minute when he greeted her. “Jada?” “She doesn’t seem to not like me . . .” Aaron laughed at that, and Jada frowned. “My parents know about you, Jada.” “Know about me?” “They know you mean a lot to me.” “Are you close with your mother?” “She’s my heart,” Aaron said, and Jada’s heart melted a little at that. “I’m really a mama’s boy, much to my father’s chagrin.” “Nothing wrong with that,” Jada said, thinking of her own relationship with Joshua. “You’re her only child after all.” “That’s true. I see a lot of me and my mama with you and Joshua.” “I don’t know . . . I think he may like you more than he likes me,” Jada chuckled. “It’s not a competition.” “I know it’s not.” “He’s just . . . I’m new to him. Different. You know how kids are when they get something shiny and new.” “Yeah . . .” Jada cleared her throat. “Your mother wants to meet us.” “I know. We’ll have to talk about when. I don’t know if I want to put you in the path of my father and Veronica just yet—” “Are you spending Christmas with them?” she asked, her throat closing a little at the mention of Veronica. “No.” Jada took a deep breath, mouth suddenly dry, and she swallowed to moisten it. “Won’t they be upset?” “Maybe. Maybe not. I really don’t care. Pop wanted me up here to see Mama, and I saw her . . . and she understands.” “What about your father and girlfriend? You think they will understand?” “Really, whether they do or not is irrelevant because I’m not missing this Christmas with my son. I’ve missed too many, and I’m not missing anymore.” Jada sighed. “I don’t want things to get sour between you and your family because of us—” “You’re my family now, Jada, you and Joshua.” Though it wasn’t particularly late, Jada was tired, too tired to have this conversation with Aaron. She couldn’t bank her life on lofty promises and dreams. She had a son to think about now, and Aaron had realities that weren’t so easy to eradicate. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said when Jada didn’t respond. “Tell Joshua I love him for me.” “Okay. Have a good night, Aaron.” He breathed deeply on the phone, and Jada knew instinctively that he wanted to say something to her, something she wanted to hear, yet didn’t. He had mercy on her, however, simply saying good night in return and disconnecting their call. Jada put the receiver back on the base to charge and made a little detour in Joshua’s room before going to her own. He was relaxed in slumber, index finger tucked snugly between his lips, covers kicked to the foot of the bed. She recovered him and kissed his temple, telling him his father’s message before shuffling down to her own room. It was there, underneath her sheets and vulnerable to Morpheus’s whims, that she dreamed of being the family Aaron insisted they were. |
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| bana05 | Aug 12 2006, 11:16 AM Post #10 |
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Another update! Please enjoy and forgive errors! bana ~~~~~~~ Ten The next few days were pretty much the same as Monday; Jada went through her day, and at night, she and Joshua would talk to Aaron and Isabella on the phone. After that first, terrifying conversation with Isabella Ricci, Jada felt much calmer during the subsequent ones, and found herself looking forward to the phone calls almost as much as Joshua did. Even Deshae got in a conversation with Aaron, and Jada had been surprised to hear the genuine laughter coming from her friend. “He’s a funny dude,” Deshae said by way of explanation after one of those conversations, and Jada merely grinned. Sometimes Aaron didn’t wait for the nightfall to call, and he’d either leave a message on her cell phone or on the answering machine in the apartment. He would talk about everything and nothing, but Jada never deleted any of the messages. It was almost as if they were in college again, when they would leave inane, boring messages just to keep each other up to speed on how the day was going. Jada, however, couldn’t bring herself to do the same. For one, she didn’t have any privacy. After Monday’s day off, she had to work at the Grille everyday and night for the rest of the week in order to curb the holiday rush. It was mostly out-orders—people too busy or unable to prepare holiday meals, so the restaurant would do it for them. It would be even worse when New Year’s came around, everyone wanting the traditional Soul Food New Year’s dinner with the black eyed peas, collard greens, cornbread, and whatever meat of choice. Currently she was preparing a large pot of black-eyed peas—for in addition to New Year’s orders, they still had regular orders, customers, to serve, and it was pretty full for a midday Thursday. “You almost done with that?” Zeke asked, poking his head in the kitchen door. “There’s only one o’ me, Zeke, and I’m stirrin’ as fast as I can . . .” Jada said, doubling her efforts. “I didn’t know it’d get so busy—” “I didn’t either, but busy is good, even if we can’t move at the end of the day!” Jada snickered. “You ain’t got an energetic four year old waiting for you at home!” “No, I don’t,” Zeke admitted. “But Lisa ain’t all that lazy either—” “TMI, Zeke, TMI . . .” Zeke laughed and winked at her before going back to the dining area. Zeke and Lisa King had been together for at least three years, and she really liked the other woman. Lisa was only about ten years older than she was, but very smart, attractive, and kind. Zeke had met her when they went to a pediatrician Aunt Lucille had recommended, and Lisa had been their attending doctor. Jada had known Zeke was a goner when he couldn’t keep his eyes off Lisa as she checked on Joshua. When the visit ended, Zeke got a phone number, and they had been going strong ever since. To be honest, Jada had been surprised at her cousin’s interest—he usually liked tall, thin, willowy women with long hair and lighter skin tones. Lisa was short, plump, wore her hair short and natural, and the color of Hershey’s syrup. But Zeke loved her, she loved him, and everyone was happy . . . almost . . . Aunt Lucille had a calendar and crossed off each day that went by where Zeke didn’t ask Lisa to marry him. “She ain’t gettin’ any younger!” Aunt Lucille would tell her son. “And neither am I! I want some grandbabies!” Zeke would give a pinched smile and say, “In due time, Mama, in due time . . .” Jada didn’t understand Zeke’s hesitation, either. They were clearly crazy about each other—even living together—but something was stalling them, and she didn’t know if it was because of Zeke or Lisa. Lisa had been extremely busy lately, trying to start her own practice and the school year always brining more cases than the summer, left the two women without really catching up as they would. Zeke’s head reappeared from the kitchen door. “Mama and Aunt Candy’s here.” “Peas are done,” Jada said, passing the pot to another line cook so he could prepare the plates. She wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen, seeing her grandmother and great aunt sitting in a booth close to the front. “And there she is!” Aunt Lucille said, standing up and hugging her brother-in-law’s grandchild. “You get prettier every time I see you.” “And bigger,” Candace muttered. “I keep tellin’ her she needs to lose some weight—maybe do some more walkin’—” “When she got time to do that, Candy?” Lucille said, framing Jada’s face and shaking it a little. “She’s a student, a cook, and a mother—” “Well . . .” “You must be feelin’ better if you got breath enough to insult me,” Jada mumbled, bending to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Y’all want the usual?” “I ain’t insultin’ nobody,” Candace said, and glared at Lucille when she huffed. “I’m just tryin’ to look out fo’ ya—” “Could be a little nicer about it, Grandma.” “Well then, I’m sorry,” Candace said, grasping Jada’s hand and squeezing. “Christmas at Lucille’s and Harold’s this year—” “I think Zeke and Lisa gonna make a big announcement—” “Mama, please,” Zeke said, coming up to the table and placing two large, plastic red cups full of sweet tea before them. “Straw?” Candace asked, smiling when Zeke put a novelty straw into her cup. “My favorite kind . . .” “You a big kid!” Lucille laughed. “Girl, I’m almost seventy-nine years young . . .” Candace said unapologetically around her straw. “Sweet rolls?” “A new batch is comin’ out, soon,” Jada said. “I’ll bring ‘em out soon as they’re done.” “Thank you, Jada Mae,” Lucille said. “You ever gonna tell me what you put in ‘em?” “No, ma’am,” Jada laughed. Lucille snorted. “Here I taught you everythang you know about the kitchen and you can’t tell me somethin’ little like that . . .” “You taught me first and foremost that what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen—” “Well then, maybe I need to come on in the kitchen and see what you doin’!” Lucille said, standing and beginning to walk in the kitchen. Jada laughed and hugged her aunt tight. “Love you.” “You, too, baby. I still wanna know, though,” Lucille whispered in her ear. “If you’ve been a good girl maybe I’ll leave the recipe in the stocking for ya,” Jada said with a wink. Lucille’s laugh followed her into the kitchen. She checked the oven, the sweet rolls needing only a few more minutes, and she fixed her grandmother and aunt a plate of cornbread, catfish, coleslaw, and fries. Once the rolls were done, she put one on each plate and went back into the dining area. “Here you are,” Jada said, serving them their meals. “Got me salivatin’ already,” Lucille said, pouring a liberal amount of Texas Pete on her catfish. “You can’t eat with us?” Candace asked, and Lucille was already pulling Jada down in the booth next to her. “Zeke can handle a few minutes without ya,” Lucille said, handing Jada a fry. Jada took it and ate it. “What’s goin’ on with your white boy?” Candace asked without preamble, and Jada averted her eyes to the ceiling. “Don’t you huff and puff at me like that! Do I look like one o’ the three little pigs to you?” Lucille giggled and shook Jada’s arm. “Yes! Tell, honey. Candy here been in a right mood since you two last spoke. You told him?” “Yes.” Lucille squealed while Candace groaned. “Lawd, Jada Mae—” “’Bout time!” Lucille said. “How he take it?” “Quite well, actually. He and Joshua adore each other—” “What?” “They spent all afternoon Sunday together—and he calls every night,” Jada explained. “And you thought he’d run high-tail outta Atlanta!” Lucille teased Candace. Candace didn’t look convinced. “Where is he now, Jada Mae?” Jada squirmed a little. “New York—” “Mm-hmm—” “His mother knows.” The women grew quiet at that announcement, and Candace frowned. “What he go do that for?” “Why wouldn’t he do that, Candy? That’s his son! That’s that boy’s grandma! What you think he can just keep ‘em a secret—” “Yes!” Lucille rolled her eyes. “You think Jada stupid enough to sleep wit’ a man who don’t love her? To have a kid by a man who don’t love her? She ain’t you, Candy—” “I ain’t never said she was,” Candace said lowly, eyes narrowing at Lucille. “I’m just sayin’ she shoulda had more sense than to go do somethin’ so . . .” “Like her mama?” Lucille said, smiling softly at Jada. “You do got a lotta Lynn in you, girl.” “And what did that get Lynn? A baby wit’ no daddy and cancer!” “That cervical cancer ain’t had nothin’ to do with Lynn’s pregnancy or Jada’s daddy,” Lucille muttered. “Ain’t make it no better,” Candace insisted, and ate a bit of her coleslaw. “Terence Anderson may as well had been a white boy, as light as he was . . .” Jada didn’t know her father, and had never really cared to know him. She’d been curious about him, but not to the point to seek him out. Zeke, Uncle Harold, her grandfather for as long as she’d had him, had filled that void perfectly. As for her mother . . . she felt the loss everyday, but never more acutely than during her pregnancy. Sometimes Jada spoke to her mother before she fell asleep, and would stop by the gravesite sometimes. She needed to get a Christmas wreath for it. “Don’t listen to yo’ grandma, girl,” Lucille said, drawing Jada from her thoughts. “I know you think I’m old and don’t know what the hell I’m talkin’ ‘bout, but I see it all the time! Ain’t that much changed, I’m tellin’ you! How many white men you see walkin’ ‘round wit’ black women? Even black men don’t want nothin’ to do wit’ us now!” “What man you tryin’ to get—black o’ otherwise!” Lucille laughed, nudging Jada’s side. “Maybe you just jealous that Jada here got a nice young man who’s sweet on her—” “Ain’t sweet enough to marry . . .” “Grandma, I love you, but you really need to stop,” Jada said. “Clearly Aaron’s doing everything right, so far, and you can’t even give him an inch!” Candace pursed her lips and tore off a piece of her sweet roll. “All right, Jada. I’ll drop it—” “No she won’t,” Lucille muttered around her straw. “It’s your life. I know I’m old and got one foot in the grave and the other slippin’ in . . . I just want what’s best for you . . . I want you to be without regrets.” Jada stood, kissing Lucille’s cheek, then Candace’s. “Workin’ on it.” The rest of the day went by smoothly, yet busily, with Jada not being able to get off until well after closing. Luckily, Jada had anticipated the busy week, so she’d brought home enough food the day before to last then a few dinners. When she reached her apartment, Malcolm and Joshua were already asleep with Deshae half-watching a nameless sitcom on television. Jada groaned and plopped onto the couch next to her, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. “You smell like fried everything under the sun,” Deshae said, still flipping channels. “Shut it.” “You missed Aaron’s call.” “At least he called. Joshua was awake?” “Yeah. They had a nice conversation; I think your son is a future car salesman.” Jada made a look of distaste. “Anything but that!” “Drug dealer it is, then—” “You’re such a punk,” Jada chuckled. “Or an accountant like his daddy,” Deshae teased. “Can you imagine Joshua taking over ‘the family business’?” Jada asked, half-sarcastically. “No,” Deshae admitted on a tiny chuckle, “but not for Aaron’s lack o’ tryin’.” “Even if it is in vain . . .” “Who said it would be? You know, sometimes I think that doom and gloom is a Channing thing. Lawd hope that Joshua has more McKensie in ‘im than Channing if that’s the case!” Jada winced at that. The last thing she needed was to be compared to her grandmother. “I’m going to shower so I can stop smelling like a deep-fried Jada . . . .” As she stood, Deshae grabbed her hand and squeezed. She didn’t need to say anything; Jada understood. “Goodnight.” “Night, girl.” It was a longer than anticipated shower, Jada letting the water knead her sore muscles and generally calm her. Deshae had been absolutely right about her, and the revelation disarmed. She was doing the very thing she cautioned Candace to stop doing, and Jada felt ashamed. Jada lived for worst case scenario, didn’t fully know how to embrace the possibility of a positive outcome, thinking it very dangerous. Thirty minutes later, one towel wrapped around her head and the other her body, Jada padded into her room and began to lotion up. She’d just finished her left leg when there was a knock on the door and Deshae entered, waving Jada’s cell phone. “I knew somethin’ was afoot when your phone started buzzin’ and vibratin’ . . . it’s yo’ baby’s daddy,” she smirked. Jada stared at the phone, completely at a loss. “Why’s he callin’ me?” “It’s this crazy phenomenon called wanting to talk to you,” Deshae answered, rolling her eyes. “Pace yourself. It requires you to talk back—” “Get out my room,” Jada snapped, poking out her tongue as she took the phone from Deshae. “Night Aaron!” Deshae called as she left Jada’s room and shut the door. Jada growled, pressing the speakerphone button and putting the phone on the bed. “Heffa.” “Someone’s in a mood,” Aaron said on a chuckle. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from disconnectin’ this call.” “And there’s nothing stopping me from pressing your speed dial button and calling again.” That made her pause. “I’m on speed dial?” “Two.” Two. That was major. “Oh.” “I’m not on your speed dial?” It was Jada’s turn to chuckle. “For what? All I need to do is press the call button twice and I get to you—blowin’ up my phone like you do . . .” Aaron laughed along with her. “I’m on speakerphone?” “I don’t have any hands to hold the phone.” “Why not? Joshua okay? I let him talk until he fell asleep . . .” “Putting on lotion,” Jada said absently, “and I bet that was a long conversation!” “No such thing,” Aaron said tenderly. “And I wish I was there to help.” “Aaron we’re fine, Deshae’s been helping me out—” “I meant to put the lotion on.” The lotion she’d been squirting on her hand fell onto her lap instead, so surprised by that remark. “Aaron!” “I’ve been missing you like crazy,” Aaron said hurriedly. “You and Joshua . . . I feel like I’m missing a part of myself.” “Have you even told your father and Veronica yet?” “The time’s never been right—” “God, Aaron! There is no ‘right time!’ If I waited for the ‘right time’, you would’ve never found out about Joshua!” Aaron didn’t say anything to that, and Jada cursed silently. She probably shouldn’t have admitted that, but it was the truth. “Right times” didn’t exist when it came to things like that—you had to just come out and say it or not. “If you had told me that the day you told me about Joshua, I would’ve called you the worst kind of coward,” Aaron began softly. “But now that I’m in the same position as you, I appreciate it. I don’t like it, but I appreciate it.” “Are you afraid of being disowned.” Aaron snorted. “Mama wouldn’t let him.” “But it may mean the end of you and Veronica—” “And as unfortunate as that will be, I think I’ll get over it,” Aaron said, and Jada bristled as his almost callous tone. “You love her . . . she was your first love . . .” “And a part of me always will,” Aaron confessed, “but we’re two different people. She would’ve made it so easy to pretend, but pretending is what got us in this situation, now isn’t it?” Jada took the glob of lotion from the patch of towel in her lap and started rubbing it on her right leg. “I don’t know what you’re talking about . . .” He snickered. “All right, Jaybird.” “You’re always so damn sure of yourself.” “Because I’m right.” “Then why don’t you tell your father and Veronica? If you’re so sure everything will work out, just tell them! It’s not as if you really have anything to lose—everything can stay as it is—” “I don’t want that,” Aaron said firmly. “I can’t stand being away from you two—” “I’m not saying you can’t see your son, Aaron,” Jada said, now lotioning up her arms. “Joshua can spend the night, and from the way Miss Isabella talks, she’s already converted a room for Joshua up in New York—” “You’re not listening, Jada—” “I don’t wanna listen!” Jada exclaimed. She roughly pulled the towel from her head and started drying the ends of her hair. “Listening to you is dangerous.” “Why?” Aaron asked softly, seemingly not surprised or offended by her outburst. “Because we both want the same thing?” “You don’t know what I want,” Jada muttered. “I want what we had five years ago, Jada,” Aaron whispered, “and I want that everyday.” Jada sucked her teeth. “You so nasty!” Aaron laughed, and Jada couldn’t help but smile. “I won’t deny I’m quite partial to that, too, but that’s not what I meant.” Jada left the bed to her dresser and found an old t-shirt and shorts for bed. He was making it so hard for her to maintain resolve . . . not to fall in love with him even more. “Aaron—” “I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning, just as I did the morning after we conceived our son. That’s what I want. And I know you want it, too.” She put on her clothes, her heart beating so fast it seemed her body trembled from its exertion. “Aaron . . .” “Jada.” She sniffled, unaware she was crying until tears dripped onto the back of her hand. “Damn you.” “I’m pretty sure I’ll have that phrase hurled at me plenty of times before the week’s over,” Aaron said dryly. “It’s not funny!” “I know, love, I know.” Jada curled under the covers, the phone next to her ear on the pillow. She cried silently, not wanting Aaron to hear. “All my life . . . I’ve been taught one thing—I knew you were trouble the minute I met you. I knew, and yet . . .” “I thought you were cute.” “Aaron—” “Short with a Southern accent, thick mass of curly hair . . . I was suckered by your smile, Jada. I think I knew from the beginning, too.” “Right . . .” “But I don’t think I figured it out until I came back from Milan,” Aaron said softly, as if in confessional, “and I saw you working with one of the students . . . all those phone calls, the e-mails—all of it didn’t compare to me actually seeing you . . . my heart dropped. I stood frozen at the door, just . . . staring. And then when you looked up and you smiled, and started coming towards me . . . that was it.” Jada remembered that moment, remembered when Aaron held her for much longer than she thought he would, the tenderness in his embrace and the way he sighed her name . . . she’d thought she’d imagined it. “I never knew—” “You didn’t want to know.” “I don’t think you did, either,” Jada murmured. “You found all sorts of reasons for us not to hang out when you first came back.” She’d been very hurt by that, even going so far as to tell him to go back to Milan if he didn’t want to spend time with her. She’d been ashamed at herself for such an outburst, reminding herself they had never been a couple, and that he hadn’t owed her anything, least of all his time. But the next time she’d gone to the community center there had been a teddy bear and a card from Aaron apologizing for his behavior in the office. “We’re all entitled to mistakes,” Aaron said. “We are,” Jada agreed. “And we’re all entitled to ‘happy consequences’.” She had to grin at that. “Happy consequences?” “Yes,” Aaron chuckled. “None of this may have been planned . . . but . . . I’m definitely not complaining.” “Complaining will get you nowhere, anyway.” “You’re right. What’s done is done and there’s no going back, is there?” “No . . .” “Right.” He blew out a breath. “Right.” “Aaron?” “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” “I tell them tomorrow. Thank you Jada.” “For?” “Giving me a swift kick in the ass.” “Just returning the favor,” Jada said. He laughed, then sobered with a sigh. “Besides, the sooner I tell them, the sooner I can get back.” “Joshua will be so excited to see you.” “Yes. I miss him.” The next part was spoken so low she barely heard him. “I miss my family.” Jada closed her eyes, her throat growing tight, and she took a deep breath. “We miss you, too.” He hummed. “Sweet dreams, love.” “You, too.” Jada watched the icon show up on the screen of her phone that let her know he’d disconnected the call. She flipped her phone closed and held it to her heart, then turned off the light. She’d often imagined she was walking down the path her great-great grandmother Dorcas tread, and she was approaching a fork in the road. Three different paths, one where her grandmother stood, one where Mama Dorcas stood, and one that was empty. Or at least it used to be. She watched shadows play on her closet door until she was too weak to keep her eyes open. *** It was never good when Alexander McKensie paced. It meant he was thinking of something, usually unpleasant, and usually unpleasant for whomever had to witness the pacing. In this case it was Aaron, Veronica, and Isabella, all in the study, all in the aftermath of Aaron’s announcement. Aaron had called them to the study after breakfast to give them some privacy, and without preamble told his father and girlfriend that he had a four-year-old son. Isabella had seemed proud of him. Alexander’s jaw clenched, and Veronica suddenly became fascinated with her freshly manicured coral fingernails. Aaron, who’d stood when he told them the news, still hadn’t sat back down, though he was by the desk so that his father had ample stomping ground. His father’s sudden need for exercise had cut off the rest of his speech, but he could bide his time. As he’d told Jada last night, there was no going back. “We’ll order a DNA test—” “Pop—” “There’s really no need for that,” Isabella said. “She could be lying to trap you!” Alexander insisted. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants for one more night—” “Alexander!” “That was unnecessary,” Aaron said, eyes narrowing. This was going to be a beautiful discussion, he could see, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, Aaron, let’s talk about unnecessary,” Alexander said, stopping his pacing, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “This child is unnecessary—” “You shouldn’t talk about your grandson like that,” Aaron said calmly. “He’s not my grandson,” Alexander said flatly. Aaron rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Pop—” “This explains . . . so much,” Veronica said, earning the McKensie men’s attention. She was still staring at her hands, rubbing them now, a tiny frown on her flawless face. “Explains what?” Veronica shrugged, then smiled at Aaron, though he knew it wasn’t genuine. “Everything. Why this time didn’t feel the same as before . . . why our relationship felt . . . crowded.” Aaron felt guilty. He knelt in front of Veronica and covered her hands with his. “I’m sorry.” “There were two other people in there with us, though I admittedly only knew about one,” Veronica laughed, though when tears pooled in her eyes, Aaron groaned, catching one with his thumb as it slipped onto her cheek. “I was in a competition with your heart, Aaron . . . and I’d already lost before I even got back in the race.” “There is no race,” Alexander insisted. “Why are you talking like that, Veronica? This child changes nothing—” “You’re right, and you’re wrong,” Isabella said calmly. She came over and sat next to Veronica on the couch, squeezing the younger woman’s shoulder. “The pretending stops—for everyone—doesn’t it?” “Pretending,” Alexander scoffed. “Exactly what I said, amore,” Isabella said. “Both of them can stop pretending now. And so can you.” “I’m quite clear about what reality is—” “And the reality is,” Isabella continued, arching her eyebrow at her husband, “that this Jada Channing was not just a foray into the exotic . . . that what Aaron feels for her, is exactly what you feel for me.” His father paused and looked at his wife in shock. “Isabella!” “Let’s give these two a chance to chat—” “Izzy—” “We’ll be in the sunroom if you need us,” Isabella said, kissing both Veronica and Aaron on the cheek before linking her arm through her husband’s and ushering him out the study. Aaron remained kneeling, picking up the hand he held and bringing it to his lips. “I’m sorry.” “And you know the worst thing about all this is?” Veronica asked, giving him a watery chuckle. “I want to be mad and hate you . . . hate her . . . and I can’t.” Aaron sighed, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. “I don’t blame you—” “This all happened before we got together . . . you just found out . . . but even when . . . I just—damn it.” Veronica came down on the carpet with him, and Aaron wrapped an arm around her, kissing her temple. “I do love you.” “So not the right thing to say to me right now,” Veronica sniffled, though snuck her head underneath his chin. He never wanted to hurt her, and absolutely none of this was Jada’s fault—not directly anyway. Had he not been so afraid of his father, of Jada herself, of his feelings, he never would have been in a position to hurt Veronica. He had allowed his father to manipulate him, to rationalize away the feelings he was having for Jada, but rationalizing did not make them go away—just buried them. He’d thought he’d be able to do it, especially when his tender feelings for Veronica returned, but all it took was seeing Jada again for those feelings to resurface even stronger than before. “So that was the baby album,” Veronica whispered, “Of your son?” “Yes.” “Does he really look that much like you?” “Clone.” “Really? I didn’t know that was possible.” “Apparently her great grandmother could pass for white, too,” Aaron said absently, recalling a conversation they had had about families once. “But Jada’s not very light.” “No . . .” She sighed and chuckled. “You have no idea how much I want to hate her.” “You do a little,” Aaron said with a little smile. “How about I want to hate her more than I hate myself?” Aaron frowned, pulling her head from his shoulder and grasping her chin. “That’s such a wasted emotion.” Veronica’s eyes darted along his face, and her fingertips brushed the beard along his cheek and jaw. “And sometimes, so is love.” “Ronnie—” “No,” Veronica said, trying to smile but failing miserably. She got to her feet, brushing lint from her pants as she did so. “I think it’s best for me to leave—” “No, stay,” Aaron insisted, standing as well. “I’m . . . I have to go back to Atlanta anyway—” “To see her—” “Them, yes,” Aaron said softly. “And you shouldn’t spend Christmas alone.” “If it’s not with you, then it is alone,” Veronica said. She got to the door and rested her forehead against the frame. “I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet, the fact I’ve lost you . . . to her . . . she should have never been a threat—” “Veronica!” “So I didn’t see her as such until it was far too late.” “Ronnie—” “The party was when I knew, Aaron,” Veronica said. “You two couldn’t see it, but I saw it. You said I was fishing, and I was, but you wouldn’t bite, because you didn’t see it.” “See what?” “The fact she was in love with you.” Veronica smiled, her eyes looking back into the past. “I thought I still had a shot, you know? As long as you couldn’t see it, I had a shot. Or even if you did, Alexander wouldn’t allow it, and you always did as your father told you.” Aaron put his hands in his pockets and bowed his head. He had accused Jada of not wanting to see things, and she’d turned right around and accused him of the same. Hearing his mother, and now Veronica, echoing Jada’s sentiments, he felt like a right heel. “I was trying to do the right thing,” Aaron mumbled. “Yes, but I’m not a charity case,” Veronica said. “And neither is Jada, from what I’ve gathered of her. She can’t even let me play the gold-digger card! Damn her . . . if she weren’t taking you away from me, I could’ve seen us as friends—” “She’s not—” “Maybe not intentionally,” Veronica admitted, “but the end result is the same. I can compete with another woman, Aaron, and I can usually win—I mean, I am Veronica Prescott!—but a child. I can’t win against a child, especially if his mother is the woman you really love.” “Ronnie . . .” Aaron went to her and cupped her face. More tears fell down her cheeks, and he brushed them away as he put a long kiss on her forehead. “You were my first,” he said, feeling tears sting his eyes. It was hard to let go of something so familiar, dependable, wonderful. She really was a wonderful woman; she didn’t deserve this. “But not your true,” Veronica said, sniffling. She pulled back, cupped his face as he was hers, and brought his lips down to hers. Aaron gave her every ounce of tenderness he could muster, all the apologies and well wishes inside of him. They broke apart slowly, sharing breath and their last moments together as a couple. “Merry Christmas, Aaron,” Veronica whispered finally, then made her escape from the study to her room. It was a graceful exit, but Veronica was nothing if not a classy woman. Aaron knew she wouldn’t rant, rave, and curse him and Jada to the hottest and deepest parts of hell—that wasn’t her style—but it didn’t make this break up any less hard or painful for either of them. His mother had said they’d been pretending, and for a few years, they had been successful—he’d even convinced himself he could keep it up for the long haul—but Veronica was right. The party put a crack in that veneer, and Joshua shattered it. This wasn’t to say that even if he and Jada didn’t share a child that his relationship with Veronica would have eventually ended, and that was the scarier part because both of them knew it. Jada had been the ghost hovering around their relationship since they started again—a rebound tryst in Paris that turned into something more meaningful, and yet not enough. Veronica stayed because she loved him, and what man wouldn’t feel guilty about not loving a woman a much as she loved him? Aaron shuffled through the house to the sunroom, where his mother was on the couch and watching her husband pace with an amused expression on her face. Aaron kissed the top of Isabella’s head, but remained standing, patiently waiting for his father to address him. “Veronica—?” “She’s staying, Pop.” His posture didn’t change, and his eyes narrowed. “And you.” “Going back home,” Aaron said. “You are home, son,” Alexander said. “My family needs me, Pop—” “Apparently not if that girl didn’t bother to tell you about your ‘son’ until now.” Aaron exhaled harshly, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m leaving tonight—” “You leave tonight, don’t bother coming back.” “Alex—,” Isabella exclaimed, standing next to Aaron. “Honey, be reasonable—” “I have a company to think of, Izzy, a product. No one wants a sullied product—” “Nothing is sullied—” “I understand you wanting to do right by your son, Aaron,” Alexander said. “You’re a McKensie, and McKensies don’t run away from responsibilities.” Isabella squeezed Aaron’s shoulder again. “So why are you so upset about me going back?” Alexander crossed his arms at his chest and began pacing again. “We’ll set up a trust fund for the boy, how about that?” “I was going to do that anyway.” “That way he won’t ever be left wanting, and you don’t have to give up your life here—” “I’m not giving up anything.” Alexander stopped pacing and met his son’s eyes. “She’s not fit to be a McKensie, Aaron, and . . . while Joshua may look like one, he’s not fit, either.” “Fit?” Alexander sighed. “Our circles are . . . completely different. If you care about this girl as you say you do, why would you put her in situations where she’ll be uncomfortable . . . conspicuous . . . lacking—” “Lacking?” “She’s poor and she’s black—” “Everyone is poor compared to us, Father—” “Veronica isn’t. She’s appropriate for you in every way.” “I don’t want appropriate,” Aaron said. “I tried appropriate and it didn’t work.” “You didn’t try—” “I tried for five years. You can’t force a square peg into a circle.” Isabella’s grasp tightened around his arm and Aaron smiled softly at her. He kissed her cheek. “I love you.” “Tesoro—” “If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Aaron said to his father. Alexander’s stern features softened a bit, then his body tensed. “Ditto.” Aaron left his parents in the sunroom and went immediately into his room to pack. It didn’t take him very long, and he didn’t want to be in the same house as his father any longer than necessary. Jada had warned him about this, but even with the warning, he still couldn’t stop the searing pain in his chest. He lost a friend and a father in one fell swoop, and though his mother was on his side, there was little she could do to mend the tears, at least right now. But even as he left the house and watched the estate shrink into the rearview mirror, he couldn’t feel too terrible. He still had another family waiting for him in Atlanta. |
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| bana05 | Aug 16 2006, 10:05 AM Post #11 |
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Eleven Aaron had forced himself not to drive directly to Jada’s apartment from the airport when he got back to Atlanta. It had been late, they were all asleep, and both Jada and Deshae had to go to work early the next morning. That meant he had to wait, so he went into the office Friday, surprised he still had access, but smirked to himself. His mother had probably threatened bloody murder if his father did anything drastic, and Alexander could never deny her anything. Though Aaron had won that battle, he knew there were other ways that Alexander could make his life hell. He could block projects, potential clients, or assign him to other satellite offices. He could even make him a glorified secretary, burying him under paperwork until he’d want to quit himself. Aaron shrugged internally. If Alexander managed to remove him from McKensie Lowman, he could always work at Ricci’s. And speaking of family restaurants, he’d never gone to Charlie’s Grille in the weeks he’d been in Atlanta. As tempted as he was to go there now, he didn’t want to distract Jada from her job, but he wanted her to take him there sometime soon. He was excited to taste the food, to taste Jada’s cooking . . . it didn’t help he was currently hungry. He ordered something from a nearby Chinese restaurant instead, a carton of chicken fried rice with chopsticks, and ate as he went over memos and files that had piled up during his emergency vacation. His assistant had been very thorough during his absence, putting the more urgent files at the top and leaving the least pressing to the end. Luckily, the “urgent” wasn’t all that urgent, so he felt comfortable waiting to really tackling them until after the holiday. The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough. Since he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus, Aaron left a note of his early leaving and a holiday gift for his assistant. He had no real plan of where he would go, though his condo was not an option now. He went to Lenox Square, realizing he’d yet to do Christmas shopping, yet he had no idea what to get anyone. He did a complete lap of the mall, cataloguing each store’s wares and getting a general idea of what would make good gifts and what wouldn’t. He wouldn’t buy anything today; perhaps he would sneak in a few questions to Jada and Deshae to see what the other would want, what other members of their families would like. He knew he had a lot of ground to cover, a lot of charming to do, and from what he’d gathered of Jada’s family, especially her grandmother, he had to do a very good job at it, too. By the time he left the mall it was close to five. He didn’t know if Jada would leave work early, but decided to stop by her apartment anyway. He went to his condo first to change his clothes into something more comfortable, then made his way to Jada’s place. Her car was in the parking lot as he turned in and he smiled. Maybe he could take everyone out to dinner . . . The nervousness he’d had when he first came over to the apartment was still there, but it was more anticipation than anxiety, and when the door opened to reveal Malcolm, to reveal the smells of very good food that had filled the apartment, the anticipation settled into something pleasant and familiar. “Hey Mr. Aaron—dang it Joshie!” Joshua had squeezed his tiny body underneath Malcolm’s outstretched arm and launched himself into his father’s arms. Aaron laughed, holding his son tightly to him and saying hello to Malcolm as he entered the apartment. Deshae was setting the table, and she smiled when she saw Aaron. “You’ve eaten yet?” “No . . . actually I was about to ask if you all wanted to go to dinner—” “Ooh!” “Malcolm, I think there is a folding chair in the hall closet. Bring that out. I’ll set another space for Aaron here—” Deshae said, raising an eyebrow at her son when he started to sulk and mutter under his breath. “I think Jada Mae’s tired—she seemed beat when she shuffled in here with dinner, but maybe tomorrow or something?” “That’s fine,” Aaron said, kissing the top of Joshua’s head. “She’s working too hard a usual.” “Who you tellin’! Her work ethic is a curse, I swear—some days I wanna restrain her to the bed and force her to relax! Then she starts mumbling about ‘idle hands’ and I can’t take it . . .” Aaron chuckled and went into the kitchen. “Can I do anything to help?” “You’re doin’ it,” Deshae said, smiling and winking at him and Joshua. “Dinner should be served soon—she actually made somethin’ other than chicken!” “I like the chicken!” Malcolm said, unfolding the chair and sliding it as close to the table as he could. “You would,” Deshae said out the side of her mouth. “But it’s pork chops—” “I can work with pork chops,” Malcolm said, looking at Aaron seriously. “I can work with—boy, go check on the bread in the oven and make sure it ain’t burn . . . I can work with pork chops . . .” Aaron laughed, smoothing down Joshua’s hair as they stared into each other’s eyes. “How are you doing, buddy?” Joshua snuggled tighter into him. “Fine. Are you goin’ away again?” Aaron kissed Joshua’s forehead. “I don’t plan on it.” “’Kay.” “Have a seat; take a load off,” Deshae said, preparing the plates. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” Aaron glanced down the hall as he made his way to the couch, getting comfortable and cuddling Joshua’s body into his own. “What did you do today?” “I went to Aunt Lucy’s house,” Joshua said. “Me and Aunt Lucy and GG and Malcolm decorated the house and the Christmas tree.” Aaron noticed the apartment didn’t have any decorations up. “Are you going to get a tree?” “We generally spend Christmas with Jada’s family, so we don’t decorate the apartment,” Deshae explained. “Neither one of us really has the time to put up or take down decorations anyway.” Aaron frowned a little at that. Maybe next year he would help with that. There should always be a little Christmas in the home. “Are you comin’?” “To what, buddy?” “Aunt Lucy’s—are you spendin’ Christmas with us?” Just then Jada padded to the room, arms stretched over her head and yawning a little. Aaron’s eyes locked upon her form, watching a tendril of hair slip out of her sloppy bun and fall across her collarbone. She hadn’t noticed him yet, going immediately to the kitchen only to be kicked out by Deshae who said she was “handling it”. Jada started when she finally saw him, and he grinned at her, earning a small, almost shy smile in return. She wrapped the hem of her shirt around her fists as she approached, sitting on the couch and kissing her son’s forehead in greeting. “What about me?” Aaron asked with a small pout as she straightened herself on the couch. He wished she was closer to him, but he would bide his time on that. “‘What about you' what?” “This McKensie gets a kiss but I don’t?” Aaron asked, jutting his chin toward Joshua. Jada blinked at him, trying to understand his angle. As she tried to work it out in her mind, Aaron leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Did you rest well?” “As well as expected,” Jada asked, seemingly dropping her confusion for the moment. “How did . . .” She stopped and shook her head. “A question for another time.” Aaron knew what she wanted to ask, and he agreed. “Maybe after we put the little one to bed.” “My baby’s getting sleepy already?” Jada asked, combing her hand through Joshua’s hair. “Daddy makes a comfortable pillow, doesn’t he?” Joshua nodded and Aaron blushed a little, though he did manage a smirk towards Jada. “After I’m done with him maybe you’d like a turn?” “Ha!” Jada said and shook her head. “That’s how we conceived Joshua, me usin’ you as a pillow and then . . .” “You also had liquor, and we were alone,” Aaron said, clearing his throat and shifting Joshua a little. The last thing Aaron needed was an inquisitive four year old asking what that was in Daddy’s lap and why was it so hard. “Thank goodness we don’t keep liquor in the house!” Jada chuckled, and Aaron gave her an arched look. “I wasn’t drunk on liquor,” Aaron said softly, staring at her. She bit her lip and ducked her head. “I know . . .” “And you weren’t either.” Jada took a deep breath. “I know that, too.” “Dinner’s ready,” Deshae called from the kitchen. Aaron kissed Jada’s temple and nuzzled it. “Good. Now let’s eat.” Dinner was a lively affair, nothing like the sedate, only talk when necessary dinners he’d had growing up or even now in adulthood with his family. There never seemed to be too many stories to tell in Jada’s small apartment, though it seemed Deshae and Malcolm spent the majority of the time trying to one-up each other. Of course Deshae would win because, being a masseuse, she would have the most entertaining of characters, and with Malcolm only being in the fifth grade and currently on holiday from school, his stories seemed to be relegated to what was on television. Jada spent dinner cutting up the pork chop for Joshua, telling a pouting Joshua he could not sit in his father’s lap during dinner because he was a big boy, and no matter how far he poked out that bottom lip, his behind would stay in that chair. It was fascinating to see Jada parent, recognizing her firm resolve being tempered by compassion. She understood Joshua’s need to be with his father, but also recognized she had to teach her son table manners and the beginnings of autonomy. He wouldn’t be a little boy forever, and he had to start learning lessons now. Malcolm and Deshae put away the dishes while Aaron helped Jada bathe Joshua. There was a lot of showing off the toys Aaron had bought for his son, a lot of showing off how long he could hold his breath underwater, a lot of splashing and soaking both parents liberally with water. Jada let Aaron wash Joshua’s hair, Joshua let Aaron wash Joshua’s hair, and by the time bath time was over, Joshua was wrapped in a towel and his father’s arms fast asleep. “You want to put him to bed?” Jada asked. “I can find you something to wear while I put your soaked shirt in the dryer . . .” “Okay,” Aaron said, pressing his back against the shower door so Jada could leave the tiny bathroom first. He put Joshua in his pajamas and nestled him under the covers. After a goodnight kiss, he went to where he assumed was Jada’s room, enjoying a nice view of her behind as she rifled through the lower drawers in her chest. He smirked a bit, hit with the urge to tickle her sides, but he didn’t want an elbow to the stomach or below! “Quit starin’!” Aaron laughed, merely sitting on her bed and looking even more. “It’s a nice view.” “Quit!” “How did you know I was staring?" “I can feel your eyes on me!” That’s not the only thing I want you to feel. Aaron shook his head and stood, pacing, needing to distract himself from the lovely, innocent picture she made. Wasn’t it too soon to move from one relationship into another? Shouldn’t it feel too soon? Deshae and Malcolm were in the living area, their son was sleeping the next room, and all Aaron could think about was pulling Jada in his arms and never letting her go. “I was looking for your sweatshirt, knowing that I hadn’t put it in the wash—but I found it,” Jada announced, turning around and holding the garment like a banner. Aaron smiled and pulled off his soaked shirt, his eyes growing dark when he noticed her eyes skip over his bare chest. “Your turn,” he said. “My turn what?” “My shirt goes, your shirt goes. You got soaked, too.” Jada snorted, throwing the sweatshirt to him. “In your dreams!” “Every night—and in color, too!” “Lord . . .” She turned back around, hiding in her drawers again, but Aaron wouldn’t let her find that escape so easily. He went behind her and slid his arms around her waist, cheering a little at her surprised gasp. He hadn’t put on the sweatshirt yet. “What are you doin’!?” “Holding you,” Aaron said, nuzzling her temple. “You’re so soft . . .” “Aaron!” “You are!” he defended. “I like how you feel. I’ve missed how you feel . . .” Her body was tense and still, unwilling to yield to him. He dragged his nose along the shell of her ear and whispered into it. “I broke up with Veronica.” He pulled back quickly enough so they didn’t bump head when she snapped her eyes to his. “Why did you go do a fool thing like that!” she asked. He frowned, unprepared for her anger. “I couldn’t stay with her—” “Because we have a child? We aren’t married—” “Maybe we should be.” Both of them stopped talking abruptly, Aaron’s face growing red in embarrassment. He hadn’t meant for that to come out that way, and he knew Jada wouldn’t appreciate that thought, either. “Let go,” Jada said, voice and face expressionless. Aaron set his jaw and tightened his arms around her. “No.” “No?” “No.” He bent his head so that they were eye-to-eye, breath to breath. “I let you go once and it cost me five years of my life. I’m not doing it again.” “Your relationship with Veronica ain’t even cold and now you tryin’ to press up on me,” Jada said softly. “In all the years you’ve known me, when have I ever been, or desired to be, the rebound girl?” “Never.” “So why you think I’m tryin’ to start now?” “You aren’t the rebound girl. You never have been, and you never will be.” Jada stared at him for a moment, then dropped her eyes, and he touched his forehead to hers. They just stood there like that, Aaron shifting her body so he could wrap his arms around her more comfortably, more fully. Because of the height difference, Aaron had to tuck her into his chest, but he held her close, needing to feel her and to remind himself that he was here with her, with Joshua. Everything that had happened this past week would all be worth it, he knew; now he had to convince Jada of it, too. “I’ll let you change, love,” he whispered after a few minutes had passed. “I’ll be in the living area fighting Malcolm for the remote.” That earned him a grin. “He’ll win.” “I can take him,” Aaron insisted with a grin of his own. Jada nodded, and Aaron kissed her forehead, cupping her face when she leaned into it. He pulled back, intending to go, but groaned and kissed her forehead again, sighing when her fingers slid up his back. “I’m trying to be a good boy, Jada,” he whispered against her forehead. “I’m sorry,” Jada said as she stepped out of his arms quickly, finding a shirt and pulling it out of the drawer. She went to the door, leaving him in the spot where he stood. “It’s just that I’ve missed the feel of you, too.” It was all he could do not to follow her. Jada hid in the bathroom with her back pressed against the door her breath coming out in heavy spurts. What possessed her to admit something like that? Just because he broke up with Veronica . . . what? They could ride off into the sunset together—her, Aaron, and Joshua, one big happy family? Jada snorted. Aaron hadn’t mentioned his father, though she was pretty sure how that conversation ended, and her grandmother wasn’t a pushover by any stretch. Their current situation was tenuously working, uncomplicated by sex. Veronica had been a blessing, helping to keep her lust for Aaron in check, and seemingly his lust for her. With Veronica gone and Aaron apparently giving the kiss-off to his father, he was becoming more aggressive with his romantic overtures, and Jada was finding herself unable (unwilling?) to ignore them. She trembled slightly as she took off her wet shirt and replaced it with the dry one. She threw the garment in the hamper and, after counting to twenty, left the bathroom and went back into her room. Aaron was no longer there, and neither was his shirt, so she went into the living area where he and Malcolm were sitting on the couch watching some sporting event, and Deshae was at the kitchen table. “I put his shirt in the dryer for you,” Deshae said. “Thanks.” Jada avoided eye contact with Deshae as she sat at the table, and her friend gave her an appraising look. “What’s wrong?” “Nothin’.” “If that’s true, why do you look so freaked out?” “Change scares me, you know that,” Jada answered vaguely. “Right.” Deshae knew she’d get the dish later, so she didn’t press. “Mac! Bedtime.” “But it’s just nine-thirty—” “Well passed your bedtime, Boo. Bed.” “I can’t wait ‘til I’m eleven—” “What’s gonna happen at eleven that I don’t know about?” Jada grinned when Malcolm sucked his teeth, but slapped Aaron’s hand in goodbye. He kissed his mother and Jada’s cheek before going to his room. Deshae sighed and shook her head. “Enjoy it, you two. You only got about six more years left before they start actin’ a straight fool—” “My Joshua is an angel,” Jada insisted. “Who throws the most devilish of tantrums?! Angel indeed—dark angel, maybe!” “Hey, if I didn’t like you so much, I’d take offense to you disparaging my son’s name!” Aaron piped up from the couch. “And if I didn’t like you so much I’d tell you I didn’t give a f—” “Shae!” Jada said on a laugh. “Aaron knows I’m kiddin’, don’t you Aaron?” “Yes, ma’am.” “See?” Though Deshae had never fully disliked Aaron, she’d always been careful in discussing him with Jada. She hadn’t known him outside of what Jada had told him, and because he was a white man, there was always an extra caution afforded him. But now that they knew each other, Jada felt outnumbered for some reason, as if they shared an understanding and somehow she was at the core of it. It was more than just the “mutual friend” status Jada held, it seemed. She felt as if she was at the center of a secret both of them shared. As it was, they were currently staring at each other as if in silent communication, and when Deshae suddenly announced she was tired and wanted to call Jamal before going to bed, Jada suddenly felt as if she’d been set up. Awareness entered the room just as Deshae left, and Jada drummed her fingers on the table in an attempt to distract it. She heard broken speech from the television as Aaron changed the channels but she didn’t look in his direction. Why did Deshae have to leave them alone? Was the tension too oppressive for her to endure? It was choking Jada, making her dizzy and weak, yearn . . . “There’s nothing on TV,” Aaron announced, turning off the set. “It’s the heart of the primetime lineup, surely there’s something on . . .” “Duds, the lot of ‘em,” Aaron insisted. He stood and stretched his arms over his had, giving Jada a view of his bare stomach and happy trail. She averted her eyes quickly and stared at the salt and peppershakers. Jada smirked. “What’s that look for?” Jada’s smirk settled into a grin. “What look?” He didn’t answer her immediately, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. His fingers touched the corner of her mouth and he put his lips to her ear. “That look.” “I don’t have a look . . .” “You most certainly do! I can prove it!” Jada giggled as he took her hand and pulled her from the chair and steered her into the bathroom. She was just tall enough to see her head in the mirrored doors of the medicine cabinet above the sink. “So . . . where’s this look I supposedly have?” His lips pressed against her jaw, and her eyelids fluttered. His arms came around her waist, holding her tight, and she bit her lip to trap a burgeoning moan. “There,” he whispered against her skin, green eyes dark as they locked with hers through the mirror. “Aaron . . .” His lips moved down her jaw to her neck, nose nuzzling, and she was unable to dampen her moan. “Look at us,” he said, nipping at her lobe. “Do you see?” “I can barely see myself,” Jada said, going for levity, completely ignoring the fact her eyes were closed so she could experience Aaron’s caresses to their fullest extent. “I can see you, and you can see me . . . that’s all that matters.” He slipped his hands underneath her t-shirt to touch her bare stomach. “It’s not . . .” “It is,” Aaron said. His forehead rested against her temple. “It is.” Jada’s breath shuddered out her body, her mind going over the bazillion reasons why this was not a good idea, but her mind was being overruled by the rest of her body, and she reclined against him. “You’re all that matters,” Aaron continued to whisper. “You and Joshua . . . you’re all that matters . . .” Jada broke the embrace and left the bathroom. It was getting too cramped in there; emotions were getting too charged. She fled to the open space of the living area, but didn’t get far as Aaron’s arms wrapped around her again. “No.” “No?” “The worst thing I ever did was let you get on that plane,” he said, spinning her around to look in her eyes. “Jada—” She pressed her fingers to his mouth, smiling a little when he kissed the pads of them. “We didn’t know . . . that we’d conceived Joshua that night, Aaron. You were under no obligation to me—” Jada stopped talking when he cradled her face in his hands. His nose rubbed against hers, his breath teased her lips. “We’re friends,” Jada murmured, vainly trying to latch onto the label that had kept her sane in their years apart. “No, we’re not,” Aaron murmured back, then pressed his lips against hers. It was her first kiss in five years, and she felt out of practice, and yet, not. He was gentle in his kiss, but firm, moving his hands from her face to pull her body close to his. Jada dragged her lips from his and buried them into his neck, her body shaking from the kiss, from the emotions he brought to the fore within her. Honesty. He was forcing her to be honest with herself, whether she was ready to be or not. Just them—just her and Aaron. She’d told them before they weren’t “just friends”, and he reminded her of this by this kiss. She wanted another reminder. Her mouth slid along his hair-covered jaw, pressing tiny, soft kisses en route to his mouth. Aaron met her halfway, this kiss harder, more urgent, as if this would be the last person either of them would ever kiss. For Jada, he was. Aaron began walking them backwards until the back of her knees hit the couch. It was a difficult maneuver, her trying to sit without breaking the kiss, but Aaron solved the problem by sitting down first, then bringing her into his lap so that she straddled him. Soon he left her mouth in favor of her neck, and Jada pressed herself against him. “Baby,” she whispered, kissing his temple and sliding her fingers through his hair. “A ghrà mo chroì,” he sighed in reply, pulling back and cupping her jaw. His thumb dragged along her lips and he nodded at her. “Definitely.” Jada closed her eyes, tears slipping from them as she rested her forehead against his. She didn’t know exactly what he said, but she had an idea. He’d taught her a few Gaelic phrases years ago, and though she didn’t remember some, she was sure he’d never taught her this one. He kissed her lips lightly. “You’re not going to ask me what that means?” “No.” “Why?” Jada shook her head and buried it in the crook of his neck. She wasn’t ready to hear the translation, and even if she had been, this was not the time. Everything was changing so quickly, too quickly for her. Jada needed time to catch up. Aaron didn’t press her, stretching out onto the couch with her on top and smoothing his hand along her hair and back. His caress made her drowsy, and Jada was reminded why Aaron had always been her favorite pillow. Just as she was getting comfortable, the buzzer on the dryer sounded, and she moved to get it. When his arms held her, she told him she had to see to it so it wouldn’t disturb the rest of the house. He snuck in a kiss as she pulled out of his arms, and Jada walked with heavy steps to the dryer and took out his shirt. It smelled of the dryer sheet, and she held it to her chest as she went back to Aaron. “All dry,” Jada whispered, holding out the shirt. He ignored it in favor of her hand, and pulled her back down to their former position. The only sounds between them was their breath and heartbeats, and they were lulling Jada into slumber. Just as she was about to succumb, Aaron spoke. “Jada?” She snuggled into his warmth and yawned. “Yeah?” “Thank you.” She smiled into his chest and kissing the space over his beating heart. “You’re welcome.” For how ever long he liked, he was welcome. |
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| bana05 | Aug 19 2006, 05:12 AM Post #12 |
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Here is part twelve. I hope you enjoy and plase forgive errors! bana ~~~ Twelve Christmas Eve was full of wrapping paper, ribbons, candy canes, and a marathon of Christmas specials. Jamal had offered his house for Jada and Deshae to wrap presents, a perfect place because the entertainment room distracted the boys long enough for Deshae and Jada to wrap their gifts. Jamal was also an excellent host, providing Christmas snacks and drinks for the boys and more adult versions for the mothers. “So,” Jamal said, sitting on the floor and cuddling Deshae from behind. “Whaddya get me?” “What makes you think I got anything fo’ you?” Deshae deadpanned, winking at Jada. “Because I woke up from a nap a coupla days ago to find Malcolm stretchin’ a tape measure ‘round my head . . . so . . . whatcha gettin’, Boo?” “I needed a measure of yo’ head to see what size muzzle I needed to get—Jamal!” Deshae squealed, falling over as Jamal began to tickle her unmercifully. “Tell me, woman!” “No!” Jada shook her head as she taped the flap of the package she’d just wrapped, then cleared her throat when she noticed the tickling had stopped in favor of kissing and petting. “Um, no?” Jada said. “You can join us,” Jamal teased. Deshae slapped his shoulder. “No she can’t! I’m selfish when it comes to you—though probably not as selfish as Aaron—” “Deshae!” “What?” Deshae asked, batting her eyelashes in faux innocence. “I’m just sayin’ . . .” “You finally got a man? That’s great,” Jamal said, sitting up and pulling Deshae with him. “Not a man,” Deshae clarified, “the man.” “The man—oh . . . well, you know I gotta meet him,” Jamal insisted. “That’s very sweet, Jamal, but I’m a big girl, and I’ve already slept with him as the evidence of that is currently sitting in your entertainment room watching Toy Story.” “Doesn’t matter; you my girl’s girl, so that means I gotta watch out for you, too,” Jamal said. “And that’s why your girl loves you so much, baby,” Deshae whispered, pressing a light kiss on Jamal’s lips. When Jamal deepened the kiss, Jada cleared her throat again, reminding them she was there and wouldn’t appreciate a peep show. “Anyway,” Jamal said, sneaking in one last kiss before picking up another gift—a remote control car for Malcolm—to wrap. “When do I get to meet him? Is he comin’ to your Aunt’s house?” “Ah . . .” Jada frowned. “Yes,” Deshae answered for her. “The family finally gets to meet the baby daddy!” Jada was so very looking forward to that meeting, too. She hadn’t bothered to prepare her grandmother or anyone else in the family because she wasn’t in the mood to hear the lectures or the warnings or anything else that would ruin her spirit. For the first time in a long while Jada felt at peace, relief, and content. Aaron hadn’t stayed over the other night, for which Jada was glad because there were too many emotions muddling her brain, but when Aaron had kissed her and whispered his promise of returning the next day, the niggling doubt that had always been present before was conspicuously absent. She didn’t know what they were, had no label to place upon them, but, strangely, Jada was okay with that. They were friends again but more than that; not lovers but perhaps not too far from that, either. The uncertainty wasn’t so scary with Aaron there with her. “She’s thinkin’ about him.” Deshae’s voice seeped into Jada’s consciousness, and she fixed her face to hide the grin she hadn’t known was even there. “What?” “Ain’t no need in hidin’ it!” Deshae laughed. “You teased me hell on high water when I first got together with Jamal, and now it’s my turn!” Deshae laughed evilly, and Jada threw balled up wrapping paper at her. “Shut up.” “Doesn’t feel so good when you’re on the other side of it, does it?” Her hip buzzed from her phone, which prevented Jada from responding. “Saved by the buzz, babe.” “I’m shakin’ in my boots,” Deshae muttered, sticking out her tongue at Jada as she pulled a face. Jada went into the foyer to take the call. “Hello?” “Hey, love, where are you? I’m at the apartment but no one’s here . . .” A smile immediately blossomed on her face and leaned against the wall. “Jamal’s house. We’re wrapping presents.” “How long will that take?” “Dunno. Depends on if the two lovebirds can stop kissing for five seconds and wrap something!” Aaron chuckled. “Hmm . . . just as long as I get to see you and Joshua today—how about dinner?” “Will I have to cook it?” “You’ve done enough of that, haven’t you?” Aaron teased. Today Jada had a much-needed reprieve from the kitchen, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t cook something if Aaron wanted her. “Let me cook for you,” Aaron said. “You and Joshua. Deshae, Malcolm, and—Jamal, is it?—can come, too.” “How kind of you.” “Anything to spend time with you, love.” She looked around the corner into the living room where Jamal and Deshae held each other, ribbons and wrapping abandoned and scattered around them. “I think it just might be you, me, and Joshua,” Jada said. “Deshae is far too comfortable here . . . I have a feeling I’ll be looking for a new roommate soon.” “You won’t have to look far, love.” “True, but Joshua can’t pay rent yet.” Aaron’s hearty laughter made Jada warm, and she giggled. Their old relationship was back, or at least a dimension of it. She hadn’t allowed herself the freedom earlier because he’d been with Veronica, and as long as he was taken, she wouldn’t let herself get close to him. But as Aaron had told her—she and he were all that mattered now, and it felt good. “That’s true,” Aaron conceded, “but his daddy can.” “Is that right?” “Everything about us is right,” Aaron determined. “Well, we all piled into Deshae’s car to come to Jamal’s house, so I’ll let you know—” “Why don’t I just come and pick you guys up?” “You want to come now?” “Why not?” he asked. “That way I can see what you got me—” “Your gift’s already done, man.” “Yup. He’s four years old and the most beautiful boy in the world.” Aaron really made it too easy for her to love him, and the sentiment didn’t have the paralyzing fear it had when she was younger. “You got a pencil and paper handy? I need to give you directions . . .” Once Aaron took them down, they chatted a few more minutes before disconnecting the call. He would be at the house in about thirty minutes, and Jada decided not to tell Joshua daddy was coming in order to give him a surprise. Taking a deep breath, Jada turned around, eyes closed just in case Deshae and Jamal were indecent. “I’m comin’ in! Everything better be covered and put in the proper place by the time I do!” Something hit her cheek and Jada heard Jamal’s snicker. “Shae!” She picked up the balled up wrapping paper again, but didn’t throw it, tossing it up and down in her hand. “You really wanna know what Deshae got you, Jamal?” Deshae scrambled off the floor and gave chase. Jada made it to the kitchen before Deshae caught her around the waist and poked her sides. “You weren’t gonna really tell him, were you?” “’Course not!” Jada laughed. “But next time you throw somethin’ at me—” “You threw it at me first!” “If I wanted to see naughty stuff, I’d go on the Internet—” “Or call Aaron,” Deshae said knowingly. Jada blushed, squeezing the Christmas tree paper. “It’s really not right, is it?” “If you had to pick a white boy, you picked a fine one,” Deshae said, nudging Jada with her elbow. Jada smiled, but shook her head. “Picking implies intent. I certainly didn’t intend on falling in love with Aaron.” “And Lord knows your grandma ain’t!” Jada thought Candace would’ve preferred Jada to be celibate, or a nun, but that was rather moot now. “Ain’t no blood in my kitchen?” Jamal asked as he came inside. He pressed a smacking kiss on Deshae’s cheek as he continued to the kitchen. “A brotha be starvin’! You think you can whip us up somethin, Jada Mae?” “Oh no!” Jada asked. “I’m off duty, tonight! In fact, Aaron’s gonna cook dinner for me tonight—” “Oh . . . well la tee da!” Deshae said, hooking her arm through Jada’s. “Probably something Italian—” “Probably Indian,” Jada countered. “That boy loves himself some curry.” “Or haggis!” Jamal started to make choking noises and Jada laughed. “Doubtful, considering that’s Scottish and not Irish—” “White man’s version of chitlins—” “Haggis!” Deshae proclaimed again, and the couple laughed uproariously. “Silly! The both of you!” Jada determined, but bumped Jamal out of the way to see what she could rustle up for lunch. In the end, they decided to keep it simple and make ham sandwiches from the Honey Baked Ham that was in his refrigerator. All three made an assembly line of sorts as they built the sandwiches, and Jamal took two of the plates down for the boys. “Imma pop in The Wiz,” Jamal said. “We all need a break from the wrapping.” Jada snorted. “Or the unwrapping.” “You just beggin’ me to squeeze this mustard all over you, ain’t you—” The doorbell provided Jada a quick exit, grinning at Deshae muttering about how Jada was answering the door as if it were her house. She opened the door and damn near melted at the smile Aaron gave her. “Festive,” Aaron said, tugging on the candy cane stuck in her elastic tie holding her hair back in a ponytail. “If you’re a good boy you can get one, too.” “I don’t know,” Aaron said as he stepped inside and wrapped an am around her waist. “I’m quite partial to mistletoe.” They grinned at each other, Aaron bringing his forehead to hers and Jada wrapping her arms around his neck. “Mistletoe is poisonous, dear.” “You’ll heal me,” Aaron said confidently, kissing her cheek. “Oh . . . hey! This ‘The Man’?” “Ah,” Aaron asked, cheeks and ears burning. Jada giggled and kissed his cheek. “He doesn’t mean like that,” Jada reassured him, and introduced the two men. “Jamal, this is Aaron. Aaron, Jamal.” “Nice to meet you, man,” Jamal said, giving Aaron a firm handshake. “I hear you work with the Falcons, too?” “Yes, but my job isn’t nearly as glamorous as yours . . .” “About as glamorous as it is painful!” Jamal said. When Deshae came from the kitchen to investigate the gathering the foyer, Jamal’s smile softened. “But no pain, no gain, huh?” “What’s this fool talkin’ ‘bout, now?” Deshae said, leaning into Jamal’s kiss into her neck. “Hello, Aaron.” “Hello, Deshae,” Aaron parroted back. “Where’s your candy cane?” “Jamal ate it,” she deadpanned. “And I’m about to be hungry for some more o’ yo’ sugar, too, you keep playin’,” Jamal said, nibbling at her jaw. Jada rolled her eyes and led Aaron into the kitchen. “Would you like a ham sandwich?” “That sounds great. Where’s Joshua?” “Downstairs in the entertainment room. We were all going to eat downstairs and watch The Wiz. Have you ever seen it?” “No. What’s it about?” “Basically The Wizard of Oz for Negroes,” Jamal said, pulling out two Diet Cokes from the fridge. “Get on down the road!” He did and awkward jig as he left the kitchen and Deshae let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s your man,” Jada reminded her. “And if I didn’t love him so much . . .” she said, following behind the dancing and loud, off-key singing. Aaron came up behind her, cocooning her in his arms as she prepared his sandwich. He kissed her jaw and neck, earning little giggles from her. She was giddy and liked feeling that way. “I’m so glad we’re not friends anymore,” Aaron muttered, his teeth closing around the curve of her ear. “And what are we then, other than parents?” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. “I’m afraid to say.” “Why?” He chuckled a little. “I just think it’s safe to say we’re definitely more than friends.” Jada would not let herself be concerned over his lack of an answer. Now was not the time, especially when their new, if uncertain status, was so wonderful. Jada understood he needed time to transition, and maybe he needed a few months to be by himself. Jada herself needed the time to get used to the fact that maybe they would give a go at a romantic relationship. What were a few kisses and cuddles between friends, anyway? “All done,” Jada said, patting the sandwich as she gave him the plate. “Looks good,” Aaron said, giving her a sweet kiss to her lips. “Thank you, love.” “You’re welcome.” He set down the plate and framed her face, smiling slightly before bringing his mouth to hers. Okay, so there were more than a “few kisses”. They were intoxicating, leaving her drunk and yearning for more. She understood why women became silly when they fell in love—something about abnormally high serotonin levels, she was sure. “I smell like mayonnaise,” Jada muttered against his lips when she was granted a reprieve. “If you’re trying to get me to stop kissing you, it’s not working,” Aaron murmured back, going in for another kiss. Suddenly his mouth was knocked from hers, and they both looked down to see Joshua holding on to his father’s legs for dear life. Aaron pecked her lips one last time before picking up Joshua and giving him a wet kiss to the cheek. Jada prepared her own sandwich while Joshua rattled off the movies he’d seen that day and what he wanted for Christmas. “Isn’t this list a little late, buddy?” Aaron chuckled. “No . . .” Jada snickered and took her plate, heading downstairs to watch the movie. It’d just started, Deshae flanked by her two boys, and Jada sat with her back reclined against the easy chair. A few moments later, Aaron and Joshua joined her, Joshua in Aaron’s lap and Aaron wrapping his arm around Jada’s shoulder to snuggle her to his side. Deshae and Jada shared a smile with each other before turning their attention to the movie. Though Dorothy’s search for home was just beginning, Jada thought hers was finally ending. *** Aaron didn’t think he’d ever get used to any of this—a 67-degree, sunny Christmas, the lack of dread that usually came with the day, a little, giggling boy who jumped on the bed in excitement, a woman who incoherently told him to stop and buried her curly head underneath the covers. This was what it felt like to have a family of one’s own, and Aaron was addicted to it. Things were put in perspective, priorities made a hell of a lot more sense, and the peace that came with it was almost overwhelming. Aaron knew it was harder than this, however; there were immunization shots and teenage rebellion and college funds to worry about, but right now, he was a new father, and none of that could dampen the joy he experienced. “Commere, you,” Aaron said, grabbing his bouncing boy by the waist and blowing raspberries on his stomach. Joshua squealed and kicked in delight and wrapped his tiny arms around Aaron’s neck. “I love you, Daddy,” he said, pressing a kiss to Aaron’s mouth. “I love you, too, buddy,” Aaron said, kissing Joshua’s forehead to hide the tears from his son. He was turning into a pansy; Alexander McKensie would be so disappointed. McKensies didn’t show emotion, show weakness—at least that was what Alexander thought tears were. But Aaron didn’t feel weak. He felt he could give Hercules a run for his money. “Mommy’s hidin’,” Joshua whispered conspiratorially. “Yes . . . I think she wants to sleep in.” Joshua crawled from Aaron’s arms and slid his head underneath the pillow. A few seconds later, Jada lifted the pillow from her head, scowling at her son. “You are bad.” “No!” Joshua giggled, rubbing his nose against his mother’s. “It’s Christmas!” “And it’s Sunday, and Mommy wants to sleep.” “Presents!” “Baby love, please . . . Mama’s tired . . .” “Just one present—” “Yeah, Mommy, just one . . .” Jada turned her scowl to Aaron, and he waggled his eyebrows. “The presents are at Jamal’s—” “Not all of them.” Joshua gasped, them scrambled off the bed and out the room. Jada sat up quickly but Aaron shook his head, grasping her shoulders and laying her back on the bed. He kissed her collarbone. “Sleep, love. You do look tired.” “No thanks to you . . .” Another kiss. “And don’t expect an apology, either.” Jada gave him a sleepy grin before falling back into slumber. Aaron stared at her for a few minutes, completely enamored. This was where she belonged—by his side, in his bed. Last night and this morning were his Christmas presents, and he hoped the present would last for a very long time. After they’d left Jamal’s house, Aaron brought them to his condo. They had helped him prepare cheeseburgers using a recipe his mother had invented. He and Joshua had massive fun rolling the meat in their hands, and Jada made cold macaroni salad to go with the burgers. After dinner, they danced and sang Christmas carols until Joshua fell asleep on the couch. Jada had wanted to take him home, then, but Aaron had told her he was home. To Aaron’s immense delight, Jada hadn’t fought him on it, but had told him he was lucky she had packed spare Pull-ups just in case he made a mess in the bed. Aaron carried their son to his bedroom and tucked him in the middle of the bed, sheepishly admitting he hadn’t had the time to convert a room yet, but that he would. The rest of the night they’d just talked, Jada in Aaron’s arms, on the floor with the television on low and a fire in the grate despite the mild outside temperature. She gave told him of letters she’d gotten from their former tutees, of her classes, of how she wouldn’t miss the sight of black eyed peas or collard greens for a long time to come, then laughed as she said that would be their New Year’s Day dinner, in order to keep with tradition. Before either of them had known it, it was pushing three in the morning, and they had ambled to bed, laying on either side of their sleeping angel, and went to sleep. Or rather, Jada did; Aaron had been too busy staring at the both of them, too excited for the Sandman to be of any use. So here he was, Christmas morning, watching his son pull the cushions from the couch in an effort to find his elusive presents. “What are you doing, son?” Joshua kept looking, not even giving his father a glance. “Presents?” “What makes you think they’re under the cushions?” Joshua gave him a sheepish smile. “I dunno . . .” Aaron held out his hand and Joshua took it. They went to the hall closet where there were red, green, and gold packages stacked neatly atop each other on the floor. Just as Joshua lunged for the gifts, Aaron picked him up and placed him on his hip. “You don’t even know which one’s yours!” “All of ‘em!” “No,” Aaron chuckled. “But that green one is yours.” Joshua wiggled down his body to the ground and went for it, sitting down at Aaron’s feet and tearing the paper off the box. “What is it?” It was the McKensie tartan, passed down the line for generations. He’d asked him mother to express the cloth before he left home, and he received it yesterday—perfect timing. “This is a traditional Irish garment worn in the men of our family for hundreds of years, and now it’s yours.” Joshua caressed the cloth almost reverently, and Aaron knew he’d made a good decision in giving this to him. “Can I wear it?” “You can, but probably not today, okay? It’s more for show than anything else, but one of these days I’ll teach you how to put it on and then you can show it off to your mother.” “Mommy . . ." Joshua stood. “Can I show it to her?” “How about we let her sleep more,” Aaron said, taking the tartan and folding it back into its box. “Wanna help me make breakfast.” “Pancakes!” “Pancakes. How about crepes? My friend Charlotte would always make crepes for Christmas breakfast when I was younger, so how about we make some today?” “But I want pancakes . . .” “They’re very similar to pancakes, love,” Aaron promised. “Just a little bit flatter.” “You promise?” Aaron picked Joshua up and began walking to the kitchen. “I’d never break a promise to you, buddy.” Aaron didn’t realize how messy cooking with a child could be, but he took it in stride. There was flour on the floor and around the countertop where they worked, not to mention on their persons. Aaron was surprised they’d had enough flour to even make the crepes, but they came out golden and perfect. Aaron scrambled eggs and broiled Italian sausage in the stove, and by the time Jada shuffled into the kitchen, Aaron was setting the table and Joshua was cleaning his face with a paper towel. “Mommy! We’re havin’ craps!” “Excuse me?” “Ah,” Aaron said, giving Jada a lopsided grin as he tugged her further into the kitchen. “He means crepes, love.” “Crepes!” “Yeah, they’re like pancakes, but fatter,” Joshua informed her. “Flatter,” Aaron corrected, and Joshua gave a giggled “oops!” “You used the beautiful cookware without me?” Jada pouted, eyeing the pot rack over the very messy smooth top electric range. “You’ve used it before,” Aaron reminded her with a kiss on the cheek. “But still . . .” He kissed her other cheek. “You want to eat before you open your present?” “I opened mine!” Joshua said, climbing into his seat. “After,” Jada said, taking Joshua’s napkin and spreading it in his lap. “My stomach must have eyes, because it wants the food I see right now!” The crepes were a hit. Everyone ate with much enthusiasm and Joshua asked for seconds. Sometimes Aaron forgot to eat, enjoying the company much more than the food, and it wasn’t until Joshua said, “Daddy, you’re not eating,” that he continued his meal. Jada gave him a soft smile after the reminder, and it made Aaron remember the times his mother would give his father a similar smile—usually when his father was too involved in The Wall Street Journal during breakfast or the daily stock market report at dinner. That smile, beautiful, yet admonishing, would bring Alexander back to the meal and to the conversation. “Where were you just now?” Jada asked softly. “Thirty years from now,” Aaron said with a small smile. “Thirty?! Lord, why?” “Wondering if we’ll be like my parents in thirty years . . .” “Do you want to be?” Aaron shrugged. “I’d certainly like to be similar.” Jada didn’t press him, but from the way she avoided his eyes, he was sure she caught his drift. It wasn’t long before breakfast was done, and Jada offered to clean since they’d cooked. Aaron took Joshua to the bathroom so he could use the toilet and wash his sticky face and hands. “Can I show Mommy my present now?” Joshua asked once he was all clean. “I’ll bring out her gift as well as yours. Why don’t you go sit on the couch—but don’t open anything okay?” “’Kay, Daddy.” Joshua ran out of the bathroom while Aaron switched gears and returned to the kitchen. The dishes were sparkling in the drying rack and Jada was attacking the messy countertop and stove. “Something tells me you wouldn’t really like a housekeeper,” Aaron said wryly. “Something speaks truth,” Jada said, not looking up from her task. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of a house by myself.” “But a big house with multiple floors?” Aaron said with a teasing lilt. “What would I need with a ‘big house with multiple floors’?” He was behind her now, and slipped his arms around her waist, fingers splayed against her abdomen. “Dunno . . .” Jada turned her head slowly and arched an eyebrow at him. “Aaron McKensie!” He kissed her as his finger made a circle around her navel. “Jada Channing.” “You can’t do that,” Jada muttered, licking her lips as she went back to cleaning a virtually spotless stove. “Do what?” “Kiss me to stop me from being irritated with you!” He squeezed her. “But it’s so much fun . . .” When she didn’t respond, Aaron pried her fingers from the sponge and cleaner and pulled her from the kitchen. “Our son wants you to open your present.” “Our son . . .” “Yes, my love,” Aaron said, kissing her lips softly. “And his daddy, too.” Joshua implanted himself between his parents when they entered the living room. When Joshua modeled his tartan and gave her the history behind it, Jada’s eyes became misty and she squeezed Aaron’s hand softly. Once Joshua’s mini fashion show ended, Aaron picked up the small, gold-wrapped package and placed it in Jada’s lap. “Merry Christmas, love.” Unlike her son, Jada unwrapped it carefully and folded up the paper before opening the box. She picked up the flimsy piece of paper with expressionless eyes. Aaron shifted slightly in his seat. “Well?” “This says my tuition has been paid in full.” Her voice was flat, and Aaron cleared his throat. “Yes . . .” “You paid my tuition?” “Yes.” Jada put the paper back in the box and set it on the coffee table. “I can’t accept it.” He should’ve prepared himself for the rejection, but even if he had, Aaron knew he would not have been able to stop his heart from smarting. “Why not?” “That’s a lot of money, Aaron.” “I case you’ve forgotten, I’ve a lot of it—” “But . . . too expensive!” Jada said again. “Can you get your money back—” “I don’t want my money back,” Aaron said, and he cupped her cheek. “I did this for you—you work too hard. You’re always tired, and I know you have bills and school, and things for Joshua. I’m here now, and I intend to help anyway I can—” “It’s called child support, Aaron, not baby mama support—” “You are more than that and you know it!” Jada removed his hand from her face and clutched it in her lap. “What I most need from you, Aaron, isn’t monetary. I can handle my tuition—I have since the start of school. That’s what financial aid is for, and grants . . . and nepotism.” They shared a grin at that. “But, the one thing my grandmother taught me that I really took to heart was the need to stand on my own two feet. Things happen, Aaron, whether in our control or not, and I need to be able to survive them if need be—” “What if you can’t stand, Jada?” Aaron said softly, squeezing her hand. “What if you’re just so tired that you can’t? Someone should catch you. I’m volunteering myself. Let me catch you.” Jada gave him a sad smile, then kissed the back of his hand. “We should leave so we can make it to Aunt Lucy’s on time.” “We?” Aaron asked, letting their earlier conversation drop for now. They would do better to talk about it without an inquisitive four year old between them. “Yes,” Jada said. “We.” She stood, tugging on his hand so Aaron would follow, and Joshua jumped from the couch. “If you want, you can bring a change of clothes to our apartment and change there, since we have to go back for a fresh outfit and Pull-ups, don’t we Joshie?” “Yes,” Joshua agreed, hugging his gift to his chest. Aaron kissed Jada’s forehead and nodded. “All right.” It didn’t take him long to find an outfit, and he packed up his SUV with his gifts before the trio made the drive back to Jada’s apartment. He understood Jada’s hesitancy, her need to protect herself and her heart, but Aaron knew she had nothing to fear. He was very good at taking care of things that belonged to him, and Jada’s heart would be his most precious possession of all. |
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| bana05 | Aug 25 2006, 10:28 AM Post #13 |
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Enjoy! bana ~~~ Thirteen It was loud, hot, and hectic—the complete opposite of any Christmas Aaron had ever experienced. There were many people in the small dwelling, and Aaron felt crowded, though not in a constricting way. Of course when they entered, everyone’s attention immediately fell on them, but Jada did her best to quell it, and since Deshae had been there before them, she helped ease him into the fold. “I didn’t know Aunt Lucy would invite so many people,” Jada said, and to Aaron, it almost sounded like an apology. She explained the others were Lisa’s family and the pastor from their church, and chuckled at Aunt Lucy’s none too subtle expectation of a proposal. “I don’t mind,” Aaron said, kissing her temple and well aware of the eyes on them. “Do you?” “A little,” Jada admitted. “I hate the feeling of being on display.” Joshua, who had been in his father’s arms, slid down Aaron’s body and ran into Zeke’s embrace. The other man approached and kissed Jada’s forehead. “Merry Christmas . . . you so gonna get it . . .” Zeke murmured against Jada’s skin. “What else is new? Merry Christmas,” Jada said with a little grin. “Zeke, this is Aaron.” Zeke didn’t give away anything with his eyes, which unsettled Aaron a little, but he held out his hand and Aaron took it. “Merry Christmas, Aaron.” “You, too, Zeke.” One introduction down, and a hell of a lot more to go. Everyone was cordial as they gave him Christmas wishes, and he returned them just as cordially. He could see it in people’s eyes, however, the question of “What is he doing here?” or the answer, “So this is Joshua’s father.” One person, who Jada explained was a regular at Charlie’s Grille, even murmured, “Like he spit ‘im out . . .” and Aaron heard Jada snicker from beside him. “I think a lot of these people never expected to see you,” Jada muttered out the side of her mouth. “As if I was Mary reincarnate or somethin’—” “But I didn’t know—” “Some assumed you did,” Jada said, and introduced him to someone else. During all these introductions, however he felt eyes on him more piercing than others, and he saw a slim, nutmeg-skinned elder woman’s eyes locked onto his form. He didn’t need an introduction to know that was Candace Channing, as she and Jada had similar facial structure, but the suspicion overpowered him, and he was reminded a little of his father. Candace Channing seemed far scarier. Jada led Aaron to the Christmas tree where the gold and green garland and blinking multi-colored lights calmed him. He could tell which part of the tree Joshua decorated, because everything was bunched together and colorful. He grinned towards his son who was sitting in Zeke’s lap and no doubt playing with a Christmas present, looking very much at home. After the gifts were snug at the base, Jada adjusted a few ornaments on the tree, and Aaron squeezed her shoulders. “You’re stalling.” “I know.” A few more ornaments were turned so their faces were outward, and Jada took Aaron’s hand and led him to the last few people he had to meet. Another woman, shorter, darker-skinned than Candace, yet far more pleasant looking, approached with a beaming smile and smelled like cinnamon. “He’s here!” the woman said, cupping Jada’s face and kissing each cheek. “Merry Christmas, Jada Mae.” “Merry Christmas, Aunt Lucy,” Jada said on a laugh. “And you must be Aaron . . . hmm, Jada Mae, I certainly get it, now!” Aunt Lucy said, giving Aaron the same treatment as she did Jada. Aaron blushed, feeling slightly better that Jada had as well. “Nice to meet you.” He took one of her hands and kissed the back of it. “Manners! Oh my word, I thought they went away with the 8-track!” Aunt Lucy said, giggling. “Oh, Harold! This is Jada’s uncle Harold, my husband, her grandfather’s brother . . .” “Aunt Lucy—” “He needs to get to know the family,” Aunt Lucy said as a tall man approached her side. Aaron could see where Zeke got his build from, and though the man seemed very intimidating, his eyes were bright and kind when he looked at Jada. “Hello, sir,” Aaron sad, holding out a hand. Harold narrowed his eyes shrewdly and took it, almost squeezing the blood and bones out of Aaron’s hand. “Hmm.” “Uncle Harry,” Jada said, eying the handshake. “What?” Uncle Harry asked. “All I said was ‘hmm’ . . .” Aaron didn’t know how long he could withstand the handshake without breaking form, but when Uncle Harold finally let go, it was all Aaron could do not to shake the feeling into it. “Lesser men woulda cracked,” Uncle Harry said, and he smiled. “Nice to meet you.” “You, too, Mr. . . .” “Uncle Harry,” Aunt Lucy said. “And you can all me Aunt Lucy!” “All right,” Aaron said, looking to Jada for confirmation, and she nodded. “Well,” Aunt Lucy said, looking behind her to see Candace staring at her fingernails, the opposite wall . . . anywhere but at them. “There she is. Sulkin’, like usual—” “Lucy not right now!” Candace muttered, finally turning her attention to her granddaughter and her friend. “How come you didn’t tell me you were bringing him here?” Jada tensed beside him and he tangled their fingers together in support. “I wasn’t aware I needed to clear it with you, Grandma. Merry Christmas.” She gave her grandmother a hug, and Candace returned it, though stared at Aaron the entire time. “So you the boy who got my baby pregnant,” Candace said, arching an eyebrow. “Grandma!” “Ma’am?” Aaron said, bristling under Candace’s attack. “You are handsome,” Candace said, almost in concession, “so was Terrence—” “Candy!” Aunt Lucy said. Candace shook her head and after a few tries, finally got to her feet. “I gotta check on the food . . .” Jada let out a shuddering breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Damn it!” Aaron closed his hands over her shoulders but remained quiet. He honestly didn’t expect so much hostility, and it seemed more directed to Jada than himself. He didn’t know how to react without being disrespectful, and for as long as he planned to stay in Jada’s life, Aaron knew he would have to be on his better behavior with Jada’s grandmother. She was old, set in her ways, and clearly nervous about their relationship. This wasn’t the 1950s though; he and Jada could be together now . . . “I need to . . . if Joshua needs me . . .” Jada didn’t finish her thought as she went to the kitchen, and Aaron began to follow her. “This conversation’s long overdue,” Aunt Lucy said, eyeing him seriously. “Conversation?” Uncle Harry folded his arms at his chest. “Just how serious are you about our Jada Mae? Because if you think Candy’s bad, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, you hear me?” “I’m very serious about your niece,” Aaron reassured them. “Heart attack serious.” “And I don’t care if you white, brown, green, yellow, purple—you just better treat that gal right, you hear me?” Aunt Lucy added. “Candy got that girl so spooked about fallin’ in love, and I would hate for Candy to be proved right, especially by you—” “But no pressure, huh?” Zeke said, approaching Aaron’s side and clapping him in the back. No pressure, indeed, Aaron thought and went into the kitchen. Inside, Mrs. Channing sat at the table facing his direction, elbows propped up and her face in her hands. Jada stood at the stove stirring something in a pot and mumbling incoherently under her breath. Aaron hung at the door, unsure whether or not to go in, but unable to leave, just in case Jada needed him. Candace’s opinion meant very much to Jada, and at the beginning of their friendship Jada’s stories from home or about herself usually began with, “My grandma says . . .” or “Grandma thinks . . .” or “Grandma won’t believe this . . .” The longer they knew each other, the less frequently Jada referenced her grandmother, but she was never far from the conversation, from Jada’s scope. He and Jada would often talk about their parents’ expectations for them, and both wanted desperately to live up to them—sometimes at the expense of their own. Though Aaron had his mother to be a foil to Alexander, there was no such foil for Candace Channing. “The mashed potatoes are fine, Grandma,” Jada said, then opened the oven to check on the pans inside. “Macaroni’s good and cornbread’s not burnt—” “You sound just like Mama Dorcas right now, you know that?” Jada stood straight, her fingers drumming against the wall beside the oven. “Grandma—” “She’d hide in the food whenever Mr. Joseph would leave to spend Christmas with his real family,” Candace said, lifting her face from her hands, but her eyes were closed so she didn’t see Aaron. “He’d come over, give her a second-hand gift and me an orange, wish us a ‘Merry Christmas’, kiss Mama on the cheek and then leave. Then Mama would spend the rest of the day bakin’ and deliverin’ pies and cakes throughout the neighborhood so she ain’t had to deal with the fact she was never good enough—” The oven door slammed shut, cutting off whatever else Candace wanted to say. Startled, Candace opened her eyes and finally saw Aaron. He entered the kitchen fully, eyes unyielding. Candace squinted hers. “You think that boy—” “He is not a boy, Grandma, he is a man,” Jada said quietly, profoundly. “He is a man, and he is Joshua’s father, and he is good—good to him, good to me, good in general. He is a man.” Jada didn’t turn around, and Aaron didn’t take his eyes off Candace, but it did his heart good to hear Jada say those things. He didn’t make his presence known to Jada, realizing she needed to get this out without any interference, especially from him. “Jada Mae—” “No, Grandma, I need to say this before I lose all my nerve,” Jada said, and took a deep breath. She played with the towel on the oven handle, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she gathered her thoughts. Aaron’s eyes darted between the two women before resting on Candace again. There was censure in her eyes, accusations, and Aaron refused to feel apologetic. Both of them had been too ruled by their parents, and it was time to stop before the cycle continued with Joshua. “You’ve got to stop putting Mr. Joseph’s face on every white man you see—” “I do not—” Candace said, whirling around to Jada. “You do!” Jada insisted, still staring at the stove and playing with the towel. “You do! You can’t see Aaron for Aaron and you can’t see me for me! I am not Mama Dorcas, and even if I was, I’m going into this with my eyes open, and from the stories you tell, so did Mama Dorcas!” “Mama Dorcas was the laughing stock of the entire town—” “Mama Dorcas was in love,” Jada said on a sigh. “She was in love with him—” “Fat lot ‘o good it did her—” “It got her a beautiful baby girl—” “Who resented her—and me! Comin’ out white as snow! You just wait for Joshua—” “The only way Joshua will resent me is if I keep him away from his father, and I’m not gonna do that,” Jada said. “Not anymore. I wasted four years of my son’s and Aaron’s life because I let your resentment feed my fears. All I wanted to do was the right thing—” “The right thing woulda been to leave that white boy alone—” “Didn’t I just say Aaron was a man?” “He’s white!” “I’m not blind, either,” Jada said. “I know what color he is, I know how rich he is, I know how, on paper, this friendship shoulda never happened, but you know what? I’m glad it did. I’m glad I met Aaron and that we have this amazing friendship and we have this beautiful little boy who I adore to death. I’m glad. And I’m sure that is how Mama Dorcas felt, too.” Candace glared at Aaron and shook her head. “He ruined her. He’ll ruin you—” “I’m not ruined, Grandma,” Jada said. “I’m . . . I’m not ruined. And I don’t think Mama Dorcas felt that way, either.” “No, she was too selfish to feel anything else,” Candace muttered. “She ain’t think about her children or her grandchildren . . . how confused they would be, how the fact that Calliope was so light that she couldn’t even love my father freely—gettin’ himself lynched because they thought he was wi’ a white woman! I was denied a father and a mother because Mama thought herself in love with a man who couldn’t even be bothered to leave her alone! Selfish! The both of ‘em! Just like the both o’ you!” Jada whirled to face her grandmother, finally noticing Aaron and sucking in an embarrassed breath. Aaron met her eyes, saw fear in them and cursed Candace for it. “I’m not like your grandfather,” Aaron said, talking to Candace but looking at Jada. “I’ll do it right this time.” “How you gonna do that?” Candace said. “Y’all too different! I know this a new century and all, but how many rich white men got a black woman on their arm? You really think people’ll leave y’all ‘lone? Jada’s a liability—” “Never that,” Aaron said softly, full of meaning. Jada dropped her eyes. “And you sound awfully like my father.” “Because he knows better,” Candace determined. Aaron gave a wry smile and nodded. “Mrs. Channing, are you aware that my father is Irish and my mother is Italian? Their union was not greeted with open arms, I can assure you. In fact . . . they had to elope and get pregnant with me before the two families calmed down, and because both families are devout Catholics, they could not divorce.” Candace pursed her lips, then shrugged. “Jada’s a Baptist—” “Jada’s this, Jada’s that, but more importantly, Jada is the mother of my son, and she means very, very much to me. I won’t hurt her.” “You mean like you have for the past four years?” Candace said. “Grandma—” “No, baby,” Candace said, eyes hard on Aaron. “You know she cried on the phone for hours when she told me she was pregnant? Hours. You ain’t call her, write her, nothin’. She was a bright woman who was on the brink of bein’ somebody and you had to go knock her up and leave her alone—” “Grandma—” “No!” Candace gave her a quelling look before turning her attention back to Aaron. “She cried out for you in her sleep, talked to her belly about you and how good o’ a man you were, and yet you couldn’t even be bothered to check on her! To call her! And now, you stand here and tell me that you won’t hurt her? You already have! And I don’t want to give you the chance to do it again!” “Grandma—” Jada began, approaching Candace. Aaron shook his head and Jada stopped walking. He went to Candace’s side and kneeled on the ground, looking at his knee as he tried to gather his thoughts. How could he reassure this woman of his devotion to her granddaughter? All her life she’d either been without it or seen how destructive it could be. Candace’s hesitancy was not without its merit, but that merit wasn’t enough for him not to try to set things right. “I . . . admit . . . that I made a mistake,” Aaron began gruffly, looking into Candace’s cloudy, watery eyes. He heard a sniffle, though he wasn’t quite sure if it came from Jada or himself. “I was overwhelmed, afraid. These feelings I’d felt before, but not with as much intensity as I felt with your granddaughter.” He sighed, and in an impulsive, bold move, took Candace’s small, weathered hand in his. She squeezed his, and Aaron smiled slightly. “I’m none of those things anymore, Mrs. Channing. I’m not overwhelmed, I’m not afraid, and I am ready to be the father Joshua deserves . . . to be the person Jada deserves. I ask you, now, Mrs. Channing. To give me that chance. I’ll have to warn you that I’ll take it regardless of your blessing, but it would make Jada and Joshua a whole lot happier if you grant it.” Candace looked away from him, focused on something invisible to him, but probably very clear to her. Two teardrops slipped from her eyes and she shook her head, squeezing his hand. “She’s grown now,” Candace said, still staring at that spot. “She’s gotta make her own mistakes, live her own life.” It wasn’t the blessing Aaron was looking for, but it was permission, and he’d take it over a flat out “no” any day. “Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. Candace wiped away her tears but did not reply or even given indication that she heard him. Still holding her hand, Aaron stood and his eyes met Jada’s. She was openly crying, and without thought, Aaron went to her and pulled her in his arms. “I meant what I said,” he whispered, drying her cheeks with his thumbs. Jada took a deep breath, eyes closed as he caressed her face. “I did, too.” He kissed her forehead and leaned his against it, remaining that way until Joshua ran into the kitchen announcing it was time for them to open presents. Jada sat on the couch, her head resting on her grandmother’s shoulder as she watched Malcolm, Joshua, Aaron, Jamal, and Zeke tear open the remaining presents. Deshae snapped pictures, her new hardware twinkling in the Christmas lights, and Aunt Lucy served drinks to all of their remaining guests. Jada thought she had gone a little overboard with the invites, but as Zeke had said, she had been expecting an announcement. She got it all right; it just wasn’t from Zeke. Among one of the gifts Malcolm had opened was a ring, a rather expensive, ruby emerald-cut solitaire with a gift certificate saying, “Redeemable for one step-father, ask your mother for permission, Love, Jamal.” There had been much screaming and hollering, and of course, being true Deshae, she’d missed the entire thing because she was helping Joshua try on a sweater Aunt Lucy had gotten him. When Malcolm approached and handed her the ring and the gift certificate, Deshae gaped, stared, then promptly fainted. “Not the announcement I was looking for, but this works, too,” Aunt Lucy had determined, and joined in the celebration. Jamal had held Deshae until she came to, and the newly engaged couple shared a kiss that bordered on indecent. Zeke had covered Joshua and Malcolm’s eyes claiming they were too young to see such things. “I smell another baby on the way,” Aunt Lucy had predicted, and Zeke and Lisa shared a smirk while Jamal and Deshae remained too lip locked to hear. After that, the gift opening was stopped in favor of dinner. Aaron had helped serve the food, and had surprised Uncle Harry with how well he did. When Aaron informed Uncle Harry about his family’s restaurant, they spent the majority of the meal going over restaurant tricks of trade and other business and culinary feats. Deshae had stolen her for a few moments, showing off the ring and asking if Jada had had any idea about the proposal. “Who do you think gave him the gift certificate idea?” Jada had replied, and earned an affectionate pinch in the side. “Now a baseball cap seems kind of silly,” Deshae had muttered, eying her ruby engagement ring. But it was a fitted baseball cap and jersey of the Atlanta Black Crackers—a Negro Leagues Baseball team Jamal absolutely adored. Of course, they were only reproductions, but they were authentic, and Jamal had given her a kiss as big as the one he gave her when she said yes to the proposal. Now, with dusk settling outside and Lisa’s family gone (some disappointed that Lisa and Zeke didn’t have an announcement to add to Jamal’s and Deshae’s), the house was at a more manageable level for Jada’s sanity, and the thoughts that had been whirring around in her head slowed to a pace where Jada could process them. “I see why,” Candace murmured, patting Jada’s hand. “You see why what?” Jada asked, grinning at Aaron helping Joshua build something from the new Lego set he just received. She had bought Joshua some clothes he really needed and a Tonka truck, and had given Aaron a voucher for a Christmas gift because she hadn’t known what to get a man who seemingly had everything. Aaron had grinned and kissed her cheek before whispering, “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” in her ear. Jada had blushed and mumbled something about someone as she slinked away from his teasing innuendo. “Why you love him.” Jada blew out a breath. “Could you see why Mama Dorcas loved Mr. Joseph?” Candace squeezed the hand she was patting. “Yeah.” “And you still think us foolish.” “Yeah,” Candace said, and she chuckled slightly. “But everyone’s a fool when it comes to love.” Jada shook her head. “I think what may seem foolish to one person makes complete sense to someone else.” Candace scoffed. “So you think you and Aaron make sense?” Jada grinned and ducked her head. “It may not be logical, but . . . yeah . . . I do.” “Y’all are happy,” Candace noted after a few minutes of silent observation. “You and Joshua. I ain’t never seen nor heard that boy smile and giggle so much.” “He adores his father.” “And he adores Joshua,” Candace said. “And you.” A flash momentarily blinded them, and Aunt Lucy was smirking at them waving the digital camera in their faces. “I had to take a picture of Candace not sulkin’ before it went away. Had to make sure such a phenomenon existed!” “I pray for Harold everyday, I do,” Candace muttered, glowering, and Jada laughed into her grandmother’s shoulder. Little Joshua was tuckered out by the time they drove back to Jada’s apartment. Malcolm and Deshae were spending the night at her fiancée’s house again, and Jada knew with certainty she’d had to start the hunt for a new roommate. “It’s gonna be very weird livin’ here without her,” Jada murmured into the empty living space. Aaron was tucking Joshua into bed, and Jada reclined on the sofa, eyes darting around the space she’d shared with her best friend for the past three years. “Maybe I should move back home . . .” “That’s a good idea,” Aaron said, leaning against the frame where the hallway began, and Jada locked eyes with him. There was a glint in his eye and a smirk on his face, and she frowned. “You’ve met my family today, and you’re standin’ there tellin’ me it’s a good idea to move back home? Have you forgotten today that quickly?” He chuckled and approached, toeing off his shoes as he advanced, until, with a very loud groan, he settled atop her, head on her chest and arms slipping about her waist. Jada laughed as he snuggled, almost obscenely, into her body, but she slid her fingers in his hair and over his beard, needing the touch almost as much as he seemed to need it. “Like father, like son,” Jada murmured. “Sometimes I get jealous you allow Joshua this and not me,” he mumbled, his hands sliding up her sides until they cupped the outsides of her breasts. He dragged his eyes to hers and Jada forgot to breathe. He was being aggressive, and though Jada didn’t necessarily mind, she was curious as to why. “Aaron—” “I’m not Mr. Joseph, Jada,” he whispered seriously, squeezing his hands softly before dragging them up to cup her jaw. “I’d never treat you or Joshua like that.” “I know you’re not,” Jada said, closing her eyes as his gentle fingertips danced along her jaw and neck. His lips replaced his fingers, and Jada sighed, relaxing against the couch cushions even further. She was starting to get warm, and her hands trailed the column of his throat. “But I think I’d be Mama Dorcas regardless.” He rubbed his cheek against hers and breathed into her ear. “How about you be Jada, and I’ll be Aaron? I like being them so much better.” Whatever she’d been about to say was cut off by her gasp as he sucked on her earlobe. One of Jada’s legs slid off the couch, needing leverage against the floor as her back arched when Aaron hit an erogenous zone behind her ear. “You remembered?” She’d forgotten about it until he hit it just then. “I remember everything,” Aaron admitted, nose nuzzling, “I relive it.” “Aaron?” She asked, trembling at his tone, his fingers, his breath. Aaron was awakening her body to something she hadn’t needed since she became pregnant, something she hadn’t wanted because he hadn’t been there to give it to her. Now that Aaron was, Jada was scared, unsure. “I want to love you,” he murmured against her skin. “Let me make love to you.” Panic doused Jada’s arousal, and she pushed him away, scuttling off the couch and standing. She pulled air into her lungs, in desperate need of oxygen, clarity. The first time they were together, there was no explicit wish for it—it just happened. To hear the desire plain from Aaron’s mouth was an entirely new and almost stressful experience. Being desired . . . it felt like a lot of pressure. “Jada,” Aaron said, sitting on the couch, concern in his eyes. “I didn’t mean—” “Why?” “What?” “Why me?” They wouldn’t be able to hide in friendship after this, in alcohol and in the grief of a future parting. Was he doing this because Deshae and Jamal just became engaged? “A ghrà mo chroì,” Aaron whispered, and Jada looked at him. “A ghrà mo chroì.” Even in the dim light, his eyes were verdant, and Jada forced herself not to step back when Aaron approached him, all tall and masculine and beautiful. She felt small, dumpy, compared to him, to his former girlfriend and first love. She and Aaron made even less sense now than they had when she was in school; Prince Charming didn’t go for the stepsister, after all. “You still haven’t asked me what that means,” Aaron said, standing so close but not touching her. “It sounds pretty in Gaelic,” Jada murmured. “What good is pretty if you can’t understand it?” Jada shrugged. “You’re pretty, and I can’t understand you or your motives sometimes.” “Touché,” Aaron conceded with a smile, and tipped her chin up with a finger. “On both our parts.” Easy banter. Jada could handle that. It was familiar and safe. “You’re prettier.” “I take great offense to that,” Aaron frowned. “I am handsome.” “Handsomely pretty,” Jada giggled as his frown deepened. “But still very masculine.” “And you, love,” he began, wrapping strong, solid arms around her waist and bringing her flush against him. “Are beautiful and feminine. Soft yet strong. More than I ever thought I wanted or needed.” “I’m sure I look nothing like the dream girl you imagined,” Jada said wryly, unable to deny how good it felt to be pressed up against him and in his arms. “No,” he admitted, kissing her nose. “Reality is so much better.” “You say that now—” “I’ll say that forever,” he vowed. “Even when you start losing contracts, or start being denied certain places, certain company, will you still say that?” Jada asked, half-fearing the answer. This was not a game and the world was cruel. Sure things were infinitely easier than they were when Mama Dorcas and Mr. Joseph were alive, but Candace had been right; the life of the wealthy seemed to change at a snail’s pace compared to everyone else. “The benefits far outweigh the opportunity costs,” Aaron said, giving her a wry smile. Jada scoffed playfully and shook her head, reluctantly amused by his economics jargon. “Aaron—” “A ghrà mo chroì,” he whispered against her lips, eyes closed. “Love of my heart.” She let the sentiment wash over her, flood her in the sea of disbelief and dreams come true. She didn’t know if Mr. Joseph had ever told Mama Dorcas that he loved her—Candace had never heard him say it—but from the stories, Jada knew Mr. Joseph did, and felt that Mama Dorcas knew it, too. Verbal reinforcement of the feeling, however, meant more to Jada than she ever thought, and she clung to Aaron’s shirt, unsure if she could stand by herself. “I love you,” Aaron whispered. “I love you.” Jada would have said it back had her throat not been so closed up with tears, or if she even had access to the part of the brain that made speech possible. Instead, she had to kiss him, tears trailing over their mouths as she did so, though not sure to whom they belonged. Aaron lifted her in his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist, too busy kissing him and being loved by him to worry about her weight, especially when he carried her effortlessly to her bedroom. He settled her onto the bed, mouth never leaving hers, and he slid her shirt up her body and over her breasts. His hands drifted along her plush stomach and sides, sometimes ticklish, sometimes very much not, and she bit back moans and giggles under his ministrations. “I need to reacquaint myself with the beauty that is you,” he murmured against her cheek, then pressed his lips onto her bellybutton. Jada sucked in a breath and arched her back at the kiss, his name shuddering out of her mouth. She’d forgotten how it felt to be touched and kissed this way, and yet it felt so familiar, as if it’d only been yesterday when they had been together like this. She remembered, too, relived it often, but the memory didn’t compare to this. His lip and tongue left no part of her torso untouched, and his hands soothed and ignited her body until she writhed with abandon. Somewhere along the line, their shirts came completely off, and she lay underneath his bare chest as he rested his arms on either side of her head and kissed her. “I love you,” Aaron said, staring into her eyes. “A ghrà mo chroì.” “A ghrà mo chroì,” Jada whispered back, knowing her Gaelic wasn’t perfect, but when he smiled, she knew it was perfect enough. “Gaelic with a Southern accent,” Aaron teased, pecking her lips. “Very adorable.” “You’re teasing me now?” Jada asked incredulously, arching her hips a little. Those green eyes turned black, and his smile became sinfully sexy. “You have no idea.” But he gave her plenty to go on after that. Kissing and nipping at her, Aaron pulled down her bra straps, groaning when the cups caught on the generous swells of her breasts. He used his teeth to drag down the offending garment, and her nipples hardened under the warm air and his gaze. “Bella,” he gasped, kissing down her sternum to her navel. “Molto bella . . .” “Aaron . . .” “You nourished my baby with these,” Aaron said, fingers flitting over her nipples. Jada keened from the touch. “Can you nourish me, too?” He slipped the nipple into his mouth, the warm, wet sensation causing a comparable one in her center. She was not too far from the edge, and Aaron kissed, sucked, nibbled, and bit to bring her too close, and yet never close enough. As suckled her, he undid her pants and pulled them and her underwear down and off her body. One hand returned to her breast while the other slid up the inside of her leg until it found her essence. “God, baby!” Jada groaned, arching into his hand. “Not God; Aaron,” he said cheekily, and increased the pressure. At another time, Jada would have been ashamed at her behavior, embarrassed at how wanton he made her, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less. She needed this release like she needed air to breathe, and when she finally found it, all she could do was collapse in a sated, exhausted heap, eyes closed and hair stuck to her forehead and neck with sweat. Aaron brushed against her thighs and her heat as he settled his long, lean body over hers. He kissed and nuzzled her back to awareness, and when she finally opened her eyes to his, he looked at her with wonder. “Just as pure and as genuine as the first time,” he said, brushing her hair from her forehead. “It humbled me then, and it humbles me now.” “I loved you then,” Jada admitted on a whisper. “And I love you now.” “Yes,” Aaron nodded, cupping her cheek and kissing her softly. “Yes . . .” He entered her with one smooth thrust, and Jada gasped and winced in pain. Her body was unused to such an invasion, and Aaron kissed and cooed at her, remaining still until her discomfort subsided. “You humble me again, love,” Aaron said, knowing what her tightness meant. “Kind of hard to get your mojo on with a rambunctious little son!” Jada said wryly. “That’s what we’re doing now,” Aaron reminded her, easing out and sliding back in slowly. Jada moaned. “Yes, but he’s your son, too.” “Mine,” Aaron said, thrusting again, making her whimper in pleasure. He bent his face down, eyes boring into hers, mouth stealing her breath. “Mine.” “Yours . . .” He tried to keep it slow for her, to get her used to him again, to drag out their lovemaking for as long as possible, but Jada couldn’t stand the pace for long. She began meeting his thrusts, wrapping her legs around his slim hips, fingernails boring into his back and shoulders, unable to say nothing but “I love you” over and over again. Aaron went faster, harder, alternating chants between “a ghrá” and “amore” and “my love.” They locked fingers together and held them over her head, staring into each other’s eyes, their movements growing ever faster until suddenly Jada froze, her back making a perfect arc from the bed, and her breath swooshing from her body. Her completion wrought his, and he grunted, sliding into her one last time as deep as he could go, his fingers squeezing hers to borderline pain. They collapsed onto the bed, hands still intertwined, and his face buried into her neck. Jada ran her thumbs along his knuckles and smiled when he pressed his lips against her skin. “This is has been the best Christmas present by far,” Aaron muttered after he caught his breath. Jada burst out laughing, hugging him tightly, and his laughter vibrated against her neck and collarbone. “And you didn’t even need the voucher for it!” Aaron pulled back and looked at her with surprised eyes. “Jada!” Jada’s body shook with laugher as she framed his face and kissed him sweetly. “Merry Christmas, baby.” “Merry Christmas, my love.” They settled deep in each other’s embrace with laughter, kisses, and love peppering their road to slumber. |
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| bana05 | Sep 3 2006, 02:41 PM Post #14 |
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Here is an update. Enjoy your holiday and please forgive errors! bana ~~~~ Fourteen One would think she’d get used to waking up in someone’s arms after a few nights of it, but every morning Jada was surprised by the pale, hairy arm wrapped around her sometimes bare, sometimes not, middle. The first time, Jada had started awake, but Aaron had murmured incoherently in her ear and drifted back to sleep, his arm even tighter around her. The second time Joshua had been between them, but wide-awake and giggling at his parents’ bed head and matching attire—Aaron’s pajama top for her while he kept on the bottoms. For the third instance, they’d been alone again and at his condo because Aaron had invited her for take-out Indian and a movie while Joshua spent the night with Malcolm, Deshae, and Jamal at Jamal’s house. The pair barely got through dinner, but the movie had been a lost cause as they had ended up on the carpet between the sofa and the coffee table. The carpet burn on her hip was just now starting to fade away. “You’re seducing me, love.” Jada pulled up her shorts quickly and looked behind her at her bed . . . her man. Today was the eve of New Year’s Eve, a week after they had kissed for the first time in five years, and if someone had told her that a week later Aaron would be nude, rumpled, and far too delicious reclining in her bed, she would have had that person committed for psychiatric evaluation. Jada smirked and rolled her eyes, leaving her full length mirror behind her bedroom door and going to her dresser where the rash cream was. “Am not . . .” “Are too.” Jada scoffed, pulling down the elastic of her shorts again to tend to her burn. “I should be mad at you for this.” “You would be,” Aaron conceded, “had you not had so much fun getting it.” Jada twisted her mouth to hide her smirk, but yelped when suddenly he wrapped his arms around her from behind and squealed as he nipped at her neck. “Stop it!” “Let me do it,” he whispered, taking the tube from her hands and squeezing the white cream on his fingers. He rubbed it into her burn as he kissed up and down her jaw, and Jada hummed low in her throat. “There,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “All better.” “Well, considering you’re the one to give it to me, you should be the one to treat it . . .” “But it’s your fault I cannot resist you,” Aaron said, sucking at her pulse point. “So it’s really a stalemate.” The knock on the door unattached Aaron’s mouth from her neck, and Joshua squeezed his body through the door. “Good morning!” he chirped. He hugged Jada, then Aaron, and rushed back out of the room. The parents stared at each other confused. “What was that?” Aaron asked. “Dunno, but I am concerned . . .” Before she could leave, however, Aaron yanked her back to him and kissed her lips soundly. “Good morning, my love,” he whispered against her mouth. Jada grinned and kissed him again. “Good morning . . .” Moving boxes took over the hall and the living area, and Burger King takeout bags were on the kitchen counter and table. Jada looked at the boxes, then at her soon-to-be former roommate, who was unpacking one of those bags, wistfully. In a few days Deshae would be fully moved out, and though Jada was happy for her friend, she would miss Deshae, too. “Mornin’ Jada Mae, you hungry?” Deshae asked, pulling out a wrapped sandwich. “Sausage, right?” “Malcolm and Jamal?” “Jamal had early practice and Malcolm’s in his room putting more stuff in boxes,” Deshae said, giving Jada a small smile as she took the sandwich from her hands. “Joshua’s helpin’.” “My Little Man,” Jada sighed, sitting at the table and unwrapping the sandwich. “I still don’t think he understands that you and Malcolm are moving out for good . . . I don’t even think it’s fully hit me yet . . .” “Aw!” Deshae said, sitting next to Jada and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s weird for me, too, girl, but you know I’d never leave you hangin’—I’ll keep paying my half of the lease—” “Until I find another roommate—” “It’s January and you have a four year old. I think you should just let me pay out the rest of the lease—” “It’ll give me time to look for another apartment—” “What’s the point of that? Aaron’s here now . . .” Jada hid her smile by taking a sip from the half-pint milk carton that came with the meal. It was almost as if they were a real family now—the only time she and Aaron hadn’t spent the night together was the night before last when he had been tied up in the office too late to come over. He’d called that next morning and apologized for not being there—so much so Jada threatened bodily harm if he continued to do so. He was making it a point to prove he was nothing like Joseph Ames, and Jada was receiving it loud and clear. “He brought a toothbrush over yet?” “Deshae . . .” “Just sayin’,” Deshae shrugged, and unwrapped her own sandwich. “He’s always here—not that I mind. Actually, I’m glad about it.” “Glad?” “Yes. Now I don’t feel so guilty for leavin’.” Jada sighed and shook her head. “Ain’t no need for that! You and Jamal have been goin’ out the better part of two years, and for most of those years it has been drama free. If he hadn’t asked you to marry him soon, I woulda been concerned!” Deshae snorted. “Same thing with Aaron.” “Aaron hasn’t asked me that,” Jada muttered. “And what if he did?” “Too soon . . .” “When has—shucks, almost eight years—ever been too soon?” Jada sighed again. “We’ve just reconnected after four—” “Key word right there. Reconnected, not started over. After that initial reunion, it was like you two were never apart, wasn’t it?” Jada didn’t answer that, both already knowing the answer. Jada wasn’t the type to rush into things, admittedly, and she just wanted to enjoy her time with Aaron right now before talks of making anything permanent. Yet the thing was, nothing about her time with Aaron was feeling rushed; it was feeling right, and that did make Jada nervous. “We’ve never tried to be in a romantic relationship before,” Jada said under her breath. “Because y’all were friends first and y’all let the relationship evolve naturally. There’s no ‘right’ way to fall in love, Jada Mae—we both know that better than anyone. I fell in love with a client—big ass no-no, and now . . . we’re getting married—” “Instant family—” “Just add water,” Deshae snickered, and the women laughed. “And just what is so funny, you two?” Aaron asked coming from the hall, looking very dapper in a charcoal gray business suit. He kissed Deshae’s cheek and the top of Jada’s head before sitting down. “Got anything for me?” “You know it, baby,” Deshae said, passing him the bag and he pulled out his meal. “Cini-minis, I took a guess. Hope that’s all right.” “Perfect,” Aaron assured her, and took a bite. “Mmm . . .” Some crumbs caught in his beard and Jada grinned, reaching over the table to dislodge them. Aaron grabbed her wrist and swirled his tongue over her thumb. Jada’s cheeks reddened as Deshae cleared her throat quite audibly. “Nasty,” Jada hissed at him. Aaron just waggled his eyebrows and puckered his lips in a kiss. “But you do look handsome,” Deshae said, whistling low. “You got clothes stashed over here now?” “Not really—overnight bag. I go to the condo before coming here,” Aaron said with a grin. “Prepared,” Deshae nodded. “Nice.” “Preparation is key,” Aaron agreed, glancing at Jada. “Always be prepared.” There was a thump, then a scream, and the adults shot up and went to the boys’ room hurriedly. Joshua was sitting on his bed, red-faced and bawling, while Malcolm was on the floor, frowning and rubbing the back of his head. “What the hell just happened in here?!” Deshae yelled, glaring at her son. “What did you do to that boy—” “Nothin’, Ma! He’s the one who went and threw a shoe at me!” “Joshua Alexander Channing!” Jada said, frowning and folding her arms at her chest. “What in heaven’s name possessed you to—” He cried harder. “Excuse me,” Aaron said gently, nudging past the two women and picked up his son. “Buddy? You know you shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve really hurt him—” “But he’s leavin’!” Joshua wailed, hiding his face in his father’s neck. “But Joshie, I said I’d be back! And you can visit! I’m not goin’ away forever,” Malcolm said, standing slowly. Deshae inspected the back of her son’s head and deemed it hard enough to withstand a shoe. Aaron and Jada grinned at that diagnosis. “You can’t throw shoes at people,” Aaron said, kissing the top of Joshua’s head. “Do you throw shoes when Mommy or Daddy leaves?” “But you come back!” “Malcolm and Deshae will come back, too! They’re moving to Jamal’s house, and you know where Jamal lives, right?” “Yeah . . .” “And you’ll get to have plenty of sleepovers, right?” “Yeah, Joshie! You know you my Little Man, my dawg! You my dawg, Joshie!” Joshua’s shoulders shook with his sniffles, and he pulled his face from Aaron’s neck, turning contrite eyes to Malcolm. “I’m sorry, Malcolm.” Malcolm sucked his teeth and waved off the apology, approaching Joshua and kissing his cheek. “Ain’t no thang, man, I understand . . .” “But that means no television and no toys tonight for your behavior—early bedtime,” Jada said, glad things were resolved, but Joshua needed to know that kind of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. Joshua began to cry again, and Aaron cooed to calm him down. “Grandma’s gonna love me today,” Jada muttered. “She’s looking after Joshua for me and now he’s in a pissy mood.” “He can come to work with me,” Aaron said, and that suggestion made Joshua’s tears stop immediately. “Yay!” “Aaron—” “Unofficial ‘take your child to work’ day,” Aaron said, grinning at her. “Besides, Joshua needs to know what he’ll inherit in about fifty years . . .” Jada looked to Deshae for help, but the other woman winked and ushered Malcolm out the room so they could eat breakfast. “But—” “Not many people are at the office anyway because of the holiday,” Aaron said. He came up to Jada and kissed her lips. “I want Joshua Alexander Channing McKensie to see what Daddy does for a living.” Jada dropped her eyes, her heart swelling with Aaron’s words. “I didn’t want to assume anything, you know . . . when he was born . . .” “I understand, honey,” Aaron said, cupping her chin and tilting her head up. “I’ve already started the paperwork to rectify the situation.” She smiled slightly. “I’m sure your father’s thrilled about this.” Aaron shrugged. “He doesn’t get a say.” “He does. You just don’t have to listen to it,” Jada said. Aaron grinned and kissed her again. “Touché.” Jada opened her arms and Joshua climbed into them. “If you’re gonna go with Daddy, you gotta get cleaned . . .” “I love you,” Aaron mouthed, and Jada responded the same. The rest of the morning went by without incident, and it did Jada’s heart good to see father and son, looking very spry if she said so herself, leaving together to go to work. Jada took her shower and put on her uniform for work. When Jada was about to leave, she kissed Malcolm on the back of the head as he packed up another box. “Thank you for what you did, back there.” Malcolm tried to give a nonchalant shrug, but she saw his lower lip tremble. “I understand. Imma miss him, too.” Tomorrow, all the boxes and the family two which they belonged would have a new home, and Jada looked at her best friend with sad eyes. “You better get to work so you aren’t late,” Deshae said, wiping away a stray tear, the sound of duct tape yanked from the roll perforated the air. “See you tonight?” Jada asked. “You know it.” When Jada got to work, she called her grandmother to tell her Aaron had Joshua for the day. There was no lecture this time, not even resignation in Candace’s tone, but rather a genuine, “That’s nice,” that made Jada pull back the receiver and stare at it as if she was just seeing a telephone for the first time. “Come again?” “You heard me,” Candace muttered, but there was a teasing lilt to it, and Jada smiled. “You are giving him a chance.” “Like y’all said, he ain’t Mr. Joseph, right? And so far he hasn’t been—even if it’s only been a week. Besides, I’m too old, and you a smart girl. Time for me to let you live your own life.” Jada wrapped up the call soon after, afraid Candace would forget her truce and start lecturing again. The restaurant wasn’t too busy save for people coming in and picking up their New Year’s orders, and the general mood was relaxed. “Jada Mae,” Zeke said, bumping her with his hips. “Ezekiel Charles,” she quipped in return. She watched him rinse snapped beans in a colander as she kneaded dough for the sweet rolls, and grinned a little. “You still here, which means Aunt Lucy ain’t too made you didn’t make an announcement.” Zeke snickered. “If we had, she definitely woulda killed me.” “Why’s that?” “Lisa and I . . . well . . . we kinda eloped—” “What?!” The bustle in the kitchen stilled at Jada’s outburst, and Zeke barked at the other workers to get back to work. “Uh—” “Are you just plain outside your mind?” Jada choked. “And you better be glad I wasn’t choppin’ an onion or somethin’—woulda chopped off a finger after hearin’ that!” “Jada—” “Yo’ Mama’s gonna kill you . . .” “Which is why I didn’t say anything over Christmas! She woulda brought me back to life and killed me again for sending her to jail on Jesus’s birthday!” Jada snickered and resumed her task. Zeke told her it had been a few days after Thanksgiving when the couple, sitting on the floor in his house and watching Miracle on 34th Street, of all movies, Lisa told him of a coworker who got engaged over the holiday. Perhaps God did work in mysterious ways, Jada thought, for out of the blue Zeke had suggested they should get married, too. “Lisa couldn’t speak for, literally, five minutes,” Zeke chuckled. “She wasn’t ready for me to say that.” “Well, considering you had been so hell-bent on being a bachelor ‘til you died, I can see why she was a bit shocked.” “Yes, but . . . I realized I wanted nights like that every single night for the rest of my life, and if I didn’t marry her, Lisa could find someone else to have those nights with. I may not be the world’s brightest man, but I’m not the stupidest one, either. Me not making things permanent with Lisa would’ve been stupid.” “And the elopement?” He shrugged. “Also my idea. I knew Mama would drive us crazy with planning, but we are two grown people, and I . . . well, Lisa agreed with me. Her family’s almost as crazy as mine!” “Come here,” Jada said, crooking her finger at him. Zeke leaned down and she stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m proud of you.” “And I’m proud of you . . . standin’ up to Aunt Candy like that,” Zeke said. “I think your Mama would’ve liked Aaron.” “Really?” “Yes. He loves you. That’s all she ever wanted for you, Jada Mae—a man who loved you.” A soft, secret smile spread on her face. “Yeah . . .” “And my parents like him—I think he won Dad over when they started talking about restaurants,” Zeke chuckled. “Mama couldn’t stop talking about ‘how handsome’ he was.” Jada laughed as Zeke rolled his eyes. “He is that, but that’s not why I fell in love with him.” “No, you’ve always had crushes on very . . . er . . . unconventional people.” “Shut up.” “Hmm, I always thought Mortimer Jones would’ve been a keeper—” Jada swatted him with a towel, halting Zeke’s jaunt down memory lane at her expense. **** The elevator dinged open, somehow acting as a cue for Joshua to run on his little legs off the lift and into the office. Aaron, far too happy to show off his son at work, only gave a half-hearted appeal for Joshua to stop running. His legs were longer; he’d be able to stop Joshua from getting into too much trouble. “Mr. McKensie!” Aaron smiled at Mrs. Cox, the receptionist, who seemed very surprised by the curious preschooler hovering at her desk. “Brenda, good morning,” Aaron said, pulling inquisitive, tiny hands from the desk. “My son, Joshua.” Mrs. Cox’s eyes widened and she gave a small smile. “Clearly . . . uh . . . you’re needed in the conference room.” Aaron frowned and picked up Joshua to contain the little boy’s excitement. “Why? Is there a meeting I don’t know about?” He hadn’t though to check his PDA for the latest memos and messages. Mrs. Cox nodded. “Emergency.” Aaron hadn’t anticipated the possibility of emergency meetings, and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Joshua alone with Mrs. Cox. “Is Jamie here?” “Conference room as well. Don’t worry; Jamie was just as surprised as you are.” Aaron felt a little bit relieved at that, but he didn’t appreciate being caught unawares—especially during the holidays. He knew stock markets and mergers happened all the time in the dead of night, but nothing had even been hinted at for the past few days. “Thank you, Brenda,” he said, and Joshua waved at the receptionist as Aaron made his way to the conference room. He’d just poke his head in and summon Jamie to— “Unbelievable!” “Daddy?” Aaron closed the door and Joshua put his forehead against his father’s. His hazel eyes were so full of trust and love that Aaron smiled and kissed his son’s nose. “You wanna sit in on Daddy’s meeting?” Joshua frowned slightly. “Will it be boring?” Aaron laughed and bussed Joshua’s forehead. “Definitely not!” He opened the door fully, the low hum of speech sputtering into silence at his arrival. The faces of the people in the meeting expressed shock, but one settled into joy, and hands covered a smiling mouth. “Is that my caro?” Joshua gasped and turned a beaming smile to his father. It seemed he recognized the voice. Nonna!” “Yes,” Aaron said, setting down Joshua and watched him run to her. “Nonna.” Isabella squeezed and peppered Joshua with kisses, the pair uncaring they were the subject of aghast stares. Alexander shot up from his seat, while Veronica, Mr. Lowman, and Veronica’s parents sat in disbelief. “So he is a real boy,” Alexander muttered dryly. “C'mon, Pop, this isn't Pinocchio! He's real and mine,” Aaron said with a smile, walking further into the room. “Jamie, why don’t you escort my mother and my son to the galley. There’s hot chocolate there, am I right?” Perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea for Joshua to witness this. “Hot chocolate?!” Joshua squealed, and he tugged on his grandmother’s hand, moving toward the door. “Hot chocolate, nonna!” Aaron kissed his mother’s cheek as she passed him, staring at the trio until the door clicked shut behind him. “Aaron—” “Nobody speak,” Aaron said, and to his mild surprise, no one did. He should have expected a stunt like this sooner or later, but he’d been too much in bliss with Jada to let him mind wander down this dark path. Alexander looked proud but slightly uncomfortable, so Aaron knew this hadn’t been his orchestration, which only left— “How were the Austrian slopes, Calvin?” Calvin Prescott glared at him. “How could you do this to her?” Aaron glanced at Veronica, and she shook her head in apology. “Your daughter understands, Calvin—” “Well, I don’t. Enlighten me,” Calvin said. “This has nothing to do with you—” “When you make my daughter the laughing stock of New York, I believe it is!” Aaron rolled his eyes at that. He never did like Fiona Prescott, and was so very glad Veronica hadn’t inherited her mother’s snobbishness. “Veronica is a beautiful, talented, and wealthy young woman. She’ll not have a lack of suitors—” “Who will want her when they find out you left her for someone so . . . beneath her!” “You give your daughter far too little credit,” Aaron said frankly, and he looked between his father and Keith Lowman. “So what are we doing here? Is this an overly-elaborate way to fire me?” Keith blanched at that. “No, Aaron—” “They should!” Fiona fairly screeched. “You’re embarrassing your family and this company by being with her!” “Mother, please,” Veronica sighed, and Aaron empathized. “I’m okay—” “My Platinum Visa says otherwise!” Calvin muttered. “You did this to my baby,” Fiona whined. Alexander looked at his son with a wry expression and Aaron grit his teeth. And to think he’d actually contemplated being in-laws with these people! Fiona Lowman Prescott had had her own share of scandal and gossip before she managed to snag Calvin, and now she was wishing him to hell for breaking up with her daughter? Aaron thought this entire matter trivial and quite embarrassing. “People break up all the time—” “But usually for someone better,” Fiona said nastily. Aaron laughed in disbelief of her gall. He’d always had to temper his tongue around her, baffled at how such an insipid vain woman could have a daughter such as Veronica. “Mother, that is not fair,” Veronica said with a frown. “Yes, I cried. Yes, I went on a power shopping spree, but there is no need to talk to Aaron like that!” And this was why Veronica had been his first love, and he gave her a grateful smile. “Be that as it may, Fiona has a very valid point,” Alexander said calmly. “Oh, I agree,” Aaron said seriously. “And I did just that.” Fiona gasped and Calvin stood. “Now see here—” “If you think I am going to stand here and let you trash talk my son’s mother, who also happens to be the woman I love, you are sadly mistaken,” Aaron said, standing just as straight as Calvin and meeting his gaze head on. “I really am sorry about how things ended with Veronica, and I told her as much, but I will not trap her or me into a marriage just because it’ll make headlines in the society and business pages. This is not a business merger, it is my life, and I will not make allowances—” “We all have to make sacrifices to succeed, Aaron,” Alexander said. “But sometimes those sacrifices are not worth the success,” Aaron said. Emergency meeting indeed! This was a colossal waste of time, and, sadly, disheartening. Aaron didn’t think people still thought this way, or, at the very least, people he knew didn’t think this way. His father, well that was his father, and if Alexander could love and marry someone his parents had initially disapproved of, Aaron knew it would only be a matter of time before Alexander turned around as well. But the Prescotts . . . they’d always been cordial to Philip Ingram. It’s always different when it happens to you . . . Jada had said this often when they spoke about human behavior, how saying something and actually doing something might not always jive. This was a classic example of such a time, and it made Aaron disgusted. “I have nothing else to say to any of you,” Aaron said honestly and shook his head. “This has been a rather disappointing, and unnecessary, discussion—” “I’d at least like to meet her.” Everyone gaped at Veronica, and Aaron looked at her hesitantly. “I don’t—” “I just—” Veronica stopped and chuckled wryly. “Call me a masochist but—” “That is actually a good idea,” Alexander said. “I should meet her—” “We all should,” Calvin said, and Fiona nodded in agreement. “What do you two have anything to do with this? You think I’m going to let you make snide and hurtful remarks to her?” Aaron said lowly. The door reopened revealing Isabella and Joshua, and the little boy ran to his father’s leg. Aaron ruffled his curly head and smiled. Joshua was definitely a success for which he’d sacrifice anything. “Daddy we had hot chocolate and cookies!” Joshua said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Isabella gave an arched look at her son and returned to her seat. “What did I miss?” she asked, smiling at her husband. Alexander cleared his throat and returned the smile, though it wasn’t as bright nor as genuine. “I invited Aaron’s friend to have dinner with us.” “Dinner?” “At the Sundial Restaurant atop our hotel? It shouldn’t be a problem to add people to our party, even if it is New Year’s Eve.” Alexander said. Isabella frowned, looking at everyone in the room. “Well if that’s not the brightest idea I’ve ever heard!” Aaron bit his lip to keep from laughing and rubbed Joshua’s back. “Izzy—” “You just wanna embarrass that poor girl, put her on display,” Isabella said angrily. “Good thing I came down here with you, Alexander! Talk some sense into you!” “Izzy, really,” Calvin said. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about her?” “No, because unlike the rest of you, I’ve actually spoken with her, and she is a wonderful girl!” Fiona scoffed and Isabella glared at her. “Fi, really, that sound might ruin Dr. Quentin’s latest work if you’re not careful.” Even Alexander had to mask a chuckle with a cough, and Aaron and Veronica shared amused looks. Fiona scowled and Calvin gave a perfunctory pat to her hand. Keith shook his head and held out placating hands. “Isabella, we just want to make sure that the . . . young lady is not trying to—” “All she’s trying to do is raise a healthy, beautiful, productive little boy and to become a teacher. You really think she cares about all this?” Isabella asked incredulously. “Trust me, I’ve become pretty adept at weeding out gold diggers and diamonds in the rough. This girl definitely sparkles.” Unable to help himself, Aaron went to his mother and kissed her cheek. “I love you.” “Me, too!” Joshua said and climbed into his nonna’s lap. “My caro,” Isabella murmured into his hair, hugging Joshua tight. “My caro . . .” Aaron didn’t miss his father’s soft eyes as he watched his wife hold his grandson, and his voice was gruff when he spoke. “That may very well be, Isabella,” Alexander began, and he glanced at Aaron. “I would still like to meet her. That is the main purpose of this trip, after all.” “The Prescotts—” Aaron began. “Are my guests,” Alexander said, a sliver of apology in his voice. “I invited them, and I will not start now to be a poor host.” Isabella winked at him and Aaron smiled. He really didn’t want to expose Jada to their elitist poison, but the one positive about this date is that they would be in public, which meant that everyone would have to be on their best behavior. Joshua, looking comfortable against his grandmother’s chest, looked at him with wide eyes and his index finger in his mouth. Aaron sighed. “I’ll have to ask her.” Alexander nodded and stood. “You do that. I look forward to seeing you at the dinner.” Everyone, save Isabella, stood and left, and Veronica squeezed Aaron’s arm in support. “Mama—” “I tried to talk him out of it, but you know your father,” Isabella said, fingers sliding through Joshua’s hair. He blinked sleepily, and Aaron smiled at him. “I do. I’m still not sure if this is a good idea . . .” “It’ll have to happen eventually,” Isabella reminded Aaron. “I’m not going to be kept out of my grandson’s life. “Of course not.” “And Alexander will come around,” Isabella said, then tilted her head to Joshua. “He looks too much like you for him not to.” “I want Pop to like Joshua for Joshua.” “He will, but, baby steps, tesoro. Not everyone is as enlightened or in love as you are.” With one final kiss to her two boys, Isabella left the office as well. Joshua stood on the conference table, eyes wide as he took in the mahogany-paneled walls and leather office chairs. This would be his one day, damn it, and Aaron was making sure of that. Keith had no spine, and that meant he was susceptible to the wrong advice . . . bigoted advice. The only silver lining in all of this was Alexander was very much against handing over the reigns to people outside his family, and since Aaron had been groomed since the age of ten, there was a safe chance he would still become CEO. Joshua, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. “I’m going to do right by you,” Aaron murmured below his breath, watching his son play with the telephones and tap the mics as if testing them. Aaron would protect his family physically or financially, and that meant remaining three steps ahead of his father to do so. “Daddy, I’m hungry.” Joshua was sitting on the edge of the table and swinging his legs and patting his stomach. He had a flair for the dramatic, which was odd, because Aaron was a horrible actor and Jada was too shy to even consider it. “And what would my hungry boy like to eat?” “Crackers.” “Crackers?” “Yeah. Animal crackers. With milk. I like it with milk.” Aaron settled Joshua onto the ground and took his hand. “How about we add something to those animal crackers and milk?” They walked out of the conference room toward Aaron’s personal office. “Like what?” “Like . . . peanut butter and jelly?” “Okay, Daddy. Peanut butter and jelly.” He asked Jamie to run to the closest store and buy peanut butter, jelly, bread, milk, and animal crackers. In between checking e-mail, memos, and teaching Joshua how to make outside calls, they would make their lunch. What Joshua wanted, Joshua got. |
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| bana05 | Sep 11 2006, 02:41 PM Post #15 |
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Fifteen Perhaps . . . he’d gone about this all wrong, Aaron realized, when he found himself opposite the flashing eyes, clenched jaw, flared nose, and furrowed brows of his love. “Tonight?! As in, eight-hours-from-now tonight?! As in you’ve-had-twenty-four-hours-before-now-to tell-me-this tonight?!” Aaron flushed and looked to Deshae and Jamal, who were of absolutely no help. Jamal was pretending he didn’t see or hear them, though they were less than five feet apart. His undivided focus on the dust pile at his feet was especially irritating, and Aaron thought they’d at least be united on the male front, but Jamal had had enough experience with both Jada and Deshae’s tempers to know when to stay out of it. This, apparently, was a prime example of that time. Deshae, on the other hand, all but laughed in his face, but also kept her distance. They were still moving Deshae’s and Malcolm’s boxes into Jamal’s house, and they were almost done with the first part of it. The second phase included unpacking and putting things where Deshae, Malcolm, and Jamal wanted them . . . or at least that had been, until Aaron had dropped the news of his parents’ invitation of a New Year’s Eve dinner. Aaron didn’t know why he had waited, but when he’d come home the night before, both he and Joshua had been tired from their day at the museum, and when Jada had come in a few hours later, the last thing Aaron had wanted to do was talk about something as heavy and unpleasant as the beginning half of his day. Then, this morning, things were too hectic—yelling, moving, directing—it just wasn’t the time. He thought that now, since Zeke was with Joshua and Malcolm in Malcolm’s new room, it would be a good time to inform Jada of yesterday morning’s events. Aaron hadn’t anticipated how exhausted, both physically and emotionally, Jada would be today, and winced that he hadn’t just put his foot down and told his parents that they wouldn’t be able to make the dinner. “We don’t have to go—” “The hell we don’t!” Jada threw down the dust rag she’d been gripping tightly onto the end table she’d been polishing. “Jesus Aaron! Your parents already, well, maybe not your mother, but your father, certainly, and I’m sure Veronica’s—Veronica’s family is going to be there?!” Jamal coughed, drawing Aaron’s attention from Jada’s ire. The other man’s shoulders were shaking, and Aaron felt a little better when another, balled-up dust rag caught the back of Jamal’s head. “I know you ain’t laughin’!” Deshae said lowly. Jamal shrugged and started sweeping again, snickering softly. “Jaybird—” Jada held up an index finger and stepped away when Aaron advanced. “You’ve put me in a . . . hell of an impossible position, Aaron.” Aaron slipped his hands in his track pants and hung his head. “I just . . . we were all tired last night, and this morning we were busy—” “The Sun Dial Restaurant is an exclusive, expensive restaurant, and I have nothing to wear . . . I’m not prepared to meet your family!” Aaron held out his hands to placate her, but didn’t move to embrace her. “I . . . I should’ve told them no, that it was too short notice—” “But you didn’t,” Jada said flatly, “and now I have to go to this dinner—” “No, you don’t—” “Yes, I do,” Jada insisted, and she sighed. “I have nothing to wear . . .” “You have that black cocktail dress that’s been hangin’ in your closet and collectin’ dust—” Deshae began. “I haven’t worn that dress in . . . I may not even be able to fit it!” “Look . . . we can take a break for now—we don’t need to finish moving in today. We did the most important stuff already, everything else is cosmetic,” Deshae said, glancing between Jada and Aaron. Aaron gave her a little smile and Deshae snorted. “You and I can go shopping for a new dress this afternoon.” Just then Zeke came downstairs with Joshua on his shoulders and Malcolm dribbling a basketball. “Room’s done! What’s next?” “Shoppin',” Deshae muttered. “What?” “I have to find a dress for tonight,” Jada said, glaring at Aaron, and he backed up in reaction. “What’s goin’ on tonight?” “Family dinner,” Jamal snickered. “To be a fly on the wall . . .” “I don’t know anything about a family dinner, at least not tonight,” Zeke said, looking at Jada confused. “That’s because it’s with Aaron’s family,” Jada said, her voice garbled as she spoke through her teeth. “This is all kinds of not okay!” “Okay or not, we need to go home and get you cleaned up so we can go get you a slammin’ dress!” Deshae said, grabbing Jada’s wrist and pulling her out the house. “What time is the dinner?” Aaron sighed, his eyes full of contrition and frustration since Jada wouldn’t look at him. “Eight.” “Fine, meet us at the apartment at seven,” Deshae said. “That’ll give us—” “Not enough time for me to get myself together!” Jada moaned. “His parents! His parents! I’m about to integrate the damn Sun Dial Restaurant—” “Nah, I bet the custodial staff is black,” Jamal teased just as the women left the house. Aaron flushed again, uncomfortable with the discussion. He’d never thought about things like that, and never had to, but he suddenly appreciated Jada’s hesitation and nerves a lot more. It wasn’t just his parents—it was everything they represented, and it was everything Jada wasn’t. To make matters worse, his ex would be there, the ex everyone had wanted him to marry, the ex everyone had deemed appropriate—perfect—for him, and Jada was the woman who would never be seen as such no matter how hard she tried. I hate the feeling of being on display, she had said, and that was when she was with her own family and friends. It hadn’t been a hostile situation necessarily, and Jada had more than prepared him for possible issues with her family, particularly her grandmother. Aaron had done no such thing with Jada, at least not as he should have. Aaron not caring about what others said didn’t mean Jada didn’t care, and it seemed her worry had more to do with him than herself. She didn’t want him to lose anything because of her, and if Jada didn’t make Aaron look impeccable, the fault, at least in her mind, would be hers. “I should call my parents and tell them we can’t make it,” Aaron mumbled. “Can’t do that,” Zeke said, though not unkindly. “That’ll only make matters worse.” “Well, I hadn’t exactly told them we were coming—” “But they assume you are,” Zeke said with a little chuckle. “We all know the game—parents mask commands with suggestions, and your answer to them is purely perfunctory. They expect you to be there.” This Aaron well knew, but he was a grown man, now, with his own family, and his first concern would be them. He didn’t want Jada uncomfortable, and she was more nervous than he’d ever seen her. They could meet at another time, in perhaps a more neutral setting . . . without the Prescotts interfering. “I tell you what, if I ever pulled that on Deshae, I’d be missing the family jewels!” Jamal snickered, and Malcolm grinned, bouncing the basketball to his soon-to-be stepfather. “What are those?” Joshua asked, patting Zeke’s head so he could answer. “Things you won’t have to worry about for a long time,” Zeke deadpanned, winking at the other men. “Do I have any family jewels, Daddy?” Joshua asked, looking very perplexed. Aaron cleared his throat and opened his arms to Joshua as the little boy climbed from Zeke’s shoulders into his father’s embrace. “We’ll talk about this later, son,” Aaron muttered, growing red at the other males’ smothered laughter. The men decided to take a break and they went to Jamal’s game room and played an easy game of pool. Joshua wanted to learn, but he spent most of his time making the balls hit each other with his hands than actually paying attention to the rules. “So . . . did you even think about who would be watching Joshua while you two yucked it up in Atlanta?” Zeke asked when they all sat on the floor and half-watched Malcolm and Jamal play a video game. “I assumed . . .” “You assumed since Malcolm was going to spend the night with me and Lisa anyway, you’d just ask if Joshua could tag along,” Zeke said with an amused expression, and Joshua bounced up and down excitedly. “Can I! Please! I wanna go!” “He is your cousin and your godson . . .” Aaron said, proud of himself for not blanching at Zeke’s scowl. “Well, Jada asks me only if it’s an emergency, and this is clearly an emergency, so . . . yeah, I guess I can watch out for Little Man here—” “Yay!” Joshua exclaimed, and tackled Zeke to his back. Aaron was so glad there was family around instead of nannies on which he could rely. He’d been lucky himself in his youth, with all the family that had lived with them in New York, and even more in Ireland and Italy, Aaron had always been around family. So many of his peers and friends had au pairs and housekeepers to watch out for them when their parents couldn’t, and it all seemed so impersonal, regardless how competent the employees were. “How do you think this dinner will go?” Zeke asked after a moment, his fingers tapping against Joshua’s knees and the pair doing a little dance to Zeke’s private rhythm. “Painfully polite,” Aaron said. “Hopefully, anyway. If Fiona starts something—” “Who?” “Veronica’s mother.” “I don’t feel comfortable about this,” Zeke admitted. “It feels like a trap.” “It is a trap!” Jamal piped up, his body shaking frantically as he pounded the controls of his video game. “I’m surprised you couldn’t see it—” “He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t,” Zeke said in Aaron’s defense. “They have to show their faces.” “My mother will be there,” Aaron said. “She likes Jada.” “Mother in the pocket is good,” Zeke said, “but not enough.” Aaron was realistic. He knew not everyone would approve of his relationship with Jada, but it wasn’t his job to please everyone. That didn’t mean he didn’t want his father’s support, at the very least. He couldn’t care less about what the Prescotts thought. “The first sign of trouble we’re leaving,” Aaron vowed. Zeke sighed. “You gonna do that every time someone decides to let you know he doesn’t like you and Jada together? Leave?” “I don’t—” “You two have just as much right to be together as Jamal and Deshae or me and Lisa. I’ll admit, I wasn’t too crazy about the idea of you with Jada because . . . let’s face it, white men don’t necessarily have the best track record when it comes to black women. But you love her, and at the end of the day, that is all I want for Jada—someone who loves her and who she loves in return. Not the lopsided foolishness that seems to be all the rage these days.” “I can’t control how other people think of us, just how we respond to it,” Aaron said. That was what he hated the most, the fact someone could hurt Jada, make her feel as though she wasn’t good enough. If the comments were being made just about him, they would roll off his back because he wouldn’t care; but Jada cared, and Jada cared about him and his future place in his father’s company. Aaron didn’t know how to convince her that his place was first and foremost by her side. “Yes, you do, but you can’t start off this relationship by runnin’ at the first sign of trouble, otherwise y’all will be runnin’ for the rest of your lives,” Zeke predicted. “Yeah . . .” “And give Jada Mae some credit. She may seem shy, but she can hang with the big boys when necessary,” Zeke chuckled. “Good Lord, between her and Deshae it can be brutal when they’re pushed to their limit!” Jamal said. His cell phone rang and he paused the game, earning Malcolm’s sucked teeth of indignation. “That was Shae. I gotta pick her up from the apartment because they took Jada’s car.” Jamal craned his head to speak to Aaron. “What time you leavin’ here, man?” Aaron checked his watch and blew out a breath. “An hour. I have to make myself look presentable, too, after all.” His SUV was at Jada’s apartment as they had all taken Jada’s car to the house. “All right, just as soon as I whip Junior here I can drop you off,” Jamal said, laughing at Malcolm’s indignation again. It took longer than Aaron thought Jamal had anticipated, but eventually he did beat Malcolm, barely. “A win’s a win!” Jamal said even as Malcolm teased him about his almost-complete meltdown, and Jamal picked up Malcolm and flipped him over his shoulder. Of course, once Joshua saw that, he demanded the same treatment, and Zeke obliged. “Ready to go?” Jamal asked Aaron after setting Malcolm upright on his feet. “Yeah, let’s go.” Everyone left the house and said goodbye to each other, Aaron and Jamal giving their big hugs since they wouldn’t see them until the next day, and hopped into Jamal’s Mazda RX-8. They spoke of the season, with brief interruptions as Aaron gave Jamal directions, and when they reached his condo, Jamal whistled low. “Nice.” “Yeah . . .” Nice and empty. Jamal glanced at him and grinned. “Boy you is whipped!” “I’m not the one who’s engaged here!” Aaron laughed as they walked into the building. “I’ve been going with Deshae for years. You . . . not even a week!” “I’ve known her for almost eight years now,” Aaron defended. “You’ve known her as a friend, not as a girlfriend,” Jamal explained. “There is a difference.” “Is that right?” “Yes, that’s right!” Jamal insisted. “There are different sets of rules, expectations that you have to deal with when you’re a couple. Things that were forgiven as friends may be deal-breakers as a couple.” “Such as?” Aaron said, partly amused and partly curious. They were at his door, and he unlocked it. Jamal waited until they were inside to answer. “Hmm . . . well, I don’t know, honestly, because I’ve never fallen in love with a friend. Deshae became my best friend after I started dating her, not before, so it’s different. All I know is I’ve seen boys who dated friends and it wasn’t pretty.” “This is not the conversation I want to be having before a dinner with my folks!” Aaron chuckled nervously. Jamal laughed and shook his head. “I don’t mean to rattle ya, man, I’m just sayin’ things that didn’t matter before when you were friends definitely matter now. Every relationship a woman has from their twenties on is test-driving potential husbands. Trust. I almost got caught up in the game before I figured it out.” Aaron blushed a little, but he shrugged. “It’s not that I wouldn’t exactly mind being Jada’s husband . . .” “No, but there are people out there—and not just your folks—who would. And it’s not just a race thing, either. It’s a class thing; it’s an age thing; it’s a regional thing. It’s a whole lot of things that you two probably never even thought of. Just be prepared man, it’s all I’m sayin’.” Aaron nodded, slapping Jamal’s hand in thanks. “Make yourself comfortable. Use the phone, raid the fridge, whatever. I promise not to take too long.” He heard the television click on as he went into his room, and he exhaled. Jamal and Zeke made a lot of sense, and though Aaron wasn’t nervous, he was definitely more wary now than he had been. He could say all day long that other people’s opinions didn’t matter, but he would be perpetuating a fallacy. He and Jada didn’t live in a bubble, and it would be foolish to think everyone would embrace his relationship with Jada; however, he couldn’t run or fight against every single instance of opposition, either. He would have to rely on Jada’s help to navigate those situations, he knew, because she, unfortunately, had had more practice dealing with hostile interactions. “Why can’t we all just get along?” Aaron muttered to himself, pulling out his dinner suit. He eyeballed it, deeming it fit enough without an iron, but he would hang it in his bathroom while he took a shower to steam out the few tiny wrinkles. He hung the suit on the back of the bathroom door and turned on the shower. He slipped off his shirt and stared at his reflection, swiping a weary hand along his face and jaw, but suddenly went back into his bedroom as he pressed a familiar speed-dial number. “Yes?” “How’s it going?” Aaron asked, toeing off his shoes and socks as he sat on the bed. He wanted to give her one last opportunity to change her mind. He wouldn’t force his parents on Jada until she was ready to meet them. “It goes . . . I’m sorry about earlier, Aaron. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Jada said, and Aaron heard Deshae’s muffled speech in the background. “No, honey, it’s okay,” Aaron said. “You were right; I should’ve given you more time to prepare.” “It’s just that . . . I want you to be proud of me. I want to make you proud.” Just when he thought he couldn’t fall any more in love with Jada, she went and said something like that. “Peacocks can’t hold a candle to me, baby, and yet, I’m humbled. I don’t know what good deed I’ve done to make you love me, but I hope I keep doing it.” She laughed softly. “Keep being you, baby. I have to go and I’ll see you soon. I love you.” “I love you, too.” Aaron closed his phone, the conversation pumping him up for the impending dinner. Warnings, cautionary tales, impending drama be damned. His lady loved him and he loved her. That would get them through tonight. Jada felt Deshae’s eyes on her but she ignored her, instead looking at her reflection in the mirror and smoothing out invisible wrinkles of her brand new dress. It was black, A-line, floor length, and halter topped with an empire waist. When Deshae had spotted it, Jada’s initial thought that there was no way they’d have the dress in her size, because history showed that a dress Jada really liked didn’t come in the double digits she needed. They’d lucked out, and what was even better was that the dress was on sale. The next hurdle would be actually trying on the dress, for the hanger created fanciful illusions about how the dress should look rather than how it would look. Once Jada had tried it on, she had stared at her reflection, unfamiliar with the sight. It was only after Deshae all but broke down the door did Jada wake up from her trance, and when she opened the dressing room door so Deshae could see, her friend had grinned and said they were done for the day. Well, almost done, for they had passed by cosmetic counters, and in an unusual girly move, Deshae pushed Jada into a stool at one of them and ordered the works. Deshae didn’t listen to Jada’s whining about too expensive or unnecessary, and by the time the attendant was done, those protests seemed silly and trivial. The makeup accentuated the red undertones of her skin, yet remained simple and understated. She didn’t look like a clown, and all of the little imperfections had been masked and smoothed away. Jada even bought the blush and the lipstick to show her approval. So what she was out two hundred dollars? Every girl needed to treat herself. Especially when going up on the chopping block in an hour. “Are you going to wear your hair down or up?” “Up. Looks cleaner that way. I don’t have time to straighten it, though—” “Keep it curly. Makes you look softer,” Deshae said, coming up behind Jada and pulling her hair back. “Low bun or high?” Jada tilted her head to the side, then smiled. “High.” “I was gonna do it high anyway,” Deshae said with a wink. Jada laughed. “I know.” She put on her earrings while Deshae did her hair, and when the image was complete, Jada couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on her face. “I look pretty.” Deshae rolled her eyes and shook her slightly. “You always look pretty! You just downplay it! It’s like you’re threatened by it or something . . .” It was easy for Deshae to say since she was the traditionally beautiful one of the two. Jada had always envied her ease with her femininity and the opposite sex—even despite being a teenage mother. Jada had always hid behind her academics and her wits because those things she understood and controlled. Yet, for all of her hiding, Aaron had found her, the absolute last person she ever expected to do so, and she couldn’t be happier. “I think he’s here,” Deshae said, squeezing her shoulders. “Lord . . .” Jada started for the door, but Deshae stopped her, giving her an arch look and walking before her. Deshae always had a flair for the dramatic. “Damn!” Jada rushed out the room, concerned, but when she saw what had captured Deshae’s attention, she did a small stutter-step. “Oh my . . .” There was Aaron, hair slicked back, dressed in a tailored, sharp black suit, clean-shaven. He looked like the man she first fell in love with, and her heart made a tattoo against her chest. “Jada,” he said softly, a small smile drifting upon his face. Jada couldn’t move, her mind going back to the first time he’d smiled at her like that. It had been her sophomore year and the first day back at the community center. When he’d seen her he gave her that smile, and she had paused, momentarily captivated by it, until one of her students had given her a hug and broke her from the stupor. “I . . . uh . . . I need . . .” “A fresh pair of panties,” Deshae muttered out the side of her mouth, fanning herself. “Shae!” Jada snapped out of it, blushing hotly, and finally noticing Jamal who had been sitting on the couch. “What!” Deshae said, placing her hand on Jada’s back and pushing. “I may be engaged, but I ain’t blind!” Jada was heartened to see Aaron blush, too, and she cupped his face, whispering, “You shaved!” “You’re gorgeous,” Aaron said, closing his eyes as her fingers danced over his bare skin. Jada laughed, rubbing her nose against his, then her cheek against his cheek. “It’s so smooth!” His arms came around her waist to help keep her balance, and he tilted his head so his lips brushed hers. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my eyes off you tonight.” “Ditto,” Jada said, and kissed his lips again. “We better go. We shouldn’t be late.” “But we’d have a very good reason, love,” Aaron said, touching tiny kisses along her jaw and neck and bringing her flush against him. “You are being very bad,” Jada chastised, wondering how she’d ever muffled her moan at the feel of him pressing against her abdomen. “A-hem.” Aaron was in no hurry though, giving her one last, soft kiss to her chin before separating. “Thanks for the ride, Jamal.” “No problem,” he said, holding his own woman and giving them a smile. “You two look really good together.” “Don’t they? I need a picture!” Deshae determined, and flipped open her phone. “Y’all say cheese!” Jada was the only one who did, because Aaron had kissed her temple just as Deshae snapped the picture. The couples said their goodbyes, with Deshae giving Jada her wrap and purse and spouting off all sorts of advice for her to follow, and soon Jada and Aaron were on the highway heading to the Westin in downtown Atlanta. The farther away they got from her apartment the more nervous she became, but some of her anxiousness dissipated when, while stopped at a red light, Aaron silently took her hand and kissed the back of it. She remained calm until he pulled up to the Westin, and when the valet opened her door, the nerves kicked on again. Aaron, however, was by her side instantly, his fingers interlocking with hers as they walked to the elevators. Sooner than Jada would have liked, they were at the restaurant. She tried not to look around in awe at the decorations, and was more than content to let Aaron take the lead. He was a strong, commanding presence, and she half expected him to tell the host to jump only to be asked in return, “How high?” With an impersonal, detached air, the host led them to their table, and with each step dread consumed Jada that it seemed to take physical effort to place one foot in front of the other. Aaron looked back and her and smiled, squeezing her hand and mouthing, “I love you.” “Enjoy your evening sir . . . ma’am . . .” the host said, and with a slight inclination of his head, went back to his post. There was only one person at the table, a slightly balding man who seemed just as nervous as Jada was, but he stood and gave them a hesitant smile. “Aaron,” he said, holding out his hand to shake. “Happy New Year.” Aaron accepted it. “Keith. Happy New Year. This is Jada Channing.” “Happy New Year,” she said, glad her voice didn’t waver and that her hand didn’t shake as she presented it to the other man. “Keith Lowman, very nice to meet you.” His shake was firm, though his palms were sweaty. Jada found herself wanting to make him comfortable instead. “Are the others here?” “They all should be here shortly. Apparently Fiona had a wardrobe malfunction that needed attention.” Keith rolled his eyes. “I tried to tell her she couldn’t lose twelve pounds in a week . . .” Aaron laughed, squeezing her hand. “Well, while we wait, Jada and I will take a spin on the dance floor.” He divested Jada of her wrap and purse and gave them to Keith. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome?” Keith said, raising his hand slightly and sighing as they went to the dance floor. It wasn’t very full, but it wasn’t empty enough to bring attention to them. Aaron pressed a firm hand between her shoulder blades and brought her close to him, his other hand holding hers to his chest. Jada, unable to meet his eyes, closed hers and rested her head next to their hands, drawing comfort from his heartbeat and the kiss he placed in her hair. “You are . . . by far . . . the most beautiful woman in here tonight,” he said after a few moments. “Flattery,” Jada said, smiling but not opening her eyes. “Truth, honey, truth. People can’t keep their eyes off you.” “I’m sure that has nothing to do with beauty,” Jada said wryly. “Hmm . . . perhaps you’re right. They’re wondering what the hell happened that a guy like me got a goddess like you.” Jada laughed, opening her eyes and meeting his. He kissed the tip of her nose and she let out a breath. “This night. It’ll be all right, right?” “I’ll do my damnedest so that it will be,” he promised. “So will I,” Jada said. He kissed her forehead and they went back to their former positions, really just swaying with the music and enjoying each other. Technically, this was their first date as a couple; the first time being out in public, and though there were stares, Aaron’s arms cocooned her to the point she didn’t care. She didn’t let herself decipher the looks, dig into the deeper meanings of the whispered conversations around them. It felt wonderful to dance with Aaron, and nothing could intrude upon it. “I see them,” Aaron said a short time later, and rubbed her back when she tensed. “We’ll stay until the song is over okay?” “I don’t want to make your parents angry,” Jada said. “The song is almost over,” Aaron said, his fingers twirling a tendril of hair that had fallen from her upsweep. “You really are adorable.” Jada grinned. “Flattery again.” “But it makes you smile,” Aaron said. “I like it when you smile.” He tucked the tendril behind her ear as the song ended. “Are you ready, love?” She chuckled dryly. “Not really!” Aaron winked and tugged on her hand, his smile and confidence giving her strength as they approached the table and his family. “That’s my girl.” |
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1:21 AM Mar 21
