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“What is this about, Ryo?” Her voice is subdued.
I jut my chin at the bench across from me.
Ashanti hesitates and then takes her seat. She is still wearing a robe, but I notice the belt isn’t cinched as tightly as it was before, allowing her dark skin to peek out from the folds. The bonnet is gone. Her hair is bone-straight around her shoulders. The hint of gloss on her lips and shimmer on her eyes tells me why she took so long to join me on the patio.
“This is unexpected. You’re not going to ask me to take a midnight dip with you, right? I can’t get my hair wet.”
I stare at her in the twilight. “I would like to know the meaning of your behavior tonight.”
The smile on her face wilts.
For a second, there is silence.
“What behavior?” She bats her eyelashes slowly. “I thought the evening went well. Dejonae is a delightful girl. Very sprightly. But that’s expected for someone her age. And Niko gets along with her. Probably because she has more in common with our daughter than either one of us.”
I frown at her.
She squirms. “What?”
“Your ability to throw veiled insults have improved over the years.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dejonae is not Niko’s age. She is not a child. You keep insinuating that she is, somehow, immature and inexperienced when that is not the case.”
“She’s so much younger than you, Ryo.”
“That is not a factor for us. And it should not be your concern either.”
“How can it not be a factor? That’s an entire generation of a difference. I saw her in action today. She’s quick with a comeback or a sarcastic word. That’s the mark of people her age. It’s all about that lip.”
I remain silent. Dejonae’s ‘lip’ is exactly why I was first drawn to her. The more time we spend together, the more I enjoy the way her mind works. Her passion and drive are invigorating. She quickly caught the vision of the foundation and adopted our mission as her own. Every day, she arrives at her desk, charged up and ready to dive into a task.
Her charisma is contagious. A fire that cannot be replicated.
And it is making a difference.
I have never seen such unbridled enthusiasm in my employees. The students feel it. The instructors feel it.
Her leadership quality is commendable.
I can order people to work for me.
But Dejonae can inspire them.
I would never wish to stomp out that side of her.
“I do not mind her ‘lip’ as you say,” I respond finally.
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t.” She motions to my face. “You wear her lipstick well, Ryo.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks, but I remain largely unruffled.
Ashanti shakes her head. “Have you spoken to her about what it really means to be a mother? A stepmother? Girls her age are out having fun with guys, hooking up and reveling in their lack of responsibility. They think it’s ‘cute’ to have a kid, until they face the immense responsibility that it takes. Not everyone is cut out to be a mother.”
“Dejonae is not the type to shy away from responsibility.” I grunt.
This is not the way I wanted the conversation to go. When did this become a defense of my girlfriend?
