Page 64 of American Love Story

I wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to hear, but I was not in the mood to make people comfortable today. “I’m Haitian, sir. I came to the U.S. with my mother.” I turned my eyes to see what Easton was doing and he looked like he was going to be sick.

Did he think I was going to embarrass myself?

I gave myself an internal nudge, to finish answering Easton dad’s question. “We came seeking asylum in ninety-one when I was about six years old. I’m fortunate I came at a time when refugees were still welcome.”

I got two variations of those kinds of smiles people give you when they’re not really sure what you are, while Easton made a sound like he was in pain.

Easton’s mom gave him another look and it seemed like she was finally putting two and two together, and the way her face changed told me she wasn’t really happy with the information. “Your parents must be really proud of you.” She said it in a way that made it clear she was not feeling the same way about her own offspring.

Easton’s dad jumped in then, to continue the Twenty Questions game. He eyed me up and down before speaking. “It must’ve been quite a change for you to come to the U.S.”

I nodded at his comment and tried to come up with something to say, feeling like wherever this conversation was going was not a place I wanted to be. “Well I’ve lived here most of my life,” I said, working very hard not to roll my eyes. “It is different, better in many ways, but I missed Haiti, I still do. We left a lot behind.”

“Oh?”

I almost laughed at the surprised expression on both their faces when I said that. Like the fact that I would miss my homeland, was completely crazy.

Easton started fidgeting then. “I’m sure Dr. Denis has other people to talk to.”

Like I was going to leave him alone with these two.

“I’m not in a rush. Everyone will be here for a while,” I said, noticing Easton did not seem relieved at all by my response, but before I could process his reaction, his mom took another turn.

“Well, but look at you now. Having achieved so much. I’m sure it’s nice to be able to help your family with all your education.” She sounded genuinely glad for me when she said it, but there was something in the way she talked to me, like she could not quite figure out how I was here.

“Well, like I said, it’s just me and my mother here, and she was an amazing role model. I had a lot to look up to at home.”

“No father in the picture then.” This was Easton’s dad. I’d always thought the expression “doing a double take” was a figure of speech, but my head actually swiveled.

Anne made a sound almost like a protest but didn’t call her husband on his rude fucking comment.

At least it got Easton to finally look at me like he knew who I was. He seemed like he was about to say something to his father,but I didn’t let him speak. I was perfectly capable of dealing with this particular type of bullshit.

“No, Mr. Archer, there was no father in the picture. He was busy taking care of his wife and kids, so my mother and I had to come here on our own.” I looked at Easton then, locking eyes with him, and in this place packed with people I voiced something I rarely said out loud. I never took my eyes off him, making sure he knew that I was not ashamed of where I came from. “My mother was my father’s mistress, so when things got dicey, he decided we were not a priority.” I lifted a shoulder, trying hard for an unbothered air that did not match up with the pounding in my chest. “We did just fine without him.”

Easton’s eyes were wide, like he had no idea what to do, but I wasn’t going to wait around to hear whatever scathing comment his parents would come up with next. “Excuse me.”

I moved past, without looking at any of them, and went to find the nearest exit. I walked out into the frigid November night and tried to take a deep breath.

I felt small. Not because of whatever had come out of Easton’s parents’ mouths. That shit I was used to. People looking at me and making assumptions. Going on whatever headline they’ve read about my country and using that to tell me who I was. People sometimes commented about how I always had this air of disinterest, aloofness. I wished I could just tell them how much it took to let people talk to me like this, the anger and humiliation I constantly had to snuff out.

I kept replaying how Easton had acted. Like he wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. Like he didn’t want them to know we were together.

That had hurt.

I didn’t even know why I was surprised. I knew this was bound to happen. No matter how much Easton wanted to act all woke and shit, he was from one place and I was from another.The minute his family showed up, he iced me out and acted like he barely knew me.

I wanted to leave. Go back to my place, lick my wounds, but I stood there on that cold sidewalk shivering. I almost considered walking home like this, until the biting cold reminded me that no matter how upset I was, my ass was going to freeze out here without a coat. But when I turned to do the walk of shame back to the crowded restaurant to get it, I almost crashed into Easton. He was standing there with my coat, scarf, and hat in his hand.

He stepped up to me and when I saw his face, he looked wrecked.

“I’m sorry.”

I wanted to be able to push him away, to act like I didn’t give a shit about whatever it was that had happened in there. But instead I did the one thing that I swore I’d never do ever again. I let Easton know how much he’d hurt me.

“So, you know me now?” I asked, shoving my arms into my coat, and feeling so fucked up I could barely untangle what was going on with me.

“Patrice, just let me explain?—”