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These black people had formed an actual runway from the bedroom to the dining table where the lit birthday cake was waiting beside a beaming Scarlet. The shiny silver cake knife was on the table beside the cake. Everything was quiet and slow-moving as the friend led us down the gauntlet to the sacrificial table. Like we were mobsters walking into the coffee shop in Little Italy where we were about to become made men—or dead men. Folks were holding out iPhones ready to snap pictures and record the scene. Whatever Ian had up his sleeve, I hoped it was good. Suddenly, that tenth-floor balcony escape wasn’t looking too bad. Scarlet was from Buckhead, but she was still a sister. There was no telling what she’d do in this situation. Too bad I’d disobeyed Grammy Annie-Lou’s advice and left home without my framing knife—I felt the bottom of my purse to be sure.
“Happy birthday to you—happy birthday to you!” they all sang so happily once Ian had made his way to Scarlet.
The color in Ian’s face was gone. He was a white man. Was he planning to faint? Good stuff.
Scarlet blew out the candles. Posed for more pictures. Thanked everyone for such a nice surprise. The place got quiet as a funeral parlor.
The girlfriend beside Ian nudged him—visibly.
He ignored her, but then she said, “And Ian, don’t you have a surprise for Scarlet?”
“A surprise?” Ian smiled and everyone laughed like he was a dear old dad holding out on the keys to some sixteen-year-old’s first car. “Yes, I do have a surprise—a surprise for my sweetheart.” He took Scarlet’s had and the cameras started rolling.
“Really?” Scarlet shrugged like she was completely caught off guard.
“Yes. Scarlet,” Ian said, “I love you and I want to know if you would—” He stopped.
“What, baby?” Scarlet pushed. “What do you want to know?”
Was he about to ask her anyway? Now I was about to pretend faint. Was that the plan?
“I want to know if you would join me”—he paused again—“on a two-week vacation to”—he did a little two-step that impressed no one in the crowd—“Hawaii!”
“Hawaii?” Scarlet repeated with a half smile on her face, her left hand mistakenly extended. “Hawaii?”
“Hawaii?” The word was said in different ways around the room—none good.
“Hawaii!” I cheered and clapped like I was going. “Oh . . . that’s so great!”
Had Scarlet’s eyes have been guns, she would’ve shot bullets right through my neck.
Ian clapped along with me for the big sell.
“All inclusive!” he added. “Drinks and food!”
“Yo, that’s what’s up?” her roommate’s boyfriend said before the roommate elbowed him in the gut. “What? That must’ve cost the brother a grip.” He raised his glass and then, like hostages unsure of what else to do, everyone else did, too, one by one—everyone but Scarlet. She was looking at her boyfriend and thinking so hard I could see her brain moving around beneath her pretty little hat.
“So?” the roommate’s boyfriend opened again. “Do you want to go to Hawaii?”
“Yeah, do you?” someone else behind me asked.
Scarlet looked down at her feet pensively. There was no way to know if she’d started to cry. Her shoulders were shaking. She took one of Ian’s hands into both of hers.
Ian looked at me for a second and I knew he felt terrible.
“Do you?” someone else asked.
“Ian,” Scarlet said with her eyes moving from her feet right to Ian’s eyes. “You know, I think I would like to take that all-inclusive trip with you to Hawaii.”
Ian’s face brightened. All around me let out the breath they’d been holding in.
“I would like to go,” Scarlet went on, “but . . . but only if it’s as husband and wife.”
“What?” I’m nearly certain this was me.
“What I’m trying to say, Ian, is that it’s 2011. I’m an independent, educated, and successful sister. And I’m not ashamed to say that I’m in love with you and I want to marry you. Times have changed and,
as a woman, I want to ask you to be my husband.”
