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Four
My mother would not leave me alone.
“Alicia, make sure to follow up with the caterers. We want to make sure they have the food ready no later than 7 p.m. And dessert should be on every table by 7:40 p.m.”
“Alicia, we need to have the best silverware out on the tables. You know how Leticia gets about unwaxed cutlery.”
“Alicia, call the florists and make sure they haven’t put more than three sprigs of baby’s breath in the centerpieces. And no red roses. It’s too overdone.”
“Alicia, make sure that you don’t have your nails more than 3.5 centimeters long. People will talk,” I mimicked later, recounting all of Mother’s demands. Catalina snickered, and Michael frowned.
Michael, Jeremiah, Catalina, and I were all lying in various forms of laziness around Catalina and Jeremiah’s couches, stuffed from dinner. It was a rare night that Michael had off, so we decided to hang out with Cat and Jer. As I related my day, finally out from under the watchful eye of my mother, Jeremiah rested his fingers in Catalina’s wild curls. Michael and I sat on opposite ends of the couch, limbs hanging loosely.
The Last Supper,I couldn’t help thinking before I suppressed the thought. It was Friday night, the day before my parents’ big engagement party. I hadn’t considered myself a Christian in at least a few years; something told me, though, that comparing my last night of freedom before social hell to Jesus’ last night before he was crucified was probably sacrilegious.
“Make sure to have them painted,” Jeremiah deadpanned. I gave him a fist bump of approval.
“I don’t see the issue,” Michael said. “Alicia’s mom just wants things to be nice.”
Jeremiah, Catalina, and I just stared at Michael until he shrugged. Picking up the last of the fries, he stuffed them in his mouth and asked, “Am I missing something?”
“Other than your manners?” Catalina raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
“Alicia’s mother has been a coldhearted stickler for as long as we’ve all known her,” Jeremiah explained. He weaved his fingers between Catalina’s. “We’ve all known each other since kindergarten, so that tells you something.”
“‘Color inside the lines, Alicia. Inside. And don’t be so messy about it.’” I rolled my eyes and Catalina pressed a laugh from her mouth.
“She doesn’t seem so bad to me,” Michael protested. “Maybe not as cuddly as most parents, but not terrible.”
“Give it a year or two more,” Catalina said. “You’ll see.”
“Don’t poison Michael against Mother.” I shoveled popcorn in my mouth. “She loves him. And clearly can’t wait to have some high-yellow babies.” Jeremiah, Cat, and I rolled our eyes in unison as we remembered my mom’s many comments about my “midnight skin.” I didn’t know about colorism among black people until I realized that my mother’s commentary on my skin color was not a compliment. It stung, at first, to come to the conclusion that I would be seen as lesser-than in even my family’s eyes. Now, it was just an annoyance.
“She just wants what’s best for you,” Michael insisted. He puffed out his chest proudly. “And she knows that I’m what’s best for you.”
“Yes,” I assured. “You are.” As I moved closer to press my lips against Michael’s, I could hear Catalina and Jeremiah fake-gagging in unison.
“Don’t listen to them,” I murmured. “They were insufferable in their first year of marriage. Don’t get me started on their engagement year.”
“We were just fine, thank you,” Catalina sniffed.
I raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘just fine,’” I said.
Catalina blushed as Jeremiah gave her a sly look. “I’m not mad about it,” he murmured.
I gestured to them. “Point made.”
“Speaking of the past, we bumped into Andrew on the way home.” Catalina raised an eyebrow as I avoided eye contact. “He told me you have a new job opportunity?”
“Not really.” I pressed my legs together and clenched my hands. “A band asked me to be their photographer, and tour with them.”
“And?” Catalina pressed.
I shrugged. “I’m gonna pass on it.”
“What! Why?”
“It’s what’s best for our family,” Michael jumped in. “She’d be away for months at a time. And who knows what that life will be like.”
