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“If everything goes well then the children you have with Yero will have a nice extended family to love them. Children can never get enough love.”
“I’m sorry, Evelyn, but if Mama was alive, she wouldn’t go running after them. I don’t want to either and Asha will hit the ceiling if I even suggest it.”
“Asha lives in fear of everything. Commitment. Forgiveness. True intimacy. I taught you better than that.”
I said nothing.
Evelyn sighed. “Okay, sweetheart. I respect your decision.”
I searched my mind for something other than the wedding to discuss. “My graduation ceremony is going to be held at Madison Square Garden.”
“Oh, how wonderful! This is a year of many blessings for you, and I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”
That’s what I liked about Evelyn. In spite of the fact that I’d nixed her idea of a Smith family reunion, she didn’t pout or press the issue. She always just wanted me to be happy.
Evelyn massaged the oil into my scalp and patted the top of my head. “I’m finished. Would you like to go shoe shopping with me?”
At any other time I would have grabbed my coat and joined her but the conversation about Mama’s family had made me a little sad. It was time to meditate. I needed to get silent inside so that my true inner voice could guide me.
Chapter 9
ASHA
Saundra is my heart but one of these days I’m going to tie her down, put some makeup on her face and do something with that hair. After that, I’ll shake her by the shoulders until her survival instinct kicks in and she decides to become the next Vera Wang. Imagine working four years for a fashion design degree and then using it to create clothes for people who can’t pay for them. What kind of sense does that make? She’ll end up a poverty-stricken old woman, tottering around on a cane with that dull-ass Yero at her side and nothing to show for almost fifty years of labor.
That won’t happen to me. I will not end up as an elderly, destitute black woman.
To make sure that I never catch the fatal “money doesn’t matter, happiness is what is truly important in life” disease, I generally avoid people (with the exception of Saundra because she is my sister) who already have it. In fact, Randall is the only man I sleep with who is poor but he makes up for that between the sheets. Big time.
Randall is a twenty-eight-year-old accountant who toils away in the back room at some two-bit firm in Brooklyn. I met him about six months ago at B Smith’s, a playground for black professional men and women. He was dressed in a beautiful suit that he later confessed he’d been saving money for almost a year. He sat down on the stool next to me and we silently appraised each other. After an average “getting to know you” conversation, we exchanged numbers and the rest is history.
Since then, he has maxed out his credit cards: there’s been a weekend in the Bahamas, exotic restaurants, orchids, Godiva chocolates and cellar wines. CHA-CHING!
Tonight we’re staying in to watch the Godfather trilogy. I prepared turkey sandwiches, popcorn, and a couple of cold beers. I hope he wasn’t expecting a four-course meal because I don’t cook for any man. They get way too comfortable with that shit. He will be eating Lunchables while he’s dating me unless he decides to play Martha Stewart.
The hour is approaching eight and he should be here momentarily. I went to the bathroom and I realized my hair was a little frizzy, so I wet it a little to get my curls happening again.
After I channel surfed for twenty minutes, my doorman announced Randy’s arrival.
“Hi, hon,” I said, kissing him sweetly on the cheek.
“You’re in a great mood this evening,” he said playfully, while walking into the kitchen. “Did something exciting happen at work?”
My eyes were on the big gold box he placed gently down on the table.
“Huh,” he insisted, expecting an answer.
“What did you say?”
“Never mind. I bought something for you.”
I suppressed the desire to jump up and down and clap with excitement. Grinning, he motioned for me to join him as he opened the box. I stood over it with pop eyes as he slowly lifted the lid. To my horror, a tiny brown puppy was asleep at the bottom of the box wearing a big red bow around his silky neck. That’s when I noticed the holes on the side of the box.
“He’s adorable; what kind of dog is he?” I asked, managing a fake squeal of excitement as I scooped the drowsy pooch gently into my arms.
“A golden retriever. I knew you’d like him. I always think about you being alone in here and I decided to do something about it.”
Was this supposed to be a guard dog? What an idiot!
