Chapter 9: Meeting the Parents Redux
"Pop…stop…touching…her hair." Dallas grits out, his cheeks flushed red.
"It's so…soft. Like…cotton."
"You did not just say that!"
Shirley smiles thinly, looking to Dallas for comfort.
"He seems…like a nice guy." She grins at Mr. Winston. He smiles sheepishly and untangles his hands from her curls.
"Apologies. I've never touched Negro hair before."
"Jesus Christ, Dad!" Dallas groans, running his fingers through his hair. Shirley pales, eyes widening in shock at what his father had just said.
"You're so embarrassing. I'm so sorry, Shirley. He's…not normally like this."
"It's okay, Dallas," Shirley answers softly, "Nothing I've never heard before."
"I am sorry." Mr. Winston.
"I'm learning that saying Negro is a bad thing. Dallas has been…teaching me, about the customs of your people."
"For the love of…" Dallas yanks at his hair. Shirley chuckles.
"Don't get upset, baby. He doesn't know any better."
That's why it's embarrassing, Dallas thinks, but brushes it aside.
"You want some tea, Mr. Winston? It's pretty cold this time around."
"Yes, please."
"Okay, Dallas?"
"Honey, this isn't work. I can go make it myself. Relax and take a load off. You've been on your feet all day." He guides her to the couch next to his father, ignoring the obvious signs of discomfort on her face.
"Play nice, okay?" he smiles at both of them before making his way into the kitchen.
He grabs two mugs from the cupboards and pours the water, straining his ears to hear them talking. When the tea kettle was on the stove, he leans against the corner where the two can't see him and listens.
"You're…not what I expected…when he told me about you." Mr. Winston begins.
"I told him to not bring home a…African-American," he enunciates the word sharply. Dallas had taught him well.
"I had my doubts, I had all of these beliefs about your kind, but…"
But what?
"But after talking with you and seeing how sweet you are and how happy you make my son, I can see why Dallas keeps you around. You remind him of Teresa."
"Who's Teresa?"
"His mother. She died when he was a young boy. Teresa, she was such a sweet woman, a kind-hearted soul. God knew what an angel he had so he took her away. I spent many nights crying, asking God why he couldn't have taken me instead. But I know now."
"What do you know?"
"I know I am on this Earth to learn right from wrong and to honor my wife's name and my son's wishes of accepting people, regardless of color. To learn to love."
Pause.
"You, my dear, are one beautiful lesson. I couldn't have asked for a better step-daughter."
Step-daughter?
"S-sir? I beg your pardon…"
"I expect 5 grandchildren from you."
Dallas choked on his spit.
"Dallas? Honey, you okay?" Shirley's concerned voice makes Dallas scramble to the stove and control coughing.
"Yeah, Shirl." He croaks out, "I'm fine. I've never been better."
"Son!" his father calls out, "Next time you decide to eavesdrop, don't make it obvious."
"How long have you known?"
"Long enough. Shame on you, ear hustling while this lovely lady and I are chatting." His father enters the kitchen, blue eyes crinkling in mischief. He now understands where he gets it from.
"It was nice meeting you, Shirley." He smiles at her. "I'd love to stay, but I got a card game with Mr. and Mrs. Kaczynski and I got some cash I need to win. I expect to see you two at my home for dinner, yes? Jolene makes a mean meatloaf." He kisses his fingers.
"Who's Jolene, Pop?"
"One of my clients. Her light fixture got shot so I came over and repaired it. She was so impressed she insisted on making dinner. It was supposed to be for two, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind having two more guests."
"Pop…I think she just asked you out. On a date."
"Nonsense! She's just cooking me dinner out of the kindness of her heart! Besides, we can't eat all that meatloaf ourselves! Well, I could, but I don't want to look like a pig in front of her." He chuckles. He throws on his coat and scarf.
He makes his way out the door.
"Tonight, you two. Don't be impolite and not come." He looks over at Dallas. He nods his head awkwardly. He exits the door, but before he could leave, he turns around to face the two.
"And by the way," he grins.
"Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year," the couple say in unison. The two close the door.
"The New Year isn't till tomorrow, though." Shirley scratches her head.
"New Year's Eve is still New Years. We're going to spend New Year's Eve with my Pop. That's a first." Dallas chuckles.
"You got any New Year's Eve wishes, honey?" She looks at him.
"My New Year's wish…" he scratches his chin and pulls Shirley to him.
"Is to spend another New Years with you." He beams at her, his lips ghosting over her. She snorts.
"You are so cheesy!"
"You love it."
"You have a point. It grows on me like a fungus." She strokes his hair.
"I'm happy I met you, Shirley. You're one of a kind."
"You're just buttering me up so I won't make you do the dishes."
"Is it working?"
They kiss.
"Not on your life. Get scrubbing."
