Mom came home the next afternoon. We barely made eye contact and managed a "hello" and "good-bye" before she headed on over to Logan's. I forced myself to tell her that I was going out with James that evening, which she gave a faint nod of affirmation to right before she hopped on her bike and sped away. I couldn't blame her any for being angry with me, yet I wasn't about to prostrate myself before her. After all, she had slapped me physically, while I hit her verbally. We were both equally guilty.
Cindy was out on the town during the time that I was preparing for dinner, for she was shopping for new clothes and groceries.
Brin was at Krit and Syl's, working on finding a treatment to her ever-ailing disease. Since I had come back from New York, it seemed that she had deteriorated nearly 80%. She relied on Mom for everything and could barely chew her own food. Her hair was falling out in chunks, and the hair that she had left was thin, white and crunchy with age. All of her skin was pulled so tightly over her body it appeared as though her veins were mountains upon the valleys that her breaking bones made. I was afraid to touch her in case she fell apart right in my arms. I hated to see her suffer so, but none of us had the heart to "assist her with the end", to be graciously put.
For dinner that night, I wore the same iridescent red dress I had had a seizure in on my first dinner date with James. Careful not to make too many similarities so that disaster could be avoided, I let my hair fall in soft curls. While I also clasped the ruby necklace he had given me on our second "official" date, I remembered that it was better off known as the date from Hell when Mom nearly died and James as well. Shuddering, I had to remind myself that it was all in the past and the only thing that mattered was the future.
I had just finished applying a brush of dark mascara when there was a knock at the door. "Just a minute!" I called out, then, with my heels clipping across the wooden floor, walked over to the door and opened it in one broad sweep. There, naturally, stood James. Dressed in a pair of black pants that hung loosely on his body and a deep maroon shirt, which rivaled the shade of my dress, he had left the shirt unbuttoned slightly at the top to reveal a fading tan, yet finely defined muscles. We both could do nothing but gawk in shock at the sight of the other. In fact, it might have been almost funny if we had been able to get over being so stunned.
"My God…" James whispered.
"You are sexy," I commented.
Locking eyes, I tried to push out any doubts of his cheating. Cindy had to have been wrong. How could he be with another woman when he acted so warm and friendly? I'd confront him at dinner about it anyway; he couldn't elude me forever.
"Let's get going so that we're not late," I said. "I'm assuming you got reservation times."
Snapping out of his dazed state, James nodded earnestly. "Quarter after seven, we need to be there." He extended his arm like a gentleman would. "Your black Ford Focus carriage awaits."
I laughed, but immediately went along with his joke. "Thank you, good sir," I replied, in a mock British accent. "'Tis a relief upon thy weary feet to ride instead of walk upon squalid roads."
He chuckled. "May thou weary feet be blest by beauty." Then, winking, he added in an undertone, "Beauty, of course, which cannot be properly defined by a mere dictionary. You are beauty, Alanza."
I was fervently convinced that he couldn't be cheating. It wasn't possible.
We arrived at the restaurant at the exact time James had set the reservations for. Already, the sky was darkening with traces of nighttime, while the moon glowed largely in its glorious backdrop of stars. Lights of the massive Seattle buildings sparkled too, as if threatening the stars to match their determination. Sighing pleasantly, I followed James inside.
Our seating couldn't have been better-a tiny little corner where no windows could prove to be a distraction for James if he needed to avoid eye contact. Two candles sat in the middle of the table, ready to overflow with hot, melting wax, while green place-mats stared up at us. After retrieving our orders of shrimp for James and fried chicken for me-along with juice-the waiter hurried away to meet another customer. I had James right where I wanted him.
He, sitting across from me, pretended to snuggle down into the warm leather seats. "I could go to sleep right now," he mused pleasantly, closing his eyes mockingly.
"Let's not and say you did."
His smile faded slightly as he leaned forward and clasped my hands in his. His own hands were clammy, sweaty slightly, and I could heard Cindy's voice in the back of my mind. It took nearly every cell in my bottom to keep my arms down and not throttle him senseless "Alanza, I want to talk about what happened the other day. I want to talk about everything. You can question me about anything and I'll promise you that I will respond. You're more precious to me than anything in this world and I would never want to do something to hurt you. Okay? So just ask and I'll answer."
He couldn't be cheating.
"All right, then," I replied, lowering my voice a decibel. "I want to know everything about your father. You haven't told me basically anything about him, yet you hate him with such a passion, that it disturbs me."
"Father…" James mumbled, releasing our physical clasp as he ran his fingers through his hair. The boy was cornered by his own words and he couldn't escape now. "Fine. My biological father is a slimeball, to be blunt and cruel. He lives his life without any promises or obligations. He's a controlling, manipulative s.o.b., which, for that of many reasons, I despise him. First of all, he left my mom and didn't contact me for over twenty years. Suddenly, he calls up out of the blue and wants to be a part of my life again. It's absolutely and horribly disgusting."
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't be. He's knocked up at least ten women-all cheap hookers, mind you-but paid for abortions just so that he could keep on screwing them. Walked in on him doing so one time, right in my apartment, on the floor, too. Just what I wanted to come home to." James shivered for dramatic effects. "I think I'll need a lobotomy to remove that memory. The last thing I needed to see was his wrinkly ass in my face. Thank God I got the locks changed. But, like I've said already, he's a slimy weasel."
"I can see why you don't like him. Perfectly understandable."
He laughed. "Thanks, I guess."
Sipping at my juice that had been brought earlier in the evening, I smiled. "Can I keep on asking you things?"
"Shoot."
"The bathroom? Yesterday? Why couldn't I go in there?"
He stiffened, then sighed deeply. "I had a project I was working on."
"What kind of project?" I asked, delving deeper, all while praying that my worst fear wasn't about to leap out at me.
Shifting slightly in his seat, he glanced away, coughed, then returned his sight back to me. "It was a surprise for your birthday."
"My birthday's not for about another month," I argued.
"I know. December nineteen. The thing is, I had the list to order the object in the bathroom and that's why I didn't want you to go in there."
"Oh."
"I also want to apologize for being such a jerk-off yesterday. I had just spoken with my dad, and he was harassing me again."
"Why didn't you hang up on him?"
"'Cause he'd come to my house and continue the insults there."
"You don't deserve to be treated that way. Not by him. Not by anybody."
James shrugged. "You get used to it after awhile."
"I know," I replied, remembering my own father. "It still hurts."
"That it does," James whispered, "that it does."
The waiter came back shortly after, delivering our steaming food, which we both attacked like rabid animals. As we were eating in silence, both of us digesting the information we had discussed, I overheard the couple behind us talking. Glancing behind my shoulder, I saw a middle aged peroxide blond wearing a push-up bra that wasn't pushing up a whole lot and an older man with thick glasses, playing with the other's fingers. She was obviously having an alcoholic drink; he had just plain water. They were both sharing a tray of clams.
I made eye contact with James, then jerked my head in the couple's direction. He saw then, smothered a laugh, and we continued to eat, enjoying the new entertainment that dinner had brought us.
"Aww, honey," the blond woman cooed, "it's not your fault that your little man doesn't work right. I still love you anyhow."
"But what are we going to do with ourselves on Saturday nights? That was always our night."
"I'm sure we can think of something. I mean, what did we do before we met each other with all of this wild love-making?" There was a long silence as their pea-sized brains tried to comprehend a time before sex, and James snorted in laughter. This caused him to start gagging on his shrimp, and I was forced to whack him on the back so that he didn't choke.
"Thanks," he muttered, slugging down his milk with tears in his eyes from coughing so hard.
"No problem."
The couple continued discussing their bedroom problems when they began to get more intimate than I really needed to hear. Clearing my throat, I turned around and asked politely if they would mind talking about something less risqué. Normally, I wouldn't have cared all that-I did attend public high school, after all-but enough was enough.
"Why, sweetie, I'm sure me and Normal here, can do that-can't we?" the blond replied with an over eager grin.
"Thanks," I responded accompanied by a forced smile.
"Do I know you?" she continued pointing a hot pink fingernail at me. "You remind me of someone from a long time ago…I can't remember their name, though."
"I don't think so. I'm not really that old."
"How old did you say you were?"
"I didn't, but it's eighteen."
"Eighteen. Why, hon, you're old enough to start experiencing the wonders you have. Is your man legal too?"
"Legal? For what?"
She and the man I assumed to be Normal, giggled at their own little joke. "For 'doing grownup things'."
I think James started choking on one of his shrimp again, from shock, this time though, but I couldn't be sure. After all, I now had a bigger issue on my hand: telling a sleazy couple that I preferred my movies below a NC-17 rating. Arching my eyebrow, I asked, "And I take it you both have experience in that subject?"
"Very much so. Why, I bet I could show you things you'd never imagined. All kinds of nice things…extremely nice things."
"I don't think so."
"C'mon, I promise it won't hurt. We'll both be very nice to you…and your fine young friend there," she cooed, running her tongue over her teeth.
Standing up, I reached for James' arm, indicating that it was time to get going. He was patting his chest as an innocent piece of little shrimp that had obviously been coughed up stared curiously up at him from the plate.
"I'm afraid we'll have to decline," I responded.
"Well," she sighed in disappointment, "here's my number, if you ever want to join my sweetie and me. We'd more than welcome the company."
Not even bothering to look at her number she handed, I managed to smile before hurrying out of the restaurant with James not far behind. Once outside in the pale moonlight, I looked at the napkin she had given me. There was a number on it, along with the message, "Call me collect, honey! It's my dime. I'll be happy to use it on you." Her name was scrawled sloppily on the bottom, to which I immediately burst into such crazed laughter that James had to support me.
"Who was it?" His voice was still raspy from choking, so he was forced to clear his throat a couple times.
"My mom's old boss and roommate."
"Who?"
"Normal and Kendra."
