"I think he's gonna be ... okay Crystal."
She looked up at Ben, was about to burst into more tears when he made his way to her. She stood, holding Darren and grabbed Ben to her, her face into his chest. "Thank you, thank you thank you thank you ... I don't know ... what would have happened... if ... if you hadn't been there." She cried holding onto him. He put his arms around her and Darren and picked up Isaac as well. "Its all right. We learned a lesson the hard way today didn't we? One we won't ever take for granted again, right?"
Crystal nodded against him.
He looked at Darren, "You scared us good little man. I think its time for swimming lessons, don't ever want that to happen again. Huh?"
Darren hauled off and smacked Ben in the face, then laughed that he'd done so. Benjamin laughed, "Was that a love tap?"
Darren laughed at him, "No!"
Crystal lifted her head, moved away from Ben to get a napkin to blow her nose leaving Darren in his arms. Darren didn't struggle, just looked at him laughing.
"I'm teaching you how to swim." He told Darren again.
"No!"
"Yes I am."
"No!"
"Yes Darren, you almost drawnded... you scared us to death. Can you teach me how to swim too Ben?" Isaac spoke up.
"You bet I will ... you bet I will." He affirmed, hugging both of them to him.
"No! No mo'smimimin." Darren made a face, shaking his head.
Crystal stood sniffing, wiping her nose when Angela and Mundo came into the room. "Is he all right?" Mundo asked. Darren leaned to the side from Ben's arms to look at Mundo, then held his arms out, pumping his hands for him to take him. Mundo stepped up and grabbed him, wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, he fought back his own sobs as tears rolled down his face. "Thank you Lord, thank you Lord Jesus. I love you man, you hear me lil'man? You gone break my heart boy, I swear, you gone break my heart, don't never do that to me no more, you hear me?"
Darren leaned forward and kissed Mundo straight on the lips, certain, that that would make it all better.
Chapter 232
"Don't be nervous, you'll be fine. They're really nice." Shawn reassured his fidgety wife. She was constantly checking herself in the overhead visor mirror; taking deep breaths, asking about her hair, her make-up, was he sure she looked okay.
"I hope you're right." She worried.
"Of course I am."
"Who are the other two couples?" She asked, thinking about them.
"No clue. All I know is that they're published authors who aren't too happy with their current contracts. They're contemplating Pen-tab publishing. So to sweeten the pot and break the ice, they're being wined and dined a bit."
"Oh Shawn! I have a novel started and one finished! Did I bring it with me? NO! I can't believe it! I didn't even think to bring it. Oh well, I don't know. And the other one, I'm pretty well along with it, you know, the one I started while I was gone and this would have been the perfect opportunity to present one of my manuscripts and what do I have, nothing?! Not one of them! UGH!" She looked away, feeling frustrated.
Shawn sighed, his face burning a bit because he knew that it was his entry into her life that had halted that dream of hers to get something accomplished with her writing; since he'd come along, she was hardly ever at her computer, and if she was, it was to make plans on the bed and breakfast.
"Well, honey, at least you have that one that's finished, no doubt Mercy James will be interested in hearing about it."
"That is so unprofessional, I should have had it with me! I don't know what the heck I was thinking!" She shook her head, quieting down a moment, and then, after a moment of thought, she muttered, "Besides, it's crap. I hate it. I've read it over, trying to see it from a publishers point of view. Garbage." She grumbled.
"Well how do you know its garbage?!"
"Uh, maybe the fact that I've only gotten rejection slips back on it from publishers, not even the slightest bit of interest." She turned to him to say.
"But it's finished right?"
"Yes, but I don't like it anymore. Especially after reading some of Mercy James' stuff and from a few other authors. I keep blaming you, and - making excuses, when in fact, I just - simply - suck as a writer. I should just give up and forget it."
"I don't want to even hear that. Look, let's just enjoy this evening. Think of it this way, you'll be in a position to sit back, observe, listen and get a feel for what they're looking for. Hey, ask questions."
She turned to look at him, once more, a light brightening for her, "You know what, I'll probably learn quite a bit tonight huh? I mean, like you said, I'll just relax, enjoy myself and pay attention. Ask a few questions. Plus they'll get to know me a bit, they already know you, I mean that can't hurt."
"Of course it can't. You might say, you already have a foot in the door."
"Let's get something straight right here and now, I'm not going to be depending on you to help me make it. One thing I'm not going to do, is just write up anything and present it just because I have a foot in the door. Whatever I submit, has to be good, really good."
"Sweetheart, trust me, you being my wife, will make no difference to them. They're only interested in really good writers, so ... you'll have to be good, your story will have to be one that hooks them from the first 25 pages."
"First 25 huh?"
"Yep."
"Well, I'm not gonna stress about it tonight, I'm just going to watch, pay attention and ask a few questions."
"That's my girl. So take a deep breath, relax and dazzle them with that amazing smile."
"Okay, okay. One good thing going for us about them, they're an interracial couple as well, that helps."
Shawn glanced at his wife, thinking about that, reflecting back on how she reacted in Madison when they went walking to pick up food. Unable to resist, now that the topic was ignited he began his inquiry,
"Let me ask you something, if I were to give you a scale, to rate how comfortable you are, being married to me - a white man - not how I am - but - that I am, white - on a scale of 1 to 10, how comfortable are you with me? 1 being, not comfortable - 10 being, very comfortable. Where would you rate it?" He asked as he drove, his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing at her as they talked on their way to the restaurant.
Sylvia's eyes rolled his way, "What makes you ask me that?"
"Oh, just, some things I'm noticing with you. At home, where you're surrounded by all thats familiar, you're okay. Even in Chicago, you were okay. But when we go places new to you, you're edgy, nervous ... and uh, you show yourself to be a bit, insecure." He tried to explain.
"Oh. Hmmm. I uh, didn't realize that I behaved any different."
"You do. So come on, 1 to 10."
Sylvia looked away sucking in a deep breath blowing it out giving the question some thought, "1 to 10 huh?!" She clarified.
"Yeah."
"Well, how do you feel with me? 1 to 10."
"Oh no you don't, I asked first."
She grinned, mimicking him in a deep voice supposedly his, "I asked first."
Making him laugh, "Come on, answer the question and be honest."
"Okay, let's see, well I'm much better than I used to be."
"Uh oh, and how is that?"
"Well, at one time - it was the last choice I would have ever made, marrying a white man. Its not something I figured into my future, you ah, certainly altered any previous notions and ideas." She smiled informing him.
"I see. So uh, so far, how am I doing?"
Sylvia chuckle, "Boy are you in a brave mood tonight."
"Have I made it that bad of an experience? I wanna know."
"You wanna know huh?"
"Yep, I do. So, how am I doing?"
She grinned, "As in, 1 to 10, lousy to Lord have mercy?"
Shawn exploded with laughing, "Wow - Lord have mercy, huh? That's a 10?"
"You got it, 10 - Lord Have Mercy."
"So like, what would five be?"
&nb
sp; "Shawn! I don't know," she laughed, "let me think - uhm...?"
"Get a pen and paper out, 1 to 10. 1, lousy, 10 Lord have mercy and fill in 2 to 9." He instructed at a light.
"Now Shawn? We're going out to dinner."
"I wanna know, get pen, get paper - do it."
Laughing and shaking her head, she dug into her purse for a pen, and then into the glove compartment finding a note pad. "Okay," she began, "2 to 9 huh? Give me a second here to think about'em and write'em down."
"You've got 20 minutes, takes 40 to get to the restaurant."
"Okay." She answered, thinking a bit and then writing. Took her 5 minutes to come up with the 2 thru 9. "Ready." She announced.
"Read'em out." He went on to instruct.
Smiling she began, "1, of course, lousy-forget it."
"Hey! You tagged more on there! A forget it huh?"
"It helps to define it. Mind if I carry on?"
"By all means, this sounds interesting."
"2, we need help."
"Whoa, we don't need any help do we?"
"Would you let me get them all read. You made me do'em, now listen and let me get'em read out."
"Well hurry up - slow poke!"
Sylvia chuckled, "Oh no you did not! I'll have you know, you just slipped down a notch."
"Oh shit! Sorry about that, I won't interrupt again." He cheesed brightly trying to win it back, only serving to make her laugh out.
"Now, where was I?"
"Number 2, waiting for number 3."
"3-could be better, 4-not too bad, 5-okay, 6-better than expected, 7-I'm feelin' it-..."
Shawn laughed out, "You better believe you be feelin' it, huh." He double sucked the side of of his teeth and winked at her arrogantly.
"There you go again, you never learn, slipped down another notch." She said fighting back giggles.
"Hey now, come on man, no fair!"
"Hush up and let me finish then."
"Okay, okay - go on."
"8 is very nice, 9 is a good man, and 10, is the bomb, Lord have mercy, the best with a bag of chips." She snickered.
"Hmmm, so uh, what am I?"
"You are, let me think here, yes, you are number 7."
"What? 7! Well hell, that goes without saying, I'm better than a 7!" He complained.
"Well I had you as a 9, but you lost 2 points."
"9!? 9!? Heck with that, you know damn well, I'm a Lord - Have - Mer-ceee!" He crowed assuredly.
"Hang on here buddy, you don't get say you're a 10! That's for me to decide."
"Ha! A 9!?"
"Ah, excuse me, a 7."
"I'm ignoring that due to no rules previous to this scale engagement, therefore, 9. What was 9 again?"
"9 is a good man. What's wrong with that?" She simpered.
"That's bullshit!"
"You 'bout to lose another point. Better quit while you ahead."
Shawn sat making faces, glancing back and forth from the road to his wife, then finally asked, "Okay, so - how could I be a 10?"
"How could you be a 10, huh?"
"Yeah, what do I need to do differently to be a 10?"
"Okay, here it is. If you didn't curse so much, using the F-word. You have a bad temper, still. Too quick and willing to hit someone, to fight. Sometimes baby you just need to ignore people, or find another way of dealing with things besides violence. That is not always the answer. I do believe that when we get back home, we should make an honest effort to get to church, at least on Sundays. So, there - if you worked on all of those things, you'd more than likely qualify as a 10."
He was quiet, thinking all of that over as he turned a corner down another street. He glanced at her, with a certain look that Sylvia was getting to know well. The look, his eyes and demeanor was the same one he took on when they first discussed the gun, the new house he wanted to build instead of adding on, when he was suspicious concerning Jake. Sylvia braced herself as more time passed, and then finally, she decided to be the one to ask, "Well? What do you have to say?"
Leaning as he drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other relaxed between them, Sylvia swore he emulated the pose of black men as natural as breathing, he looked at her once more, nodded his head as if accepting, and said, "Fuck - that! I can live with being a 9. Hell for that matter, a 7, long as I keep makin' you feel it baby, that way, I always have something to strive for, huh?"
Sylvia shook her head, he was indeed what he was, and there was no quick or distant view in sight for changing him.
"Now, with me out in public, in unfamiliar places, what is that, 1 to 10?" he asked.
Sylvia sat staring at him a moment thinking, "I don't wanna play the rating thing anymore. Because, life is filled with extenuating circumstances. When we're in familiar surroundings, I'm comfortable and happy to be with you. When we're - well out in unfamiliar circumstances, I'm still happy with you, proud of you."
"I don't get it, then why does a change come over you?"
Sylvia sat thinking about it, looked up at him and then out of her window, "It's ... me, that I'm not happy with. I see people, looking at us and I sometimes wonder if they're thinking, what in the heck is he doing with her? Let's face it, its not like I'm a raving beauty." She smiled despite her words.
He started looking for a place to pullover.
"Ach! Shawn, do not pull over! Shawn, I mean it! Come on Shawn, please, don't. We're gonna be late." She whimpered, wishing she had kept her mouth shut.
"I don't give a shit!" He mumbled, pulling into a nearby parking lot, throwing the gear into park and turning in his seat to face his wife.
"Look at me!" He commanded.
"No Shawn, I don't wanna mess up my make-up. You're gonna say something to make me cry. Please, let's just get there, there's nothing wrong with me, I'm fine, really I am." She kept her eyes straight ahead, down, the other way, anywhere but at him.
Shawn sat gazing at her profile. "I don't like the idea of you sitting there thinking that! Who told you that you aren't beautiful?"
"No one needs to tell me that, I can see Shawn, I'm not blind. I mean, I'm not ugly, no ... but by no means, am I beautiful, let's face it. I'm not statuesque, my hips are getting wide again, my weight is ..." She shook her head, "... you on the other hand, you are ... beautiful."
"What is going on? Your weight is fine! Look at me."
"No! I mean it."
"I said - look at me, Sylvia."
"And I said, no! Now, let's go. Right now Shawn, please ... let's get there, have a nice evening. I'll be fine, I don't need you, feeling that you have to always, I don't know, see about me. I'm fine." She smiled glancing at him and then quickly away. Determined to keep her emotions at bay.
"I thought everything was okay about this at the hotel the other day?"
"It is, Shawn - I'm fine, let's go."
He sat staring at her. He didn't want to ignore what she was feeling. He loved her so much, that any small degree of pain, hurt or emotion she felt, went through him like a dull knife. But now, on their way out to dinner, was not the time to deal with it. Unable to help himself, he reached over and caressed her skin, his finger running along her ear. "Just let me say this, that I love you - as I've never known it possible, to love someone. And no one, have I ever seen, is more beautiful to me, than you ... and I've seen quite a few beauties in my time." He moved back into place, shifted the gear to drive and pulled out of the lot on the way to the restaurant. They drove for fifteen minutes or more, both quiet save for the low volume of the radio.
His peripheral vision caught her hand stroking gently beneath her eye as she maintained her gaze out the passenger side window. Despite her determination not to, a few tears were rolling. Very quietly, he heard, "You are ... a ten ... and so much ... more." She murmured softly, never turning from the window. As low as she spoke the words, he heard them loud and clear. Keeping the companionable silence between them, he reached over and took her small hand in his, holding it, squeezing it gently, his thumb
stroking her bony knuckles.
Such a small gesture, filled with all the meaning in the world, filling her with all that she needed to face anything, or anyone.
* * *
Max had not long been off of work when he heard a knock at the door of his apartment. Flushing the toilet, he washed his hands and stood drying them, in no hurry to see who it was. He stood in the hallway beneath the arch staring at the front door wondering who was on the other side. He was wearing gym shorts, about to do a workout so it was not a welcomed interruption.
His place was simple, small living-room, kitchen, two bedrooms, a bathroom. His decor, beige and white, furniture beige, walls white. The living room sported an entertainment center that was costly, in the midst of his Pioneer stereo and TV, there were dozens of CD's, DVD's and some VHS tapes for the VCR that he still had hooked up. In the middle of it all, a picture of his mother, brother and his foster mother, Felicia Campbell. In the kitchen, the counter top displayed two blenders, a food processor, a juicer, toaster and microwave. Taking up one corner, can after can of pure creatine and Whey protein. In front of that, fresh fruit of various kinds, nuts, trail mix and supplements.
The knocking came again, this time with a voice.
"I know yo'ass home. Your car out there." Moniqua announced outside the door.
Maxwell shook his head and went to the door, snatching it open. "Can I get in the door, chill out a bit before dealing with shit from you?" He asked irritably.
"Hell no! Where the hell you been!?" She marched in getting ready to go off. "I see yo'ass got another car already. Brand, ass, new! How the hell is that, when you supposed to been off work and broke as hell!? You just now went yo'ass back to work, tol' me you broke, but a damn Mercedes out there, loaded down with so much shit, the wheels just might turn. Em-mm, hell naw!"
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