“I honestly don’t know. I’m sure I can find another firm, but before I do anything, I need to ask you a question.”
“What’s the question?”
I got down on one knee and opened the black ring box and showed her the ring that sat neatly on the velvet fold. Tears streamed down her face. I looked up at her and asked, “Ebony, will you marry me?”
She nodded rapidly. “Yes!”
We kissed long and deep. I wasn’t sure what the future held for us, but I knew I could face anything as long as I had her in my life.
* * *
Despite not being on the case anymore, I did watch Johnny’s trial on TV and enjoyed every minute of it. As I thought, instead of just going straight to closing arguments, Francis and Mark were too confident and put Johnny on the stand—which was a huge mistake.
Johnny puffed up his chest as he strutted to the witness stand. Things went south really quickly when he made several slipups during his testimony.
“This bitch—”
“Objection, Your Honor,” the DA said.
“Mr. Alfieri, I advise you to refrain from calling Ms. Winters derogatory names,” the judge said. “If you do it again, I’ll hold you in contempt.”
“I gotcha,” Johnny said. “Anyway, she wanted me. I had to push her around a bit at first—”
“I’m sorry, did you say you ‘pushed her around’?” the DA asked.
“Yeah, she was trying to pull away at first, but I wanted her to hear me out. After we had handled our business, I paid her. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s getting a prostitute in the first place. I didn’t rape her.”
There was nothing but questioning glances and whispered voices from everyone in the courtroom.
Francis and Mark were animatedly trying to get Johnny to stop talking, but he wasn’t paying them any attention.
“So, Ms. Winters was trying to leave, and you wouldn’t let her go until she heard you out and complied with what you wanted?” the DA asked with a huge grin on his face.
“You know how black people can be. They’re stubborn.”
The crowd collectively gasped at that statement. The TV camera zoomed in on Mark’s and Francis’s faces. The looks on their faces showed they knew they had just lost this case because of his testimony.
* * *
When the verdict came down, Johnny couldn’t believe his ears when the jury found him guilty on all charges. He pulled away from the court officers and squirmed to prevent them from grabbing his hands.
“You can’t do this to me!” he yelled.
“It’s OK, Johnny,” Francis said. “We’ll appeal. Just keep quiet. We’ll work this out.”
The court officers were trying to talk him into complying, but Johnny wasn’t having it. Sophia was crying and just observed his outburst.
Johnny broke out of the court officers’ grips and walked toward her. “Come here, bitch. You wanna ruin people’s lives? I got something for you.”
The courtroom was raucous. The judge continuously banged her gavel for order. “Get him out of here now.”
Four court officers wrestled Johnny to the ground. He was on his stomach with his arms being wrenched behind his back. Then the officers yanked him up.
“Fuck this. I’m Johnny Alfieri. Y’all can’t convict me because of this nigger bitch’s lies. I didn’t rape her. She wanted it. I paid the bitch, and this is what I get? I shouldn’t have given her shit. Back in the day, guys like me used to take the pussy for free.”
Johnny was dragged away, fighting with the officers in the small hallway going toward the holding cells. While the door was open, the film crews craned their necks to see what was going on back there.
Francis and Mark walked out of the courthouse. Mark warded off reporters’ questions about the loss as they entered the limo with Johnny’s agent and publicist. I laughed to myself. Johnny better not drop the soap when he showered in prison. I hoped the prick got what he deserved, and the inmates gave him the same treatment he gave Sophia.
Chapter 38
Ben
Sacrifice
We walked up to Becky’s parents’ door.
“Ugh, I hate these parties,” she said. “My mom only throws this party every year so she can show off to New York’s high society and give off the illusion that we live the perfect life.”
“Maybe this year’s party will be different,” I said, ringing the doorbell.
“I highly doubt that. I’m just happy you decided to come with me this year. Usually, you have me make up some lame excuse for you, so you don’t have to meet my parents’ rich, racist friends.”
“I want you to see that I meant what I said. I want to make you happy, even if it means spending a night in hell with you tonight.”
Becky smiled and held my hand.
Bernard opened the door and welcomed us. He took us to the dining room.
“Rebecca, darling, you made it,” Susan said. She turned to her guest. “My incredibly talented daughter was recently offered a lucrative publishing deal for one of her novels. It should be in bookstores all around the country by ...” She faced Rebecca. “I’m sorry, when, dear?”
“In two weeks, on Valentine’s Day,” Becky said.
“What is your book about, Rebecca?” an older white woman wearing a huge pearl necklace and flowered dress, asked.
“Uh, it’s a fictional story about the trials and tribulations of being in a relationship,” Becky said.
“Who is this handsome young man?” a woman who looked like she was in her midfifties asked. The way her eyes flirtatiously roamed my body, she looked like she was definitely interested in getting to know me.
“This is ... Rebecca’s, uh ... boyfriend, Ben,” Susan said. “He graduated from Columbia University with Rebecca, and he’s been a lawyer with Wayne, Rothstein, and Lincoln for the past nine years. He’s being considered for a partnership with the firm, and he’s handling that big case about the rapper that murdered those four people.”
Her guests smiled and nodded, showing they were impressed. To some, it probably looked as if Susan were bragging about me, but I knew the truth. Susan was rattling off my accomplishments as a means of justifying why it was OK for Becky to date me. She wanted her guests to know that I wasn’t the stereotypical black man that they probably thought I was.
I picked up a wine goblet and tapped it with a fork. The dining room fell silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing and faced me.
“Everyone, I have something I need to do, and I would like everyone’s attention.” Then I turned to Rebecca.
“Babe, what are you doing?” she asked.
I got down on one knee, pulling the ring I bought after talking to Bill from my pants pocket. Becky covered her mouth and nodded.
“Rebecca, you’ve been supportive, loyal, and honest with me since we started dating. We’ve faced a lot of obstacles, but like you told me when we first made things official, ‘I love you, and you’re worth fighting for.”’
I cleared my throat before I continued.
“Will you continue to fight with me for our love forever? Will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?”
Becky never stopped nodding when she yelled, “Yes!” with tears streaming down her face. I pulled the ring out of its velvet box and placed it on her finger.
She cupped my face with her hands and kissed me.
Mr. Preston stood up quickly, his face beet red, his hands balled up into fists as he slammed them down on the table.
“Enough.”
All heads turned to his direction.
“You’ve embarrassed this family enough by turning my daughter into a damn nigger lover, and I won’t let this go any further.”
Spittle flew out of his mouth with every bigoted word as he continued. “I already told you there’d be no way in fucking hell I’d let you marry my daughter.”
“Daddy!” Becky screamed.
“Rebecca, your mother and I love you, but this shit e
nds tonight. You have to choose right now. If you marry him, you’ll be dead to your mother and me. You’ll never see another dime from us. If you leave him now, I promise we’ll always take care of you, but you have to make a choice now!”
“Dad, this isn’t funny. You can’t be serious,” Becky said.
“I’m not kidding. If you say yes to him, your trust fund will be cut off first thing tomorrow morning. That I promise you.”
“That’s not fair. I love him. If you force me to make that decision, you know I’ll choose Ben,” she fired back.
“Can you take this conversation to the study?” Mrs. Preston said. “I think we’ve embarrassed our family enough in front of our company.”
Mr. Preston pointed. “My study—now!” he said through gritted teeth.
There was a chorus of gasps and murmurs from the guests. Becky faced her mother, who had tears in her eyes. Her hands were clasped together as if she were praying Becky would choose to leave me.
Becky and I followed Mr. Preston to his study. He slammed the door behind us. Then he came nose to nose with me.
“I’m so sick of your people trying to take everything. I will not allow you to take my daughter. You will never be a part of my family.”
Becky wedged herself between her father and me to prevent us from getting physical. It was killing her, seeing her dad and me fighting. I couldn’t be selfish. Becky had way more to lose than I did.
“Becky, I think it would be best if we broke up,” I said.
She froze at my words. “What? Baby, you don’t mean that,” she said, grabbing my hand.
There was no going back at this point. I couldn’t take back what I said. The damage was done. I lowered my eyes before I spoke.
“I do. I never wanted to put you in a position where you’d have to choose between your family and me. They’re important to you, and I can’t do that to you. I won’t be the cause of you losing your family. I love you, and I know you love me, but I have to make this decision for you. We can’t be together anymore, Becky. I’m sorry.”
I let go of her hand. Her lips quivered, and tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. I wanted to go to her, to hold her and tell her that I didn’t mean it, but this was for the best. I turned my head. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I hated seeing that heartbroken expression on her face. Mr. Preston stared me down.
“I’m going to go home,” I said.
“I think that would be for the best, Ben,” he said with a smirk.
It took every bit of strength I had to push past her as she wept.
“Ben ... Ben ...” Becky cried.
She called my name over and over, but I didn’t answer. I needed to go home as fast as I could to be alone and think.
Chapter 39
Becky
Sorrow
I wanted to crawl into a hole and die as I leaned against my old bedroom window and sobbed.
“Let him go, Rebecca. You’re better off without him,” Dad said.
I didn’t respond. I held myself and watched sadly through the window as Ben drove off.
“What’s done is done. Give me your cell phone and take off that damn ring,” Dad ordered.
I handed him my phone but placed my ring on my dresser.
Dad powered off my phone and snatched my engagement ring and my keys off the top of the dresser.
“You don’t need these anymore. Tomorrow, I’ll go with some movers to his place to get your things and give him back this ring.”
I continued to cry hysterically. “Are you happy now? Do you feel good about yourself now that you finally drove him away?”
“Honey, I don’t like seeing you in pain, but I did this for your own good,” he said, closing the door behind him.
In his bigoted mind, I knew he believed he was doing what was best for me. It pissed me off that my parents always felt they needed to “fix me.” Thinking of that sent me into a deeper depression. I spent the rest of the night crying myself to sleep on the floor.
* * *
The next morning, I sat balled up on the living room floor surrounded by empty liquor bottles, eating ice cream and crying off and on. My depression led me to drink everything straight from the bottle.
Mom walked into the living room and rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Rebecca, you look ghastly. Stop being so dramatically pathetic and pull yourself together.”
I stuck my ice-cream-covered tongue at her.
“I’m off to my tennis lesson. Enjoy wallowing in your sorrow.” As she was leaving, my dad came home. He looked extrachipper.
“I had the movers take all your things from his place, so you’ll never have to go there again,” he said.
“Was he there when you got them?” I asked.
“No.”
“Where’s my ring?”
“I left it on the counter with your keys. Rebecca, stop worrying about that stupid ring. That nightmare of a relationship with Ben is over. Do yourself a favor and move on.”
I had no intention of moving on. I loved Ben. I pulled out my cell phone. My fingers hovered over his name on my iPhone. Even though I wanted to hit call, just to hear his voice, I couldn’t call him. I wanted him to reach out to me. I wanted to know that he needed me as much as I needed him.
Chapter 40
Ben
I Want My Becky Back
It’d been two weeks since my breakup with Becky. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since that night, and neither of us had made an attempt to get back together.
Coming home the day after our breakup, seeing her keys and engagement ring on the counter, and discovering all her things were gone from our townhouse, confirmed that our relationship was truly over. Although I didn’t want her to lose her family because of me, I thought she would’ve at least put up more of a fight, but I guessed that was asking for too much. I drowned myself in my work. I ran five miles every day to clear my head, but the only thing that did was make me think about her more. As much as I wanted to completely forget about her, as much as it would make my life so much easier, I couldn’t. I missed her. I loved her.
I stared aimlessly at the ceiling, but I couldn’t sleep. I tried reading my case files, but I found myself scanning the same page repeatedly. I couldn’t concentrate on anything I was reading. I threw my folder to the side and attempted to go to sleep again.
It was only nine p.m., but I tried to force myself to sleep. I tossed and turned in my bed, constantly changing positions, trying desperately to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t stop thinking about Becky.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated on my nightstand. I saw it was Gabby and debated not answering but picked it up before it went to voicemail.
“What’s up, Big Head? What are you doing? You moping around at home having a pity party?”
“Bye, Gabby.”
“Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so insensitive. I’m trying to work on that. I know you’re down. Do you want me to come over?”
“Nah, I’m going to look over this case some more and watch TV.”
“Come on, Big Head. We can watch the recap of the Knicks game while you vent.”
Gabby wasn’t the best choice to vent to, but I really didn’t want to be alone.
“So, am I coming over or nah?” she asked.
“Yeah, come over.”
* * *
I was running a highlighter on some documents I was reading when the doorbell rang.
“Hey, Big Head,” Gabby said as I opened the door.
“Hey.”
We hugged, then walked toward the living room, where I had documents spread out all over the couch and coffee table.
“You’re at this nonstop, huh?” she asked.
“I need this win.”
“I feel you, but give it a break for now.”
I turned on the TV and flipped to the game. Gabby tried to stir up a conversation, but I barely listened.
“Stop looking so sad,” she said.
“It�
��s hard to stop when I feel sad.”
“Ugh, I’m sick of you harping over fucking Becky. Get over it.”
I shook my head, picked up the TV remote, and flipped through the channels. Gabby took the remote from me.
“First off, you need to drop this whole woe-is-me bullshit. I’m here. You don’t need to be thinking about another woman. Think about back in the day when it used to be just you and me. We used to hang out alone like this all the time.”
We started reminiscing about old times. Gabby chuckled. “Remember when we were kids, and you used to write me love letters?”
“Yup. You used to correct the grammar in them and hand them back to me.”
We laughed. I thought about how far I’d come since then, how my life had changed for the better. All of those thoughts made me even more depressed that Becky wasn’t in my life anymore.
Gabby rested her head on my shoulder and said, “You ever wonder how things would’ve turned out if we gave ‘us’ a try back in college?”
I didn’t really know how to answer that question. “Time has changed us. We’re not the same people we were back then. It’s not healthy wondering about the what-ifs with us.” I chuckled. “Besides, we would’ve fought all the time in a relationship.”
“That’s a shitty thing to say,” she said.
“That sounded worse than I meant it to, but it’s true. Your tongue can be real sharp and hurtful sometimes.”
“Sorry, but I’m not Willy Wonka. I don’t sugarcoat shit. I’m not the coddling type. I don’t cry at weddings or sappy movies, and I damn sure don’t tell people they’re good when they suck. With me, at least you know I’m always straight with you. Wouldn’t you want a woman that is going to be honest with you?”
“You can be honest without being brutal.”
“I don’t have time to stroke egos. If a man is too weak to handle me being real, that’s on him.”
“And that’s your fucking problem, Gabby,” I said. “I’m not asking you to be fake or to baby a man, but you should have some tact. You’re not uplifting, and if you want to have a lasting relationship, you need to work on that.”
Defining Moments Page 24
