by E. N. Joy
“If I recall correctly, I said I’d never be able to afford one on my salary. And that was the truth.”
Paige gritted her teeth. “You work at a movie theatre when, all the while, your family owns a chain of theatres that happens to be our company’s competition. And the thing is you don’t even have to work! Your sister doesn’t.” Samantha had made this fact known during their dinner conversation.
“Yeah, that’s because Samantha is a spoiled brat who thinks my parents owe her in money what they couldn’t give her in time. Her saying is that since they were so busy out making all this money that they deemed so important, the least she can do is spend it. So she gets a new car almost every other birthday and has one of those ridiculously priced penthouses in downtown Columbus overlooking the riverfront, but comes home to my parents’ house weekly and stays just long enough to go riding with my father, have dinner, and collect her allowance. That’s not who I am.”
“And I can’t believe you didn’t trust me to understand that. I told you all about my father’s construction business that my brother took over and how I just wanted to do me and get my own. I would have understood, Norman.”
“I know you would have,” Norman said gently. “Because that’s just who you are.”
Paige let out a harrumph. “Well, guess what? I don’t know who you are, or why you chose to hide who you are.”
“I am who I am, Paige. I mean, what’s really going on here? Is this about my mother? Then just say so. You have every right to be upset at the way she acted, but be upset with her, not me. I had your back. I stood up for you. When I spoke to my mother alone, I told her how disrespectful and shameful her behavior was.”
“And racist.”
“Whoa, hold on now. A bit caught up in the past when it comes to race relations, sure, but racist is a pretty harsh word to call my mother. My mother doesn’t have anything against black people. If I thought she did, I would have never dreamed of subjecting you to that.”
“Your mother doesn’t have a thing against black people? Tuh!” Paige said, folding her arms. “I’ll be surprised that if the next time we show up for dinner, she doesn’t hide all the good silverware. That is if I even get invited over for dinner again. The woman couldn’t even stand to break bread with me. She feigned ill and excused herself from the table before we even made it through the first course.”
“My mother has no problem breaking bread with black people, Paige. Now you just sound ridiculous. I can recount many times she and Miss Nettie have enjoyed meals together. Why, I’ve even watched her prepare holiday meals with the entire staff.”
“An entire staff that happens to be black!” Paige spat then turned and said under her breath, “Great, a real, live Paula Deen.”
“Now that is enough!” Norman hit the brakes and said. He heard tires skid behind him and the driver in his rear laid on the horn. He pulled over to the side of the road. He threw the car in park and then turned his body to face Paige. “The way I told my mother that any disrespect toward you was not going to be tolerated is the same way I’m telling you that any disrespect toward my mother is not going to be tolerated.”
“Well, you should have told me that she had the tendencies of Archie Bunker.” Paige’s comparison of Norman’s mother to the scripted bigot of the seventies’ sitcom All in the Family might have been crossing the line.
When Norman’s eyes filled with hurt, he put the car in drive, and then drove off without saying a word, Paige knew that, without a doubt, she’d crossed the line. “I’m sorry, Norman,” she said within seconds. She looked upward. “I repent, Lord.” She then turned her attention back to Norman. “Will you forgive me? I’m wrong. The whole Paula Deen–Archie Bunker thing . . . I’m wrong. But I hope you won’t ask me to endure that type of treatment again.”
Norman chuckled. It was a sarcastic kind of chuckle.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Christians, that’s what. Or maybe I shouldn’t dump them all into a single category, just the ones who are glad that Jesus hung, bled, and died on the cross for them, but can’t deal with a proverbial thorn in the side.”
“Are you saying that because I’m a Christian I should have to endure prejudice?”
“No, not at all, but I’m saying that when you are subjected to it why shoot back? Why not try to take all that Christianity and heal the offender, or at least diplomatically relay to them their offenses? Once a person knows better and doesn’t do better, then that’s on them. Then you just ask Jesus to work on you in how you deal with those types of people. Imagine if Martin Luther King Jr. ran around talking about, ‘Oh, well, I’m not going to stand for this type of treatment. I’m out of here.’ What would have become of the Civil Rights Movement?”
“Are you really comparing your mother’s prejudice and ways to the Civil Rights Movement? It ain’t that serious.”
“Bam! My point exactly.”
Paige stared at Norman for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what his point was. It was to no avail. “You’ve obviously been hanging around Miss Nettie too long. You’re starting to talk in riddles like her.”
“Look, forget it. I don’t want to fight,” Norman conceded. “I apologize for my mother’s behavior. She’s kind of old school in her ways.”
Paige snapped her head and twisted her lips. “Kind of old school?”
“Okay, way old school.” Norman smiled a little, letting Paige know things were somewhat cooling down. That made her smile.
“I don’t like fighting with my best friend,” Paige confessed. “Outside of Jesus and my parents, you’re the only person in the world who has ever sacrificed so much for me. I don’t take this lightly. I don’t take what you are doing lightly. As a matter of fact, I want to try the whole ‘dinner with your family’ thing, namely your mother, all over again. I will be on my best behavior.” Paige lifted her left hand and placed her right hand over her heart. “Nothing but the God in me. Saint’s honor.”
“Hmmmm. Can I trust you?” Norman teased.
“Why you married me, Mr. Vanderdale,” Paige said in an exaggerated, over-the-top Southern drawl. “You wouldn’t marry a woman you couldn’t trust now would you?”
“No, and you wouldn’t marry a man who you couldn’t trust would you?”
“Not on purpose.” Paige smiled.
“Then trust me. Everything is going to work out just fine. I’m going to drop you off at your place, head back to mine, and then we’ll do it all over again tomorrow morning with your family.”
“By the way, what are we going to do about us being man and wife, yet living in two different places? I think I had something about that as rule number ten, but you never let me get that far,” Paige chided.
“Ha-ha. No, but seriously. I don’t know. I guess we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“Uh, hello, we’re like standing in the middle of the bridge.” Paige waved her hand that don the wedding band that matched the one Norman wore. The rings were something they had just picked up for show at the mall yesterday.
“Ahh, decisions, decisions,” Norman moaned. “Let’s just get breaking the news to your family out of the way tomorrow and we’ll take it from there.”
“Yeah, this is probably a moot conversation anyway considering my dad is probably going to kill you for marrying his daughter without asking for her hand in marriage.” When Paige saw Norman turn beet red, she broke out in laughter. “Calm down, I’m just joking with you. My dad is great and very understanding. He just wants his little girl to be happy. So as long as I’m happy, he’ll be happy.”
“And are you happy?” Norman pulled into Paige’s driveway and then waited for her response.
Paige turned, looked at Norman, took his hand, and then said, “In all honesty, happier than I’ve been in a long time and happier than, just last week, I could have ever imagined myself being. And I thank you for that, Norman. Thank you for saving me.” Paige patted Norman’s hand with he
r free hand and then released it so that he could walk around and open her car door for her.
The minute Norman got out of the car she began fanning herself. For some reason, it had just gotten hot in there . . .
Chapter Ten
“On the phone you were ecstatic to hear about my nuptials,” Norman said to his mother as the two of them sat in the family dining room alone. “You couldn’t wait to meet your new daughter-in-law. So what’s changed?”
“Nothing has changed. I’m still happy for you. I’m just a little taken aback that you married someone who is . . . you know.” Mrs. Vanderdale leaned in closer to her son and said in a whisper, “Colored.”
“Mother, no one uses that word anymore in reference to African Americans. You are just trying to be disrespectful and I will not tolerate it. I won’t tolerate it toward my wife or any person of color.”
“See, you said it yourself.” Mrs. Vanderdale pointed accusingly at her son. “You said colored.”
“Mom, don’t try to misconstrue my words. I didn’t mean it like that; not how you meant it. Blacks haven’t been referred to as colored in ages. And since I can remember, I can’t ever recall you referring to a black person as colored. Please don’t start now.”
“Okay, then, black. African American, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days. Heck, some of them are still calling each other the N word, and I can’t say colored. How hypocritical.”
“This is bigger than what you choose to call a black person. This is about how you choose to treat Black people. My wife is black and she will not be mistreated or disrespected by you or anyone else because of it—not under my watch.”
“Are you getting fresh with me?” Her cheeks turned red. She and her son had had their differences in the past, but he’d always spoken to her with the proper tongue. As far as she was concerned, he was sadly mistaken if he thought he was going to start getting fresh in the mouth with her now. It was time she reminded him that she carried the ace. “Don’t forget your inheritance isn’t engraved in stone. I can call up the family lawyers right now and—”
“Mother, please.” Norman shooed his hand. “You know me better than that. The whole ‘waving the trust fund over our heads like a carrot’ thing works with Samantha, not me. And that’s the exact reason why I chose to be my own man and never got comfortable with your and Father’s money. I won’t be manipulated. I’m no one’s puppet. Like I told you guys the day I left here on my eighteenth birthday and never looked back: I will do whatever I want, when, where, and however I want to do it in spite of what you think about it. And that includes marrying a black woman.”
“So is that why you married a color . . . I mean, black girl? To spite me? If that’s the case, you win.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I believe you now; you’re your own man. Guess you told me. Now run, get an annulment, and we’ll forget it ever happened. Joke’s over. Ha-ha.”
Norman shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, Mother, this is no joke. My marriage to Paige is very real.”
Mrs. Vanderdale let out a deep breath and then took her son’s hands into her own. She used her thumbs to massage the backs of his hands. “So you love this . . . this Paige woman?”
Norman didn’t even hesitate. “If I didn’t love her, I would have never married her.”
Mrs. Vanderdale, not one to easily be satisfied, dug deeper. “Fair enough. But are you in love with this woman?”
Norman’s ringing cell phone brought him out of his thoughts of yesterday’s private conversation he’d had with his mother in the family dining room after asking everyone else in the room to give him a minute alone with her. “Hello,” he answered into the receiver.
“I’m pulling into your driveway now. You ready?”
“Yep. Give me a second,” he answered.
“Okay. I’m waiting.”
Norman ended the call, locked up his apartment, and went and met Paige outside in her car.
“Ooooh, you looking dapper!” Paige exclaimed, checking out Norman in his nice crisp Sean John shirt and slacks.
“Thank you,” Norman replied. He put on his seat belt, and then looked straight ahead, waiting for Paige to back out of his driveway. After a few seconds, when the car didn’t move, Norman looked over to find Paige staring at him. “What?”
“Oh, nothing really. Just wondering why you didn’t grab you a pair of Fubu tennis shoes and a red, black, and green kufi cap while you were at it.” Paige began digging in her purse. “And you know what? I just might have an afro pick in my purse you can borrow to top off the ensemble.”
Norman still didn’t get what Paige was saying and his puzzled face stated as much.
Paige pulled her hands out of her purse and placed them on her hips as best she could in a sitting position. “Sean John; really? Since when do you wear designs by Puff Daddy? Where’s your usual Ralph Lauren polo?”
Norman was so busted. “I uh, well, uh. I happened to be in Macy’s at Easton’s the other day. This shirt was hanging on a mannequin and caught my eye. I really didn’t pay much attention to the designer. I just thought it would look nice on me as well, so I . . . I bought it.” He shrugged it off.
Paige continued to stare at him in disbelief. “And the pants.” She nodded.
He looked down at his Sean John jeans. “Oh, these.” He brushed off invisible lint. “The uh . . . the sales clerk suggested them since they were twenty-five percent off.” He saw that Paige was still looking at him, not buying it. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” he said before she could continue her interrogation. “Now let’s go.” He stared straight ahead again.
“Norman, my dear husband, you are a true piece of work.” Paige put the car in reverse. “Like I told you, though, with my parents all you have to be is yourself, not a Caucasian Sean Puffy Combs.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
After a fifteen-minute drive, Norman and Paige stood in her parents’ living room.
“Daddy,” Paige said, jumping into her father’s arms as if she were a little girl. Paige was more of a daddy’s girl now than she was when she was little. She felt that growing up, as much as she loved and as close as she was to her brother, Brandon, he’d had the spotlight on him. Now that Brandon was grown and out of the house with a family of his own, Paige felt it was now her time to shine in the eyes of her parents.
She had to admit, though, that once upon a time she had envied the whole father-son relationship thing. And then even once Brandon got older, working for the family business, he and her father still spent a great deal of time together. Paige eventually got over that whole spirit of selfishness and instead of dwelling on past times she felt she was missing with her father, she decided to make up for it now. That went for her mother as well.
“Hey, Paige, baby. How have you been doing?” Her father held her in a warm hug. He knew his daughter had had a rough past few months. He was glad to see what looked like a genuine smile on her face.
Paige appreciated the acknowledgment from her father. The days of her feeling invisible and like her father felt women were beneath him were no more. Things looked so much clearer without that little girl hurt and pain Paige had carried around for years. “Things have been rough, as you know, but I’m just trusting in God to see me through.”
Mr. Robinson admired his daughter. “Well, you look better than ever.”
“Thanks, Dad, but you’re my daddy. You’re biased. You’re supposed to say that.”
“Maybe so, but it’s still the truth.” He smiled at his daughter.
“Where’s Mom?”
Mr. Robinson looked over his shoulder. “She’s finishing up breakfast for you and your guest here.” Mr. Robinson turned his attention to Norman. “Sorry to have been so rude, but I get distracted whenever my baby girl is around.” Mr. Robinson extended his hand. “I’m Samuel Robinson, Paige’s father.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Robinson,” Norman said, shaking his hand.
/> “Oh, you don’t have to be so formal. Samuel is fine,” Mr. Robinson said. “Norman, right? You work with Paige? You and her are friends? Although I’ve never had the opportunity of a formal introduction, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” Mr. Robinson gave Norman one last strong shake. “Thank you for being there for my baby girl. You’ve been a good friend.”
“Uh, yeah,” Norman agreed, knowing that as of yesterday, legally he and Paige had become way more than just friends.
“There she is.” Paige’s mother came sailing out of the kitchen, wiping her hands down her autumn leaf–cov-ered apron. “I knew I heard voices.” Mrs. Robinson went over to Paige, grabbed her hands, and kissed her on each cheek. “You holding up okay?”
“Yes, Mother,” Paige replied.
“Good, because I worry about you so sometimes.” Mrs. Robinson took each one of Paige’s hands and kissed them.
“Don’t be rude like me and ignore Paige’s guest,” Mr. Robinson said.
Norman smiled and extended his hand to Mrs. Robinson while Mr. Robinson continued the introductions. “Honey, this is Norman,” Mr. Robinson started. “He’s Paige’s—”
“Husband!” Mrs. Robinson shouted as she threw Paige’s hands out of hers and snatched up Norman’s left one, holding it up to her face.
“Coworker,” Mr. Robinson corrected her with a chuckle. “Our daughter is barely out of one marriage, so don’t go trying to put her in another.”
“Paige, you’re married?” Mrs. Robinson asked. “To this man?” She shook Norman’s hand like a ragdoll.
“Honey, stop that.” Mr. Robinson could see that this wasn’t a joke. His wife was serious. Dead serious. He looked to Norman. “I’m sorry. I apologize for my wife’s behavior. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
“Don’t go apologizing for me,” Mrs. Robinson spat. “I’m not blind. I know what I see.” She snatched Paige’s left hand into hers while she still held on to Norman’s. “These are matching wedding bands.” She stared at Paige. “I know for a fact you got rid of the wedding set Blake gave you because you didn’t want the memories. So unless you two lucked on the prizes in a box of Cracker Jacks, young lady, you’ve got some explaining to do.” Mrs. Robinson was almost trembling she was so emotional.
