Rich Little Poor Girl: An Interracial Second Chance Romance

by C. L. Donley

  “How long ago was that?”

  “I was little. Really little. I just remember seeing it at the bottom of the toilet. I don’t remember putting it in there or how I even got a hold of it. I just remember her yelling and scaring me. It’s the only time she’s ever yelled.”

  “She told you that was the reason? That my messages were on it?”

  Ella nods. “Later, she did. When I asked her about it a couple years back. I was really mad at myself for that. I could’ve at least heard your voice.”

  “Fuck,” Ben interjects with a sigh as he shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, coming back to his senses. He’s quiet a little longer, obviously thinking, before he leans forward on his elbows, covering his face with both hands as if weary.

  “Fuuuuuuuck!” he says again in a muffled groan, rubbing his hands over his face. “Sorry.”

  “People are looking at us.”

  “I’m sorry,” he leans back in his chair, picking up his sundae. He shakes his head as he resumes eating.

  “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

  “No, I know. It’s okay. I’m glad you told me. It makes me really happy. More than happy, really, but it’s just… that was a long time ago. Love can be kinda weird sometimes, Ella. Just because she kept those doesn’t mean that still wants to be with me now. I really really messed up, Ell,” he says, trying out her nickname, “and then when she told me about you, I just… freaked out. Just like she obviously predicted I would.”

  “But you still love her right? In that way?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “Then she won’t say no.”

  Ben sighed, “I trust your judgement, Ella.”

  “Anyway, I’ll make sure she says ‘yes,’” Ella responds, mimicking her dad.

  Ben puts his fist out for her to bump. She laughs and puts her fist out to meet his. He gives his double mocha fudge with sprinkles a few stabs with his spoon before he launches into his next question. “Ella, did you ever… meet… your grandfather?”

  “Pop-pop?”

  Ben stops, his spoonful of ice cream mid-way to his face.

  “Kinda tall, white guy, curly hair, balding a little? Really rich?” she continues.

  “How’d you know he’s really rich?”

  “I sorta guessed. He always has someone driving him. Gives me really weird, expensive gifts.”

  “How many times have you met him?”

  “Not that many times.”

  “Did you know he’s my dad?”

  “Not ‘til mom told me. Last night. She just said he was a friend of the family, and helped her with the business. I guess I understand why she lied to me, but I was mad. I can’t believe I didn’t guess.”

  “Well, he’s really sick. He has Alzheimer’s, do you know what that is?”

  She nods.

  “It might be a little scary, but I think he’d like to see you. But he might not recognize you. He’s probably gonna… pass away. Soon. But you’ll get to meet your Aunt Valerie. And maybe even your Uncle Grant. Would you like that?”

  Ella quietly considers the proposition with a mouthful of ice cream.

  “Can mom come?”

  Ben sighs, his mouth drawn down at the corners.

  “I don’t know if she would want to, but… I think I would want her to.”

  * * *

  The following Saturday is easily the most bizarre day of Ben’s life.

  He finds himself in one of the brightest, sunniest hospital rooms ever, as if their expensive, researched decor could possibly fend off the air of death. His father is some frail thing he can hardly believe, sleeping and secured to a bed that looks more like a Star Trek prop. He’s hooked up to machines since his brain is now too feeble to send messages for basic function.

  In the room with him is his sister Val, his brother Grant, and Cynthia. His daughter Ella has taken on the saintly duty of sitting with his mother, her grandmother, outside the room. Grant requested the two not be in the same room together as part of his agreement to fly in this weekend.

  Grant has unexpectedly splayed himself over their father’s frame in bed, inconsolable. It seems everyone has underestimated the gravity of this great loss, a giant redwood struck down in a sudden storm. Valerie is weeping into a tissue and Cynthia is sitting in the corner, her quiet energy somber and respectful. Ben looks over at her and she is simply looking out the window. She’s been through this twice before, he realizes, and it is in circumstances like this he senses her great strength.

  Their father suddenly wakes up and the atmosphere turns bizarre and wiry.

  “Dad.”

  Solomon looks around a little, an oxygen mask on his face. His energy turns a little frantic and he’s somehow able to move the bed, sensing he’s restrained.

  “Get Ella in here now,” Val orders. There’s a chance he’s lucid and not just disoriented. Solomon looks back at them wordlessly and a little fearful.

  “Dad, it’s me. Grant,” he sniffs, moving from his place on the bed. Sol looks at Grant when he says the name.

  Sol doesn’t believe the man, but he says Grant’s name again, and then smiles a smile so recognizable that it brings tears to Sol’s eyes, and he has to concede the man is telling the truth.

  Instantly Ben understands what Val was trying to tell him, about wanting every moment she could get. The look in their father’s face heals just about all of Grant’s wounds on the spot.

  “Daddy.”

  Solomon turns to Val, her voice and face clearly familiar to him.

  “Daddy, this is it,” she says somberly, bravely. They’ve had this conversation before. He nods, shedding more tears, tears of relief.

  “Dad,” Ben barely eeks out. Solomon turns steely blue eyes to his son, whom he recognizes on sight. They’ve worked together every day for fifty years. Though he himself is only 30.

  Solomon puts out a hand for his son to shake and Ben instantly takes it. Solomon won’t let go, and he won’t take his eyes off his son. Ben slowly dissolves into tears as his father’s grip grows more and more firm, as firm as he can manage.

  “Ella’s here, dad,” Val says urgently, conscious of the closing window. Solomon is still looking at Ben as if frightened, embarrassed. He remembers what he’s done. Acutely.

  “It’s okay, dad,” Ben finds himself instantly forgiving without hesitation. “It’s okay,” he keeps saying, his father’s unflinching stare begging for absolution.

  Gingerly, Ella makes her way beside her dad, and everyone can see the smile on his face underneath the oxygen mask. He seems surprised, as though he were expecting to see a baby.

  “Hi, grandpa,” Ella says in an emotional rasp, her face beet red, the tears flowing. A pair of tears fall down his own face at the sound of his proper title, once forbidden.

  “Cynthia’s here too,” Ben volunteers. He waves her over hastily, trying to take advantage of their good fortune. Cynthia’s holding her own balled up tissue when she makes her way over next to Ben and Ella.

  “Wah say, boss man,” Cynthia says as if it’s an ordinary day and theirs is an ordinary relationship. She takes his open hand.

  Instantly Solomon removes his hand from hers and reaches out towards Ben, summoning his. Ben takes his father’s hand accordingly and Solomon pins it to the bed, grabbing Cynthia’s hand again and putting it on top of Ben’s. He puts his own liver-spotted hand on top them both, as if to keep them from separating. Ben looks over at her with an emotional smile as Cynthia nods wordlessly, crying.

  “Mom,” Val weeps, with a pleading look.

  After a few seconds of hesitation, Molly Dvorak gets up from her chair and saunters over to her ex-husband, eyeing her newfound granddaughter for strength, the one he’d kept from them all. She gives Ella a kiss on the forehead before making her way to Sol’s side. The look they exchange is not one of love, but is still one of intense knowledge, and with it, understanding. Solomon doesn’t recognize the woman but he recognizes the eyes. If Molly looks thi
s old, then he must be very old indeed.

  “You can rest now, Sol. Go on,” Molly assures him, her double meaning not lost on anyone in the room.

  Solomon reaches out for her hand and places it on his head, an ancient nighttime ritual of theirs. Molly blinks back tears as she loops her fingers around the thinning comb of curls on the top of his head. Solomon drifts peacefully to sleep amid a chorus of sniffs and sobs, looking like he’s getting the best sleep of his life.

  15

  Present Day

  “Thanks. For agreeing to come,” Ben begins, looking and sounding exhausted as everyone slowly recovers from their poignant goodbyes. Ben approached Cynthia in the corner of the room near the picture windows overlooking the skyline. Cynthia gathers her things as she speaks.

  “Thanks for letting me be here,” Cynthia says in an almost whisper. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now. Ella wanted me here.”

  “Cynthia.”

  “What?”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m still angry with you. Especially after today. Life’s too short.”

  “…Even if I told you that he came to see Ella when she was a baby baby? Often?”

  “It’s in the past now.”

  “But I’m left holding his secrets.”

  “Don’t. I’m telling you, I’m not angry. I don’t understand why he did what he did. But I’m glad, somehow. The fact that he went to see Ella is completely mindblowing to me. I never knew he could be like that. Never in my wildest imagination would I ever come up with my father, closely guarding the secret knowledge that he was regularly hanging out with a baby. But I’m glad. I’m glad Ella got to see a different side to him. And you. Grant, Val and I… maybe we were just to close to it. To see him another way. I’m glad he got to be this other person that he apparently wanted to be. Even if it wasn’t with us.”

  “He told me to call him Sol, but I never could, not to his face,” Cynthia whispered, looking over at the frail, sleeping man once her tyrant. “It started out as an intimidation tactic, I think. But then I got the feeling that he liked being around us. Val told me about the outbursts. Him saying Ella’s name? Jesus. For some reason, I feel sorry for him, knowing he was that haunted.”

  “He isn’t the only one,” Ben shook his head,“I thought just because I hated him and let him know it, that I was standing up to him. But he knew how much I needed his approval. All the way until he was no longer able to give it. I could’ve done more. I didn’t.”

  “I could’ve done the hard thing too,” Cynthia replies, “and I didn’t. The truth is, I was probably more scared that you would try to make it all work. Figure out a way, like you always wanted. To have your fiancée of the day, have Ella, have the company, hell maybe me too, why not…” Cynthia looks down, shaking her head. “I couldn’t bear that. Watching you move on. Having to share you. Forever. It was selfish.”

  “I wasn’t moving on, I was… trying to find a woman who could keep me distracted long enough.”

  “Long enough for what?”

  “Long enough to… I don’t know. Forget you for a second. I just wanted to detach. I didn’t want to find someone else so special that it would hurt so much to lose them.”

  “It doesn’t work. Trust me,” Cynthia whispers, unconsciously fiddling with the lapel of his jacket. She looks down, feeling remorseful.

  Ben gives her a closed-mouth sigh of sadness, his fingers moving a piece of hair behind her ear. He holds her face in his hand.

  “You walked in here today, with our daughter, and it made me feel invincible. It’s like you’re in color. And the rest of the world is black and white.”

  “Benji…”

  “You’re the love of my life, Cynth.”

  “You’re mine,” she reveals, hesitating only slightly as she focuses on both his eyes, his mouth, and back to his eyes again. She smiles, giving a little laugh.

  “What?”

  “I think this might be the first time we’ve been able to, you know, really love each other. Fully. No lies. Or secrets.”

  “I think you’re right. Feels good.”

  “Some timing.”

  “Better now than never. I’m still waiting on that answer, by the way.”

  Cynthia grins.

  “Kind of not the time or place for that, Ben.”

  “Cynth, you just got the old man’s blessing. What better time is there?”

  Ella picks the moment to saunter over to the whispering couple. Cynthia smoothes her hair with a hand, her way of asking if she’s okay. But Ella is just looking at her father with a smirk. He sends one back and eyes Cynthia as she snickers.

  “Ready, Ell?”

  “Yeah. Dad, you coming?”

  “Right behind you, just gotta finish up here. You did great, Ell, I’m proud of you. Thanks for coming.”

  “I brought mom.”

  “I can see that. Thanks, kid. I owe you one.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Oh yeah. I heard aaalll about your little after school special, Benji. And I do mean all of it.”

  “Benjamin, honey, you’re being rude.”

  Ben’s mother sounds off from the side of his father’s bed, monotonously beeping.

  “Ma, Cynthia’s gotta go.”

  “Cynthia, darling, Benjamin says you’ve got a waiting list a mile long.”

  “It’s true, Molly, I do.”

  “You’re such a doll, look at you. I told Benjamin he’s gotta dump the model. We have to do lunch soon, we need to talk about my prospects.”

  “Prospects, ma?”

  “Benjamin, I need to be closer to Ella, and to do that you have to move me back to Jersey.”

  “Uh… we’ll talk about it,” Ben says as though fighting off a migraine. Cynthia is secretly excited at the prospect of having family around again, the more hovering the better.

  Cynthia makes her way over to Val who is sitting in a chair, looking far off. She kneels down in front of her demurely in her brown skirt, bright red pumps on her feet. Ben can’t decipher what she says to her, but it seems to have no effect as Val continues to look away, dazed. Cynthia rights herself and returns to Ben’s side.

  “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Cynthia lowered her voice. “You can have my answer tonight.”

  She means it to be respectful, but Ben doesn’t take it there. He takes it somewhere else. The flirt in her eyes tells him that she knows what he’s thinking, and that she doesn’t mind.

  “I’m going to kiss you later. A lot,” Ben gives her the PG version of his thoughts, mindful of the 9-year-old. Cynthia raises an eyebrow as she grins, already impressed at the sharpness of his fatherly instincts.

  Cynthia takes Ella home with Ben ready to follow behind. Standing lonely in the hallway is Grant, having switched places now that his mother in inside. So smooth was his exit that Cynthia doesn’t question it.

  “It was good seeing you again, Grant.”

  “You too, Cynthia.”

  “Remind me when the two of you met?” Ben cocks his head.

  “He came to the Dvorak building. During Thanksgiving.”

  “You weren’t there,” Grant filled in, cryptically.

  “Grant here convinced me that the proper course of action was to break up with you. And that you would be upset for a while, but you would get over it. This is before I got fired, obviously.”

  Ben just stands there wordless through this briefing. Cynthia puts a loving hand on his arm on the way out while Ben just stands there eyeing his brother in disbelief. The golden boy. He just got here and had no idea what was going on, and yet is somehow pivotal in his own life story.

  “Congratulations, little brother. That’s a real trophy wife you got there.”

  “Thanks. She hasn’t said yes, yet.”

  “Clearly, she has. You always outdid me in the ladies department.”

  “Debateable. But you should try being a cripple.”


  “I’m done with all that, you know that, Ben.”

  “The vow of celibacy, I forgot. Good luck with that. Hey, how’d that vow of silence go?”

  “So glib. I actually completed ten months of it. Ten.”

  “I— okay, Grant. Good job. Really. That might be the longest you’ve stuck to anything.”

  “Remember when dad sent us to that prep school for boys?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “You’d just had your fifth surgery, just starting to walk on your own for the first time, which was the one dream in the world you allowed yourself to have… and he sent us to this shark pit… the moment you were physically able to go. There wasn’t any pity for a kid like you in a place like that. Privilege either. It was lord of the fucking flies in there. I kept calling mom and crying, begging her to get dad to let us come home. I was confused, more than anything. I thought I’d done something to land myself in there.”

  “What’s the point, Grant?”

  “There is none. I was just thinking, I learned a lot from that. I learned how to be. Love, trust, loyalty, all of it’s earned. And now I’m unlearning it.”

  “Me too,” Ben mused, thinking of his dying father in the room behind them, Cynthia ahead of him. “I’m going back in there, you coming or what?”

  “You know the rules.”

  “You were just in there with her.”

  “Val called her in, I can’t help that.”

  “On a day like this? Grant? Isn’t there something in your monk training about this?”

  Suddenly, just as they’re talking, the sound of nurses rushing up the stairs intensifies. They make their way to the end of the hall where they realize the nurses are headed for their father’s room.

  Grant immediately rushes in while Ben lets the cavalry pass and comes in slowly behind them, the horrid sound of the flatline taking command of the room. Val has shielded her entire body from the scene by way of Grant’s tall, overpowering frame. He too has elected to look away. Their mother looks on in a rare bout of sincerity and strength, shedding no tears and mesmerized by the sight: her strong, intimidating groom who refused to smile on their wedding day, slipping away with a haunted expression.