When You Come to Me

by Jade Alyse

  “Nothing else would make him happier, Ma,” Natalie smiled.

  Natalie wasn’t sure about how he’d feel about her setting aside a couple hundred dollars for the Seiko watch he’d seen in a shop in Athens, after his old one cracked. She also wasn’t sure about how he’d feel about the extra fifty or so she’d spent on getting the back of it engraved with the initials BDG. She only hoped that he appreciated the gesture, not caring if he got her anything in return. She would completely understand.

  He’d flown into the Atlanta airport the night before Christmas Eve and she and Maya went to retrieve him promptly, her, leaping into his arms and kissing his cheeks as if she hadn’t seen him in an extended period of time, him thereafter, giving Maya a hug and a polite kiss on the cheek. They walked to baggage claim with their arms around each other, she, finding it hard to contain her excitement.

  This was the first Christmas that they’d ever spent together! This was really happening, wasn’t it? She couldn’t wait to show him all of their traditions, old photos, and coax him into singing Christmas songs like she and her family did every year. Her only worry was her mother.

  How would she feel having Brandon around, drinking her homemade eggnog? Eating her honey-baked ham? Sitting by the Christmas tree on Christmas morning? She only hoped that her mother remained placid, that her mother would attach to Brandon’s easiness as much as she had once upon a time.

  She soared down West Trinity Place under a starlit sky, held Brandon’s hand over the handbrake as she crossed over College avenue, and headed west up the Ponce de Leon to the suburban forest, near Clarkston, where she could annually smell the burning of wood in the distance, like the burning of kindling in a fireplace. Up a hill and down another, her black Camry disappeared among the fencing of naked trees, her windows fogged from the frost, her music playing lowly, Brandon, running his thumb along her skin, the level of her excitement and her fear rising.

  She prayed to God then that her mother didn’t kill him. She prayed to God that they could get through the holiday without her mother saying something mean to him. She’s probably sure that he felt the same way. He was quiet again, reserved again, and she could feel the nervousness in the tension of his hand. She wished then that she weren’t driving. She wished that she could wrap her arms around him, kiss the side of his face and tell him that he shouldn’t worry, that she’d take care of him, for once, as he’d done for her so, so many times before.

  She cascaded down another hill, and pulled into the short driveway of her childhood house, with black shutters, moldy brick and a wraparound porch with chipped white paint.

  This time, she helped him with his bag, and they entered the house, Brandon, with his arm tossed across Maya’s shoulder, into the low lit and warm interior, that smelled of Mama’s cooking, and a television, blaring from her living room.

  “Ma!” Maya called into the house, tossing her purse onto the worn living room sofa, a piece of furniture that she and her sisters spent many years jumping on and off of.

  “Mama!” Natalie repeated, placing Brandon’s overnight bag down, reaching for his hand.

  Natalie and Maya found their mother over the stove, in the narrow kitchen, with both Aunt Miriam and Aunt June, sitting at the round wooden kitchen table. Maya kissed the side of her mother’s face as Helen said, “Maya, please don’t scream like that, what will I do without that beautiful squeaky voice of yours?”

  “Sorry, Ma,” Maya said, placing herself at the table with her aunts.

  Helen Chandler then looked at the engaged couple and sighed, simultaneously stirring the boiling pot before her.

  “I’m making tomato soup,” she said simply, pursing her brown lips. “I assume that the boy hasn’t eaten since he left New York.”

  “No, ma’am, I haven’t…”

  “Very well,” Helen said. “Natalie get a plate and set it down at the table for him…”

  Natalie did as she was told, heading toward the cabinets above the sink and retrieving a small bowl with blue trim down, and handing it to her mother.

  “Thank you,” Helen sighed, scooping a few spoonfuls into the bowl. “Now tell the boy to sit down at the table and stop looking all awkward.”

  Brandon did as he was told, and Helen sat the bowl down in front of him, on a red placemat with white snowflakes.

  “Good to know that we didn’t run the boy off,” Aunt Miriam said, looking at Aunt June.

  Aunt June nodded and said, “He’s a good one, isn’t he, Helen?”

  “Do you mind not talking about him like he’s not here?” Maya reminded them, retracting slightly when Helen gave her a cross look.

  “I agree with that,” Natalie said quietly, doing the same as her sister when her mother looked in her direction.

  “Oh, we meant nothing by it, darlin’,” Aunt Miriam said, patting him on the back. “We were just making an observation…ain’t that right, Juney?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Aunt June said. “Just an observation, baby…”

  #

  He’d never heard some of the Christmas music that they played on the stereo in the cozy den, adjacent to the kitchen. But he liked it. Especially the Donny Hathaway one called, “This Christmas”, that Natalie sang softly why swiveling her hips gracefully. It was refreshing, and definitely sounded a lot better than hearing “King Wenceslas” each year, in front of a plate of runny mince meat pie and cold, stiff green beans. The song presented itself with warmth, a glow, and a sort of soul that he wasn’t used to…the kind that put him at ease, especially considering that Helen and the two aunts were in the back bedroom. He could barely finish his soup with Helen Chandler, staring at him ardently, like she wanted his head as the centerpiece for dinner on Christmas day. He almost wished that Natalie had stopped rubbing the top of his head (something that gave him pleasure on any ordinary occasion). With each stroke of her fiancée brown hands, Brandon could see her mother get visibly agitated with her. He tried to convince himself then that it was only his mind playing tricks on him. After all, the woman fed him. That in itself seemed a solid step in the right direction.

  He sat by the brick fireplace, while Natalie and her sisters wrapped presents by a humble fir, decorated with old ornaments from years past, a few streams of tinsel and balls of red and gold.

  “I’m glad Brandon’s here,” Maya began, reaching for the scissors. “So he can finally see how terrible you are at wrapping.”

  Brandon couldn’t help but laugh. Of course he couldn’t help but recall the two consecutive Christmases of wrapped boxes with the paper hanging off, and Natalie smiling endearingly as she handed him his present.

  “I’m sorry,” she’d said. “I tried…”

  Sure, she did. Lucky for her, he was less concerned about the wrapping job and more concerned with the gift, which, she’d always deliver. Natalie was always good for getting him something useful for a gift, something he’d mentioned and didn’t think anyone heard.

  Ha, she always did…

  “She doesn’t know it,” Sidney began, leaning in as if to keep the information private. “But me and Mama always have to go back and do hers over, because Mama doesn’t want the presents from our house to look bad…”

  Natalie stopped dancing, looked down at her older sister, and poked her in the side of the head. “I knew it!”

  “Ha, she actually thought that she was good,” Maya chuckled.

  “It doesn’t matter how it’s wrapped,” Natalie defended, placing her hands on her hips. “Ain’t that right, Brandon?”

  Brandon nodded, grinning slowly. “I can agree with that…”

  “Thank you,” his fiancée replied. “He’s basically saying that my gifts are better, too…”

  “I didn’t hear that come out of his mouth, Nattie,” Sidney said, rolling her eyes.

  “Well, that’s what he meant,” Natalie assured them. “Because I know him…better than anyone else…ain’t that right?”

  Hell, yes, he could definitely agree
with that. That skinny girl knew him better even when he didn’t want her to, even when he was so mad at her that he couldn’t think straight.

  He nodded. “Yes, Tallie, you do…”

  “Are you sure you want to marry her?” Maya asked him, arching her right eyebrow, the same way Natalie does when he says something that she thinks is stupid.

  Yes, he was quite sure, against all odds. He was even more sure as they stole looks at each other from across the room, her, winking delicately at him, teasing him. He was as sure as his urge to take that girl in his arms that very moment and take her in their own little world, that they rarely escape to anymore. Hell yes, that world that only they understood, that allowed him to kiss those amazing brown lips over and over again with relentless strength and power and passion, smell that vanilla perfumy scent that he’d been detecting on her neck since she was seventeen years old, run his fingers through her soft coarse hair, laugh at the silliness that she only portrayed around him, feeling his heart tighten each time that she whispered that she loved him into his face.

  Brandon nodded again. “Yes, I’m sure…”

  They retired on the couch, killed the lights, and watched television as the fire in the fireplace died down. Natalie found a home against his chest, and fell asleep sometime after a Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer Claymation movie commenced. After her sisters teased her a little bit, bid him a quick goodnight as they pulled her up by her arms, as she groggily mumbled, “Put me down, you monkeys.”

  Maya gathered her sister in her arms, saying, “Come on Nat, get off Brandon’s bed…”

  Ha, oh how he wanted her to stay.

  The two Chandler sisters proceeded to drag their taller sister down the hallway, but she stopped them suddenly.

  “Nat, what in the world are you doin’?” Sidney asked, smiling.

  Brandon watched as Natalie turned around, broke away from her sisters, dragging her feet toward him. She then proceeded to fall against him, he, who lay on his back, causing a noise of discomfort to come his mouth.

  Natalie took the side of his face and kissed his lips once.

  “I forgot to say ‘Goodnight’,” she admitted, smiling at him.

  “Oh, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” Maya teased.

  “Goodnight,” he told her, kissing her once more. “And I love you…”

  “I love you too,” she whispered, climbing off of him.

  She rejoined her sisters, wrapping her arms around them and they continued their way down the hallway.

  Yes, sir…against all odds…

  The smell of bacon woke him up the next morning, accompanied by stinging sunshine, “Jingle Bells” on the radio and clanging pots. He sat up slowly, wiped his eyes, and attempted to find the source of the noise. For some strange reason, he was confident of the source as he swung his feet to the floor, and stood up, adjusting his pajama bottoms and scratching his belly. This moment reminded him of so many weekend mornings where he’d wake up to the very same smell, shuffle to the kitchen and find Natalie bent over the stove, frying something and humming to herself.

  Yawning, he was startled when he passed through the doorway of the kitchen, and witnessed an older version of Natalie, running about the kitchen. Consequently, he thought he might have startled her too, because she dropped the stick of butter that she had in her hand.

  “Jesus in Heaven!” Helen Chandler said, grasping her chest. “You scared me, boy!”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Chandler,” he replied meekly. “I thought you were someone else…”

  “I see,” she replied, giving him the same look as last night.

  She then looked down at his feet and cleared her throat. “I don’t allow bare feet in my kitchen,” she told him.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he told her, backtracking.

  “You’ll know next time,” she said, bending down to pick up her stick of butter. “Now, go to the bathroom down the hall and wash that sleepy look off your face, then brush your teeth and put on some socks…you did bring socks, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, swallowing hard.

  “Very well then,” she said. “I don’t allow dirty faces, dirty mouths and dirty feet in my kitchen…my girls have learned that those types of people don’t get fed…”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said again.

  He turned around, felt his heart start again, and just as he thought he’d escaped, she called out, “Oh, Boy…?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Merry Christmas Eve…”

  He found the bathroom without any help, down the narrow, shadowed hallway and to the right, just past a bedroom where the door was cracked. There, he saw Natalie, asleep, laying on her back, with her two sisters by her side, one, with her face buried in Natalie’s armpit, and the other with her back toward her. He sat there for a moment, leaned up against the doorway, and he watched her, smiling to himself. He then continued down the hallway toward the bathroom.

  He returned to the kitchen in twenty minutes, hoping that his appearance pleased Ms. Chandler’s eyes, spotting Natalie, Maya and Sidney, sitting at the round kitchen table by the window, each with bare brown feet and sleepy, bed-smashed faces.

  Helen Chandler looked up from her frying pan over the stove and grinned. “I’m glad you could join us, Boy…I didn’t think that you were goin’ to make it…”

  Ha, she was probably hoping that he didn’t, hoping that she could have her three daughters to herself.

  O Contraire, evil mother. He would not give up that easily.

  He approached the kitchen table, leaned down the kiss the top of his Natalie’s head, and sat down in the chair next to her. Shortly following, the mother delivered plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon to her three daughters. She then locked eyes with him, cleared her throat and said, “In this house, we feed ourselves.”

  Natalie replaced her glass of orange juice, slid her plate in his direction, said, “Here, sweetheart,” and got up to fix herself another plate.

  He smiled on the inside.

  Helen and Natalie joined the table, and the family ate in silence for a moment.

  Then, Maya cleared her throat and pleasantly asked, “So, how are your plans coming along?”

  “Plans?” Natalie repeated, dropping her fork.

  “Yes, dummy,” Maya said, rolling her eyes. “You two are getting married, aren’t you?”

  Natalie looked at him. “Of course we are…”

  “So…got anything?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…when is the date, where are you getting married, who are you going to invite? Who’s going to be in the wedding party…?”

  Natalie looked at him again, shoving a morsel into her mouth.

  “Well,” his fiancée began. “I haven’t asked Brandon yet, but I’ve been thinking about a date…”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked, feeling his eyebrow arch in her direction.

  She nodded. “Yes…I’ve been thinking August fifteenth…”

  He felt his stomach do something funny.

  “August fifteenth?” Sidney asked. “What’s so special about that date?”

  Natalie smiled at him.

  “It’s my birthday,” he said lowly.

  “And,” Natalie continued, swallowing the piece in her mouth. “It’s the day we met…if he even remembers that…”

  Of course he did. Of course he remembered that tall, pretty girl with that amazing brown skin, and long curly hair. How could he have forgotten? He refused to tell her that although he woke up the next morning with the most incredible hangover, the moment he attempted to retrace what had happened the previous night in his mind, Natalie Chandler was one of the first instances to pop up.

  “Are you crazy?” was all that he asked her.

  He watched her eyes fall, the way they always did when she blushed.

  Classic Tallie.

  “So, I take it that you like that date?” Sidney asked with a smile.

&nbs
p; Brandon nodded. “Yes, Baby, I do…”

  “Well,” Helen Chandler said, clearing her throat. “I think it’s the dumbest idea Nattie’s ever had.”

  “Mama…” Sidney said.

  “Honestly, Baby,” the mother began. “Having it on the boy’s birthday?”

  “It holds significance, Ma,” Maya defended. “I think it’s romantic…”

  “It’s Natalie’s wedding, Mama,” Sidney began, taking a sip of her orange juice. “Let her have it when she wants…”

  “You know, I hate to say it,” Helen began. “But if you were still dating Anthony, we wouldn’t be having this problem…”

  “Mama,” Maya said suddenly.

  Ha, Evil Mother struck again. At that moment of complete awkward silence, he attempted not to show that hearing the name of Natalie’s ex-boyfriend didn’t make him cringe inside, and he found it quite hard to swallow the glob of pancake mush in his mouth.

  He only hoped that Natalie said something soon, before he jumped across the table and strangled her mother.

  “Mama,” Natalie began quietly. “We’ve been over this before…”

  He was sure that he had not heard this discussion before, and hoped that Natalie refreshed her mother’s memory.

  “Anthony and I were a mistake,” Natalie began slowly. “I did not want to be with him…Brandon is the man that I want to be with.”

  Take that, Evil Mother! She wanted to be with him. He, who was sure that he’d told her convoluted mother that he loved her daughter to a crazy degree. Now, why in God’s name could she think that going back to Anthony would make more sense?

  “Don’t ruin Christmas, Mama,” Cheerful Maya said, placing her small hand on her mother’s. “They’ve set a date and let that be that…”

  He was sure that Maya’s power of being the baby of the family had a hand in shutting their mother up, for the remainder of breakfast, and even as she hovered over the kitchen sink to wash dishes. She didn’t even protest when he reached his hands into the sink with her, offering his services. It was then that he took a deep breath. He would give himself time. He would give himself enough time to allow Helen Chandler to appreciate him. Patience was the key with this woman, hardened and broken, and stern, who looked so much like Natalie that it scared him.