Between Friends

by Kitt, Sandra

  He nodded his head, rubbing his left arm. “Yeah, a little bit. And I’m feeling cold.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have had that second beer,” Eleanor suggested. “I think I have some aspirin.” She opened her purse and riffled through the contents. “I really would like to stay for the rest.”

  “I’ll ask Dean how long the next set is,” Dallas offered.

  “Your father’s okay,” Eleanor decided. “I’ll order him some club soda. That should help.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lyle Oliver said firmly. “I’d really like to go home. It’s a long drive anyway.”

  “Well, let’s talk to Dean, first,” his wife persisted.

  “Ellie, this doesn’t have to be discussed.”

  “Oh, good … here he comes,” Eleanor said as they watched Dean approach.

  Dallas was ready to compliment her brother on his performance, but she detected a hesitancy in him. He was rubbing his hands together, as if he had sweaty palms.

  “Hey, Mom. Dad,” Dean said, kissing his mother’s cheek and shaking hands with his father. He squeezed Dallas’s shoulder. “I hope you’re enjoying the show. Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you. You and Dallas were so good to me last weekend. But I’m enjoying this. You play so well.” Eleanor beamed.

  Dean and Dallas exchanged amused glances. They both knew that given the kind of music he played, it was doubtful his mother could really tell.

  “Can you sit with us awhile?”

  “We might not stay for the rest, Dean,” Lyle interrupted his wife. “I’m not feeling well …”

  “Lyle …” Eleanor began.

  “I just wanted to warn you that we may slip out early,” Dallas said to Dean.

  “No problem.” He nodded, again glancing over his shoulder.

  Dallas followed his gaze. To the three young women, waiting to speak with him again. To the two couples.

  “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to,” he said. “I’ll be right back …” Dean retreated to the front of the room.

  “I told you so,” Eleanor said quietly, pretending to be looking for something else in her purse.

  Dallas watched as Dean held out his hand to one of the women as she stood up.

  “Ellie …” Lyle Oliver said quietly to his wife. As she looked at him, he pushed back from the table and stood up to face his son and the pretty black woman next to him.

  Dallas stood up, too, and smiled at the woman with understanding and encouragement. And then she looked at her stepmother. Dallas was surprised and impressed. If Eleanor had any particular feeling she hid it very well. She sat regally and calmly, like a queen granting an audience. Like a mature woman meeting a younger one. Not like a mother who could be disappointed, disapproving, disbelieving.

  “This is Alikah Daru,” Dean introduced, placing his hand possessively on the woman’s waist. “This is my mother and father.”

  “Hi,” she said, nodding at them and smiling. Her eyes were bright and inquisitive.

  “Nice to meet you, Alikah,” Lyle Oliver murmured politely.

  “And this is my sister, Dallas.”

  The woman turned a knowing, almost amused smile on Dallas and held out her hand. “Dean has told me about you.”

  Dallas arched a brow at Dean.

  “You’re the writer.”

  “That’s me,” Dallas said wryly, accepting the cool slender hand.

  There were two silver bands on her thumb. A dozen bracelets on her wrist. The woman’s hair was locked and dyed a light brown. Most of it was gathered in a ponytail, but tendrils fell over her forehead. Her double-pierced earlobes were fitted with a pair of gold hoops and rounded studs. She wore a deep burgundy lipstick on her beautiful mouth that made her look as if she’d been eating berries. She was dressed all in black. And Alikah Daru also wore a very thin gold wire nose ring.

  “You’re the computer genius,” Dallas said.

  Alikah glanced with warm and admiring eyes to Dean. “He tell you that? I’m not a genius.”

  “But she knows more than I do,” Dean said. His glance bounced back and forth between his parents.

  “Sorry to interrupt the celebration. Dean said it was your birthday, Mrs. Oliver. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Eleanor managed.

  “I didn’t know Alikah was going to be here,” Dean said, as if that explained anything.

  Dallas could see from her stepmother’s stiff back and lifted chin that it did not. Her father looked less astonished … more resigned. Tired again.

  “Dean’s been inviting me to come and hear him play for a while. I brought some friends along. We all work together.”

  Dallas couldn’t tell if Alikah was aware of the tension, but her brother’s nervousness faded away.

  “I’m going to hang out for a while when we’re done. I might not see you …” Dean announced.

  “No, you won’t,” Eleanor spoke at last. Her voice was dead calm and flat. “We’re going to leave before you start again. Your father doesn’t feel well.”

  Dallas sighed in relief. She knew from experience that her stepmother’s silences were the worst. With them she censored and sat in judgment. Her controlled responses were preferable. At least then, Dallas had learned, you stood a chance of surviving them.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Alikah said solicitously.

  Dean frowned at his father, finally shifting his concerns from himself. “You okay, Dad?”

  “Thank you,” Lyle murmured. He was exhausted. He turned to Dallas. “Are you staying or leaving with us?”

  Dallas didn’t think either option was particularly attractive at the moment. But she turned to Dean. “I’m going to walk them to their car. Then I think I’ll head uptown.” She smiled at the young woman. “We’ll see each other again.”

  “Yes. I hope so.”

  Dallas didn’t say a word to her brother. And she knew she didn’t have to. The arching of her brow and slight smile as she turned to follow her parents said it all.

  “Is it serious?” Ross asked out of the blue as he noisily slammed the locker door.

  The sound was like a gunshot, and reverberated through the large tiled room. It was empty now of students. The advanced dive class was over. Ross turned from the locker and quickly pulled a black T-shirt over his head and his broad, hairy torso.

  Alex knew exactly what the question was about. No, not what. Who. He was seated on the end of a long, narrow bench carefully packing his black rubber suit into an oversized duffel bag.

  Alex closed his eyes tightly for a second and brushed his hands over his cropped hair. “I don’t know.”

  Ross tucked the tail of the T-shirt into the waist of his jeans and then finger-combed his hair. “Why not?”

  Alex gestured helplessly before returning to the task at hand. “It’s … not what I expected, that’s all.”

  Ross squatted down to help speed up the process of packing their gear. “Why not?”

  Alex glanced up in annoyance at his friend. “I just told you.”

  Ross zippered one bag and pulled over a second, dumping in their fins and masks. “You know the reason, Alex. You’re bullshitting around it. Come on. Why not?”

  Alex wanted to tell Ross to back off and let it be, but that wasn’t going to help. The fact of the matter was, he wasn’t really sure what he felt for Valerie. He only knew he felt more himself with Dallas Oliver. It was the same … only different.

  “Maybe … it’s just happening too fast.”

  Ross took a deep breath. “So then, you don’t know if you’re in love with Val? Or just with the idea of being in love with her?”

  Alex considered the question for a long moment, flexing his jaw muscles anxiously. He gave up and shook his head in defeat. “Am I crazy, or what? Valerie Holland is gorgeous, she’s sexy, she wants me in her bed. Megan likes me, and I know how important that is to Valerie. Is there a problem?”

  Ross lifted the two duffel bags and carried them to t
he exit. He propped the door open with them and returned for one of the oxygen tanks. “In answer to your first question, no, you’re not crazy. Everything you said about Valerie is true and then some,” Ross conceded. “About the second question … I suggest you pay attention to your gut and stop thinking with your johnson.”

  When the lobby buzzer sounded Dallas knew it was her brother. It had been several days since that uncomfortable meeting at the club with Alikah. Eleanor had not been so considerate. Dallas was still smarting from the fact that her stepmother had called her the next morning to express her displeasure at Dean’s current choice of girlfriend.

  “Dean knows how I feel about that,” Eleanor complained.

  “About what?” Dallas baited her stepmother, forcing her to say exactly what she was thinking.

  “About dating these women with their back-to-the-motherland thing. I know it’s fashionable, but did you see her hair? How does she keep it clean? Ridiculous. She might as well be wearing a bird’s nest. And that name. What kind of name is Alikah? And that ring in her nose! Lord, have mercy.”

  “Eleanor, all Dean did was to introduce us to a woman he knows who happens to dress Afro-Centric. As far as I recall Dean did not confide in us that he was in love, in like, just passing through, or hadn’t decided yet.”

  “Maybe they’re just messin’ around, but did you see the way she looked at him? She’s got ‘looking for a husband’ stamped on her forehead.”

  Dallas sighed patiently. “Did you see the way he looked at her? I think the admiration went both ways,” Dallas suggested.

  “Well, I won’t have it.”

  “Dean is a grown man. This isn’t about what you want.”

  Eleanor hung up on her.

  And Dallas had yet to call and apologize, because she knew that she would have to.

  The door buzzed again.

  Reluctantly Dallas put aside her laptop and slowly got up from her sofa. She went over to the intercom next to the apartment door and pressed the talk button.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me, Dilly-Dally.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you, Dean. Come back when you grow up.”

  “Come on, Dallas. Let me in. I want to explain.”

  “You can’t explain away your thoughtlessness.”

  Having gotten her knock in, Dallas stood by the door, holding it open for his arrival.

  Dallas had to admit that Dean did look more contrite than usual. But if he was going to try to get over with her again, she was going to toss his butt out of her apartment.

  “Hey, how’re you doing?” he asked as he stepped into the foyer and wandered into his sister’s living room. “Did I interrupt your work?”

  Dallas sighed. “Have you spoken to your mother?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Then you’d better. I’m tired of being a sounding board for you and Eleanor.”

  Dean paced the room. “Why should I have to hide the fact that I like Alikah. But it’s not like I’m engaged to her or anything. We’re just seeing each other.”

  Dallas unconsciously began pacing parallel to her brother, in the opposite direction. She had one fist braced into her waist, the other hand rubbing her forehead. “You don’t have to explain to me, Dean. But I’m not your mother. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Alikah and I don’t care. I don’t care how she wears her hair, who she votes for, or who she prays to.

  “If she was smart she wouldn’t have anything to do with you. But at least have the guts to stand up for what you believe in and stop always looking for the easy way out,” Dallas nearly shouted.

  Dean stared at her. “Man, you really got worked up over this.”

  Dallas was reluctant to admit it was much more than this. She was feeling edgy and impatient. Valerie had been testy with her. An eruption of that’s-not-fair was circulating through Soul because she’d been offered a book deal. She still didn’t know what she was going to say to Burke when and if they ever talked again. Her father had been withdrawn and aloof lately … and Eleanor was on the war path.

  “I have my own problems to deal with.”

  “You mean Burke? Man, kick that dude to the curb,” Dean advised.

  “You should talk.”

  He grinned ruefully. “You mean with Alikah. I know I have to deal, or cut loose.”

  “Tell your mother that,” Dallas suggested dryly.

  “I’m gonna. I know Mom. She shoots first and asks questions later. But it’s going to be different. For one thing Alikah is hip to how Mom feels. Her own mother did a number on her, too. Especially when she changed her name from Alicia to Alikah.”

  “So I’m hearing that you’re willing to go to the mat for, er, Alikah? Is she worth it?”

  Dean splayed his hand on his chest and leaned toward her. “I’m worth it. Mom will have to deal with me.”

  Dallas grimaced. “I’d buy a ticket to see that.”

  The phone rang.

  She went to answer, talking to Dean over her shoulder as she reached for the receiver. “You do know about condoms, right?”

  Dean cackled at her audacity.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. It’s Burke.”

  Dallas was caught off guard and felt her emotions crashing together as she quickly tried to regain her balance. She’d somehow expected that Burke wouldn’t try to call her if he was seeing someone else. But why shouldn’t he try to burn his candle at both ends if he thought he could get away with it?

  “Hi.”

  “I thought I’d call and see how you’re doing. Check when we could get together.”

  Dallas frowned. “Get … together?”

  He laughed. “Hey … I know you saw me the other night.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You want to know who she is.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I knew her a long time ago. You know how that goes. I couldn’t act like I didn’t know her.”

  Dallas was tempted to laugh. “No, I guess not. That would be rude. So is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  “I was hoping we could make a date …”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Come on, Dallas. At least I didn’t try to lie.”

  “That’s supposed to make it okay? I don’t have time for this anymore, Burke.” She hung up.

  “That was the man himself.”

  Dallas looked at Dean with a frown. “Do you know something I should know about?”

  He pursed his lips and shrugged. “I don’t really …”

  Dallas sucked her teeth. “For Christ’s sake, Dean …”

  “I’m pretty sure I saw him a few months ago with someone else. A singer I know. I didn’t want to say anything, but …”

  Dallas felt peculiar knowing that her brother, maybe a lot of other people, had known that Burke was seeing other women. She felt so foolish. She had a lot of nerve advising Dean on the state of his affairs when her own were such a mess.

  When the phone rang yet again, her anger at having been used had risen to the level of resentment. Dallas snatched the receiver up and spoke before listening. “Burke, I can’t tal … who is this?”

  Her eyes widened and Dallas turned to stare at Dean.

  “What’s wrong? What? Okay … okay … Yes, he’s here with me.”

  “What’s going on?” Dean asked.

  Dallas waved for him to remain quiet as she listened. She squeezed her eyes closed and placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God …” Dallas moaned. “All right. I’m on my way. Yes, I’ll tell him.” She hung up.

  Dallas looked dazed for a moment before rushing past her brother toward her bedroom. “That was Eleanor. It’s Daddy. He had a heart attack.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The nuclear family is dead. Due to wars, attrition, evolution, domestic violence, divorce, and lack of interest. What remains is a mishmash of orphan souls desperately seeking safety, a home, validation, love. We pick and choose an
d discard, starting with one and moving on to another if it doesn’t work out. Families are disposable. We cross cultures, mix races … and genders, or make it up as we go along, so confusing the issue that we are numb when we lose someone we care about … because we learn too late that we care about them deeply. What we need to do is find them all, gather them to us and hold on tight, because loneliness is pointless. Life is already too short to spend it looking for the perfect mom and dad, the right husband or wife, the ideal kids. There is no such thing. There is only us; you and me and everyone else in need. We have a lot in common. Maybe we can join forces, combine our energies, share our lives … and be a family. What a novel idea.

  DALLAS QUIETLY OPENED THE bedroom door several inches and peered into the semidarkness. The bedside reading lamp was on, but her father was perfectly still. He lay with his upper body slightly elevated. A hand was draped over the edge of the bed, and a book had slid from his grip, threatening to drop to the floor. His glasses were perched on his nose. Watching him, she felt a stab of fear. Dallas approached the bed, looking down at her father’s calm and peaceful face.

  “Daddy?” She barely whispered, afraid that she might disturb him and wake him up. Afraid that he wouldn’t. She touched his hand. It was cold. “Daddy?”

  Lyle Oliver responded with a weak sigh. His head rolled on the pillow, and he drew his hand up to lay on his chest.

  He was only sleeping. Dallas breathed in relief.

  She carefully removed the book and her father’s glasses and put them on the nightstand. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand. He was cool. She didn’t know what that meant. Should she call the doctor? He looked okay. Youthful almost. Not nearly as drawn and tired as he’d appeared lately, that they all had not noticed. Until it was almost too late. Dallas turned out the light and left the room. She stood in the hallway just outside the door and hugged herself. And listened.

  She used to love the absolute quiet of this house. It used to seem so safe. She’d feel grateful that she had a home. Until her father’s attack she’d never fully realized how much she’d taken for granted. Eleanor was sometimes difficult and domineering. Dean was irreverent and often maddeningly irresponsible. Her father was reserved and gentle. But they were good people. In their own ways they cared about one another. They were a family. This was her family.