Before I Let Go

by Darren Coleman

  After the plates were cleared the ladies, minus Tory, went inside to do the dishes. She came into the family room with Uncle Freddie, Kyle, and myself. Mr. Williams and his wife, who were dear friends of the family, had arrived late and were at the table still enjoying the delicious, ten-course dinner my mother had prepared. She cleared the empty plates from the table but left some foil and food out, knowing that everyone would be sure to take at least one plate of food home. If they didn’t, Moms would be eating leftovers for a month with all of the grub she had prepared.

  Just as the Lions game reached the fourth quarter I remembered to page Nate. I felt so full that I was considering taking a nap when I heard the doorbell ring. I heard my mother telling Brenda to answer it. Within seconds I could hear my sister giving one of her “big sister” greetings to Brendan.

  “Boyyyyyy. Where’s you been hiding? You looking good!” I heard her say. Then she went on. “You know, Cory doesn’t have to be here for you to come past to say hello.”

  I heard him upstairs talking to my mother in the kitchen, and she then reintroduced him to people he had met at least ten times. I finally heard Moms excuse Brendan to join us. He walked down the five steps into the family room where we were.

  “Hey, what’s going on everybody?” I heard him say.

  “Hey there, youngblood. What do you know good?” Uncle Freddie returned.

  “Not much,” Brendan replied. “Who won the first game, Cory?”

  “It’s almost over now,” Uncle Freddy answered. “Detroit may lose the rest of their games this season.”

  “You finished up sort of early at your aunt’s house, huh?” I asked, looking at the clock. “What’s going on tonight?”

  “Not a heck of a whole lot. I may check out a movie with this chick I met last night.”

  “Come with me for a second, I want to show you something.” I got up off the couch and headed toward the steps. Brendan followed.

  “We don’t want to hear your conversation. You don’t have to leave, Uncle Cory,” Tory said, giggling.

  “I’m sure you don’t, and stop being grown,” I said sarcastically, as I headed up the steps and into my room.

  Once I entered the room I pulled out a photo album of some of my friends from Atlanta and tossed it to Brendan.

  He thumbed through the pics enthusiastically for a minute before he came out, “Hey, that cutie I met last night just before you all left the party last night is sweet, Cory. I told her that I would call her today…as a matter of fact, I’m going to hit her up on the cell right now.”

  As soon as Brendan called Laney, the phone rang. I answered, “Dandridge residence.”

  “Cory?” I heard Nate say.

  “Yeah, it’s me. What’s up? You told me to page you, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. But everything is straight. India’s family is cool. Her mother threw down with this meal, and this gravy she made is like a secret weapon.” He said with a slight laugh. Then he added, “Yo, everybody over here is suffering from ‘niggaritis.’ It’s pitiful, Cory. It’s like ten out the fifteen people who ate are asleep, even the little kids, man.”

  “What the hell is ‘niggaritis?’” I was puzzled.

  “You know, when you eat and fall asleep right after dinner. Like these niggas did.”

  “Well, shit then, I guess if that’s the case, then I’m suffering from a bout of niggaritis my damned self, because I’m definitely thinking about laying down.”

  “Nah, hold tight. I’ll be through there within the hour. India is going to bring me out there to pick up the truck. Where’s Brendan?” he asked.

  “He’s right here on his cellphone talking to some little honey he met last night. He said something about taking her to a movie.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Tell him that me and India might roll with them.”

  I turned to Brendan and gave him Nate’s message. He nodded to confirm that it was on, and I relayed the response back to Nate.

  He responded with, “Why don’t you come along, Cory? Call up a honey and see if you can get a date.” He cut himself off. “Yo, I forgot. You just got back and don’t have too many selections to choose from.”

  “Exactly. As a matter fact, I’m starting off with a clean slate. I told Jay that I might call her later on.”

  “No, no. You can’t call her,” he explained. “She will run her mouth to Erika if she sees me with another honey. Why don’t you call Nina? You got her number last night, right?”

  “I thought last night you said that I should stay away from her, and today you’re saying I should take her out on Thanksgiving Day, after she finishes dinner with her family and her sister, probably. Make up my mind, will you?” I said sarcastically.

  “I’m just saying, Cory, it’s nothing but a friendly movie date. Not even a date for real…it’s just hanging out as friends, like a buddy thang, you know what I’m saying?” Nate shot back, trying to draw my attention as far away from Jay as possible.

  “I don’t know, man. I’ll think about it, though, and let you know when you get here.” As I hung up the phone with Nate, Brendan walked back into my room with the movie section of the Washington Post. He browsed the section while coming to a verdict on what movie, what time, and finally, what theater. Decisions, decisions.

  The idea of catching a movie seemed like a good one. I thought about calling Nina for a minute, but then just as quickly began to think of all of the reasons I should not. And there were quite a few that came to mind. What if someone saw us? How would I act on a date with Nina, and what if she was as beautiful as she was when I saw her last night? That last thought made me a little nervous as I battled the urge to call her.

  Brendan had gone to pick up Laney and would meet Nate and India at the Sony Theaters in Calverton. Nate came into the house long enough to introduce India to my family, as he had introduced probably a hundred or so others in the past ten years. India was everything he had said. She was sexy, and when she spoke her voice was one that could probably drive a man crazy. I thought she should be on the radio. She seemed like a really nice sister, as well. That was as far as I could venture with her, though. I no longer bothered to put any real persona with the women in Nate’s life. If I took the time to actually realize that they were real people with real feelings, I would find myself feeling sorry for them. That had happened once before and had been a big mistake. It had nearly caused a rift in the friendship between Nate and me, and I had learned my lesson. What he did was strictly his business.

  They both tried to convince me to go to the movies as a third leg, since I didn’t have a date, but I declined. I told Nate to call me in the morning if he was going to go shopping with me. He nearly forgot the plate of food my sister had made for him to take. But he gladly took it when she reminded him.

  I told India that it was nice to meet her and she assured me of the same as they headed out the door. It was seven o’clock when they left. At seven-fifteen I left the house, headed for the AMC Movie Theater at City Place in Silver Spring, where I was meeting Nina.

  Chapter 13

  ALL I WANTED FOR CHRISTMAS

  It was the Friday before Christmas and I had completed my first three weeks at Hakito Electronics. Each day had gone as smoothly as the first. Jamison Hakito had come into the office from New York to personally introduce me to everyone at HE. He was the coolest Japanese man I had ever met, and I had met quite a few working in the tech world. Every day that Jamison was in town he wore custom-tailored suits and expensive loafers. Even his assistants, who were Japanese as well, were dressed to the nines. They followed him around everywhere he went, writing down whatever he said and remembering anything that he forgot. He walked through the building with an air of confidence and control that I hadn’t seen when we first met in NYC. It made me wonder how in the world my bosses at Pavillion had ever thought that we would be able to bluff or bully him and his company into a buyout of its digital programming division.

  On my
first day Jamison had taken me out to lunch at the Montgomery Grill in Bethesda, and then to an art gallery that he knew up on the Pike that was located not far from my apartment. He told me to pick out five pieces of artwork that I liked, as they would be framed and go into my office the next day. It dawned on me at that moment that the walls of my office, which was a top-floor, corner spot overlooking a man-made lake, had seemed a little bare that morning when I arrived. I had probably overlooked it, though, because of how stunning the cherry oak desk, conference table, and bookshelves were. There was also a couch, a small wet bar, and a private bathroom. I had been prepared to purchase my own artwork, but since Jamison and HE were springing for it, I figured, why not? They were surely writing it off anyway, so when the four pieces and the two statues I chose came up to thirty-seven hundred dollars, I felt no reservations at all.

  It was a hell of a welcome aboard, and it didn’t stop there. As we drove back toward Gaithersburg, Jamison explained to me in greater detail what my position entailed. Essentially I would be responsible for cracking a whip and ensuring that sales and production levels stayed at a comfortable match. This meant that if sales were up, I was responsible for ensuring that the people in production kept up, and if they didn’t keep up, I was responsible for rolling heads. Dealing with the sales division, however, was going to be a bit more complex. When problems arose with sales, I was first to report the problem to Jamison, who was my direct boss. I was then to advise him of my planned actions, be it with marketing, the sales team, or customer service. When it came down to it I was the “man” next to the “man,” and that was alright with me because it paid so well.

  After our lunchtime conversation, which lasted back in my office and through the remainder of the afternoon, Jamison and I reviewed some of the details of my contract. It stipulated my six-figure salary and bonuses galore that could easily add another forty grand if I met some very reasonable incentives.

  There was four weeks of paid vacation, of course, five days of personal leave, unlimited sick leave, and HE had even thrown in three days for family emergencies. I had never seen such a thing, and when I asked him to explain it, he said that HE was family friendly, with a lot of single mothers employed there. If I chose to leave before that time, I could not work for one of their competitors for two years. It also stated that should I be released for my performance or conduct, HE would pay the remainder of the salary left on my contract. It seemed pretty sweet to me.

  Later that afternoon a Fed Ex package arrived at my office. I opened it to find a box of fancy linen-stock business cards with all of my contact information on them. In the box, I also found a Dell laptop computer, a Palm Pilot, and a top-of-the-line Nextel cellular phone.

  Jamison had taken the liberty of hiring an administrative assistant for me from a temp agency but said I could hire a permanent one as soon as I wanted. He told me I would need a good one, and the sooner the better. He had someone e-mail me the listings of all the secretaries inside the company who wanted an interview for the position. Jamison explained that since I was part of the executive management team, my assistant would be paid a starting salary of forty-five thousand dollars, which would be a significant raise for anyone I hired from within. He suggested that it would be nice if I hired someone who was already familiar with the company, but assured me that it was my choice.

  I fumbled through the papers on my desk and pulled out a folder. It contained information on the last two candidates I would be interviewing for my still vacant administrative position. I was trying to familiarize myself with some of the information about the ladies before they arrived. I was becoming a little irritated with my second temp. Had the first one made it to work on time once, I may have offered her the job. She was certainly proficient enough in every other category, but punctuality was a must. I had interviewed at least twelve women from inside the company, but only one seemed to have the kind of personality I was looking for.

  I was seeing one of my two candidates before lunch and the second afterward. Mrs. Vance, the first, arrived. She was a somewhat stocky woman who looked to be in her late thirties. She was average-looking at best, and wore very thick glasses. She knew her stuff, though. Looking at her résumé I could see that she was extremely experienced in all aspects of running an office and knew the software as well. She had even worked in the corporate offices of Panasonic in Corpus Christi, Texas. She had only left her last job because her husband, who was in the Navy, had been transferred to Bethesda Naval Hospital. She took the liberty of explaining to me how perfect she would be for the job. She was right, and I even let her know how impressed I was with her qualifications. The interview lasted the better part of half an hour. I told her I still had to interview one other person, and that she would be notified Wednesday at the earliest, since Tuesday was Christmas.

  I watched her try to swish her blocky hips as she swaggered out of the office with the same confidence she had come in with. I just shook my head as I went to grab my coat for lunch. Before I left I remembered to have my acting assistant forward my calls to voice mail. I didn’t trust her to take messages for me, since she was liable to take fifteen-minute breaks any time I left the office.

  When I returned twenty minutes later with a turkey sandwich from Subway and a newspaper under my arm, there was no sign of my worthless temp. As I made my way back to the receptionist’s desk I saw a young white girl in a gray pinstriped business suit seated in the reception area. Our eyes met briefly, and I smiled and nodded as she moved her lips to say “hi” without any sound coming out. I asked the receptionist where my assistant had gone. When she informed me that my sorry assistant had told her she was going to the mall, I nearly went off right there. I had several reports that needed to get done before I left for the four-day weekend. As I began to complain to the receptionist, Carol, whom I had become somewhat familiar with during the past few weeks, she informed me that the seated young lady was my afternoon interviewee. I looked at my watch and realized that she was half an hour early for her one o’clock appointment. After introducing myself, I invited her back to my office.

  I offered her a seat at the assistant’s desk while I went back into my office and wolfed down a few bites of my sandwich. I checked my mouth for crumbs, washed my hands, and went back out. I told her to come back into my office and have a seat at the conference table. As I grabbed the folder with her résumé, I opened the door to my office that she had allowed to swing shut behind her. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by being in a closed office with a man she didn’t know. In addition, I was curious as to what time my temporary assistant would stroll back in. I grabbed two twelve-ounce bottles of spring water from my refrigerator and handed her one before I sat down. She thanked me, promptly took the top off the bottle, and reached for one of the Styrofoam cups that were in the middle of the table.

  I took a seat directly across the table from her and opened the folder. Heather Primrose, I read.

  “Good afternoon Miss, or is it Mrs., Primrose?”

  “It’s Miss Primrose, for the time being. I am engaged, though.” She gave me a phony, laughing smile.

  “Oh, really. Congratulations. That’s great,” I said. “So when is the big day?” I said, trying to sound as if I really cared.

  “In August of this coming year.”

  “That’s really great.” She asked if I was married, and we made some small talk before I got down to the interview. She had attended Montgomery Community College but had studied nursing. She explained that she had worked as an administrative assistant briefly in a law firm the previous year year but had left the job to go back to school. She then went on to tell me that the bills were coming, and she simply would have to attend school in the evenings instead. When I asked her why she had applied for this job, she explained that a friend of hers who works in accounting had seen the job listing and had encouraged her to apply. As she talked about all of the wonderful things she had heard and read about HE, I noticed that, other than a sma
ll overbite, she was actually rather attractive. She had dyed blonde hair, green eyes, and at least a pair of 36DDs being restrained under her blazer. Maybe 38s.

  None of this fazed me much because I wasn’t into white women at all. I had gone out with a white girl only once in my life, and it wasn’t supposed to have been a date. I had been paired with a fellow student for a project in grad school. We had been working closely for two months, so when the project was complete we decided to go out and celebrate the A that we received at a bar. We ended up meeting at Fat Tuesday’s in Atlanta’s underground mall. We had a pretty good time drinking frozen daiquiris with double shots, and eventually ended up back at her place fooling around. We had mediocre sex that night but never spoke much after that semester. I saw her from time to time with her boyfriend, and she always looked scared of speaking to me, in front of him, as if he then would know what had happened. Although I had gotten a few offers from other white women, at PSC, I had shied away, thinking that they were all as silly as the first one I had screwed.

  Heather was very personable and took every break in the conversation as an opportunity to ask me about the company and about me. It felt as though I was the one being interviewed and she was merely deciding if she wanted to take the job. Heather was nice, but nowhere near as qualified for this position as Mrs. Vance. While sitting there I had all but decided to call Mrs. Vance before I left for the weekend and offer her the job. God only knew what time I’d be leaving, since I had to finish reports for the New York office and send them out by midnight. I brought the interview to a close by telling Heather how nice it was to have met her and that she would be hearing from me sometime before the New Year.

  As I extended my hand to her, she looked me in the eye and said bluntly, “Mr. Dandridge, I really want this job.” I was sure that the look on my face made her aware that I was completely puzzled by her statement, or request. I wasn’t quite sure which one it was. Then she said, “I overheard you mention to the receptionist that you had reports to get done. It doesn’t look like your assistant is coming back any time soon. If you give me the job, I will start right now on those reports. I swear to you that I will do a great job. I won’t leave until they’re finished, and if you hire me you can do it on a thirty-day probation.” She continued, rambling, “If you evaluate me in a month and my performance is not rated top-notch, I will resign with no questions asked.”