by Jacki Renée
Wednesday morning Bryan asks me to come to his downtown office. He introduces me to his attorney and explains the documents I need to sign. He wants to make sure I’m taken care of in the event something happens to him before we’re married.
Once his attorney leaves, Bryan pulls me into his arms, staring me in the eyes. He’s trying to communicate something without using actual words.
I don’t understand. Bryan kisses the palm of my right hand, then places it on his dress shirt, over the steady beat of his heart.
“This hand unlocks my world.” He says it with so much raw emotion, I know the reason behind it is important and eventually he’ll explain.
In the afternoon we meet at the girls’ school for the regional science fair finals.
Kourtney wins first place in the second grade division and fifth place overall. She’s going to the state finals. Dad drove from Colorado Springs to be here and is her biggest cheerleader next to Emma, Penelope, Dylan and me.
Bryan proudly stands by Kourtney as she accepts her trophies and certificates. This is a photo moment that I couldn’t resist capturing. I’ll frame it and give it to him for Father’s Day.
Thursday morning, Bryan and I meet with the court appointed mediator to review the applications.
“That was fast,” I tell him when we leave the court building.
“It’s a simple process since we’re their only living, biological parents.”
Since I have the day off, Bryan and I go for walk along Pearl Street. I buy him lunch and we sit on a bench people watching. We talk about our wedding ceremony and reception. The guest list for the actual ceremony is small, but the list for the reception is long. There’s one person in particular Bryan wants to invite.
We decide to surprise the girls and pick them up from school together. Max makes us laugh as he recounts Madelyn’s reaction to the news.
Holly joins us standing in front of the school.
The croak of the Horny Toad interrupts us.
“So, I hear you professionally and successfully trapped him.” Madelyn’s frog legs carry her over to our cluster. “That was fast. I would say congratulations, but I’ll wait for the results of the paternity test to come in. I’ve seen her prowling around your friend.” Ribbit.
“Give it a rest. Bryan never wanted you,” Holly chastens.
“Says the woman who tried to kill herself because her husband doesn’t want her.”
Bryan pins my arms to my side, preventing me from throwing a punch.
“I suggest you move along, Mrs. Brooks. My fiancée will kick your ass.”
A frazzled Dr. Barrett approaches. “Mrs. Brooks. I need to see you in my office. Now. Mrs. Banks. Mrs. Johnson. You need to accompany Mrs. Brooks.” He looks at me. “Dr. Edwards, may I have a private word with you?”
We step out of earshot of the other parents.
“I want to personally apologize and let you know that our school has zero tolerance for any acts of racism.”
I lean back into Bryan, tears pooling in my eyes.
“I assure you the students involved will be dealt with accordingly. Emma reported what was happening, and I quickly put a stop to it,” he says. “Kourtney was not physically harmed, but she’s been unusually withdrawn since the incident happened thirty minutes ago. Ms. Williamson was not at school today and the substitute did not have control over the classroom.”
I don’t understand. Kourtney isn’t the only Black child in this private school. Hell, she isn’t the only ethnic child, so why would she be targeted?
I’ve taught my child to be colorblind.
I’ve taught her that the texture and length of a Black woman’s hair does not make or break her beauty and there’s no such thing as good hair. Hair is hair anyway you comb it.
I’ve encouraged my child to expand her vocabulary and not judge people by the words they use. Instead, understand the context of the words.
I’ve taught my daughter to embrace her heritage and be open-minded and respectful of others. To expand her view of the world and not seclude herself within her surroundings.
What did they say to my baby? Did she know what they meant? Did they know the meaning behind their words?
Children are taught prejudices. Learning acceptance and tolerance is a choice.
Bryan speaks, bringing me back to our reality. “Thank you, Dr. Barrett. We will discuss it with the girls and let you know if we’re pulling them out of the school.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Mr. Hawk.” He sighs, clearly at a loss of how to make this better. “I’m truly sorry, Dr. Edwards.” He touches my arm.
I nod. Words fail me at the moment.
The bell rings.
I face the entrance, searching for my baby. I see her running from the school’s office like she’s being chased. Emma’s right beside her. My soul aches at the sight.
“Kourt. Emm,” Bryan calls out to them.
I hold my arms open. Kourtney leaps into them wrapping her arms and legs around me, burying her face in my neck. Emma wraps her arms around my waist burying her face in my side. Tears roll down my cheeks.
“Let me carry her,” Bryan says taking Kourtney in his arms. He holds her against him as she sobs on his shoulder.
We walk away with our girls. Supporting one another. Comforting each other.
I open the backdoor to the truck. For once, the crowd of parents, students, and teachers are quiet as they stand in front of the school watching us. Emma climbs in and I climb in next. Bryan hands me Kourtney. I secure the seat belts around us.
This is happening to Emma too, and I wonder what Bryan has taught her about different ethnicities.
I don’t hear the truck starting. I don’t notice us driving away from the school. Sobs and sniffles fill the silence in the truck as we head home. I rub my girls’ backs, while I think of how we will get through this. The therapist in me gets overpowered by the emotion of being a mom, but I fight the urge to tell Bryan to turn around and take us back to the school so I can have a talk with those moms.
My girls need me and I’ll be strong for them.
Bryan pulls into the garage and opens the backdoor, reaching for Kourtney. She goes to him, crying harder in his arms. Emma and I hold on to each other as we climb out.
The four of us go straight to our room.
We climb onto the bed. Tears roll down Bryan’s cheeks as he embraces his daughter like he’s trying to absorb her pain. The sight is unbearable and I hold Emma tighter.
It takes a while, but we calm down enough to have a family discussion about the incident at school today and how, as a family, we will face it together.
At six o’clock in the evening the doorbell rings. Minutes later, someone knocks on the bedroom door.
“Excuse me.” Marie sticks her head in the room. “You guys have company downstairs.”
“Who is it?” Bryan asks still holding on to Kourtney.
“Friends.” She smiles. “They’re waiting for all of you in the family room.”
We climb out of bed and wash our faces before going downstairs.
Standing in the family room are our friends.
Tom, Max, Penelope, Holly, Melissa, David, Jennifer, and Dylan.
Tom is holding boxes of pizza and Holly has a plate of brownies. Dylan’s holding three bouquets of purple wildflowers. Max wipes real tears from his eyes.
***
“Bryan, promise me you won’t pay a visit to those parents.”
He’s still furious and trying his best to hide it.
“I can’t make a promise I know I’m not going to keep. Those kids hurt her, Danielle. The image of my baby girl’s face when she ran through the gates keeps playing over and over in my head. She was running for her life and you’re asking me”—his finger jabs his chest—“her father, not to do anything. That’s a lot to ask of me.” His voice cracks.
He starts pacing. I’ve never seen him like this.
Bryan in dad mode is more dangerous tha
n the alpha male. And that worries me. He’s thinking with his emotions. I go to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, hoping physical touch will calm him down enough to think before he acts.
“I feel the same way. But if we retaliate, we give them power over us. Do we teach our children to rise above ignorance or do we teach them to stoop to an ignorant level? We’re a bi-racial family. How we handle this sets the tone for how we handle other incidents of racism that are sure to come our way.”
“Interracial, bi-racial, homosexual, bi-sexual, that’s society’s ignorant need to label everything. Not ours. We’re a family.” The timber of his voice makes me shiver.
He’s barely holding it together. I hold him tight until he starts to calm down.
“I need you to understand this promise goes against my duty and my job to protect my children from idiots. I won’t kick their doors in and demand an apology. But eventually I will have a conversation with Simon, Chuck, and Tristan.”
“Thank you.” I won’t point out that he didn’t actually promise not to go to their homes.
“I’m going downstairs to the gym for a little while.” He kisses me. “Get some sleep. We’re starting our weekend first thing in the morning.” His finger brushes my cheek and chin. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I sit on the bed with crossed legs and watch him go into the closet. A few minutes later he comes out wearing basketball shorts, a black wife-beater and running shoes. I wait for him to leave the room, then grab my cell phone. I’m calling Uncle Tony, Uncle Vinny, and Uncle Iggy to make them promise not to knock on doors. They didn’t come by tonight, but I have a feeling they know what happened.
***
It’s midnight and I can’t sleep. Bryan still hasn’t come to bed. I go looking for him.
He’s not in the gym. All the vehicles are in the garage. I look for him in the kitchen, his home office, and the family room. I go back upstairs to get my cell phone to call him. A small triangle of light shines in the hallway of the girls’ rooms. I go to check on them.
Kourtney’s door is cracked open and the lamp near her bed is on. I peek in her room. Bryan sits in a chair with a book in his hand, reading to her sleeping mind.
I listen.
It’s the book I’ve read to her lots of times about beautiful Black people in all shades and shapes.
I understand his need to confirm her importance, so I don’t interrupt. I go back to bed, falling asleep before he comes in.
Bryan wakes us at two thirty in the morning and we leave for the airport at four.
We bypass security check.
Kourtney is quiet and clinging to Bryan. He’s calm, but it’s the calm that comes before a storm. I don’t question him about the security check and let them sit together for the flight to Los Angeles. Emma and I fall asleep holding hands. She doesn’t like flying.
Two hours and eighteen minutes after takeoff, we land.
Kourtney’s and Bryan’s moods take a turn for the better. We collect our luggage and walk to the airport parking structure instead of boarding a bus to a rental car lot.
Bryan loads our luggage into the back of a cream-colored Cadillac Escalade. Once again, I do not question it.
We get on the 405 freeway heading south.
“Bry, it’s after seven. Check-in isn’t until three. What are we doing for eight hours?” It’s a safe question. Right?
“I’ve got this,” he says switching lanes to get on the connecting freeway going east.
Los Angeles freeway traffic isn’t heavy in the direction we’re traveling, and Bryan seems to know his way around without the help of GPS. He syncs his cell phone to the car’s audio system and blasts kid’s music. They party in the truck as we head to our destination. I close my eyes and doze.
The girls’ screams of excitement wake me. We’re pulling into the valet at the hotel. The concierge opens my door and greets us by name. I don’t question how he knows who we are and why we don’t check in at the front desk. We’re immediately shown to our suite.
The girls jump on the beds in their room. Bryan joins them.
“Which park do you guys want to visit first?” He jumps from one bed to the other.
“I don’t care. I just want to get on all the rides,” Emma shouts.
“Me too,” Kourtney adds.
“I want to eat,” I inform them.
They stop jumping and look at me like my identical twin popped out my body.
I defend my hunger. “We left before sunrise.”
“Okay, let’s call room service, then flip a coin to see which one we go to first,” Bryan says and starts back jumping from bed to bed.
***
I am the official backpack and souvenir holder who stands at the exit waiting for the riders. To keep me occupied, I’m given an endless supply of snacks. Healthy snacks.
Bryan is so overprotective. He won’t even let me sit on a bench on the carousel. According to Pregnancy Expert Bryan Hawk IV, I’m only allowed to take pictures with my favorite characters and watch parades.
Yippee for me.
For lunch we explore the downtown area before settling on a restaurant with a spectacular tropical forest atmosphere. Bryan encourages the girls to order everything they want on the menu. We share the over-the-top dessert.
The incident at their school is no longer a cloud over our heads. Kourtney and Emma are having a good time.
I’m too tired to hang out with them. They walk me to the hotel, then ride the shuttle back to the park.
Late in the afternoon, a knock on the door wakes me.
“Per Mr. Hawk’s request, he’s arranged for a babysitter for later tonight. And asked me to make appointments at a few boutiques on Rodeo Drive,” the concierge says. “I have a car waiting for you, ma’am.”
I run to the bedroom to change my clothes. Shopping on Rodeo Drive has always been a fantasy. God, I love that man.
Not only did he make appointments for me at several popular stores, Bryan had the concierge arrange an open line of credit too. One of my stops is at a maternity store. I’m not showing yet, but I buy things I can wear for spring and summer.
At another store, I buy some things for the girls. And at a men’s store, I buy a surprise for Bryan.
I stop by my favorite bakery, since I’m in LA, and pick up a half-dozen cupcakes.
I make it back to the hotel before them and soak in the tub.
Bryan and the girls close down the park. He’s carrying one sleeping girl in each arm when he comes back to the suite. I help him get them changed and into bed, then he goes to get ready.
“You don’t have to take me out tonight. I know you’re tired.”
He didn’t sleep much last night.
“I’m not tired.” The water in the shower turns off.
“I’m not sure about leaving the girls with strangers.” I watch him dry off with a fluffy hotel towel.
“I only leave my family in the hands of someone I trust.” He moves around the room getting dressed.
Someone knocks on the door.
“Can you get that?” he asks.
I’m torn between spending quality time with him and leaving my girls with a stranger. I open the door.
“I heard you needed a babysitter.” Mom hugs me.
“Where’s Dad?”
“I’m right here,” he says dragging two suitcases down the hall.
Bryan comes from the bedroom carrying an overnight bag. “Thanks, Mom, Dad.” He takes my hand. “The girls are asleep. They should be out the whole night.” He tows me out of the room before I can protest or say goodnight.
As promised, Bryan shows me Anaheim, California, from the tallest view in a different suite.
“How did you do this?” I turn around. He’s standing in the doorway to the balcony, smiling at me.
“I asked for a room fit for my queen and this is what they gave me.” He bows. “How may I serve you, Your Highness?”
“I want to see
fireworks.”
He pulls out his cell phone and within seconds, colorful lights dance against the dark sky. Then Bryan gives me five fulfilling orgasms on the balcony and I return the pleasure.
***
Saturday morning, we make it back to the suite before the girls wake up. Bryan arranges for us to get into the park a few hours before it officially opens. The girls are too excited to eat breakfast. They ride the majority of the rides on their list. I even get to ride on a few with them, the ones safe for pregnant women.
Last night, I orally persuaded him to rethink his moratorium on amusement park rides. I’m sure I could have gotten him to sign over his company if I wanted to. I settled for alpha male’s temporary abdication of his throne.
Once the park opens to the public, Bryan and Dad take off with the girls while Mom and I explore. She and I eat all the unhealthy snacks we can find.
For lunch we go to a members-only restaurant inside the park. By now I’m just going with the flow and not questioning anything.
“Can we stay an extra day or two?” I ask. “I want to show the girls Los Angeles.”
“We can stay as long as you want,” he says.
We spend the rest of this day as a family. I don’t even stop Dad from buying the girls a bunch of souvenirs.
Early Sunday morning we’re up at dawn to take Mom and Dad to the airport, then go sightseeing.
Monday we park hop then head to the airport.
Bryan gives the girls permission to take their cell phones to school Tuesday morning. He instructs them to call him if anything happens. Thankfully none of the students broach the subject. Jennifer tells me that the entire student body, along with parents, sat through an assembly about tolerance. Dr. Stevens and other therapists from the hospital put on the presentation.
We have an uneventful week. I don’t even see black trucks following me.
Max hosts a brunch to celebrate the exile of Madelyn Brooks. I’m shocked by the number of parents who show up. And even more shocked by the number of parents who agree with the expulsion of the three students who called my baby those ugly, hateful names.
