by Tiana Laveen
“Says you.” She wished she’d had a better comeback. Her brain was overwhelmed, swimming in confusion. Her stance on marriage had been wavering… but how dare he talk to her like that anyway!
“Says me and the millions of couples in this country that are married, and many of them happily so, Carmen. Both of our parents are still married, and yet you ignore that fact for your own convenience. You think feminists aren’t falling in love every damn day and tying the knot? You think that their husbands are all wimps and won’t stand up to them – like that somehow makes them a worthier partner? You think independent, strong women like yourself don’t get dicked down and enjoy their man taking charge at least from time to time?”
“Dicked down?” Her lip curled in loathing. “Nice.”
“Look, Carmen, this is who I am, take it or leave it. Dicked down, fucked hard, busted out, cherry rocked, pussy popped—whatever you want to call it, they’re getting the royal cock treatment! I told you I was finished putting on airs with you and I’m not switchin’ up roles just to impress you, either. I refuse to be a walking lie.”
What could she say to that? She needed a moment, a chance to breathe. On one hand, she understood his concerns and had even been considering reevaluating her stance, but he pressed too hard and too fast. Her change of mind had little to do with him and was more about her recent soul-searching. He just happened to be there at the right place, and the right time…
I don’t believe in coincidences. My defenses are up. Just try to listen. Don’t react. Hear him out, Carmen…
“Look, I identify with a lot of the thoughts and ideas of modern day feminism, Tristan. I am still trying to figure it out. One thing is for certain—women in this country and abroad are vocationally oppressed. A doctor that does the same exact thing as I do is fifty percent more likely to make at least 15% more than I do, on average. Let’s not add on the fact that I’m Black, another hurdle to deal with.”
“You’re not a victim, Carmen. Don’t buy into it, don’t play that role. You make up the twenty percent in this country who make six figures or more.”
“Role? You think this is me acting? Like in some school play? You are a piece of shit!” Her rage raced through her like a pack of wild horses as she jetted her finger in his face. “White privilege at its best! Here you are, America’s sweetheart, sitting there telling me not to play the victim. How can I possibly pretend to play something that I am, was born into, not of my own choosing?”
“We don’t have to play any role but the one we chose, and that includes you! Black, female and all! For God’s sake, woman. You have your own medical practice. You’ve got money, prestige, a thriving career, a beautiful body and face. You’re the total package. Your parents were together your entire childhood and you never went hungry, felt deprived, or worried where your next meal was coming from so don’t sit there and act like your life parallels that of the downtrodden of society.”
“What the hell does that have to do with what I face when I walk out of my door, huh?” She pointed towards his bedroom door. It seemed so far away right then.
“Because your door that you’re walking out from is attached to a nice house while the other doors you are trying to compare yourself with are barely hanging on to the hinges.” They drew quiet, looking at one another, staring each other down. “From your own admission, you received scholarships for college, you had teachers and professors who cared. So many of the youth in this country, and yes, this includes Black youth, don’t have that for a myriad reasons, one being racism, I get it! But don’t sit there and act like your life has been nothin’ but an uphill battle. You’re riding on the coattails of a hard luck parable. That’s some people’s story, but it sure as hell isn’t yours. You don’t want to be lumped in with every other Black person in this country – you say that’s racist, and yet when it works for you all of the sudden you all are just one big body, mind and soul—a heart beating to the same drum. You can’t have it both ways. White privilege is alive and well and I benefit from it, I’m not an idiot, but you benefit from the race card, regardless if you are the one that pulled it out and laid it on the table or not. Stop playing that hand, it doesn’t belong to you. Now come on, get showered and dressed and let’s go eat.”
He snatched the sheets off his body and turned away.
“We’re not going anywhere until this is hashed out, Tristan” He slowly turned back in her direction. “Since you’re so fucking ballsy and have so much to say, let’s get it all out on the table, the same one with the race card lying on it. When was the last time your whiteness, your light complexion, your straight hair texture, your blue eyes, your upper middle-class background as a child and now elite class as an adult, your European culture or your orthodox Christian beliefs put a slow down or God forbid, a stop to your success, Tristan? When was the last time you missed out on a job opportunity because you’re a White man, huh? I’ll wait!”
“I don’t know, it could’ve happened. There could have been incentives to promote more minorities for contract bids, which does in fact happen and my company was skipped over for such things. But I don’t know that for certain; it’s a possibility, a theory at this point, but in each case, I hopped on to the next opportunity and didn’t waste time worrying about the coulda, woulda, shoulda.”
“It must be nice, because not everyone gets another opportunity, Tristan. I can’t afford to do that. My reality is not something that can be swept under the rug. And let me let your ass in on something that’s happened to me personally since you need further proof for my argument, apparently!” Rage filled her as she spoke. “I sat back and watched my White counterparts get approved for loans and their credit was trash. Mine was A1 and I had to beg, barter, and steal just to get the facility that you revamped for me. I couldn’t just jump on to the next opportunity, as you put it, because there might not have been another one to get me off the ground. A big chunk of my money was tied into this investment. If I fuck up, there isn’t always a backup plan or someone who will catch me when I’m falling. My race and my gender are used against me like a scarlet letter and until people like you acknowledge it, this will never get any better.”
“I do acknowledge it. I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like to be you though, baby, because I’m not you, just like you’re not me. You’ve made assumptions about me this morning based on my gender and race… and they’re not true, and they’re not fair. You just did the shit you hate being done to you.”
She sighed and shook her head, then felt his firm but gentle grasp against her wrist.
“Come on… talk to me. Teach me…”
Her eyes watered at that moment. Never had someone she’d dated cared enough to hear her out, to be as passionate as she to find out the crust of the issue… dig a bit deeper.
“Being a woman in this world is like being handicapped sometimes, Tristan. Do you realize how many child brides there are in the world? Young girls all over this earth are forced into situations that men like you would die from on the first day! And yet, somehow, in some cases, they manage to survive.”
“Carmen…” He looked off into the distance, then lowered his gaze. “I don’t need to prove anything to anyone but you, at this moment. I know that women aren’t treated as well as men. I know that, baby. All of this… this discussion is you diverting again. You’ve been yelling and screaming, going off, and I appreciate your passion, but you’re mad at the wrong person. I know about racism and that my mere appearance, my Irish, French, and English ancestry gives me an advantage over many others, and I did nothing to deserve it, other than be born this way. All I am saying to you is, this is our life, this is us, this is what we have. All I can do is do my part.” He pointed at himself. “I can’t stop people from being racist, homophobic, sexist… especially when I may have been one or two of those things in my lifetime, even unknowingly.”
She ran her fingers along his cheek, her eyes glazed with tears. Reaching for her hand, he kissed it.
>
“Some people have too much to gain and too much to lose to not let go of those warped and crazy ideologies. What you can expect is for me to try my damnedest to help you, to comfort you. I can’t change everyone in the world, Carmen, and neither can you. I can only change me, and I’m willing to do that… for you…”
“Thank you, but I’d want you to do it for you, too… because it’s… it’s just the right thing to do.” She huffed.
“I can create something beautiful, something to rescue people from the ugliness all around them. I make change in this world by constructing living spaces for humans, Carmen. Places we can breathe in, enjoy, sleep, eat, just fucking live. I just wanna live. I just want to lie next to you. I want to set the dinner table and have you sit across from me and we discuss our damn day. I want to argue with you and have wonderful make up sex, I just… I want to be your friend and your man.” He sighed and threw up his hands. “There’s always going to be injustice and something to cry and pray about.”
Deep, heavy melancholy draped over her like a blanket. She sat there motionless, looking at him.
“It took me a long ass time to find someone like you. I know exactly the type of woman I need, and it’s you. I also know that I am going to have a wife one day, so that means it’s going to be you, too. You are afraid of marriage because you don’t want to get hurt. Stop hiding behind feminism as the reason for your views. You’re busted.”
She’d heard that before. Her friends had cornered her and told her as much. She swallowed down a ball of anger, wishing she’d just left him at the museum when she’d had the chance… but then, she wouldn’t have gotten to this point.
She was falling in love…
“You’re confusing me. I’m not easily confused, Tristan. I don’t know what to think of you.”
At this, he burst out in laughter.
“Take me as I am, and I will do the same with you. You’re right, I can’t force you to be anything you’re not. You told me at the bar about your first boyfriend in college, how he broke your heart. You told me about another guy you loved. Same shit, different dude. You said it in a nonchalant sort of way, even laughed it off, but there was a lot of pain behind that. I can read between the lines and I can spot a lie from a mile away, even if the person doing the lying is lying to themselves. You want the same things I do; you’re just afraid you’ll end up with someone like your exes, someone who will try to stifle you, change you, tell you that you can’t reach for the stars all because you now have his last name and his ring on your finger. You cherish the bond between women. You try to help women, heal women, and you want someone who can understand that… be there for you. I can. I really can…”
“It’s more than that, Tristan. Feminism isn’t about burning bras and treating men like enemy number one. If you think that, then that’s bullshit.”
“I’m a bull, but that’s not shit coming out of my mouth.” He smiled. “I’m saying that ’cause you said you were into astrology. My birthday was last week by the way. Some of my friends took me out, and we had a great time. Would’ve been nice to have you there, too.”
She looked at him curiously…
That’s right, he’s a Taurus. That explains a lot.
Gathering the covers closer over her nude body, she blocked out the chill in the room.
“You never told me it was your birthday. I would have gotten you something. Anyway, happy belated birthday.”
“Thanks. I like gifts, so maybe I should have said something,” he teased, drawing a smile from her.
“I have no idea why I didn’t think about your birthday coming up, well, or just passing. Taurus… wow. You guys are interesting people. You’re impossible, you know that? So stubborn.”
He shrugged. “I can be…”
“You always seem to make me smile in the midst of making me angry.”
“I mean, this is how we do this, you know? If you’re going to be in a relationship with someone then you have to get to know them, accept them. The problem is not that couples disagree and fight, it’s how they fight…”
She nodded in agreement.
“Hey, can we just stay here? I can help whip up some breakfast.”
“Yeah, we don’t have to go out and I’ll cook. I’ll be right back, just sit back and relax.”
When he returned a few minutes later, he had two hot coffees in his hand. She graciously took one before he walked around the bed, set his down on the nightstand, and slid under the sheets.
“If I’m willing to listen to you and understand you, and you’re willing to listen to me, baby, then we’re half way there. Communication is key and I think we just proved to one another that we know how to travel around a disagreement… at least with one another. There’s no doubt that we’re not always going to agree, but you know what? I realize that we don’t always have to.” All she could do was look at the man… and fall a bit in love. “I definitely think the way we are raised and our childhoods affect us. What about you?”
“I agree with that.”
“All right. Well, you said your father, though a good man, has always been somewhat chauvinistic.”
“He is. He’s a good guy though. I hope I didn’t make him come across as not when I was discussing him at the bar but he has rigid ideologies regarding how women should behave. More so in the past, maybe, because he’s gotten better.”
“Yes, I gathered that from you explaining to me previously that he didn’t even approve of you going to medical school at first. Now, of course, he’s very proud of you, but at the time it was hard dealing with him.” She nodded in agreement. “They say women marry their fathers.”
“Don’t become a psychologist. It’s not your strong suit.” She chuckled.
“You’re right, it’s not. My best friend Darryl should’ve been though, but that’s beside the point. This right here though, I’m sorry, I don’t need to be a shrink to see what’s up. The truth is blatantly obvious.” Her eyes hooded at his words. “You’re afraid you’ll end up with someone like him, and yet, you were attracted by his strength, his work ethic, the way he took care of his home. He represents toughness in your eyes, but you saw him a time or two, the soft, vulnerable part, and it melted you, made you understand him better. I’m like your dad, aren’t I?” He smiled coyly at her, then sipped on his coffee. Her heart began to pound in her chest. “Yeah… I can see it in your eyes.”
“Tristan, the know-it-all, straight shooter, foot-in-mouth disease on occasion.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the traditionalist… non-emotional until pushed too far. I know who I am. I just don’t tell everyone my personal shit. And maybe, just maybe, your father objected to you going into medical school not because he didn’t believe you’d make an excellent doctor, but because the world had gotten to him, and he wanted his little girl safe at all times. He feared for you, didn’t want you disappointed. It’s a possibility, right?”
She shrugged though that thought hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d never considered this could have been the cause. Her father certainly had never told her such, but the man didn’t talk much anyway, especially not about his feelings or concerns. She’d always found that troubling. He came across as cold at times, but perhaps he felt so much and so hard, this was the only way he could cope with life.
“I have a riddle for you. How do you know when a man like me is scared?”
“I don’t know. How?” she said in almost a whisper.
“You don’t.”
She swallowed hard.
“You told me all that stuff about your father, on and on you went. I don’t even think you realized what was happening. I sound like your dad, right? That’s why you were telling me all of that stuff. Honestly, besides discouraging you from going to medical school initially, he seems like a great man.”
“He is a great man.”
“But you resent him all the same… Just admit it. I’ll wait until you get your head around this.”
After what felt like
a lifetime of silence, she spoke. “I admit it. I will also admit to you that lately, I’ve been feeling like I am just reciting the old tapes in my head.” She hung her head, not sure if the alcohol, the surreal home she was sitting in, or her need to purge was urging the words to come out. When she looked back into his eyes, he was smiling. “I like you… a lot. And yes, you do remind me a bit of my father… especially the good parts of him.”
“I definitely take that as a compliment.” He took a sip of his coffee, set it down, and proceeded to kiss her senseless.
“Tristan, they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” She grinned. “Let me do the honors and feed you. I’ll cook. I like to cook, actually. If you want, we can make breakfast together, side by side…”
Grabbing her around her waist, he brought her close and laid her down amongst the disheveled sheets, kissing her all over her face. He knew what her words truly meant; he could read between the wavy lines…
Sweet surrender… but only to him…
“Feed me, huh? I’ve heard the younger guys say their women look like a snack. I don’t want a snack. I need a garden, something that will grow over and over again, sustain me for the rest of my days. You’re going to be that orchard, baby… I’ll teach you the laws of the land…”
CHAPTER NINE
Shrubbery, Sisters and Stage Shows…
…Three weeks later
The two-story beige and almond brick and stone home sat on a two-acre lot at the end of a well-manicured cul-de-sac on Golden Eagle Circle. Carmen’s house was larger than he’d anticipated, especially since she’d felt that his home was rather big for one person to live in. A bit hypocritical of her, to be honest.
