“No one knows this but about a week before Kelsey died, I saw a lawyer about divorcin’ her. You’re the only person I’ve told this to. She died from a drug overdose. My marriage wasn’t happy for several reasons besides her drug problem, and since you’re pressed for time, I’ll have to wait to tell you more about that. I finally started seein’ someone last year, but it didn’t work out. What I’m tryin’ to say is that I want to build somethin’ with you. This isn’t a fling, and I hate that you’re treatin’ it like that. I thought we had gotten past this the other night, but I guess I wasn’t clear.”
I think I’ve stunned her speechless. She swallows several times and runs her fingers through her hair.
“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this as I’m on my way out the door. I have work and—”
“It’s the last flippin’ day of school, Victoria. Stop hidin’. It’s your turn. Confess somethin’ to me.” I can feel my voice rising and my accent getting more and more pronounced with each word, but she finally sighs and begins to talk.
“The last boyfriend I had was almost four years ago, and he left me because I would not move to Kentucky with him. He got into a medical residency there, and I didn’t want to go, but I told him we could date long distance. He gave me an ultimatum, and when I called his bluff, he ended things. When it ended, he called me an ice queen bitch who would only bring misery to any man unlucky enough to meet her.”
I close my eyes and exhale. “Your last boyfriend was an idiot. If we ever run into him, I’ll beat his ass for you. Your current boyfriend would never resort to callin’ you names. Forget him. Now, tell me why you don’t want to meet my people.” I can see the wheels spinning in her head. I have the feeling I know why and what she’s going to say, but I need to hear the words from her mouth. “And no bull about how you don’t do commitments or meet mamas, or whatever nonsense that’s floatin’ around in your head. You know what this is, Queen. You’ve always known.”
“I’m who I am. I make no apologies for it. I would never want to be anyone other than Victoria Taylor, a black woman from New York City. If your family has any negative thoughts or viewpoints about that, there will be words. I will leave and never return. Do you get what I’m saying?” It’s exactly what I thought.
“Yeah. You think I would bring you home to a bunch of racists, right? Like people in New York don’t share those viewpoints too, but if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be. Trust me and come be with me. Mama is probably burstin’ at the seams to ask about you, but she won’t until the season is over. She knows how stressed I get.”
“One chance. I’ll give them one chance. Can we talk about the details tonight? I really need to get ready.”
“Sure, darlin’. We’ll iron it out tonight. Just talk to me next time. Don’t make assumptions.”
“That’s fair.”
“I still don’t miss you.”
“I don’t miss you either.”
“If you were here, I wouldn’t kiss you.”
“Me neither.
TWENTY-TWO
The last dayof school went at a snail’s pace. There was no work to be done. No lessons or papers to read, but the endless questions from colleagues and the kids about my relationship get old quick. Tamron barging into my classroom to shove her phone in my face didn’t help my mood for the day. I barely got any sleep last night, and the conversation with Colt this morning left me feeling unsettled. I need a conversation with my siblings, not Tamron. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of the back pocket of my jeans. It’s another tweet with a picture of me from last night’s game. This one is a close up of my face, and they’ve circled a pimple on the side of my cheek. The caption says, “The north’s favorite southern boy can do better.”
I shove the phone away and wonder why Tamron feels the need to send me this shit. This is the fourth one today, even after I told her I didn’t want or need to see anymore.
The first thing she did this morning was show me a picture of me and Tara from last night’s game. ‘Are black men not good enough for these sisters?’ I didn’t bother to read more. I returned the phone to Tamron and told her that headline was complete shit.
Until now, every man I’ve ever been with was black, but no one talks about that. I check my watch and shove the rest of my belongings into a box. The building is mostly empty. The kids left hours ago, we had our last staff meeting, and we’ve said our goodbyes. I grab the box, check my classroom one last time, and walk out. There’s no one in the hallway or the staircase as I walk down the three flights of stairs. I can see the front door, and I practically salivate at making my exit.
“Out already?” My footsteps stall, and Tamron approaches. “Colt sending you a fancy car?” I still, thinking I heard a twinge of hardness in her voice, but I shake my head and tell myself I’m being sensitive.
“I’m capable of getting myself home. Been getting around this city all my life,” I tell her.
“Right. I’ll text you later.” I walk out and look into the sky, letting the sun warm my face. I call my sister before I pull up the Uber app.
* * *
“Where are your men?”I ask while I look around the penthouse. “Are you guys back here for good?”
“We’re back,” she says. “Ethan’s at the office, and Vincent is out with Evan and their nannies. I’m returning work emails so follow me.” I follow her down to the back of the first floor of the penthouse all the way to her spacious office. She takes her seat behind her desk, and I drop myself on the couch.
“Call our brother. I can’t have this conversation twice,” I moan.
“Sounds serious.” Tara takes out her iPad to FaceTime Alan. He picks up on the second ring, and his face fills the screen.
“You look like crap,” I tell him, looking over Tara’s shoulder.
“Because I was up watching the game and celebrating. And you look worse than me.” He gives us the middle finger. He drops himself down on his pillow and looks into his phone.
