“I’m fine, thank you sir. As for the show, it’s- I'm working on it” I sat in the chair and he finally looked up at me, “How is your work going?”
“Clients are being frustrating as usual, but we got a new deal to flip a house in Yonkers.”
“That sounds exciting, does it pay well?”
“If it doesn’t, do you think I will take the job?” his sarcasm made me laugh, and he finally shut his laptop screen.
He did it slowly, almost as if he had all the time in the world, and it put me on edge. I know my father well, and the preciseness in his actions led me to believe that his next question might make me a little uncomfortable.
Just before he could start speaking, the door to his study opened and my mom poked her head in.
“Rice is ready,” she said then turned to me, “Come and set the table so we can eat.”
I turned to my dad, but he shook his head. I knew I wouldn’t be finding out what he wanted to ask right now. I followed my mom to the kitchen and took out the plates from the cabinet where they’ve always been.
I set three spots at the table, and she brought in the serving dish filled with jollof rice. This added to my earlier suspicion; she knows I love jollof rice, so the fact that she made it probably means they’re trying to butter me up, the real question now is why.
After we finished setting up the table, she went to call my dad. The dining table is a four seater; we’re not a big family and mom always liked to make a big deal out of meals. She said it was a time for us to leave the stress of work and school and bond like a family.
She came back with dad, and they took their seats next to each other with dad at the head of the table and her by his right side. I saw them discreetly hold hands under the table and I smothered a smile.
They’ve been doing that as long as I can remember and honestly I don’t know why they hide it, I have always seen them. It also helps that dad is left handed, so it never raises suspicion as to why his right hand is not on the table.
Mom prayed over the food, served dad and herself, then I served myself. I was two bites in when she spoke.
“When is your show? I’m not sure if it’s July or August.”
“It is two months from now; so that is ending of July.”
“Is Joseph going to be there?” she asked it very casually but out of the corner of my eye, I could see the way she looked at me, almost as if she was anticipating a nervous breakdown.
I should have known my dad would tell her that we broke up, and honestly I should have known that she was going to ask.
“No he won’t” I answered after a beat of silence, “He’s a lawyer, he has nothing to do with the fashion industry.”
“He would be coming to support you?”
“That would be weird considering that we broke up,” Her gasp almost convinced me that she didn’t know, “Besides, it would be a long and wasteful trip if he came to New York just for a fashion show.”
“What do you mean ‘came to New York’. I thought he lived in Manhattan.”
“He did, he moved about ten days ago.”
Even my dad looked surprised to hear this. They both dropped their utensils and stared at me with concern and sympathy.
“I’m so sorry,” mom said, “I know how excited you were to get married. I’m just glad that you hadn’t started the wedding planning.”
I didn’t correct her on that. I had started planning, I had called florists and designers, I had even picked out the store that I was going to get my dress from. As soon as he left my house after breaking the news to me, I had to call them all and cancel. It’s ranked up there among the most difficult things I have ever had to do.
I had to endure their fake sympathy and apologies, as well as their probing questions as to why we were deciding to cancel all the wedding preparations. Especially from the designer for the dress, she seemed very excited to work with me, and I had to let her down.
“I’m not sorry,” my dad’s admission shocked me. I turned to him in confusion and he just gave me a shrug and continued eating his food.
“That was mean,” my mom whispered to him and he shrugged again as if he didn’t care- which, knowing him, he didn’t.
“I never liked him.” He said casually, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. I had to sit up in my seat. That’s the first I’m hearing of it.
“You didn’t like him,” I repeated and he nodded, “But you were going to let me marry him.”
