44
The next week was a repeat of last week.
Callie, Melanie, Stacie, and I were preparing for our prom every evening after school. We went to the spa and had facials and a massage on Monday. The next day we went to Callie’s house. Callie’s mom had hired a makeup artist to pick the right colors for our skin tones and to show us how to apply our cosmetics. Wednesday night we had manicures and pedicures. The evening after that we were back at Callie’s for new hairstyles. Callie’s mom had a stylist flown in from New York to give us the latest cuts and styles.
It was only when I got home that things were not OK. Mom still didn’t want me going to my prom with Patrick. She couldn’t articulate what she didn’t like about him. Just that he was not up to par. To me it meant that he wasn’t from her social circle. Because of how she had been treated in her so called social circle, I thought class and social status wouldn’t matter to her anymore.
But, of course, members of her social circle would be chaperones at the prom, and they would talk about me and my prom date. “Keeping up appearances” is how she put it. The only appearance I was interested in keeping up was to show that I was happy and normal. I didn’t care that Patrick wasn’t from the upper class. His parents were hard working people who were doing their best to give him a good life. What more was there to expect?
Patrick was a great person. I loved talking to him. Patrick and I talked for hours and hours, even more so after his prom. We discussed our dreams for the future. Not our dreams together for the future. But our separate dreams, the dreams we had before we met each other, the dreams we still had.
Patrick was interested in politics and how the world is run. He volunteered on the last presidential campaign. I loved hearing all the stories about his adventures knocking on doors and the people he met. He regaled me with stories of the caucus held at a community center and how unorganized it had been because they expected a few people to show up but thousands came, and there had been nowhere to put them. The crowd hadn’t left even though they had to stand in long lines for hours.
Meanwhile, Jay still sent me texts saying he hoped I would save a dance for him at the prom. He had finally asked someone else to go with him since I had a date. And he called every night to see who I was bringing. I told him he would see Saturday night. I asked who he was bringing to the prom. He told me I would see Saturday night. Not that I cared. I was just curious.
Mom had started coming into my room every night to sit. She stayed while I talked to Jay and to Patrick. Then she would tuck me into bed, something she had stopped doing years ago, and just sit there at my desk in the dark. Sometimes we talked and sometimes we didn’t. Tonight she wanted to talk.
“I admire you,” she said.
“Why?”
“You have your own mind and you don’t care about these things.”
I sat up in bed. Curiously, I was interested in where she was going with this train of thought.
“What things?”
“You know, where people come from. You judge people because of who they really are. That’s a good thing.”
I remained silent, processing what she had said.
She continued, “I used to be like that when I was your age. Your grandmother and grandfather didn’t want me dating your father. He was from a working-class family, whereas Daddy was a college professor, and Mama was a schoolteacher. Your dad’s father worked in the rail yard and his mother cleaned people’s houses.
“You remind me of me. Your father’s parents were good people. I could see something in your father that made me love him more than the boys who were supposed to be of my class. You are just like me.”
“You and Dad turned out all right,” I said.
She smiled, as if remembering years long ago. “Yes, we did.”
“And?”
”I just want you to know that I understand. And it’s OK. It’s just that I want the best for you.”
“And that is Jay?”
“No!”
It was my turn to laugh. In fact, we both laughed until we cried.
“A few motherly words of wisdom,” Mom said. “Do not paint all African-American boys with the same brush as you paint Jay. Don’t give up on dating black boys because of the way you were treated by him.”
Mom moved over to my bed.
“I had to take a good look at myself, baby girl. I’d gotten so caught up in who knows who and getting on the right committee so I could get to know so-and-so that I forgot what’s real. I had a rude awakening when this situation happened with your father. Nobody gives you the benefit of the doubt. It’s first and foremost about the color of your skin.”
“Mom, everybody is not like that.”
“I know, and you seemed to have figured out what is important despite having me for your mother.”
I reached out to hug her.
“We’re in this together,” I whispered. “I still need you.”
In reply, a tear slid from her eye and slowly rolled down her cheek. “You know what?” she asked. “I want to move to Atlanta so I’ll be around more black people.” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “I’m hoping I’ll have positive experiences, too. Maybe I’ll get it right this time.”
I sensed we’d come to a deep understanding. I didn’t know if we could go back to how things were before the situation with Dad. I felt like we had moved beyond that, to a more grown-up relationship. She’d never shared as much as she had tonight about what she wanted. And she’d never told me that Meré and Granddad didn’t want her to date Dad.
There’s one more thing I needed to know, even though it might mar our bonding moment.
“Mom? Is everything all right with you and Dad?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“Things have been different the past months.”
“That’s all in the past. Don’t worry. We’re not getting divorced.”
“I’ve overheard some things.”
Mom sighed. “Things have been rocky between us. But your dad and I are committed to working it out. The move to Atlanta will help. Both of us are staying in this marriage.”
What a relief! I wanted our family to come though this situation intact. I hadn’t thought much about marriage before, but I wanted a relationship like Mom and Dad’s. Their relationship before the scandal.
Patrick and I were far from marriage talk. I doubted we would marry each other, but who knew what the future held? We were at different places in our lives. He had his life all planned out for the next five years. Me? I didn’t know what I’d be doing past next week. I definitely hadn’t had time to think about what qualities I wanted in a husband. Getting married was far from my thoughts.
I just wanted to get through the next few weeks of school and get to summer break. I was doing the one-day-at-a-time thing. I tried to get back to myself. No matter how I tried, I just couldn’t quite get there. Aunt Ira had said this faith journey I was on would take time. I’d try to remember that as I forged a new path. A new direction for my life.