Tawana checked her watch and walked faster. Her group study session ran long, and it was twenty minutes after nine. Grant had agreed to meet her in the parking lot in front of her apartment in ten minutes. She jumped in her car and sped toward home.
While she weaved in and out of the light traffic, her thoughts turned to the great time she’d had over the weekend in Richmond—that all three Carter women had. Mama was rejuvenated from fellowshipping with her sisters and her friend, Ms. Brenda; Misha loved having other children to play with, even if they were all boys; and for her part, she had enjoyed hanging out with Serena and Micah and their friends without worrying about an exam or the need to research a particular case. Grant's call had been the icing on the cake.
Despite the lecture from Serena, Tawana had been thrilled by his request to meet her when she returned to Boston. She'd been counting down the hours.
Thinking about him kept her from fretting over her new dilemma. With Serena reluctantly preparing for Micah's sister and her two children to visit, Tawana hadn't summoned the courage to ask about a twelve-week stay during her summer internship. What
What was she going to do now?
She whipped into a parking space and exhaled when she realized she wasn’t late. Seconds later, Grant pulled up alongside her older model Toyota and stepped out of his charcoal gray BMW. He strode around to the driver’s side of the sedan and opened Tawana’s door.
"Hello, beautiful," he said and leaned inside until their faces nearly touched.
His rich cologne permeated her breathing space and she felt dizzy with delight. When he extended his hand, she clasped it and stepped out of the car. Yes - this was how she wanted to be treated.
Grant opened the door to his car, and she slid into the passenger seat as if she did this every day. An Eric Benet song poured from the speakers. That same song had wafted from the window of a slowly passing car during the after-dinner stroll they had ventured on their first date, and Grant had begun singing it to her.
Tawana smiled. He’s been thinking about me all weekend, too.
"Where to?" he asked once he buckled his seatbelt.
She shrugged, hoping she wasn't wearing the weariness of a long day on her face. "I'm not picky, but I don't want to stay out too late."
"You still have a curfew?" Grant laughed and covered the stick shift with his hand. He throttled it back, then raced toward the street. "Want Thai, Italian, Jamaican, or American cuisine?"
Now it was Tawana's turn to chuckle. "Talk about giving a lady choices! The last time we had Italian; let's try one of the others."
They settled on 9 Tastes, a Thai spot not far from Harvard Square.
As they waited for their meals to arrive, they continued the get-to-know-you banter they had begun on their first date, a few weeks earlier.
"How was your visit home?" Grant asked.
"Richmond is Richmond, " Tawana said. "I guess a lot of people feel that way about their hometown, though. It was great to spend time with my friend Serena and her family. How often do you go home to San Francisco?"
"Usually just for the holidays," he said. "Mom and Dad stay busy with their plastic surgery and dermatology practices, and with the hectic schedules of my teenage brother and sister. When I go home any time other than Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter, I barely see them. I have a few relatives on the East Coast and in parts of the Southeast that I visit occasionally, so it's not too bad."
"Knowing all of this and you still want to follow in your dad's footsteps?"
Grant nodded. "When most people hear 'plastic surgery,' they automatically think about face-lifts and breast implants," he said. "But I grew up hearing my dad talk about the people he helped who had been disfigured in accidents or by birth defects. I've always liked the idea of being able to transform someone's life. And it doesn’t hurt that I can make a boatload in the process!" He reared back in his seat and smiled. "This type of medicine is a natural fit for me."
Tawana held her breath. They had covered some of the basics on their last date, but she knew tonight he would ask more probing questions about her family and friends. As long as she focused on her years at U.Va., she was in respectable territory. Unless they got serious, no need to bring up Misha, either.
He surprised her, though. Instead of conducting a mock interview that required her to do everything except provide a copy of her birth certificate, he wanted to know more about her vision for her life.
"What are your long-term goals?"
That question was easy to answer. "I'm going to be the female Johnnie Cochran."
She appreciated that he didn't laugh or smirk.
"Why'd you decide to study criminal law instead of corporate?"
Tawana couldn't tell him that seeing multiple childhood friends arrested, convicted, and even sentenced to death, had shaped her decision. Some of them probably couldn't be saved, but others had been railroaded, and quite a few simply needed guidance to a better path.
A good defense could have helped a lot of them, including a few of her cousins. They wouldn't be able to afford the private practice fee she would charge after graduating from Harvard Law, but she could help them find caring and wise support.
Instead of sharing all of that, Tawana gave Grant the public relations spiel.
"People accused of crimes need excellent representation. Plus, it's a challenge to be the lawyer with the deck stacked against you and you pull off a miracle, sometimes literally, to save your client's life."
Grant laughed heartily. "You sound as if you've been practicing for years. What firm are you with?"
Tawana smiled. "You need some representation?"
Grant leaned forward and caressed her hands. "Maybe I do."
It was close to midnight when they left the restaurant, and Tawana tried to put the image of her mother's stern face out of her mind.
Once they settled into Grant's car, he didn't waste any time. "Let me see what that Pad Thai tastes like."
Tawana frowned. "I didn't get a doggy bag."
He smiled and moved close to kiss her. This time she didn't pull away.
Grant peered into her eyes. "Wanna go back to my place?"
Tawana thought about their last date, when he stood at her door asking a similar question. She lowered her gaze but remained silent. His wallet, on the panel between the seats, caught her eye. Two $100 bills peeked from the corner. Suddenly, she remembered her summer housing dilemma.
Her breath caught in her throat. As quickly as the thought came, she tried to push it away. What would she think of herself afterward? All the times before, it had just been for affection, or to reassure herself that she was desirable.
Grant stroked her cheek and waited, as he had the last time, while she wrestled with the voices in her head.
There was no way she could afford Misha's summer camp fees and rent for an apartment, even a small one, on the internship stipend she'd receive from the law firm. And she certainly wasn't going to stay with either of her aunts. One cursed like a sailor and the other drank one forty-ounce bottle of beer after another, as if she were consuming water. Both of them lived in the housing project Tawana had been desperate to leave when she finished high school.
Misha's much older father had moved on, in search of other girls he could have his way with until they wound up pregnant. Tawana knew he had fathered three other children by girls who lived in her neighborhood—a fact he was proud of, but one she cried over, because she knew someday she'd have to tell Misha. When Serena and Micah had loaded Tawana, her mother, and Misha into the Jeep to take them to Charlottesville for Tawana's freshman year at U.Va., Tawana had looked back only once, just long enough to bid goodbye to a difficult past.
She would do whatever she had to do, to keep from going back there with her child.
Her hands trembling, Tawana reached for Grant's face and kissed him deeply.
"How much is it worth to you?"