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Jasmine
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Stephanie had been hosting a holiday dinner for her co-workers for the last five years and always invited a few additional friends, so everyone didn’t talk shop all night. She rotated the invitations but there were always standing offers extended to me, Leslie, and Rachel—Stephanie’s assistant was also a superb events planner who could throw a fabulous party like nobody’s business. It was a chance for us to put on something sparkly, eat well, and dance like no one was watching.
I originally invited Paula from work. She was single and I figured she could use a little festiveness. As the holidays got closer, she had become more somber and irritable when staff and patients talked about their upcoming celebrations. Holidays were not the same for Paula since both of her parents passed away. And this year her brother was with his wife’s family. She initially said she would think about going but Paula eventually declined my invite, said she just didn’t feel like mingling.
T was my backup plan, but I didn’t tell my friends she was coming so they wouldn’t have time to prepare for oral arguments and cross examination. We parked around the corner and walked to The Pointe, an upscale, black-owned restaurant in Fells Point. It was two nicely converted Baltimore rowhomes—with lots of cherry wood paneling and a grand fireplace—that was now a destination for Baltimore’s classy elite. I felt good and was looking forward to being out. Although not as sexy, I was glad I wore block heels, the uneven cobblestone streets wreaked havoc on stilettos, my shoe of choice when I was trying to make a statement.
“The Pointe huh? I heard about this place,” T said before we went in.
“I have too but not only do I not hang out on this side of town often; I believe the last time I was over this way was when we went to T.K.’s down the street on Thames Street. By the way,” Jasmine said hesitantly.
“Uh oh, what is it?”
“I didn’t tell my friends I was bringing a date.”
“Really? So, this is my debutante debut?”
“Or maybe our couple’s debut,” I said.
“Are we a couple?” T asked.
“Well, what are we?” I said with an inflection in my voice, unsure if I appreciated T’s question.
“I don’t know, you tell me. A month ago, you didn’t want to meet my parents because you said it implied something that you weren’t ready to imply. Now, you’re getting upset because I asked a simple, but very appropriate question? Jasmine, the vacillating back and forth is making my head hurt.”
“You know what? I don’t feel like fussing with you tonight. We’re not a couple, just two people keeping our options open,” I reminded her. “Let’s just have a good time. By the way-” I paused and put my arm through the crook of T’s. “You may want to answer my friends’ questions.”
“Questions? I don’t understand, why would I answer questions that you have to warn me about?” T asked. “This sounds like a setup.”
“Well, why are you here?”
“Because you invited me. Why do you have to answer a question with a question? I’m going to spend time with you and meet your friends. I don’t, however, expect to spend the entire night on the witness stand; interrogated and judged about who I know, what I do, what organizations I belong to, and what church I go to.”
“They’re not going to ask you about church. Those heifers do brunch.” I tried to lighten the mood. “They gave up years ago giving money to mostly men who damned them to hell just because of who they loved.”
“Well, amen to that. That’s something we agree on,” T said.