Chapter 15
The next morning, Basra and Grayson went to the county clerk’s office and applied for a marriage license. They filled out the appropriate paperwork and had to wait a few hours before they could go into the courtroom to officiate the ceremony. Grayson called his friend Thomas to be a witness. Basra wore a knee-length pale blue dress with navy pumps. Her hair, still straight from her audition, was pulled neatly into a bun. At the request of Grayson, she only sported a light tint of lip gloss. By one o’clock that afternoon, they were married. Basra, Grayson, and Thomas went to eat pizza afterward. The more Basra thought about it, the more her nerves boiled.
“I can’t believe I’m married,” she kept saying.
“Having second thoughts already?” commented Thomas. “Hope not, because the divorce won’t be nearly as easy,” said the recent divorcee.
“I’m not having second thoughts, I’m just shocked that’s it.”
“Well now you get to become a citizen,” Thomas mentioned.
“Oh, yeah. I need to look into that,” she replied.
“We should go get rings,” said Grayson with excitement.
“My parents are going to be angry,” Basra whispered. Her heart palpitated like a child bringing home bad grades for the first time. She was sure about her feelings for Grayson but she was so far from her rearing that she didn’t know if she’d ever find her way back.
“If you like, we can go to your home and have a traditional Somali wedding,” Grayson mentioned. Basra only nodded quietly and finished her pizza.
Grayson couldn’t stop talking. He was thrilled. “So since your lease is almost up, I think we should really look into getting a brownstone. What about those near Fulton that we saw, or what about one of those new ones in Harlem?” Grayson said.
“Yeah, I’ve been looking. I have a bunch of them bookmarked.” Basra pulled out her iPad and showed them to Grayson.
“You should call my mom,” said Thomas.
“Oh yeah, I forgot she did real estate.”
Thomas gave Grayson his mom’s phone number. Basra felt as though she’d been swept up in a whirlwind. They left the pizza parlor, parted ways with Thomas, and went to look at rings. An hour after looking, Basra got caught up in Grayson’s exhilaration. She tried on over thirty different styled rings from at least four different jewelry stores. The couple finally settled on a white gold ring from an antique jewelry store in Upper Manhattan. Basra’s band was a 1920s filigree ring with small diamonds around the edges and throughout the band. Basra fell in love the moment she saw it and it fit her perfectly. Grayson settled on a plain white gold band. He didn’t want anything too fancy or expensive since his hands were always covered in paints. The newlyweds grabbed a couple of sandwiches and went back home that evening. Grayson swept his bride off her feet and carried her into the bedroom. He slowly kissed her as they swayed back and forth to the rhythms of their heartbeats. He slowly undressed his bride and they made love for the first time. Basra enjoyed the first few minutes but soon became so overrun with guilt she couldn’t hold back her tears. This was the second bawling episode she’d had and Grayson became concerned.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good. I’m very happy,” she said, which was true despite the guilt.
“You’ve been very emotional. You know you can talk to me.”
“I know,” she uttered and held her head low.
Deep down Grayson knew those tears were covering something deeper but he didn’t want to investigate. He just wanted to enjoy his evening without complication or questions. They made love two more times that night and Basra finally gave into the moment. She stared at Grayson and was careful not to close her eyes, for when she did, her remorse crept inside. If she stared into Grayson’s eyes, she was lost in his charm and attraction. She was the type of girl who believed in the fairy-tale endings and Hollywood love stories, and as she closed her eyes that night and said her prayers, she asked God for forgiveness and mercy that He may bestow them a happily ever after.
That morning before breakfast, Grayson woke before Basra and called his mother. He told her that he and Basra had gotten married and he couldn’t wait for the rest of the family to meet her. Though his mom thought she was a lovely girl, she had mixed emotions about their overnight courtship.
“Are you sure?” she kept asking.
“Mom, she is the one. I even talked to God about it,” Grayson said.
“You talked to God?” his mom questioned. “I’ve never heard you say anything like that.”
“She’s changed me, Mom. I really hope you understand because you’re going to be the only one on my side.”
“Son, I just want you to be happy,” she said.
“I am,” he persisted.
They talked a little longer about art as he made fresh grapefruit juice and she insisted on making them dinner that Friday, if he promised that he’d come over. Since Grayson and his dad stop talking a year ago, he hadn’t been to their Long Island home, not even for the holidays. His mother hated the dysfunction between the two of them but there was nothing she could do. Grayson’s father, Ray, was stubborn and he unfortunately passed that gene on to his son. After his dad said that he was going to be a bum painting pictures of people on the street, Grayson decided that he wasn’t going to speak to him until he apologized. Ray refused to apologize and thus the feud had continued. Hansa was hoping that her son’s new love had softened his heart enough to start a peace offering.
“So I will see you on Friday. Do not make me cook a big dinner and you and Basra not show up.”
“I won’t, I promise,” said Grayson.
He hung up and took a glass of juice into the bedroom. Basra was stirring and when he slid underneath the covers beside her, her eyes opened. She greeted him with a smile.
“You’re my husband,” she said.
“I am,” he said. “Don’t make plans for Friday. We’re going to my parents’ for dinner.”
“Your parents? Did you tell them we were married?”
“I told my mom.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she wanted me to be happy.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You’re not even talking to your dad. He’s definitely not going to be happy when you show up with a wife he’s never met.”
“He probably won’t even be there. My dad works all of the time. Dinner is at six and he never gets home before nine.”
“Okay,” said Basra with a look of apprehension.
“It will be okay, I promise.”
Basra drank a sip of juice and then rubbed her belly. “I’m hungry,” she said.
“Sounds like the Breakfast Nook is calling.”
The lovebirds tossed on some sweats and went to breakfast, but as soon as Basra stepped out and took a whiff of the fresh fall air, she looked across the street and saw Richard.
“Oh no!” she moaned.
“What?”
Grayson followed her eye line and also saw Richard standing across the street.
“Who is this dude?”
“Okay, I didn’t say anything before, but we went out, only a few times, and after I tried to end it, he wouldn’t, and since then he’s been stalking me. I didn’t want to say anything but I really think he’s crazy.”
Grayson was so heated that he stepped into the street without looking and was nearly run over.
“Gray!” Basra called out. He ignored her yelp and kept walking. She followed.
Richard remained at his position and calmly sipped his coffee. His face held a dubious smirk.
“Hey, you.”
“Gray!” Basra continued to yell.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Richard looked right and left and then replied. “I’m enjoying my morning coffee.”
“Richard! What are you doing in front of my place?”
“Our place,” Grayson corrected. “My wife says you’re stalking her.”
“I live in this neighborhood and this is a public street.” Richard turned his attention to Basra. “You got married, congratulations.”
Grayson stepped in front of Basra. “You don’t talk to her. I’m telling you right now that you need to leave my wife alone.”
Richard cut his eyes over Grayson’s shoulder and looked at Basra. He displayed an eerie smile and then turned and walked down the street, still sipping his coffee.
“He’s really crazy,” Basra said.
“What’s his full name? I have a friend who works for the police and she can pull his record.”
Basra paused, for she didn’t even know Richard’s last name. She wasn’t even sure he was from Philadelphia, as he had stated.
“I don’t think we should get into that. He’s more bark than bite.”
“I don’t know, Basra. I’ve seen that dude several times. At first I thought it was just in my mind, but I’m sure I’ve seen him standing out here a few mornings.”
“Well, we are about to move. I’m getting a new number and I can put my past in the past.”
“Where did you meet that creep?”
“Blind date. Let’s go eat.”
Basra pretended as though she weren’t a bit concerned about Richard, but inside her nerves were unraveling. That afternoon, when Basra got out of class, she met Molly Youngston, Thomas’s mom. She had several brownstones ready to show. Grayson was busy painting, but Basra, very anxious to move, wanted to look. After looking at several properties, Basra fell in love with a three-story brownstone on 128th Street in Harlem. It was completely refurbished. The owners were renting but were also willing to sell. However, at the $810,000 asking price, Basra knew that they would be renting that place for a while. She narrowed the search among three places, and didn’t tell Grayson which one was her favorite. However, when he instantly fell for the Harlem home Basra told him that was the one she wanted, and the decision was simple. That Friday before heading to Long Island, the couple filled out the lease application, and Grayson filled out the background and credit check. Basra was so excited she wanted to immediately start shopping. Grayson agreed that she could buy one thing. But when the one thing she wanted to buy was a neon pink welcome home mat, he forced her out of the store empty-handed.
“It was perfect,” she whined, leaving the store.
“It glowed in the dark,” he said.
“No, it didn’t. But it was happy and perky like us.”
“We’re not getting a bright pink doormat.”
That was the end of that conversation, and later that day, Basra nervously went through five outfits before deciding to wear a pale yellow 1930s-style dress that fell just below her knees. She pulled her hair back away from her face with a band but left it hanging. She even went by the market and picked up a cheesecake for dessert. She wanted to cook something traditional but didn’t want to risk his family not liking the dish. She was so nervous her armpits were sweating.
“I never sweat like this,” she said as they were leaving the house.
“Why are you so worried?”
“Because they don’t know me.”
“I’m their son and they don’t me either.”
“It’s different. I’m not American. They’re probably going to think I married you for citizenship.”
“I’ll tell them you didn’t even want to marry me and that I pressured you.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to make them feel better.”
“It will be fine,” Grayson said, kissing Basra on the forehead.
They left home at four that afternoon and hopped in a rental car. Grayson was used to taking the train but since the Oyster Bay railroad could be a bit unpredictable, he wanted a fast escape off Long Island if things at home went awry. On the ride, Grayson mentioned to Basra that his parents were well-off, and not to be surprised when they got to the neighborhood. Basra had never been to Long Island and figured well-off meant they were doing better than the average New Yorker. However, when they reached Split Rock Road, Basra realized she wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.
“You’re rich,” she exclaimed.
“I’m not rich, my parents are. They don’t give me a dime.”
“Still, you came from money.”
“And ...”
Basra didn’t want to get out of the car. She continued to harp on the fact that his parents lived in a million-dollar mansion.
“Are there any other secrets you want to share with me?” she asked.
Grayson shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“What was there to say? So what, they have money.”
“People with money are different. They judge people a lot more than people without.”
“Now, I have to agree with you on that. My dad has been judging me every since I decided not to become an architect or engineer.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Well, we are here now. You can’t sit in the car all night.”
Basra took several deep breaths and walked with her husband to meet her in-laws. Hansa greeted them at the door. She was just as pleasant as she was at the art show. She hugged Basra and whispered “congratulations” in her ear. They went into the parlor area and helped themselves to a few glasses of wine. Basra was nervous but made sure she didn’t drink too much. Next, she met his sister, who arrived shortly after them. Since only his mother knew about the marriage, Grayson wanted to make the grand announcement during dinner. They had agreed to remove their rings as to not cause suspicion. His sister resembled his mom with more Indian features. She, only eighteen months older, was single and a partner in a private dental practice on Long Island. As soon as she saw Basra, she gave a curious smile and said, “Don’t you model?”
“I do,” replied Basra.
She pulled out her iPad, and pulled up Grazia magazine. She flipped through the pages and held up a picture of Basra.
“I thought that was you. I love this magazine, and I remembered seeing you in there. I thought you were from India, and I was so happy to see someone of color in the spread. You are so beautiful,” she said.
“Thank you,” Basra said.
“Ma, come here!” screamed Grayson’s sister, Kaamil.
Hansa came rushing into the room. “Is everything okay?” she said.
“Look.” She showed her mom the picture on the screen. “She really is a model, not some go-go bar dancer claiming to be a model. No offense,” she said to Basra.
“None taken.”
“She just had an audition with Lauren’s Closet,” bragged Grayson.
“Get out! I love their stuff. If you get that gig, I bet you get discounts, hint hint.”
Basra continued talking to Kaamil as Grayson followed his mom into the kitchen. She was quick to ask him about the marriage.
“So when are you going to tell your dad?”
“Where is he?”
“Working. I suspect he’ll be here before the evening is over.
“I wanted to announce it over dinner. You didn’t mention anything did you?
“No. This news has to come from you.”
Grayson looked at the spread his mom had laid on the table. “Did you cook all of this or did Annie Mae do it?”
“We both did,” she answered.
“Where is she anyway?” Grayson asked, referring to their housekeeper.
“She had the night off. She goes to Bingo on Friday.”
Grayson laughed as Kaamil and Basra walked in the kitchen.
“I like her, Gray. I like her a lot. She’s smart and has pretty teeth.”
“Do you do anything besides modeling?” Hansa asked.
“I’m in school, studying psychology.”
“Oh really, what do you plan to do after college?”
“I was thinking about therapy.”
“She should be teaching math,” expressed Grayson. “She’s a math savant.”
“Stop it. I’m not.”
“Really, she can add super large numbers, divide them, whatever.”
“I’m just good with numbers. Stop it, Grayson.” Basra turned to Hansa. “This is really good wine.”
“One of my favorites as well.”
They continued to chat around the kitchen area until Hansa heard Ray coming in the door. “We’re in here,” she called out.
Ray walked in the kitchen and greeted his wife and daughter with kisses on their cheeks. He looked at Grayson and nodded. “Son.”
“What’s up?” said Grayson.
“What’s up, huh?” Ray said, certainly not appreciating the casual greeting.
“This is Basra,” said Grayson.
Basra shook Ray’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir,” she said, holding her breath.
“She’s a model,” expressed Kaamil. “A real one in magazines.”
“That’s nice.” Ray placed down his briefcase and a looked at the food. “You didn’t have to wait for me. I told you I’d be late,” he expressed.
“It’s okay, we’ve been running our mouths.”
“Since we were already having company for dinner, I thought one more wouldn’t hurt.”
“Who’s coming?”
Just then Ray’s business associate called from the front door. “Hello.”
“Follow the voices,” Ray called out. “We’ve been working so many late hours on this hospital deal, I figured that the least I could do was offer a home-cooked meal.”
“Sorry, I had to finish up a phone call,” said Ray’s associate as he walked into the room.
“Everyone, this is Adam Feinburg,” said Ray.
As though she were staring into Medusa’s eyes, Basra turned to stone and her wine glass fell onto the floor. Everyone turned in her direction. She quickly knelt to pick up the pieces. Grayson graciously helped her.
“This is my wife and daughter, Hansa and Kaamil. That’s my son, Grayson, and his friend ...”
“Basra,” she said, standing and holding pieces of broken glass.
“Nice to meet everyone. I hope I’m not imposing,” said Adam.
“Of course not, the more the merrier.”
“I’m going to sweep this up,” said Grayson as he left the kitchen.
Basra’s hands were shaking. “My dear, are you okay?” asked Hansa.
“I’m good, I’m so sorry,” she said, avoiding direct eye contact with Adam.
“What was that you were drinking?” he asked.
“It was ... uhmm, it was a merlot.”
“It seems that my presence startled you, so let me pour you another glass. Ray, where do you keep your wine?”
Ray motioned for Adam to follow.
“Where’s your restroom?” she asked.
“I’ll show you,” said Kaamil. “Oh, God, you’re bleeding. We have Band-Aids.”
Basra went into the bathroom and closed the door while Kaamil went down the hall to get a first-aid kit. Basra sat on the closed toilet, as her shaky legs were no longer able to support her frame.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” she whispered. “Why!”
There was a knock on the door. Basra stopped breathing. “I have the first-aid kit,” called Kaamil from the other side.
Basra exhaled and spoke. “Come in.”
Kaamil walked in the bathroom, cleaned Basra’s cut, and bandaged it with a neon pink Band-Aid. “Sorry; it was all I could find. Are you good?” she asked.
“I am, thanks. I need to use the restroom, though.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.”
Kaamil left and Basra sat back down on the toilet. She prayed silently and took several deep breaths before walking out. As she opened the door, Adam took a step in.
“Here’s your wine.”
“I’m good,” she said, trying to sidestep him.
“Fate keeps bringing us together, doesn’t that mean something?”
“It means the devil is as busy as he is devious, as my mother used to say.”
Adam was uncomfortably close as he leaned in to whisper. “You smell delicious. Whatever he’s giving you, I will pay double. Meet me tonight.”
“Don’t do this,” she said with fret.
Grayson came around the corner. “You okay?” he asked.
“I am,” she called out loudly as Adam stepped to the side.
“Here is your wine,” he said again, cordially handing her the glass.
Basra smiled, took the glass, and grabbed her husband’s hand. Adam went into the bathroom. Grayson stopped to have conversation in the hallway.
“I know you’re nervous about announcing the marriage, but you’ve got to calm down. It’s going to be okay. I know they will fall in love with you. My sister is already a fan.”
“I know,” Basra said softly.
Grayson leaned over and gave his woman a kiss. Adam approached as he was leaving the bathroom.
“I see love is in the air,” Adam stated.
“Yeah, I’m a very lucky guy.”
“More than you know,” said Adam as he stepped to the left, walked by Basra, and lowered his hand to cautiously graze her butt as he passed by. Basra heart damn near stopped. Her fairy-tale had turned into one by the Brothers Grimm, and she was soon going to be eaten alive.
“You ready?” said Grayson.
Basra nodded slowly and attempted to smile. Grayson took her hand and led her to dinner.