CHAPTER 36

“You ready?”

“Sure,” Maxwell said, shutting down his computer. “Just give me a couple of minutes.”

“I’ll wait downstairs.”

Maxwell nodded his okay and watched Yolanda walk out of his office. Looking at her body was like watching a surgery on television; it disgusted and interested you at the same time. He’d never seen a woman that skinny. Maybe on TV when one of those modeling shows was on or something, but almost all those women were white. He’d never seen a skinny black girl. Thin, but not this skinny. Po’ was what you were called back in the neighborhood if you were too skinny. That girl is so po’ she need some meat on her bones.

In any case, Maxwell was confident he had made the right decision by suggesting they go out to dinner. Jackie was right. He would make things right with her and get this whole thing over with. He could grant her this one thing. It was only dinner; it wouldn’t kill him. Yeah, she was bony, but the girl was definitely easy on the eyes. A little plastic surgery and she’d be right up there with Theresa. Naw, that’s taking it too far. Even with plastic surgery, she couldn’t hold a candle to Theresa. Then why am I so interested in getting to know Yolanda more?

* * *

Yolanda couldn’t believe she was sitting inside Maxwell’s Hummer. I have to be dreaming, she kept thinking, watching him drive confidently through Houston’s remaining traffic.

They’d decided to go to Blue Water, a family-owned seafood restaurant that had the best crawfish in town. The crawfish was guaranteed to make your nose run from the spices, a must for a true crawfish lover.

She felt uneasy sitting here in his car, fearing she would not be able to loosen up and be herself. His silence bothered her, but she didn’t know him well enough to know if he was always this way. Or was it because she was in the car?

“You cold?” he asked suddenly, adjusting the air conditioner. “Is that too much wind in your face?”

“No, why? Do I look cold?”

“No, your hair was just blowing and I didn’t want to freeze you out. It’s crazy hot outside, and I normally turn the air on full force, but with you being so thin, I didn’t want you to turn into a popsicle or anything.”

Yolanda smiled, but hoped he could look past her weight and enjoy the evening. She decided to not spoil it with her constant blabbering, to enjoy the ride to the restaurant in silence. Let him wonder what I’m thinking for a change.

* * *

“So basically my pop whopped my butt for taking his truck and wrecking it while taking the test for my driver’s license.”

Yolanda laughed out loud, tears steaming down her cheeks. Maxwell laughed, too. He was surprised that he was actually having a good time. They’d already chowed down on enough crawfish to feed a small village and had just finished devouring the corn on the cob and potatoes that came with the meal.

Two hours later, he was still captivated by Yolanda’s conversation.

“You had a very interesting childhood,” Yolanda said, smiling and wiping tears from her eyes. “You must really love your dad a lot.”

His face darkened.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do y’all get along well?”

“Not really,” Maxwell said, taking a sip of his beer. “We’re close, but everything changed after my mom died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What about you?” Maxwell asked, needing to change the subject. He felt uncomfortable talking about his pop, especially to people who didn’t know the dynamics of their relationship. “You get along with your folks?”

“Yeah. My family is weird. My mom calls me almost every day with a new tale of how my dad is destroying the house. He’s retired, so it gives him something to do.”

“Y’all close?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. We talk all the time, and I visit when I can. I have a sister, Gina. She’s married with three kids. We don’t talk as much as we should, but I e-mail her from time to time. You got any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. Only child. Unless you count my frat brothers.”

“Let me guess, Kappa?”

“You got it.”

“Well, look at Mr. College Man! What did you major in?”

“Business.”

“I bet your family was so proud of you.”

“Not really. I dropped out when my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Moved back home to help my dad out.”

“Sorry.”

I hate thinking about that part of my life: dropping out of school, watching my mother shrivel up and die right in front of me.

He remembered looking at her sleep at night, her breathing hard and labored. Every day she seemed to be dying right in front of him, her body slowly shriveling up.

“Come here, Maxy,” his mother said, beckoning him to her. She patted the chair next to the bed, motioning for him to sit. He would never, ever forget the words he spoke to her on that gray, overcast Sunday. It was the last time they talked.

She was in the bed they had moved from the guest bedroom to the family room downstairs. She was so fatigued she could barely sit up, let alone climb upstairs.

She was happiest then, her thin, frail body hidden under a mountain of covers and quilts. Friends came by in droves, sitting around her bed, regaling her with stories of her youth, knowing that these were her last days.

“What is it?” Maxwell asked, sitting by his mother’s bed and holding her skeletal hand.

Her skin was dry and translucent, and blue and purple veins coursed through it. Her protruding facial bones made her appear to be wearing a mask. Her brown eyes that used to sparkle with amusement were encased in dark circles, and looked dull and lifeless.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was finally real.

Mama is dying.

“I want you to watch over your pop,” she said in a strangled whisper.

He leaned in closer so he could hear.

“I’m worried about him. Try to look after him when I’m gone.”

A single tear fell from Maxwell’s eyes.

“I will, Mama.”

“I want you to find yourself a nice girl, Maxy. Somebody you can laugh with, talk to, cry with. Somebody you can love, through thick and thin. Remember, you don’t get the ones you can live with, get the ones you can’t live without.”

“I’ll remember.”

“I’m so tired, baby. So tired. Will you sit here with me ‘til I fall asleep?”

He nodded, knowing if he spoke another word it wouldn’t be words at all. It would be screams, angry screams that would shake the heavens, loud enough for the stars to feel his pain.

“You ready to go? I have some things to do in the morning,” he said suddenly, waking up from bad memories.

“Sure,” Yolanda said, grabbing her purse.

He threw ten bucks down for the tip, took another gulp of his beer, and slid off the bench, anxious to leave the restaurant and memories of his mama behind.

They walked outside to his truck. The air was still, muggy. He opened the truck door for her and then hopped in and slammed his door.

They were silent for most of the trip, but Yolanda did try to start another conversation, trying to get Maxwell to talk.

He didn’t, and eventually she quieted. He could feel her uneasiness, knew she wondered what had altered his mood. Talking about his mother’s death always made him quiet, introspective. He turned the radio on.

“I like that song,” Yolanda said.

“ ‘You Are So Beautiful’? Why?”

“I don’t know. I suppose every woman would love her man to sing that song to her. It’s a good song.”

“You want somebody to sing that to you?”

“Yeah. One day, somebody will.”

“Maybe somebody will,” he said, turning into the driveway of the salon. He put the truck in park and let the engine idle.

“I really had a wonderful time, Maxwell,” Yolanda said.

“I did, too,” Maxwell said quietly. I know I should be the gentleman and walk her to her car, but this ain’t a date.

“Good night,” he said. She is a nice person to talk to. I’m definitely, definitely not attracted to her, but maybe we could be good friends.

“Night,” she said, turning to give him a kiss on his cheek.

He shrank away. “What are you doing?”

“I…um…”

“One second you’re thinking about accusing me of sexually harassing you and the next minute you’re trying to kiss me?”

“No, I…”

He saw the hurt in her eyes and didn’t want to make matters worse. Relenting, he kissed her on her forehead.

Yolanda laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m your baby sister now? Kissing me on the forehead like I’m related to you or something?”

“What’s wrong with that? I like you, Yolanda, and I had a wonderful time tonight, but I think this whole thing with you is inappropriate. We can’t keep playing around like this.”

“But I’m not playing around. I really like you.”

“That’s the problem, Yolanda. I’m technically your boss. That night, I wanted to kiss you. I don’t know why, but I did. But it wasn’t right. And I don’t feel comfortable going the way we’re going.”

“How do you see us going?”

“Look, I’m a grown man. I’ve been around the block a couple of times, and I’m really getting tired of all that mess. I don’t like fooling around with a lot of women anymore—”

“Good, because I’m not interested in dating a lot of men.”

“No, Yolanda, you’re not getting it. I don’t want to date you. I know that’s blunt, but I can’t seriously consider the thought of going out with you. I’m not into playing games anymore, so you might as well hear it now before I just take advantage of you, or do something worse.”

She hung her head. This is just like Russell all over again, she thought. “It’s been fun, Yolanda, really it has. But in the grand scheme of things, you’re not what I’m looking for in a wife. We need to part ways—”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s just that I get so tired of men who decide something before anything even gets started. I don’t play games, either, which is why I said I like you. It was an honest statement. But I think you’re right. If you just want to put this whole thing behind us, I won’t mention it again and I won’t be weird at work.”

“It’s too late for that. Things are already kinda weird between us. But I really do want that, Yolanda. I do want to put this whole ugly thing behind us.”

His use of the word ugly stung. Ugly, ugly…It wasn’t the situation that was ugly, she was ugly. There was no way he would be rejecting her if she had a body like Theresa. The hope in her heart died and she was back to square one. Skinny ole Yolanda. Hey, Six O’Clock, you ever gonna get a man? It was as if her father was standing right next to her, laughing. She should be laughing at herself, too. What was I thinking? Did I honestly think I had a chance? I never did, never will. Yolanda opened the truck door.

“Yolanda, wait.”

She turned and looked at him.

“I really want us to be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, I really want us to be friends.”

She looked out into the parking lot, thinking.

“Would that be all right?”

“The problem with you, Maxwell, is that you don’t know what you want. I don’t know what this was tonight, but I’m calling it a date. You can call it whatever you want. But it wasn’t just two friends hanging out. I have enough friends, and I’m not adding you to that list. I want more.”

She got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

“Night,” Maxwell called out, watching her painfully skinny body walk to her car. He leaned his head on the steering wheel. What am I doing?