Chocolate Dove (17 page)

Authors: Cas Sigers

BOOK: Chocolate Dove

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“Really?” Basra said with excitement.

“Yeah, I miss my girlfriend,” he said.

Basra giggled and grabbed his hand. It was like old times as they hung out in the city, window-shopped, ate, and went to the movies. They spent the later part of the day in Central Park, looking at the fall leaves. Grayson talked about having another show as Basra guessed character profiles of the people walking by. She was enjoying her psychology classes but still wasn't sure how she was going to use her degree. She didn't want to get a doctorate and practice but was interested in possibly teaching. Most of all she found joy in studying people. She could waste hours of the day doing just that.

As they walked back to the train, Grayson stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Basra had taken a few steps ahead of him before she realized he wasn't moving. She turned and saw the crowd weaving around him.

“Hey!” she called out before going back. “What's wrong?” she asked.

“We should get married. I know we've been down that road before but the feeling keeps hitting me hard in the chest. I want to marry you, Basra.”

She looked at Grayson and in that moment she couldn't imagine being with anyone else. A smile slowly crept across her face.

“Okay, let's get married.”

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.”