Choose Me (47 page)

“Yeah, two pages long! On both sides!” Simone interjected.

“More like a manifesto,” Alex suggested.

“You kissed David Correa?” Anthony asked. “How come you never told me?”

More laughter followed. All evening, I had noticed Anthony eyeing Eva. It was the way a man looked at a woman who had gotten
away, with new eyes. Eva had never talked much about him except to say that he had had several affairs and was always traveling.
But I knew they had a long history, being high school sweethearts and all, not to mention having two sons, and sharing a tragedy
that had the potential to perhaps bring them together for comfort.

A strong wind shook the leaves above us and I looked up at the oak tree. One of the branches was growing into the wooden nine-foot
fence and whenever the wind blew, the fence creaked ominously. It had been a flawless spring day, not quite yet summer, complete
with an early morning shower, sunshine, and unseasonably warm temperatures. It was the kind of day when people braced themselves
for an imminent storm because the weather was too nice, too soon. With dusk falling, the temperature was dropping, dictating
sweaters and jackets, but it was still pleasant enough to remain outdoors.

“Eva doesn’t have any feelings for him,” Maya said.

“What?” I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard her.

“I said, don’t worry. Eva doesn’t love Anthony. He hurt her too much. She may have forgiven him but she could never forget
what he’s done to her.”

I guess I hadn’t done a very good job of hiding my feelings, but I still pretended it had no significance to me.

“How are you and
your
husband doing?” I asked, turning the tables around.

She smiled slyly. “We’re doing better. Still working on it. How’s Luciano?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t ask.”

“He and his wife are renewing their vows,” I said cautiously, watching her face for a reaction.

“I’m glad,” she said, sounding genuinely pleased.

We heard Eva laugh and we both looked up to see her trying to cover Alex’s mouth as he started to divulge a secret. “Don’t
you dare!” she warned Alex.

“Next week is Tony’s birthday,” Maya said in a low voice. “He would’ve been twenty.”

“He and Eli were really close in age, huh?” I inquired.

“Yup. One week short of a year. I just hope she doesn’t fall apart.”

After everyone left, Eva began wrapping up the leftovers, going in and out of the house, moving like a dancer across the stage.
I volunteered to clean the grill while Eli wrestled with King. I watched with fascination and alarm as the dog held Eli’s
forearm in its powerful jaws, growling menacingly, then obediently released him when Eli commanded him to.

“I got my cell phone on speed-dial to 9-1-1, just in case,” I told Eli.

Eli smiled and hugged King around his thick, saggy jowls, kissing his snout. “I’m going to bed, Ma. Thanks for the party.”
Eli trudged up the steps, King on his heels. He planted a quick kiss on her cheek and turned to go, but she held him around
the waist and hugged him. “C’mon, Ma,” he protested.

“You don’t have to go,” she said.

“Sure,” he quipped, throwing an exaggerated wink my way. Eva swatted his backside with the aluminum foil.

“I’ll be in, in a little bit.” I watched her as she walked around the deck, blowing out the tiki lights, shoving the patio
chairs underneath the table. I was sitting on the bottom step of the deck rinsing off the grill with the hose.

“Leave that alone. Eli’ll do it tomorrow,” she commanded.

I turned slightly to look up at her, the motion detector lights behind her creating an outline of light around her silhouette.
“I’m almost finished. Come down here and keep me company.”

She didn’t move nor did she reply.

“What—you afraid to be alone with me?” I asked.

“No,” she replied, a little too quickly, laughing nervously. “Why should I be afraid?” She walked down the steps and sat sideways
on the step above me, propping her feet against the railing.

“Are
you
afraid? About the surgery tomorrow?” she asked.

I scoffed, trying to play it off, but of course, I knew she could see right through me. The truth was I was more than scared,
I was downright petrified. I wish I could say prayer had alleviated all my worries, but absolute fearlessness was impossible.
It was how God kept us on our toes. It was what made man fallible. What made matters worse, in the last week, a couple of
tragedies had occurred. Dan, my chemo chair neighbor who had been one cycle ahead of me, was given an incorrectly mixed chemo
dose and died. Another patient, one of the youngest testicular cancer patients, a twenty-year-old college student named Erik,
died during his RPLND surgery. Although their deaths were attributed to human error, the 90 percent chance of survival lost
its meaning; it killed my positive outlook. Death became very real once again.

But then, I read the story of the ten-year-old boy with spinal cancer who had endured fifteen operations, chemotherapy, radiation,
and a stem cell transplant and was finally cancer-free. There were more stories, about younger patients, even babies, who
had bravely fought and survived cancer. Every morning, I tried not to feel sorry for myself and began my day with a mantra:
“There are people worse off than I am, there are sicker people than I am.”

“Yeah,” I finally answered. “But I’m not scared about dying. I’m more afraid of not seeing the people that I care about. My
family …” I paused and scrubbed the grill with the wire brush. “And you.”

I waited for her to say something, my head bowed, my face growing hotter by the second as I scrubbed harder and harder. All
I wanted was an acknowledgment that there was some hope for us later on down the line, a shining light in the distance I couldn’t
help but go toward. When I felt her hand on my shoulder, I relaxed and straightened up. Cautiously, I leaned my head back
on her extended legs; they were slightly trembling but I couldn’t tell if it was from the cooler temperature or nervousness.
Listening to the crickets, I stared up at the night sky and realized what “midnight blue” meant.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” she said. “When you wake up, your family’s going to be there. And I’ll be there.
Si Dios quiere.”

“If God wants?” I translated, turning to face her.

“God willing.”

“I thought
‘quiere’
meant ‘want,’ or ‘love.’”

“It depends on the context …” she said, her voice fading as she turned to look up at the house. I knew Tony’s room was up
there, in the attic, still untouched since his death. I wanted to absorb her pain, just for a little while, hold her in my
arms all night, and tell her that everything would be alright for her also. Staring at her stretched neck and her protruding
chin, I remembered how soft her skin was in that spot, remembered what it was like kissing her there, like falling into a
deep sleep. When she turned back around, a faraway look shrouded her face and she reached out to me. I closed my eyes, waiting
for her touch. Her hand hovered over my head, then down to my eyebrows, a stroke of a finger and then, nothing. When I opened
my eyes, she was looking away, into the blackness of the yard, her hands safely cradled in her lap.

“WHO SO FINDETH
a wife findeth a good thing and obtaineth favour of the Lord.”
As Akil read the passage from Proverbs 18:22, many of the wedding guests, the women mostly, whooped and clapped. I had heard
the passage recited at other weddings and it always elicited the same response. I used to think the passage meant that a wife
was “a good thing” for a man because he was getting the convenience of a housekeeper, sexual partner, and cook all in one.
Now, I acknowledged its meaning in the spiritual context, that a man who got married was making a covenant with the Lord,
because it was assumed he was forsaking all other women.

The passage was part of the wedding vows Akil had chosen from different scriptures of the Bible, excerpts from Corinthians
and Proverbs 31. When it was Jade’s turn, she began with selections from Genesis, Ecclesiastes, and ended with Ephesians.
Before she could finish, she started weeping and Akil had to complete the last few verses before he, too, choked up.

I glanced over at Adam who was standing with the other groomsmen after walking Jade down the aisle, beaming like a proud brother.
His eyes were closed but he was smiling since it was his suggestion to use scriptures in lieu of the traditional wedding vows.
The fluttering in the pit of my stomach that usually occurred whenever I looked at him or he was near me resurfaced. He looked
so noble in his black Nehru tux, which hugged him like a custom-made suit. A black-and-white mud-cloth-patterned bow tie completed
his outfit. His hair had grown quite a bit so that he was sporting a modest, updated Afro, a combination of twists and finger-combed
locks.

Over the last couple of months Adam and I had grown closer, like very good friends. Watching him recover from his major surgery
was difficult, but because I had seen post-op pictures on the Internet, I was prepared when I visited him in the hospital.
Through his recovery, I learned to cope with my own grief. My pain was still palpable; I felt it in the numbness in my chest,
the lump in my throat, the knot in my stomach, but I was slowly recovering. I gained strength from watching his positive outlook
and silent determination. Even though he was in pain for several weeks, and was still taking drugs for occasional discomfort,
his attitude remained upbeat. When his mother or Jade couldn’t tend to him, I stepped in to help with meals and make sure
he didn’t exert himself. The one thing I didn’t do was change his dressing, not only because I felt a nurse was better equipped,
but it seemed inappropriate for me to see him shirtless, given our past. Not that I didn’t trust myself around him, but I
knew my weaknesses and I didn’t feel the need to test myself anymore. I found I was falling for him all over again, but I
kept these feelings suppressed.

The week before the wedding, I accompanied Adam to the tuxedo shop for his final fitting. Since his first fitting, he had
gained some weight and had to have the tuxedo altered a little. I walked over to where he stood in front of the three-way
mirror as the tailor stuck pins around the shoulder area.

“What do you think, ma’am? Your groom looks good, huh?” the tailor asked.

“Oh, no, he’s not—” I answered automatically, blushing slightly.

“We’re not—” Adam said almost as quickly.

The tailor realized he was mistaken and smiled sheepishly. “Well, you make a nice couple anyway.”

As the pastor blessed the new couple, I felt someone watching me. It was Luciano, who had been assigned as my partner, something
Adam claimed was not his doing. But since he was no longer involved with Maya, it didn’t bother me much. He seemed to have
matured a little since his wife filed for divorce, despite recently renewing their vows. We were even able to have a civil
conversation about our respective jobs. Only once did he ask how Maya was doing. When I told him that she was “still married,”
he took the cue and changed the subject.

I turned my attention back to Jade and Akil. Ordinarily, when I attended weddings, I had a tendency to look beyond the pretty
dress-up clothes, the elaborate decorations, and the sentimental words and tears. As a marriage veteran, and a realist, I
knew marriage was a job, a career in itself that involved a lot of compromising and a lot of taking for granted. Because I
had been married so briefly and divorced so young, because I had spent half of my life raising my children alone, I didn’t
have a romantic view of marriage. I didn’t believe in the fantasy of it, the knight in shining armor on a white horse riding
me off into the sunset to live happily-ever-after. After the clothes were stored away, the decorations discarded, and the
words and tears were spent, reality was waiting like a bucket of freezing water.

For the moment, however, I set aside my cynical thoughts and concentrated on the lovely aesthetics around me. Jade looked
radiant in her gold African-inspired dress and headwrap; Akil, elegant in his coat and tails. The bridesmaids’ dresses were
in gold-and-black mud-cloth crepe de chine, styled according to each bridesmaid’s preference. Of course, I had mine designed
in the style of a sari and had received many compliments. Jade had commented that I was stealing her spotlight, and I apologized
before realizing she was joking. Nothing could spoil her day.

My eyes drifted back toward Adam. He looked at me like when we first met, strangers across a room, smiling tentatively. I
returned the smile and for the first time, I began to imagine what it would be like to be married to him. Not in the wedding-day-fantasy-honeymoon
scenario, but in the day-to-day marital setting. I could see Adam watching ESPN as I cooked dinner and cleaned the house;
Adam and I arguing over the toilet seat being left up, or the tube of toothpaste being squeezed in the middle; Adam coming
home late at night while I lay in bed wondering where he’d been. Then I realized I was reliving my marriage with Anthony.
It would be different with Adam, wouldn’t it? I was not the same woman I was at nineteen, naive and headstrong, and Adam was
not Anthony. We were older, more responsible, committed to our relationships with God, with a friendship that was stronger
than it had been in the beginning. There was something about marriage, about living under the same roof, that ruined all that.
Then it dawned on me that Adam and I had never really discussed marriage, at least not in depth, except to say that neither
one of us wanted it. So why was I even thinking about him in that context?

Just as the pastor was about to present the new Mr. and Mrs. McClaren to the guests, a loud yawn was heard. Everyone laughed
as all eyes turned toward Daelen, the ring bearer, who was stretching his body in his miniature tux. Kia, the flower girl,
put her gloved finger to her lips. “Shush, boy!” she scolded him loudly. This was followed by more laughter.