My Daughter's Boyfriend (23 page)

“So, is this what happens when Lauren goes out of state?” Her eyes flashed fire and she rushed at me, tugging my arm.

“Get your scandalous ass out of my mother’s bed.”

“What?” Tracey woke up, squinting and rubbing her eyes.

Lauren’s hands swiped at my face, but I blocked her before she could get at me. I sat up and held her by her wrists, looking in her eyes for the first time in a long time.

“Lauren? Oh God.” Tracey scattered from the bed like a frightened animal. Her shirt and blue jean skirt were crushed and wrinkled. She rushed to her offspring and grabbed Lauren’s left arm; I secured her right arm, but Lauren grunted and snatched her arms from the both of us.

“No, Mom, no. I’m not leaving this time. This is messed up. I know this is not what I think it is.”

Tracey’s lip quivered, her face was sunken like ancient treasure. I didn’t know what to do, so I remained seated on the bed, grateful I was still fully dressed.

“Okay, Lauren, we need to talk.”

“Start talking. I
gotta
hear this,” she half-laughed, half-cried.

“Okay, I need a few minutes. Go wait in the living room. Go on.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going out there so you two can collaborate on some story. I want to know the truth, Mom. Why is he here? With you? I’m not gone two hours and he’s here with you? What? Was this in the plans all along? See, this is not making any sense, and I’m not leaving this room till I get some answers.”

“Okay, okay,” Tracey snapped. She flung her arms around her body, squeezing and rubbing her arms and moaning. I jumped up and ran to her side, but before I could get there, Lauren stood directly in my path.

Suddenly Lauren resembled a hastily constructed wall, one that had not been there before. I wanted to shove my hands against her, against the wall, but she stood with both feet firmly planted on the floor.

“Now hold up, Lauren. I know you’re mad, but hey, this is how things are.”

“Oh, really now? Aaron, what do you call yourself
doing
? Oh, let me stop playing dumb,” she said, and looked me in the eyes. “My
mom
is the other woman, isn’t she?” She screamed with her whole face. “Isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“No,” Tracey said at the same time.

“Well, maybe I’d better leave so y’all can get your stories straight. God knows you need to do better than what you’re doing.”

She bolted from the room, leaving the sound of a slamming door in her wake. It was ten-forty, but for some reason it felt much later than that.

By then Tracey was weeping, sputtering, chest heaving in and out, tears streaming down her face. She perched on her knees at the side of the bed, rocking back and forth.

“This is too much. I knew it was too good to be true. How can God bless this kind of mess?”

I sighed internally. Let Tracey get all cried out. Let her find some words.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER.

We had assembled in the dining room. Tracey was waiting for the water to boil. Had placed several hot apple cider packets on the counter. Lauren sat perched on a dining room chair, her eyes dark, without a flicker of vitality. I sat across from her, moving my legs back and forth while my hands slapped my thighs.

Tracey stood before us, barely able to look at her daughter, eyes drained, and giving the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else but there.

“Lauren, I’m so embarrassed. That’s all I can say. It’s—it’s not, I don’t know,” she said.

“Let me tell her, Tracey.”

“Okay.” She nodded and returned to prepare the cider.

I blew out a short breath and tried to maintain a calm voice. “Lauren, for a long time I was attracted to you and only you. I felt we had a good thing, but somehow, some way . . . I began liking your mom.”

Lauren winced and hung her head.

“Hey, what happened wasn’t intentional. It just happened.”

She stared at me. “Aaron, nothing just happens. And if we had such a good thing, why wasn’t it good enough to hold you? Couldn’t have been that good, huh?”

She came and stood next to me. I could feel her breath on my cheek.

“You know, Aaron, I always wondered what it would feel like to be fucked by you.”

I froze.

“Now I know.” Her voice broke, face crumbling into despair.

My moistened shirt clung to my skin and I wished I were spiritual enough to know how to pray in tongues.

“I guess you were too horny to remember what you told me last month. That you’d wait for me, Aaron. And I believed you, but what has that gotten me?”

“Lauren, it’s not like what it sounds,” I lowered my voice and looked toward the kitchen. “At the time, I did mean it when I said I’d take you up on that rain check. It’s just that I couldn’t predict the future. And I didn’t want to stay stuck in the past, either.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I guess your being a virgin was always on my mind. And if that’s something that you wanted to hold on to, I wasn’t going to stop you.”

“Oohhh, that is
sooo
foul. And it’s so homemade, Aaron. How can you stand up here and expect me to believe lies from the pit of hell?”

I closed my eyes and did something I rarely do.

I prayed. The words were in English and stayed inside my mind, but I still prayed that the good Lord, who already had enough on his plate, could fit one more thing on his schedule. I hoped he would listen to my plea for help, ’cause at the rate we were going, seems like only God could get me out of this one.

Tracey 25

I told Aaron he could leave, but he hung around like an
accused person waiting on a verdict. He holed up in my bedroom. Knowing that he was behind that door comforted me, but made me nervous as hell at the same time. I didn’t know what Lauren was capable of doing. But although I sensed she was hurt, I still was the authority figure. Right or wrong, I knew I had the authority to take control of the situation.

She remained in the dining room, staring into space and drumming her thumbs on the tabletop. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. I almost lost my damn mind listening to her repetitive thumping. Her hands sounded like they were trying to tell me something.

I sighed and thrust a simmering mug toward my daughter.

“Here, Lauren, drink this.”

“Why?” she said, lifting her voice. “Apple cider ain’t going to change nothing. Shoot, by the looks of everything, you and Aaron have hooked up and I’m forced to watch it. What kind of mother are you?”

I sat down across from Lauren and tried my best to look her in her face.

“Okay, Lauren. Let’s talk and get this out in the open.”

“Talk!” she snapped, looking intensely at me like I’d been taken in for questioning.

“You might as well know that Aaron and I have a—a special relationship. Now you must realize, you gotta believe, this was not planned, it just happened. I’m sorry. I can say I’m sorry a thousand times and I know it won’t make you feel any better, but—”

“You’re sorry?” she asked.

“Yeah, I am,” I told her, but was unsure that I was.

“Sorry about what, Mom? That you got caught? People are always sorry after the fact. Did you feel sorry when you were going to bed with my man?”

I grimaced and raked my fingers through my hair.

“That part I refuse . . . to discuss.”

“Oh, I don’t believe you. What other part is there, Mom? If you can’t discuss that, what’s the whole damn point of getting things out in the so-called open?”

“Don’t curse.”

“You curse.”

“You’re not me, Lauren.”

“Wouldn’t want to be.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Mom, after hearing this kind of news flash, what do you expect me to do? Break out the bubbly? Give y’all a standing ovation? I mean, I can’t even stand to think about all the things you two were doing behind my back. I’m your daughter, Mom, not some unknown girl off the street. We live in the same apartment. You’re my mom, but I thought we were friends. And you know better than anybody how I felt about Aaron. He was
my
guy, Mom.
Mine
. At least I thought he was mine.”

Her voice caught, and she groaned and went to lie on the couch. She lay on her back and raised her head toward the ceiling, rubbing her hand against her throat.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I covered my mouth and prayed for some magical words to be released that would appease this situation. My legs felt like sticks stuck in miry clay but I forced myself to come and kneel next to Lauren. I hated seeing her in such pain, hated knowing it was almost Christmas and we were going through such drama.

“Lauren, oh God. This is so hard.”

“Oh no, you didn’t say that it’s hard.” She narrowed her eyes and looked up at me. “Why would this be hard for you? I’m the one who got . . . ugh, that sounds so fake,” she laughed like she was hiccuping, abruptly stopped, then laughed again.

I swallowed deeply and wiped my forehead. It seemed so hot in the apartment, and I went to turn up the air conditioner.

There’s a mirror that covers the entire wall of our dining room, a mirror that follows your every expression, your every move. I averted my eyes all the time that I was in there. Left the room just as quickly as I came.

Air filled my cheeks and I blew out a loud breath.

“Lauren, believe me, it’s not easy when you’re in my shoes. I feel really bad—”

“Why couldn’t you feel bad
before
you realized that what you were doing sucks?”

“I
did
feel bad.”

“How bad? A teensy bit, until you counted up the cost and felt you’d be missing out on a lot if you gave up Aaron?”

“I never—”

“Why couldn’t you forget about yourself for once and think about how it would affect me?”

“I did think—”

“And if you really were concerned, didn’t you even think for one second that one day you’d get caught?”

“Lauren, I don’t—
I just don’t know.
”

My voice bounced off the walls and I jumped away before my words could come back and hit me. Boomerang. Knock me to my knees. Feeling afraid, I started making a trail back and forth across the living room. Moving my legs toward air, life, something that would make me make sense.

“Lauren, nobody really thinks about the things they’re doing until they’ve blown up in their face.”

She looked at me like I hung out with smelly zoo animals.

I averted my eyes. “But the main thing is that I don’t want you to think I’m a bad mother who doesn’t care about you—”

“But, Mom, listen to yourself. Your actions prove you don’t give a damn about me. No wonder you never came to comfort me and try and get Aaron and me reconciled. Did you want Aaron for yourself?”

“No.”

“Yes, Mom, yes. Admit it.” Lauren stood up and was in my face, yelling to the point that my eardrums vibrated, hurt from the sting of her words and from the volume of her voice. I covered my ears and watched her mouth moving and arms flailing.

I saw Aaron emerge from the bedroom. He started yelling something at Lauren and she raised her hand and swung her open hand across his face and sent him crashing against the wall.

“Okay, now that is enough, Lauren. You will not be hitting anybody up in here. You do that one more time and you can go stay with your daddy.” My eyes blazed and I stood in her face with my hand raised. She was breathing real hard and staring at the red mark she’d made on Aaron’s cheek. He just stood there, back propped against the wall, opening and closing his eyes like a bright light was making things hard to see.

She cut her eyes at both Aaron and me and sat back down on the couch.

“I swear,” he croaked, “if she puts her hands on me one more time—”

“No, Aaron, please, don’t react, that’s all she needs is for you to act like her.”

He groaned and shuffled back to my bedroom.

For some reason I just then noticed that the Christmas music was still playing—soft, subtle, like it was trying to remind us of what the season was all about. I shivered and rubbed my shoulders, neck, and back.

Lauren turned over on her side and kept shaking her head. She gave me this pensive look and said sadly, “Mom, all I know is, if this was something legitimate, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to deny it.”

After she said that, there really wasn’t a thing I could say. At least nothing I could say that I thought she’d believe.

“Mom, it’s not so much that you became attracted to Aaron and vice versa. Believe it or not, I’m not so blind that I don’t know Aaron is someone that women want to be with. And then I knew that you and Mr. Steve weren’t together anymore. I knew you were unhappy about that. And I’d noticed that you would hold little conversations with Aaron whenever he’d call over here to speak to me. I wondered what was up with that, but I didn’t linger too much about it in my mind. Hey, Aaron is friendly like that. But the worst thing is, well, I—I
trusted
you. I felt I could come to you and talk about anything. I listened, or I tried to listen, to the things you’d say. You told me not to become intimate with Aaron, and I guess”—her voice broke—“I can only guess you’ve gone and done the very things with him you told me not to do.” She was sobbing by then. It sounded ugly, tortured, like a cry that had been hidden and buried for three thousand years. She tried to muffle the sound by covering her face with both her hands; she didn’t muffle anything, and actually sounded worse than before.

My first instinct was to cover my ears, but as much as I was aching to do so, I forced myself to let my hands remain as they were, resting underneath my chin while I lay on my side looking down at my daughter. Looking at her, facing the reality of what I’d done, and trying to get over the mountain of the pain that I’d caused.

I let her cry. No fake condolences, no more excuses. Let her get it all out.

Let her go.

IT WAS NOW ELEVEN-THIRTY. ALL
cried out, Lauren had gotten a can of Sprite from the fridge and was swallowing, gulping it down, burping at the same time. She wiped her mouth and sat back down in the front of the couch.

“Lauren?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

I flinched. She wasn’t speaking respectfully; I could hear the sarcasm.

“Lauren, why aren’t you in Georgia?”

She laughed weakly and rolled her eyes.

“Too scared to board the plane.”

“Oh yeah?” I said.

“About a half hour before the flight was to leave, they started asking the first-class passengers to board and stuff. I was sitting up there thinking about getting on that plane and how dark and eerie it looked outside. Of course, the constant raining didn’t help. And so I left the boarding area and walked a little ways down to another empty terminal. And the more I imagined myself stepping on that plane, being strapped inside that metal tube, flying twenty-five thousand feet above the earth, the more I knew I couldn’t go. Then I heard my name being announced on the loudspeaker and I returned to the Delta terminal. Everybody had boarded the plane and the Delta employee asked me if I was Lauren Hayes. I told her that I was but I wasn’t going. She looked a little pissed because I’d delayed the flight by ten minutes, but she was understanding and told me another flight was going to leave in the morning, around seven, and the lady told me to get re-ticketed, and so I did.”

“Humph. So if you had boarded that plane . . .”

“What did you say?”

“Never mind.” I paused. “So how did you get home?”

“Well, Mom, I tried to call home, but the phone just rang and rang. I thought that was weird, so I called Daddy and he came and got me, brought me on home.”

I gulped and shook my head. “Good ole Derrick Hayes. Always there in the clutch.”

She didn’t say anything.

“So, are you still going to go to Georgia?”

She looked at me hard.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you, I was just wondering. It’s getting late. You need to get some sleep so we can get up in the morning. I assume I’m taking you to the airport.”

“And I’ll bet you’re going to make sure I get on that plane this time, huh?” She yawned and rubbed the bags under her eyes.

I gave a weak smile.

“Well, put it this way, Lauren. I’ll be there when the plane leaves this time. I’ll make sure to watch it burst through the clouds.”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m going. What else am I supposed to do? With all this junk that’s going on here, I know it’s better for me to go.”

“Okay, okay,” I said and looked at her. I extended my hand toward her. She looked at it for the longest, examining it like it was an unusual sight, but soon she reached out and grabbed my hand. She held on to my hand until inevitable sleep consumed both our bodies.