The Fight Within (51 page)

You take care.

Love,

Treasure

*

“They’re little pieces
of tofu!” the older man barked at his wife, as if she’d insulted his intelligence, as if she should simply know what the hell the little cream-colored squares were that floated atop her soup like tiny life preserver jackets. Ma rarely ate Asian food, unless it was fried rice from the freezer section of Fairway. Most of the fare wasn’t her cup of tea. Regardless, she’d agreed to it on an exuberant chuckle, willing to go almost anywhere to meet this new lady in her son’s life. Before he could finish extending the verbal invitation he’d set before her not too long ago, she’d promptly accepted it on behalf of her and her father. And now, the day had finally arrived.

They all sat huddled at the bantam table in the Gu Shine Taiwanese restaurant in Flushing, Queens. It sucked that Colin had been called in to work at the last damn minute; now absent was his much-needed buffer from a trouble-causing pair better known as their parents. The brothers helped each other out when it came to the dastardly duo in times like these. They ran interference, giving each other a helping hand, but God must’ve been bored and needed a bit of entertainment at Sean’s expense, or possibly pulled a cruel joke when Colin was told to bring his ass into work at the final hour… all because of some old broad with her Depends diaper being twisted in a bunch!

Apparently, a fire had spread like the common cold virus in a Brooklyn apartment building across town. The damn thing had been ignited by an old lady who showed no remorse whatsoever after she re-told the story to the police and fire fighters alike, despite the now dislocated tenants who stood outside the place talking to the news crew and exclaiming that their family heirlooms were in jeopardy.

The angry, elderly siren had set her husband’s little rubber shoes ablaze after accusing the ninety-year-old fellow of infidelity with the lady across the hall. Ostensibly, he’d bragged about the vivacious senior vixen’s freshly baked bread one time too many and lived to pay the dire consequences, causing flames to ascend the high-rise like dough in an oven.

So that was that…

Yet, despite Colin’s unexpected absenteeism, the evening was a much anticipated, special occasion that he’d been looking forward to, and nothing could damper his mood for long. It was time for Treasure to meet Ma and Dad. She had to work late, but promised to swing by as soon as her clients left. It was a new couple, the easiest sort, who had specifically requested her services after returning from a house-hunting trip. They needed to stage their own home for a quick sale, and time seemed to be of the essence. On a sigh, he slammed the food-stained menu on the table and looked around the hole in the wall, trying to find the Chinese cat that tick-tocked the time, its yellow wooden tail swaying from side to side like a therapeutic hypnosis tool… 7:42.

Damn it. She was supposed to be here over thirty minutes ago…

“Just get the hot peppers over rice!”

“Dad, why are you so loud? No need to yell.” Sean looked around the place. He wasn’t embarrassed in truth, but his damn nerves were rattled like a saltshaker.

“I’m not yelling! I’ll show ya yelling! This is just talkin’ loudly. It isn’t my fault; she can’t hear me!” The man’s bunchy brows dipped, as if he were insulted by his son bringing his tone and volume to his attention. “And where is this lady of yours?” He grabbed his cup of hot tea and took a delicate sip, completely contradicting his hunched over, angry demeanor.

Dad must be refined now… stick out your pinky finger and wear a fancy hat.

“We’re gonna order our entrees. It’s gettin’ late,” his father said with a huff.

“Kevin, you ate right before we left the house. You can wait another minute or two.” Ma rolled her eyes at him, then squinted down at her menu, as if it were written backwards. “What’s this chicken thing?” She pointed down at the selection, like her faintly descriptive mention of the dish would prove enough to jog his memory.

“Ma,” Sean said lazily. “Play it safe and get the beef with hot peppers like Dad said. You don’t want to go being adventurous here.”

“Stinky tofu?” Her nose wrinkled as she continued to peruse the options, ignoring his urgings.

“Why would anyone order something the menu says is
stinky
?!” She pointed at the spot on the menu where the aberrant sustenance was described. “Taiwanese people have noses just like we do! I wish I had a frozen Michelina dinner right now.” She sighed, as if a great culinary weight had settled on her pink and yellow plaid jacket covered shoulders.

“Yeah, because six month old frozen macaroni from the grocery store for ninety-nine cents is tha stuff edible dreams are made of.” Sean grimaced, then threw his head back and downed half of his iced water, wishing it were something strong and coma inducing.

“They got oyster pancakes…” his father murmured, pointing to a large white platter coming out to another table. “And why is it so goddamn dark in here?” He looked around the place in fast, jerky motions, as if suddenly aware of his surroundings. “What are they tryna hide?!”

“Probably roaches.” His mother nodded matter-of-factly, as if she’d studied the subject extensively.

“Ma, don’t start.” Sean sat back in his seat and watched the woman push her half-eaten soup away.

“It’s true! Speaking of which, some cultures eat bugs, Sean. I heard they were full of protein. I saw it on T.V.”

“You and Dad and the damn television!” He slapped the table. “I’ve never known of two people who worked their fingers to the bone, retired, and then turned into vegetables as bad as the two of you! All you do is watch that tube!”

“You like to fight other men and get paid for it. We like to watch the tube! To each his own.” His mother chuckled as she spread out her napkin across her lap just so, real dainty like.

“Oh, here she is!” Spotting his lovely sweetheart, Sean hopped up from his seat as if he’d been sprung from a bungee cord, and waved her over to the mouth of the Devil, better known as the back of the joint where the nearby sweltering kitchen pumped heat out of a fiery blowhole. As he took in the sight of her, he curved his lips in appreciation.

Beautiful as always…

His parents immediately looked where he pointed, and he turned away from Treasure to see his mother’s mouth curl in a cutesy grin, crimped at the ends just so. He took a gander at his dad to discover the man’s expression turn rather perplexed. He wore a slightly crooked smile, paired with an odd sense of trepidation from the way his damn eyes widened. But, Sean had no time to inquire, debrief the man, as Treasure was soon upon them in her short black jacket, white and black polka dot shirt with a sheer collar, and black sailor pants, finished with four-inch, pointy-toed heels.

Treasure wears the fuck out of a suit…

Navigating past his father’s seat, Sean reached for her and wrapped his arms around her small waist before planting a hearty kiss against her plush lips. His parents scooted about in their chairs as they got to their feet. Reluctantly releasing her, he prepared to make his introductions but Treasure interjected, extending her hand to his mother.

“I’m so sorry for my lateness! I texted Sean to let him know I was running behind but it seems the area I was in was having reception issues…couldn’t even get a call out. My new clients were taking extended time,” she explained.

“Oh, no problem!” his mother stated, her head bobbing back and forth, her grin impossibly wider. She enclosed Treasure’s poor hand with a steady grip, practically gluing their palms together.

“Ma, let the lady go…” Sean smirked.

“Yes, yes.” His mother offered a cluster of embarrassed, choppy laughs as she released the woman and sat back down. Before Treasure could turn toward his father, the man had insinuated himself in her face, breathing down her neck, looking her up and down like some specimen he’d been asked to take a peek at, evaluate for his official records.

“Hello, Mr. Mahoney.” Treasure seemed unmoved by the man, despite the way his long nose hairs blew to and fro from each heavy breath he took.

Why doesn’t he ever trim that shit up? Looks like a goddamn miniature street sweeper!

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook her hand as a waitress sailed past them with a platter covered in teetering soup bowls. “Nice tuh meet you, too. Sean says you’re one of those decorators, the kind that costs a lot of money to make your place look like one of those houses out of a magazine or that one show, what’s that show called?” He snapped his fingers in the air as he brainstormed. “Rich ’nd Infamous.”

“Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, it was called,” Ma corrected.

“Yeah, that was it!”

Treasure offered a faint laugh. “I’m an interior designer but do all sorts of related things.”

“What kinda dental plan ya got?”

“Uh, Treasure, come on over here and have a seat.” Sean shot his father ‘the look’, which the man paid no mind to as he took his seat and led the woman beside him, practically sitting on her lap. “What do you think you’d like to eat, baby? We just ordered drinks and soups.”

“Oh, well, I need to look at a menu.”

Sean shot his arm in the air and snapped his fingers, just as his father had moments previously. He’d been to the joint too many times in the past. The food was fucking awesome, but the wait staff would ignore your ass unless you made your presence known. After a few moments, a waiter approached, his black hair parted down the middle and plastered on his head like the damn mustache on the Pringles chips containers.

“I need another menu, please.”

“You want more food?” the man asked, a bewildered expression on his wide face, his tone heavy with an accent and attitude.

“We haven’t even ordered our entrees, nor eaten yet, and my girlfriend just got in here. She needs to see the menu. Is that uh problem?” He eyed him with a raised brow while the waiter looked at Treasure then set his sights back upon him.

“Oh, okay.” The man turned away, disappearing as if he’d never been there.

“Friendly bunch, aren’t they?” His mother chortled.

Treasure grinned, causing a reddened glow to color her cheeks.

“So, Treasure…” The lady pushed her water out of the way, clasped her hands, and grinned like a toothy character from some Disney cartoon. “Are you Catholic?”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Sean slapped his forehead and closed his eyes in disbelief.

“No ma’am,” he heard Treasure answer.

“Sean’s last girlfriend wasn’t either…” His father stirred the pot, making the shit thicken like sludge.

…Thanks Dad! ’Preciate it!

When he opened his eyes, he noted the disappointment on his mother’s face, as if she’d been told it was Christmas on some other floor but once she hurried down the steps to it she discovered she’d been bamboozled. Rather than a beautiful Catholic girl to call her very own daughter-in-law, she’d landed smack dab in front of an evergreen tree with flimsy silver tinsel and there was nothing underneath the damn thing but an old, smelly gym shoe with a broken Christmas ornament jammed inside of it that read,
‘Merry effing Christmas’
.

“Ma, religion isn’t really something we should talk about right now,” Sean directed, pissed more than ever now at the old lady who lived in, or in this case, lit a shoe.

Colin could’ve helped prevent this! Damn you old woman with the lighter and rubber soles!

The waiter of few words returned, slid a menu across the table, and disappeared as quickly as he came. Before the woman read it, she offered him a peace offering. Treasure slid her hand around his, cupping it in a soft yet comforting fashion, soothing his inner beast. He took a gander at her once more as their shoulders brushed against one another. Her eyes sparkled, throwing his reflection back at him. But then, like a flash of lightning, his father’s voice jerked him out of the moment.

“She’s a beaut!”

He spun in his father’s direction, shocked at this admission. Kevin Mahoney simply didn’t dish out compliments, only complaints and concerns. Yes, tricky bundles of sarcasm rolled out of the man’s lips faster than toys down an assembly line. He took a quick gander at his mother—the woman blushed a bit, as if her husband were speaking of her, but he knew it was only because she, too, agreed with the man.

“Thank you,” he and Treasure said at the same time.

The older man didn’t make direct eye contact, as if embarrassed by his out of the blue, yet honest declaration.

“Sean, it’s a little late so I think I’ll just get some soup,” Treasure finally stated, sliding her menu away. He nodded, rose from his seat with the menu in tow and whispered the order in the waiter’s ear. He was certain the guy wouldn’t make another appearance to their table in a reasonable amount of time. Once he returned, he discovered his parents enmeshed in a conversation with the woman, one that apparently caused his mother to lean over the table, wearing an engrossed expression.

“That is amazing!” his mother blurted loudly as she cupped her hands and stared into Treasure’s eyes. “Joan Rivers’ daughter, huh? May that poor woman rest in peace. She was kind of mean, though. Some of her jokes I found to be downright mean. I hope she went to Heaven. I’ve been prayin’ for her cruel, little tormented soul.”