Hometown Favorite: A Novel (7 page)

Rosella had kept the fact that she was dating a football player
from them as long as she could. But when she realized there
was no turning back from the swift pace of this relationship, she
knew she'd best broach the subject sooner rather than later.

"You've probably read about him in the sports pages," Rosella had said, hoping a star buildup might make the idea more
palatable. She had prepared the dinner the night she asked
her parents if she could bring him home, a softening tactic.
"He was the number one guy in his position in the conference
last season"

"Honey, you must have a short memory." Joella's response
came as she sliced into her leg of lamb and Franklin chewed
his asparagus spear much longer than necessary.

"It's not like before'

"Like before" was a hot button, a code word for a Bonita catastrophe with long-term familial consequences. The Caldwells'
first daughter, Bonita, had arrived just nine months into the
marriage and never felt she could measure up to the high standards set by her parents. By high school, she had embraced a
full-throttle rebellion to the point that her father and mother
dreaded answering the phone or the doorbell for fear of bad
news.

"Like before" was during the disastrous college semester
when Bonita had hooked up with an older college football
player who cared only about sleeping with as many women
as he could. There was little sympathy once Bonita informed
the father she was pregnant. His way of dealing with it was to
seize the opportunity to turn pro at the end of his junior year
and join a team on the other side of the country.

Franklin had taken several gulps of merlot before he exploded.

"No! And not only no, but have you lost your mind?"

"My mind is not what I'm losing." Rosella stabbed at her
food with her fork. "It's my patience."

Twelve years after Bonita's birth, Rosella made her entrance.
The Caldwells had not planned to have more offspring because
they feared the child could be a repeat of the first. Nevertheless, they regarded a pharmaceutical mishap as a redemptive act, a
second chance for parenting skills tested by fire to produce a
better outcome. Rosella was the antithesis of Bonita. She had
embraced the model child challenge at an early age, going the
extra mile in everything to make up the deficits of her older
sister.

Franklin was firm. "You forget that besides grief and shame,
the only thing the first football player that came into our lives
left us with was your niece"

"A child we've barely seen since she was born;" Joella said.

"Are you pregnant, Rosella?" Franklin snapped his napkin.
"Tell me now and let's get it over with"

The meal ended with Rosella in retreat, steam still rising off
the untouched four-course meal.

"You stepped over the line with that one, Franklin," Joella
said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'm going to leave you
now to pull your size 11 Is out of your mouth and chew on your
sock while I try to salvage this dinner. When you come to your
senses, an apology will be in order"

Rosella had accepted her father's grumbled apology even if
it lacked much conviction, and wasted no time in setting the
introductory dinner date.

Now three weeks later, the reception was pleasant, hugs
for Rosella, firm handshakes for Dewayne. Small talk over
cocktails-designer water for Dewayne-was kept to stories
behind the eye-catching collectibles gathered from numerous
trips abroad, and a room-to-room tour of the four thousand
square feet that made up the first floor dominated the opening hour of the evening. Dewayne's only requirement was to
contribute genuine reactions of interest and amazement to
Joella's design of each spacious room, which he did.

When the second hour began in the expansive dining room, the French cuisine illuminated by a crystal chandelier, Dewayne
inquired about the Caldwells' professions. In reply, Franklin
pointed out the two coffee table-sized books on display in the
glass bookcase behind Dewayne that depicted all the structures his firm had designed, and Joella treated Dewayne to
meticulous descriptions of the homes of celebrities, politicians,
and business tycoons whose millions she had spent enhancing
their luxurious interiors. Rosella was attentive to her parents'
favorable reaction to Dewayne, and as she watched his evident
pleasure in hearing their accomplishments, she was thankful
for this positive sign.

The final hour of the evening drifted toward an optimistic
finish. After a three-course dessert of a variety of chocolate
pastries, the women risked the chance to leave the two men
alone and took it upon themselves to clear the table and remain
in the kitchen. Dewayne and Franklin nodded and smiled, each
man a little perturbed at this abandonment. After Franklin took
his final swallow of brandy, he suggested they step outside and
view the backyard, a real source of pride for him.

A large deck overlooked two acres of manicured flora that
included a small grove of lemon and orange trees, and a waterfall cascading into a pond stocked with koi. Thrown in for
good measure, one could view a slice of Los Angeles between
clusters of cypress trees in the valley below.

Franklin opened a marble box ornamented with a bas-relief
of a serpent and pulled out two cigars. Dewayne declined the
offer, so Franklin returned the rejected cigar to the box, then
clipped the end of his own and lit it.

"She won't let me smoke in the house," Franklin said through
the exhale of a long drag. Franklin had hoped if the women were going to ditch them, perhaps a change of scenery would
spark a new flourish of conversation. He wanted Dewayne to
make some comment about the beautybefore him, lighted well
enough to be a film location, so he could begin another rambling monologue about what native species of plant life filled the
gardens and the extraordinary care each variety required.

Dewayne waited for Franklin's lead as the conversation between the two men waned.

As Franklin watched his latest cloud of cigar smoke dissipate, he said, "I've been all over the world, but I've never been
to Mississippi"

Dewayne instantly detected the disdainful coating in Franklin's voice. It stung, but he forced himself to stay calm. He kept
his antennae raised for the slightest shift in tone. "Yes, sir;" he
said.

"Ever been outside of Mississippi?"

"No, sir, not until I came to Los Angeles"

"Just a good old countryboy," Franklin mused. "I was a ghetto
boy myself, and I have no desire to remember those days"

"I'm thankful for my roots." If Franklin was going to get
personal and maybe pass judgment, then Dewayne was going
to deflect as much as possible with his own individuation.

"Roots ... you can have all that Alex Haley nonsense." Franklin spit a fleck of tobacco off his tongue, making it impossible
for Dewayne to know whether it was an act of hygiene or a
way to punctuate his words with derision. "I'll make my own
history, thank you"

"You have, sir. And it's very impressive"

"I'm glad you see that. We worked hard and didn't let our
past or our skin color keep us from accomplishing anything
we set our minds to"

Dewayne sensed this was Franklin's way of pointing out the
superior means of using one's brains over brawn.

"We've raised Rosella to think and act the same."

I know she'll make you proud, sir"

"I expect her to"

Dewayne was not sure where Franklin might be directing
this conversation, and he glanced back toward the double doors
off the deck for any signs of rescue.

"Your parents, are they proud of you?"

"My daddy died before I was born, but the way my mother
describes him, I believe he would be proud of me. I know my
mother's proud of me, and that's what counts"

"Rosella tells me your mother works in a furniture factory."

"She does. And I'm proud of that"

Dewayne did not want this conversation to turn hostile,
but he was not willing to allow the threat of an insult to go
unnoticed.

"I hear there is talk about you not coming back for your
senior year. That professional opportunity might entice you
away.

"I've got my reasons for finishing what I started"

"So you come from Mississippi to the Promised Land to
seek your fortune." Franklin waved his cigar like a baton over
his own fortune. "I can admire that"

"Sir, I came out here for two things, to get an education and
to play football"

"I'm glad you mentioned only two things. You're not thinking to add to that list, are you?"

Franklin had issued the challenge. By standing up for his own
personal history and showing pride in his roots, Dewayne felt
the tidewaters were rising. Before he could answer, Franklin
filled the void.

"Rosella might not have told you that she has an older sister"

It was a news flash to Dewayne.

"She was a rebellious child, but precocious and plenty of
brains. We were hopeful when she started at UCLA until some
hotshot Bruin got her pregnant and disappeared into the world
of professional football. Bonita and my granddaughter disappeared as well ... out there somewhere. We thought she'd come
home, but she never did"

Dewayne detected in Franklin's voice a disgust at a wasted
life, yet still mourning the loss of a child and grandchild.

"The last we heard ... and it's been several years now ... she
had a second child by God knows who and is living in some
godforsaken part of LA"

Franklin paused to take several hasty puffs off his cigar,
creating a tobacco cloud around his stern face. It was a long
moment before he turned from his pensive gaze over his backyard landscape to focus an intense stare on Dewayne.

"Mr. Jobe, I'm not too fond of football players. I lost my
older daughter to one, and I don't intend to lose another. So
what are your intentions with my daughter?"

Dewayne bowed his head. No one had ever spoken to him
in this way. No coach. No teacher. No one had ever challenged
Dewayne to state and defend his intentions. His mother had not
prepared him for people who would question his motives and
try to tear him down, but it was still the thought of his mother
that inspired him. The sum of the Caldwell fortune could not
buy or compromise the strength of character or deep wisdom
of such a powerful and humble woman.

Dewayne raised his head, his eyes latching on to Franklin's
piercing stare. "First, let me say I'm sorry for the loss of your
older daughter, and my prayer is that God might bring her back to you. As for your other daughter, my intentions are to never
lie to her, to always honor and respect her. I'm a poor boy from
Mississippi, which you have pointed out, and only God knows
what the future holds for Rosella and me, but I'm not trying
to compete with you on any level. You can say I'm not good
enough, and you'd be right. You can say our families are from
different worlds, and you'd be right about that too. But what
I have been given and what experiences I've had in my life, I
wouldn't trade for anything you've got or anything you've done.
You do not need to fear me. History will not repeat itself. I can
only promise you one thing, Mr. Caldwell: I will never steal your
daughter away from you or compromise her in any way."

Franklin remained at a standstill the entire time Dewayne
spoke. Dewayne noticed the steady, descending burn of the
smoldering tobacco of Franklin's cigar. If he remained motionless much longer, the fire would singe the flesh around his
fingers. When mother and daughter came through the double
doors to join the men on the deck, Franklin relaxed his rigid
stance and adjusted the stub of the cigar in his hand.

Dewayne could not help but smile at Rosella's expression,
bright with the hope that father/boyfriend time had passed
without incident. He reached out his hand for her.

"You two solving the world's problems?" Joella asked.

"Just admiring the view," Franklin said, and in the illumination of the garden spotlights, Dewayne thought he could see a
faint smile curling over Franklin's lips.