Merry Ex-Mas (11 page)

"'Cause I know what I know."

There was a little bit of a pause and then, "Anthony, you've got to find a way to get over this."

"Don't you dare tell me to do that," he said, raising his voice a bit. "I lost my parents!"

I turned my head to see if my father or D'Angelo had heard the uprise. But when all I heard was their laughter in the dining room with Sister Henderson, I turned my focus back to Sabrina and Anthony.

His voice was low again when he said, "I will never sit down with that man."

I couldn't see, but Anthony must've turned away because Sabrina yelled out, "Where are you going?"

"I just told you. I'm getting out of here."

"We can't do that. What about dinner? What about my father?"

"If you cared about your father, if you cared about me, you wouldn't have invited my brother."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I was just trying to put everything back together, and with what's going on with Dad, I thought this would be the perfect time for all of us to reconcile."

"Well, you were wrong."

"So you're just gonna leave?"

"Yeah. But you can stay if you want to. I'm out."

"No, wait. You can't just leave. What are we gonna say to my father? You know how important this Christmas is to him."

"Alright, you want me to stay? You think that will be better? You think me and D'Angelo sitting down at the table and me prodding him to finally tell the truth about who blew up my parents' car
…
you think that's what your father wants at Christmas?"

"It doesn't have to be that way," Sabrina breathed. "We could all sit down and just talk like family. Today's not supposed to be about death. Today is supposed to be only about life."

"I can't give you that, Sabrina. So I'll make some excuse and get out of here."

"Well, then, I'm going with you."

I could hear the tears in my sister's voice and for just the smallest of moments, I felt sorry for her. It had been almost ten years since Anthony and D'Angelo's parents had died in what most said was a freak accident. The engine in their car had started smoking while they were on the 405 freeway. The reports had shown that while Anthony and D'Angelo's father was trying to ease to the shoulder, he'd cut in front of an eighteen wheeler that rammed into his Honda, crashing the car into the back of another truck. It ended up being a five-car pileup with two fatalities
—
their parents.

But Anthony never believed the police report. He'd heard some people talking, saying that what happened to his parents was payback for some long ago deal that had gone bad with D'Angelo and some other dealers. But even after an investigation that supported the original report, from the bottom of his heart, Anthony swore that he was the only one on earth who knew the truth
—
not counting the guys on the street, of course.

I'd always wondered why he'd wanted to believe that his brother was responsible for their parents' death. But with D'Angelo away so much, and the brothers half-estranged, I never brought him up.

Clearly though, my sister had tried a different approach.

"I'll just tell Daddy that I'm not feeling well," I heard Sabrina say. There was a pause and then, "Please, don't say anything else. I don't want to ruin the rest of the day for him."

In the silence of the next seconds, I figured that they were moving toward the door and with two hops, I jumped inside the bathroom. The door was barely closed before Anthony and Sabrina walked by. I'd kept it open just enough so that I could watch them pass, then I stepped out, following them.

I entered the dining room just as Sabrina said, "I'm so sorry
…
but, I'm not feeling well."

"Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" The smile that had been on my father's face for the last couple of hours faded away. And now, his forehead creased with deep lines.

"I don't know," Sabrina said, looking down and away from our father. "Maybe I'm overdoing it, and I don't want to take a chance with the baby." She placed her hands over her belly.

"Maybe you should lie down."

She shook her head and finally looked up at Dad. Tears were in her eyes when she glanced over at Anthony. "No, I think it would be best if I went home." Facing our father again, she said, "I'm sorry, Daddy. I just ruined your Christmas."

"No, golden girl." He put his arms around her. "You could never ruin anything. I need you to be okay; I need you to take care of my first grandbaby." He leaned back. "Did you hear what I said?" he asked, trying to make her smile. "I said my first grandbaby. That means I expect you and Anthony to give me a whole lot more. And, I'm gonna be around to meet all of them."

Now, she embraced him. "Daddy, I'm so, so sorry," she sobbed.

"What you sorry about, golden girl? Don't worry about me. This was already a great day. I had my two girls here," he said, glancing at me. "And D'Angelo is home. This has been a wonderful Christmas."

"All right," Anthony said, finally speaking up. "I'm gonna get her home."

"Do you guys want to fix a couple of plates to take with you?" Dad asked.

Sabrina shook her head, and Anthony said, "No, suddenly I'm not hungry." Then, he glanced straight at his brother before he turned to me. His eyes were on me when he said, "Dad, would you mind helping Sabrina to the car? There's something I want to do."

"Sure," my father said, so unaware of the lies and the tension that weighed heavy in the air.

Anthony said nothing until my father and Sabrina were in the living room. "Kendall, can I see you in the kitchen?"

I frowned. I'd thought that Anthony was staying behind to talk to D'Angelo. What did he want with me? And whatever he wanted, why couldn't he talk to me where I was standing?

But I was curious enough to find out. As I moved toward the kitchen, I glanced back at D'Angelo, who was leaning against the serving table with his arms crossed and an expression of total amusement on his face. He chuckled as I shrugged.

Inside the kitchen, I crossed my arms. "What do you want?"

"I want you to stay away from my brother."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It was the audacity and the absurdity of his words that shocked me into silence. But then, I got it together and said, "Do you want to repeat that?" Before he opened his mouth, I held up my hand. "And before you do that, think about you're saying."

He pressed his lips together hard as if he really did want to repeat what he said.

"That's what I thought." I rolled my eyes, and turned away.

But then, Anthony said, "Look, all I'm saying is that my brother is bad news. And, I don't think it's a good idea for you to spend time with him."

I laughed, and then I stopped. And when I stopped, I moved back over to him and got right in Anthony's face. "You don't have the right to tell me anything," I said. "You gave all of that up when you slept with my sister."

If it weren
’
t Christmas and if I didn't think that my dad would be coming back at any moment, I would've stayed right there and had a knock-down drag-out with Anthony. But really, there was no need for that because I'd said what I needed to say. I'd summed it up in that one sentence.

By the look in his eyes
—
a cross between hurt and anger
—
I didn't need to say any more. I marched back into the dining room, and then just because I was sure that Anthony was going to make one final stop in there, I walked right up to D'Angelo and hugged him.

"I'm really glad you're back," I said.

I was pretty sure that D'Angelo knew my game, and he played along. He hugged me tightly, and then after a couple of seconds, he whispered in my ear, "He's gone."

I leaned away from him. "Thank you."

"You really gave it to my brother."

"That's not what I was trying to do."

He laughed. "Yeah, right. But no problem. I don't mind being used."

"I wasn't using you. I really am glad that you're back and that you're here and that you're having dinner with us. Especially now that Sabrina and Anthony are gone."

"Well, with all of this good food, I'm glad to be here."

"Good! Then that means that you, me, and my dad will have a great Christmas."

He nodded, then pulled one of the chairs out from the table. "Your seat, Miss."

"Thank you, Sir."

Right at that moment, my dad strolled back into the dining room. "Well, they're off," he said. "I was a little worried about Sabrina, but once Anthony got in the car, she seemed to feel better. I think she just needs to rest."

"Well then, Mr. Leigh, if she's okay, let's get this merry Christmas started.

My father smiled and reached for my hand. I took his and D'Angelo's, and we lowered our heads as Dad blessed the food. After that, I stood up and served the men, something I hadn't done in years, but something that made me feel so good today.

As we sat and ate and chatted, I marveled at how just a few hours ago, I thought this was going to be such a dreadful day. But this had turned into one of those merry little Christmases that I used to have.

"So, how long are you going to be in Los Angeles, D'Angelo?" my father asked, just as I stood up to clear the dinner plates away so that we could get to the dessert.

He swallowed a couple of sips of his iced tea, then said, "I'm not sure yet." He was speaking to my father, but then D'Angelo looked at me. "I was thinking a couple of weeks or so, unless
…
something comes up and I have to stay longer."

Now, I didn't have a single reason to believe that D'Angelo was talking about me. Except for the way he was looking at me in that bad boy kind of way, like I was a premium piece of filet mignon.

Like I said, it had been years
…
and it just felt good.

I hid my smile as I turned and carried the dishes into the kitchen. As I passed through the walkway, I glanced into the living room and what caught my eye? The mistletoe.

I couldn't help it
—
I smiled. And I couldn't help it when I began singing under my breath, "Hang all the mistletoe. I'm gonna get to know you better
…
this Christmas
…
"

I rested my hands on the steering wheel, lowered my head, and began my mantra all over again. "I can do this. I can do this."

"Mom!"

Then came the knocking on the window.

I raised my head, and there was Angel's face pressed against the window. "Get out the car, Mom,'" she demanded as if she were the adult.

And then, as if I were the child, I shook my head and started the ignition. I was gonna get up out of here.

"Mom!" Angel's shriek was so loud it sounded like she was inside the car with me.

"Okay, okay!" All I wanted to do was drive straight away. This couldn't be a good idea. No matter how I looked at it. But for my child's sake, I turned off the engine, opened the door, and then stepped outside like a big girl.

"I can do this," I said to Angel.

My daughter's sympathetic smile broke my heart. I wished that I could be stronger for her.

"Yes, you can," she said to me, in an encouraging tone that sounded much wiser than her eleven years. "It's not going to be that bad. Remember, Dad loved you once."

"And while he was loving me, his wife was hating me," I reminded her. My daughter was fully aware of the good, the bad, and the ugly of my relationship with her father. She knew that she was here because of an affair. And she knew she was here because she was so loved.

"Well, she doesn't hate you anymore. She's the one who invited you."

I gave my daughter a sideways glance. "You know that's not true. You know this was all your father."

"Well, even if it was his idea at first, Mom Caroline agreed," Angel insisted.

I cringed again. There was that Mom Caroline. No matter how many years I would be given on this earth, I was never going to accept that name for Bobby's wife.

My daughter took my hand and led me as if I didn't know the way. But I did. I'd been inside this mansion before
—
twice. Both times, I'd come to see Bobby's wife.

The first time was right after Bobby had told me that our ten-year love affair was over. If Bobby had thought I was going to go away quietly, he hadn't known the woman that he'd called his wife-on-the-road very well.

My game plan was to come here and shock his wife. I'd been so sure that once Caroline heard about her husband's long term affair and the daughter we'd had together, Caroline would cry hysterically, pack her bags, and move right back to Dallas, taking her bleeding heart with her.

But it didn't go down that way. I'd been the one who'd been cut to the core when Caroline told me that she'd known about our affair all along.

I'll never forget when she said:
Now that his playing days are over, Bobby and I have agreed that his playin' days are over. All the groupies and the hos have to go.

Caroline had played
me
. She was the one calling the shots; she was the one who shut down my affair with Bobby.

So, that had been a devastating day, but it was nowhere as scary as when I'd had to come back and ask Caroline for her help. I'm telling you, I had to almost drop to my knees to convince her to stop Bobby from going after sole custody of Angel. And she'd come through.

Still, I couldn't figure out why I agreed to this. It was always stupid for the mistress to show up at the home of the wife. Always.

But then, my reason for being here squeezed my hand. "Mom, you okay?"

I nodded.

In front of the massive wooden doors, Angel said, "You can do this."

I inhaled, exhaled, and nodded again.

"And thanks, Mom. Thanks for doing this for me. Thanks for coming so that we could spend Christmas together." She kissed my cheek. "Merry Christmas, Mommy."

"Merry Christmas, baby," I said.

Angel was my reason. That's what I had to keep in mind. No matter what happened once we stepped into this house, it was all about my daughter.

Angel pushed opened the heavy door as if she lived there. And then, I remembered
—
my daughter did live in this house every other weekend, on some holidays, and half of her summer vacation.

The moment she stepped over the threshold, Angel shouted, "Mom, Dad, I'm home."

Mom? Now Mom Caroline didn't sound so bad.

But even as Angel called out again, I doubted that anyone could hear her. There were so many people, moving back and forth, and the music
—
some kind of classical rendition of "O Holy Night" seemed to be coming from invisible overhead speakers.

I stood there for a moment taking in the scene. This palatial entryway seemed grander than I remembered. The eight-foot Christmas tree standing between the twin winding staircases didn't even look like it was taking up much room
—
that's how big this space was. All around us, people chatted, laughed, and drank.

"Angel!" I hissed and grabbed my daughter's wrist just as she was about to jump into the crowd. "What is this? Some kind of party?"

"No, Mom," Angel laughed. "Not a party. Just Christmas dinner. This is how Dad and Mom Caroline do it for every holiday. They had almost fifty people here for Thanksgiving dinner."

Fifty people?

"Dad said that today there're gonna be about one hundred people because of Grandma and Grandpa's anniversary."

Who throws a party like this on Christmas?

"Sweetheart!"

Both Angel and I turned at the sound of Bobby's voice.

"Hi, Daddy," Angel squealed as she leapt into his arms. Then, "Mom Caroline, Merry Christmas," she giggled as she wrapped her arms around her stepmother.

I didn't even notice Bobby's wife because my eyes stayed on Bobby. Six years later, and I was still going
“
hmph, hmph, hmph
”
whenever I saw him. But on the outside, I stayed as still as stone. Like he had no effect on me whatsoever.

But the way they were acting, as if they didn't notice me, I didn't have a chance to do my aloof act.

"I'm telling you," Caroline said with just a hint of a Southern drawl, "you have grown two inches since I saw you." Then, she wrapped Angel inside her arms, as if Angel belonged to her.

"Mom, you saw me two weekends ago," Angel whined and laughed at the same time.

I squinted. There was that "Mom" again. And my eyes narrowed even more as the trio kissed and hugged as if they were a family.

"We have lots of gifts for you under the tree," Bobby said.

The greetings went on and on and on and I just stood there, shifting from one leg to the other. I swear I wanted to moonwalk right out of there. But I kept thinking about Angel
…
Angel
…
Angel.

"But before we do that, you have to say hello to everyone," Caroline said, taking Angel's hand. Then, leaning in closer, she added, "There are some very special people waiting to see you."

And still, I stood there, completely unnoticed. As Caroline led my daughter away, I could feel that green monster jealousy thing rising up inside of me.
This is my child
, I wanted to scream out.

Luckily, I didn't have a chance to do that because Angel had only taken a couple of steps away before she stopped. "Uh
…
Dad, Mom Caroline
…
" She turned around and ran back to me. "Mom's here, remember?"

Bobby shook his head slightly. "I'm so sorry." He took two giant steps back to where I was. "I get caught up with Angel every time." Then he gave me one of those Sunday hugs between church folks where there was two miles of space between us. "Merry Christmas, and thanks for coming."

"Merry Christmas, and thanks for having me." I squeezed the words through my lips.

Caroline didn't move from where she stood. "I'm sorry, I didn't even see you standing there. Merry Christmas," she said in a tone that didn't sound anything like she wanted me there. Then she held out her hand to Angel. "Come on, dear, your grandparents are waiting for you."

Angel looked up, and I nodded. "I'm right behind you."

With her long stride, Angel caught up to Caroline, but before Bobby and I could follow, the doorbell rang.

Without saying a word, he turned toward the front door, leaving me all by myself again. I looked to the left, then to the right, and decided to follow Angel and Caroline into the living room.

Now, I knew I was living a grand life, but standing here, I felt like I was living like a pauper. The living room hadn't been redecorated, and with the golden paint on the walls and all of the traditional furniture, you could tell that Caroline and Bobby were used to more than fine living. Their lives were all about elegant living.

"Mom, Dad," Caroline called out. "Look who's here."

A man and a woman turned, faced Caroline and Angel, and their smiles were immediate.

"Grandpa, Grandma," Angel exclaimed.

The way Angel called out to them made me raise my eyebrows. I could tell right off that these were Caroline's parents. I mean, one look at the woman
—
who was about five-seven, very toned and slender with silver hair that was pulled back in a bun
—
and you knew she was related to Caroline.

As Angel ran over to them and they hugged her, once again, I was left standing on the outside of the inner circle.

For a moment, I thought about going over to Caroline's parents and introducing myself. But I already felt like an intruder; there was no way I was gonna put myself out and end up feeling worse.

So, I just stayed on the side and watched Angel. It was so weird; this was the first time that I was seeing her in her other life. As they kept on hugging and kissing her, I wondered why Angel had never told me about Caroline's parents.

But then, how could I blame my daughter? It wasn't like I was warm and fuzzy whenever Angel talked about Caroline and Bobby. In fact, when she came home raving about this and that while she was with her father, I would just put on my headphones and turn the volume all the way up.

Now, I wished that I hadn't acted like that. I needed to be in every part of Angel's life. And it was going to start today. Right here. At this Christmas dinner.

I moved my eyes away from Angel for a moment, and then looked into the crowd that filled the living room. Without even knowing any of them, I could tell they were really sophisticated, far above my social grade. It was the way they stood and the way they chatted. Some of the men were smoking pipes
—
did people still do that?
—
and the women all sat with their ankles crossed and their backs straight as boards.

They sampled hors d'oeuvres and sipped champagne from the waiters who moved through the crowd almost unnoticed.

"Would you like something to drink?" a petite Asian woman asked me as she balanced the tray on one hand. "This is champagne," she said.

I leaned over. "Do you have any wine? Moscato?"

The woman smiled and nodded. "I'll bring you a glass," she whispered.

Good! Now, with a glass of Moscato, I'd be able to handle the rest of the evening. I stepped all the way into the living room into the mass of guests. This was still a bit overwhelming. I thought there were just going to be eight people here
—
the parents, Bobby and Caroline, and me and Angel.

But this
…
this was an event.

As I strolled through the gathering, I heard pieces of their worldly conversations about Syria and Russia, about the stock market and interest rates, about being bundlers for the next presidential election
—
if Hillary chose to run.

I shook my head. Didn't any of these people know that it was Christmas? I should've had Noon here with me. Me and my best friend would've shaken this crowd up. Yeah, we could've told them about Stevie and Joseline and Momma Dee. I giggled at that thought. Can you imagine the looks on these people's faces? Oh, yeah. A little
Love and Hip Hop
would really have taken the starch out of these stiff shirts.

"Here's your glass," the woman interrupted my thoughts. "Just let me know if you want another one."

"Thank you," I said, wanting to give the woman a kiss or at least a hug. I took that first sip and almost moaned out loud. After a second sip, I searched through the living room for Angel. But she was nowhere to be found. So, I took another sip, and kept walking through. I guess I was kinda searching for someone to look up, make eye contact, and invite me to join their crew. But as I eased by the people, I felt as if no one could see me. Like I was completely invisible. Of course, there were a few men who passed me a smile on the sly.

I sighed. From the time I was a kid 'til now, women didn't like me, and I knew it had a lot to do with my looks. And men
…
well, they only saw me for one thing, and I knew it had a lot to do with my looks. My looks: the story of my life.

But I wasn't even sure that I wanted anybody to ask me to join them. Because if they did, what would I say? I couldn't even be able to find Russia on a map
—
and I didn't care.