Chapter 14 Bishop
BISHOP
Asante and I spent the first month of our engagement in secrecy not because we didn’t want to tell the entire world but because I knew without a doubt that the moment my family found out wedding planning would be pushed into the forefront of our entire lives.
As the first Barron to get to plan a traditional wedding I already knew my mother would have a checklist of things she’d like included and I appreciated that but wasn’t in the right space to deal with all of it mentally just yet which Asante knew and understood.
I’d also been given my family’s blessing to propose. He hadn’t been given the same courtesy.
Before I started planning parties and shit, I needed to have a sit down with my in-laws. Asante had shared space and meals with my entire family. Outside of Nadira I didn’t even know what his parents looked like.
Bishop had arranged for us all to get together for lunch at a nice restaurant halfway between where we lived and they lived.
I was pretty nervous about it honestly but I wasn’t going to let that show.
Bishop was nervous enough for the both of us and if I could handle the shit I dealt with when it came to my family, I could handle this easily.
That was one of the best things about our relationship. When I needed to fall apart Asante kept me going. I could do that for him too.
“You good?” I reached over and ran my thumb along the back of his neck.
He looked at me briefly then back at the road. He nodded.
“Yeah. I feel good.”
“You lying?”
“Like fuck,” he admitted.
I chuckled. “It’s going to work out.”
“My family is religious and probably think I’ve been trying to pray the gay away this entire time.”
“Yeah well the same way you told me you’d take my family on for me, I’ll take your family on for you so let me know what you want from me and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“No matter what they say, just let it go.”
I clenched my jaw but nodded.
“I can do that.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I promise. Whatever you need me to do or be, is what it is,” I said. “I’ve got you, baby.”
“Alright.” He exhaled and I slowly ran my thumb back and forth over the back of his neck again.
I watched him slowly relax.
Asante had put up with being my secret for two years.
He’d gone to my family and let them question and judge him and he’d done that shit with a smile and unwavering support.
I could handle his family talking shit about me to my face and saying I didn’t deserve their son.
That shit was a drop in the bucket to what I’d put Asante through.
When we got to the restaurant, we were the first people to arrive which I thought was a positive thing. We had a reservation so we headed inside and collapsed at the table.
I knew Asante’s family were religious and practiced Christianity but I also knew that they were from Kenya and had named both Asante and his sister Swahilian names.
It was a Swahili tradition to provide a dowry in some form so I’d brought gifts for every person in his family from his parents to Nadira, her daughter and her husband. I let the gift bags rest on the floor and ordered a water instead of an form of alcohol in case his family didn’t fuck with that.
I’d worn my glasses instead of my contacts. People acted like I was less of a danger with them on.
Asante tapped his fingers on the table while I watched. I knew he needed a cigarette. I also knew he didn’t want to smoke before seeing his parents because of the smell.
“Ay,” I grabbed his attention. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
I knew Asante had said multiple times that his family wouldn’t make him cut ties but as someone who’d said the whole thing, I knew ideally that choice wouldn’t have been on the table.
Did I think we would get married even without his family’s blessing? Yeah.
Did I think he would be happy about it? Fuck no. Not in the moment anyway.
I knew who Asante’s parents were the second I saw them, not because of the family resemblance but because of the way Asante visibly shut down. It was like all the nervousness inside of him melted away and in its place was left defensiveness he didn’t usually show.
He climbed to his feet and I followed his lead.
“Hey.” He dapped his dad up and hugged his mother and sister.
I hugged Nadira first since I’d already met her.
“This is Bishop,” Asante introduced me. “Asante these are my parents.” He gestured to them.
“Nice to meet you.” I shook each of their hands then we all sat down at the table.
I let Asante and his family lead and faded into the background.
They asked me small questions about myself like where I’d met Bishop and what I did for work.
We put our orders in and I ate in silence while Asante told his parents about the club and they told him about his family in Kenya that he apparently hadn’t spoken to in a while.
Nadira talked about the stomach bug that her daughter apparently had and how thankful she was for her husband taking care of her for her to sneak off.
We were damn near done eating when Asante’s father opened the flood gates.
“Alright,” he sat up and clasped his hands on the table. “We’re ready. Let’s hear it. What do we owe the pleasure of your company?”
“What?” Asante forced a small laugh.
“You haven’t been calling or coming by often so I feel like it’s safe to assume that there’s a reason you’re gracing us with your presence.”
“Something like that,” Asante sat up in his seat.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush or try to make things sound any better than it is.
I just want to let you know that I’m getting married, that we’re getting married.
” Asante nudged his head toward me. “We’re getting married and I want y’all to come to the wedding. ”
Asante’s mother and Nadira both looked at her father. I knew immediately shit was about to go downhill.
“You’re getting married a second time?” He questioned. “To a man?”
“That’s right,” Asante said simply. “I’m getting married for a second time and to a man.
” Asante exhaled. “Look. I’m not asking for a blessing or a dowry or for you to jump for joy.
I’m just looking you in the eyes like a man and telling you what I’m doing.
You can come or you can not come. The choice is yours but?”
His father cut him off. “I know it is.”
Asante didn’t drift away from his original statement.
“The choice is yours but if you don’t show up to my wedding don’t show up for anything else. Don’t call me or have Nadira pass messages along. Just move on without me and I’ll move on without you.”
I reached over and set a hand on his knee but he was unmoving his eyes focused on his father.
“Are you giving me an ultimatum, boy?”
“Nah. I’m just telling you what’s going to happen.”
“Well let it happen then Asante because the fact that you’re going to get married a second time and to a man is an abomination and you know it. You weren’t raised that way and the fact that you’re choosing?.”
Asante cut him off. “It isn’t a choice and you wear your fucking religion like a cloak to hide all your own fucked up ass problems,” Asante said simply.
“Before you judge me, make sure your own shit is in order.” He climbed to his feet, dug his wallet out and started to pull cash out.
He tossed some on the table. “Nadira, I’ll have an invite sent to you if you want to come.
Good to see you, mom.” He looked over at me. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”
I cleared my throat but climbed to my feet.
“Nice meeting you.” I grabbed the bags I’d brought and set them on the table. “Dowry,” I said in explanation and pivoted around.
Asante reached for my hand and I linked my fingers through his so he could lead me out of the restaurant.
“You got a cigarette?” he asked halfway through the parking lot.
“Yeah. I’ve got one.”
I fished the cigarette out and handed it to him. We stopped next to the car and I lit the cigarette up for him.
“That didn’t go that bad,” I thought out loud. “I think they may come around.”
“You don’t know them.”
“But I know you and Nadira and I know my family went against generations of tradition. Shit can change in the blink of an eye and I have faith.”
“And if they don’t come around, fuck it.” Asante took a hit of his cigarette. “I did my part. I told them what it was and what it’s going to be. I don’t have shit else to give for real.”
“Either way I’m proud of you and I can’t wait to marry you.”
Bishop took another hit of the cigarette. Then he tossed it tot he ground, stepped on it and glanced at me. “I can’t wait to marry you too.” He stuck a hand in his pocket. “You’re driving.”
“Alright.” I held my hand out for the keys and he handed them over.
We climbed in the car and Asante played music while I drove.
We were halfway home when Asante looked at me, reached over and set his hand on top of mine. I twined our fingers together.
“What’s up?”
“Let’s pull the band-aid off,” he stated.
I glanced back at him. “You sure?”
“I’m positive.” He kissed my knuckles. “Let’s do it.”
“Alright.” I plucked my phone up from my cup holder and told my entire family about our engagement in the least formal way I could think of. I texted in the family group chat filled with my brothers, their wives and our parents.
Me: Wedding 4 coming soon
Immediately people started texting congratulations.
Usually marriages in our family were made up of a weekend of events with a private wedding and formal party the first night, a club party the second night and a family breakfast or brunch to bring in the third day.