Chapter 10 Then #3
Eyes flash mild panic at me before resettling on the safety of the road. “Oh, nothing. Well, just, I remember he made some uncomfortable jokes with my first serious girlfriend. Nothing…nothing horrible, just a bit ignorant, you know.”
“She was Black?”
He shakes his head. “No, but…” The thought is left unfinished.
“Will’s not…” I flick through the pages of our interactions across the span of our history.
His penchant for sleeping with staff is significantly problematic, but I can’t think of any micro- or macroaggressions pertaining to race.
He’s certainly no Sandra, who consistently harps on about diversity but, despite hiring a range of brilliant overachievers, only seems to promote the assistants with the most generational wealth.
“No, he’s never said anything culturally insensitive. ”
“Good. I’m not sure why I even mentioned it. That was so many years ago, it’s silly of me to even bring it up. If he’s a little off, he’s probably just playing up to get at me. It’s…it’s our business. Him leaving might have been more fraught than I let on.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh really?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Just…just, I guess I encouraged him to go in the end. Pushed the buyout. It’s done some damage to our relationship.”
His jaw is tight, a telltale sign that he’s repressing sadness. “Sorry to hear that,” I say.
“Yeah, well, I guess it is what it is. And anyway, Will’s never been responsible with money; it’s part of why I thought it best we part ways.
But he’s blowing through what I gave him for his shares and is feeling hard up for cash.
And seeing as our parents are smart enough not to lend him more money after he lost their last loan betting on horses, he’s more pissed about being out of the business than usual. ”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to do with this significant piece of information that James has just casually dropped like a tissue that’s been fluttering loose in his pocket.
After watching Hettie fawn over Will, I’m surprised he’s unable to weasel his way into more handouts. “Have your parents fully cut him off?”
James shifts in the driver’s seat, flicks his eyes to me and then back to the road.
“Looks like it. What with the drinking and the gambling…It’s…
” He raps his fingers against the steering wheel.
“D’you mind if we talk about something else?
I know Will loves attention, but I don’t much feel like giving it to him even when he’s not here. ”
For a moment, I’m tempted to push James, but as I part my lips to ask more, it dawns on me that ours is not a relationship in which we push; ours is a relationship in which we live and let live.
I suspect James has never had that before, in the way that I never have, either.
It’s comforting, it’s nice, and I don’t want to disturb the peace we’ve built between us.
“Okay, okay, forgotten.”
The rest of the drive is peaceful. I almost doze off curled up in the passenger seat, chair reclined.
There’s something soothing about being driven by James, about the gentle muscles on his forearms standing out when he grips the wheel, about the self-assured, confident way he maneuvers the vehicle through traffic.
There’s something about a Competent Man or a man doing Competent Things that I can’t resist. It’s not lost on me that this is likely because I’m not used to it, have never seen it before, spending a childhood trying to survive my parents’ incompetencies.
I suppose all our childhoods are spent trying to survive our parents’ incompetencies.
Fading echoes of raised voices loop in my mind, the press of a small warm hand in mine almost tangible in my palm. Our parents loved each other deeply, I know. But that passion was a volatile one that left Claire and me clinging to each other in corners, waiting for fevers to die down.
Claire.
I miss her so viscerally. It’s like I’m walking down a staircase to find the last step removed again, and again, and again.
Wind beats against the windows as I pick my phone up from my lap and bring it to life. I hop into our chat, an unread message waiting for me there.
Am I allowed to put paprika in my jollof or will the ancestors flog me?
I chuckle.
“What’s tickled you?” James asks.
“Just a silly text from my sister.”
He smiles. “Tell her I say hi!”
James says hi. Also, you can do what you like with your rice—let me know how it tastes.
A beat, and then I add:
But if it’s not good, don’t be sharing it with anyone. We’re already losing the jollof wars.
Her reply comes quickly.
You made any for your oyinbo boyfriend yet?
Of course not. My jollof is terrible. I’m a professional taster.
Like he’d be able to tell anyway.
Behave.
It takes a moment for the next reply to come through.
Have you left the parents’ yard yet?
Yeah en route home
And???
It went well in the end, I think. I think his rents are overcompensating a bit by telling me how beautiful my complexion is a ton of times, but think they mean well.
Are you being careful?
I am.
Are you sure?
I don’t reply.
It’s only when we’re stopped in traffic that I really look at James again.
I don’t often look at the people I love, not in the incisive way I look at everyone else.
And yes, I’ve used that word, “love.” I love him, or at least who I am when I’m with him.
But as I take in his form, hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, I notice that there’s something dishonest in the set of his shoulders.
Like his voice, the echoes of a private education sounding through the London twang that sharpens his vowels.
When we first met, it immediately struck me as affected.
A false easiness. Having met his family, I now know that it is.
The tightness is gone from his jaw, but it still threads its way through his body, almost imperceptible. Almost.
The echo of a rusty tang coats my tongue.
And for a moment, I’m back with James outside that bar, his teeth sinking into my lips.
And then I’m curled up on a hardwood floor, my body rattling with shock.
And with this second memory, I know what the echo means.
What that taste is trying to tell me. James and I are more similar than I knew.
He sometimes needs protecting from his family, too.
But it’s okay. Perhaps we can be each other’s family now.
Perhaps we could one day start a family of our own.
Even so, as I look at him, really Look, I can’t help but let Will’s words echo in my head. It’s never going to work between you two.