Chapter 17 #3
“We thought you’d have to stay late at that place with everything you seem to have going on this week.
” That was his dad, voice heavy with disapproval.
I assumed he was talking about the trial Easton had been killing himself over for months now, but from his tone, you’d think he was running heroin up and down the Eastern corridor.
He just bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek, then responded in a jovial tone.
“I was able to slip away.” He informed his father, who’d been giving me a long look. “Father.”
“And who’s this?” Easton’s eyes widened when his father asked the question and then turned his head so he was fully facing me.
When Easton turned around, his expression was completely blank, like he barely could recall who I was.
I had yet to see that expression on his face.
I was sure that for him to do his job he’d probably learned to master not showing his emotions, but he’d never done that with me.
From the first moment I’d met him I’d always been able to see exactly how he felt about me.
Now, with his eyes seeming to go right through me, it was like a gut punch.
Before he spoke, he moved so that there was some distance between us.
He extended a hand toward me and kept his eyes on his parents.
“This is Dr. Denis, he’s one of the new faculty at the Cornell economics department.
He’s also best friends with Ernesto, OuNYe’s owner.
” He blankly glanced at me for a second before speaking.
“Dr. Denis, these are my parents Anne and Easton Archer Jr.”
I shook their hands, still not sure what was going on with Easton. I knew things with his parents were strained, but he seemed to have morphed into a different person. It was like he could barely stand to look at me.
I was about to excuse myself when Anne spoke, her tone pleasant while her eyes did a very thorough assessment of me. “Dr. Denis, how are you finding our little town? Must be a shift from urban life.” Her tone was pleasant enough, but urban life? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
My back almost went up at that, but years in the Ivy League meant I’d had many a run-in with Anne Archer types, nice ladies who had a very interesting idea of how a black man got to be in places where they didn’t “usually belong.” Easton, on the other hand, seemed to get tenser with every word exchanged.
“It’s Patrice, and Ithaca has been fine so far, ma’am. Thank you for asking.” Again I kept my tone polite. Odette had not raised me to be anything other than painfully polite to women like Anne. Not a word, not a look, not a hair out of place.
Easton Archer Jr. spoke next, and he didn’t bother to pretend he was doing anything other than sizing me up. “Where are you from, Dr. Denis?”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to hear, but I was not in the mood to make people comfortable today. “I’m Haitian, sir. I came to the U.S. with my mother.” I turned my eyes to see what Easton was doing and he looked like he was going to be sick.
Did he think I was going to embarrass myself?
I gave myself an internal nudge, to finish answering Easton dad’s question. “We came seeking asylum in ninety-one when I was about six years old. I’m fortunate I came at a time when refugees were still welcome.”
I got two variations of those kinds of smiles people give you when they’re not really sure what you are, while Easton made a sound like he was in pain.
Easton’s mom gave him another look and it seemed like she was finally putting two and two together, and the way her face changed told me she wasn’t really happy with the information.
“Your parents must be really proud of you.” She said it in a way that made it clear she was not feeling the same way about her own offspring.
Easton’s dad jumped in then, to continue the Twenty Questions game. He eyed me up and down before speaking. “It must’ve been quite a change for you to come to the U.S.”
I nodded at his comment and tried to come up with something to say, feeling like wherever this conversation was going was not a place I wanted to be.
“Well I’ve lived here most of my life,” I said, working very hard not to roll my eyes.
“It is different, better in many ways, but I missed Haiti, I still do. We left a lot behind.”
“Oh?”
I almost laughed at the surprised expression on both their faces when I said that. Like the fact that I would miss my homeland, was completely crazy.
Easton started fidgeting then. “I’m sure Dr. Denis has other people to talk to.”
Like I was going to leave him alone with these two.
“I’m not in a rush. Everyone will be here for a while,” I said, noticing Easton did not seem relieved at all by my response, but before I could process his reaction, his mom took another turn.
“Well, but look at you now. Having achieved so much. I’m sure it’s nice to be able to help your family with all your education.” She sounded genuinely glad for me when she said it, but there was something in the way she talked to me, like she could not quite figure out how I was here.
“Well, like I said, it’s just me and my mother here, and she was an amazing role model. I had a lot to look up to at home.”
“No father in the picture then.” This was Easton’s dad. I’d always thought the expression “doing a double take” was a figure of speech, but my head actually swiveled.
Anne made a sound almost like a protest but didn’t call her husband on his rude fucking comment.
At least it got Easton to finally look at me like he knew who I was. He seemed like he was about to say something to his father, but I didn’t let him speak. I was perfectly capable of dealing with this particular type of bullshit.
“No, Mr. Archer, there was no father in the picture. He was busy taking care of his wife and kids, so my mother and I had to come here on our own.” I looked at Easton then, locking eyes with him, and in this place packed with people I voiced something I rarely said out loud.
I never took my eyes off him, making sure he knew that I was not ashamed of where I came from.
“My mother was my father’s mistress, so when things got dicey, he decided we were not a priority.
” I lifted a shoulder, trying hard for an unbothered air that did not match up with the pounding in my chest. “We did just fine without him.”
Easton’s eyes were wide, like he had no idea what to do, but I wasn’t going to wait around to hear whatever scathing comment his parents would come up with next. “Excuse me.”
I moved past, without looking at any of them, and went to find the nearest exit. I walked out into the frigid November night and tried to take a deep breath.
I felt small. Not because of whatever had come out of Easton’s parents’ mouths.
That shit I was used to. People looking at me and making assumptions.
Going on whatever headline they’ve read about my country and using that to tell me who I was.
People sometimes commented about how I always had this air of disinterest, aloofness.
I wished I could just tell them how much it took to let people talk to me like this, the anger and humiliation I constantly had to snuff out.
I kept replaying how Easton had acted. Like he wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. Like he didn’t want them to know we were together.
That had hurt.
I didn’t even know why I was surprised. I knew this was bound to happen. No matter how much Easton wanted to act all woke and shit, he was from one place and I was from another. The minute his family showed up, he iced me out and acted like he barely knew me.
I wanted to leave. Go back to my place, lick my wounds, but I stood there on that cold sidewalk shivering.
I almost considered walking home like this, until the biting cold reminded me that no matter how upset I was, my ass was going to freeze out here without a coat.
But when I turned to do the walk of shame back to the crowded restaurant to get it, I almost crashed into Easton.
He was standing there with my coat, scarf, and hat in his hand.
He stepped up to me and when I saw his face, he looked wrecked.
“I’m sorry.”
I wanted to be able to push him away, to act like I didn’t give a shit about whatever it was that had happened in there. But instead I did the one thing that I swore I’d never do ever again. I let Easton know how much he’d hurt me.
“So, you know me now?” I asked, shoving my arms into my coat, and feeling so fucked up I could barely untangle what was going on with me.
“Patrice, just let me explain—”
I shook my head and tried hard not to raise my voice. “Not interested. I don’t need you to explain to me what I already saw. It’s all well and good until the disapproving parents are around, huh?” I said, snapping my head up and down. “Good to know.”
I walked away leaving him there. I had turned the corner to head home, to the building Easton fucking owned, when I heard him yelling after me. “Patrice, wait. Fuck.”
Instead of ignoring him like I wanted to, my fucking feet would not move, so I stood there, waiting for him. I opened my mouth to let him know again that I wasn’t doing this with him. But as soon as he got within a few feet from me, he started talking.
“Let me explain. Please.” He was begging me, and fuck if I could do anything other than stand there quietly, hoping that whatever he said gave me enough of an excuse not to give him up.