33. Chanice
Chanice
Ilook out the window at the buildings that pass by, blurring with the streetlights. They reflect on my skin, and I wonder what I look like to him.
My hair is pressed for the first time in my life and swooped into a high ponytail with a curled bun. My makeup is professionally done, allowing my complexion to sing. I’m wearing a red sparkling ballgown that shines even in the darkness. I finally look like someone who belongs on his arm.
“How is the new job?” he asks, gripping my hand.
I turn towards him, my lips lifting as I take him in.
The forest-green blazer with matching pants pops against the black dress shirt underneath.
His red handkerchief in his pocket makes him look particularly Christmas-themed.
He is looking at me the way he always does, his affection not impacted by the fact that I look like this. It reminds me that he loves me as I am.
“The job is amazing. I have learned so much. I’ve been freaking out about messing up, but so far Chef Tomas has only had praises.”
He brings our joined hands up to his mouth and kisses mine. “That isn’t surprising.”
“It should be. I haven’t been in a professional kitchen since I was nineteen. With my budget, eggs and rice were a staple in our home.”
“And now?”
“Now I get to cook whatever I want.” This time, I kiss his hand in gratitude. Taking this job might not have been possible if it weren’t for him giving me the support to pursue my dreams.
I talk in more detail about what I’ve learned so far as we move across the city. Once we pull up outside the museum hosting the auction, I turn to look at the people exiting their vehicles.
“Are you ready?” he asks. The gentle tone of his voice makes it clear that it is okay if I’m not.
A big portion of me wants to never leave this car, and turn back around. My heart also accelerates at the prospect of the evening. So I tell him I am, and we step out to bright lights and well-dressed people.
It’s like I’m in a movie as I walk up the steps with my dress billowing out behind me.
His hand is clasping mine as he leads me into a room that looks like the final scene of a Christmas one.
Red, silver, and gold decorations are everywhere, including hanging from the ceiling as life-sized snow globes.
Big bows are on all of the items up for auction.
Even the waitstaff is in theme with sparkling silver vests.
“Wow,” I say, the word escaping without my intention.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen an event like this, but it’s the first time I’m seeing it from this lens.
“I agree.”
I turn to see him looking at me. Before I can respond, a man walks up and grabs his shoulder. Alex turns towards him, and his whole face lights up. They briefly hug before he brings him closer to me.
“Chanice, this is Carter.”
Carter offers his hand, and I shake it happily. Alex told me about him, but it’s so nice to see I’m not the only Black person in his life.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say.
“Same, I have heard a lot about you, and when I say a lot, I mean almost daily.” He side-eyes Alex, and in response Alex pushes him.
“I would love to know what he’s said.”
“Well, I honestly think he fell in love the moment you scoffed. So if you blew your nose, I heard about it.”
Alex doesn’t deny it, but Carter looks like he is joking.
“Meeting you, I might be able to understand why.” This time, Carter’s stare is more appreciative.
The way he smirks at Alex, I know he is doing it to get a rise out of him. Alex glares at him all the same.
“I think I just saw your brother walking towards the Reinhardt,” Alex says.
This causes Carter’s face to fall. “For fuck’s sake, they are just paintings of squares. How many does he need?” He offers me another smile and handshake before he takes off.
We walk further into the room and come face to face with more art, vehicles, and some tables with descriptions of things you can win. None of it seems worth the starting bid prices.
“Maybe we can find something for your place,” he says, obviously not agreeing.
I pull him up short with a grab of his wrist. He bites his bottom lip, and I realize he is trying to keep a laugh in.
Rolling my eyes, I let him go and return to circling the room.
Every once in a while, it feels like someone is staring at me, but every time I look around, I don’t meet eyes with anyone. Still, the feeling persists.
“Are people looking at us?” I finally ask him when I start to feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.
“They’re probably wondering who you are. People have been waiting for me to get into a relationship since I got back.”
“Great,” I mumble, looking down.
Coming with him tonight, I guess, is my introduction to his world. From this point on, I will forever be known as the woman who dated Alexander Whitmore. I didn’t think about how much attention that would bring to me. At least these aren’t people I’ll come in contact with at the places I frequent.
“Ma’am.”
I look up from the floor to see a waiter standing in front of me. He lowers his platter and offering me some mini meat pies. I take a pastry and thank him profusely. This causes him to smile a little brighter.
It’s not lost on me that only four or so months ago, that was me looking at Alex. And now here I am on his arm. To make it even more surreal, a couple walks up and stands in front of the server, completely ignoring his existence. He turns like it’s nothing, and I flinch.
“Alexander! So good to see you,” the man says.
Alex introduces them as the Sinclairs, and then promptly jumps into a conversation with Jeff. The woman, whose name is Victoria looks me up and down.
“Beautiful dress, is it Hullier?”
“Um, no, Shirz, I believe,” I say, rubbing my hands down it.
She walks a quick circle around me, and I don’t know if she is appraising the dress or the person wearing it.
“I love your necklace,” I say, trying to get her to stop taking me in.
“Oh, thank you, wedding anniversary gift last year. I saw it in Paris Fashion Week, and he remembered and got it.”
I just keep nodding, at a loss for words.
With no idea how to have these types of conversations, even if I did, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to.
The ghetto in me just wants to ask how much it cost, like she got it from someone’s apartment that you’re not supposed to talk about.
It’s kind of ugly, so I hope it was a bargain.
“Who are your parents? I swear, you look like my friend Patricia’s daughter.”
“Um.” I look at Alex, not sure if I am supposed to say my mom is a woman who couldn’t afford the price to walk into this room.
He catches my eye and promptly ends the conversation with her husband.
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was just going to show her this sculpture I was eyeing,” Alex says, intertwining our fingers.
That seems to perk them up, and we exchange a few more pleasantries before he pulls me free from them. I don’t know if he’s doing it for my benefit or his, but I don’t know how many more conversations like that I can take.
Taking me over to a marble carved woman, he scans the QR code in front of it and pulls up the bidding. I look over his shoulder and see it’s sitting at more than a million. Promptly choking on air, I slap my chest and step back.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I just need to go to the bathroom.” Quickly, I turn and walk off, not even knowing where I’m going. I just need to get away from him before I pass out. In the hallway, I press a hand to my chest and try to catch my breath while crouching down.
I’m pretty sure he is about to spend more money than I will make in my lifetime with the click of his thumb.
“What am I doing?” I mutter while staring at my shaking hands.
Unsure of how I got to this place, I try to remind myself that he’s worth it. Being with him measures up to whatever is stacked against us. I just have to keep holding on to him so I can see over all of this other stuff. I just have to get through tonight.
My heart starts to beat normally, and I can stand without feeling like I’m going to faint. Going in search of the bathroom, I need to pat down the sweat collecting under my arms.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I try to see the woman underneath the glam, the one who will still be here when it’s all said and done. The one he says he really wants. All that is looking back is the version of me that is acceptable. I sigh as I finish wiping myself down.
When I turn to leave, an older woman walks through the door and stops in front of me.
“Sorry,” I say, trying to side-step her, but she just moves into my path again.
“Who are you?” she asks.
I crane my neck back, my eyebrows furrowing. Expecting her to explain why she is questioning me or introduce herself, I don’t say anything. She keeps glaring at me, her eyes unmoving. When she realizes I don’t intend to answer, she finally continues.
“I saw you with my son, and I want to know who you are.” She tilts her head up and juts out her chin. Her thin lips practically disappear.
Not expecting to meet his mother this way, I feel that panic sweep up through my gut again. From what I know, I am aware this won’t be a positive encounter, but I still offer her my hand in the hope of making Alex’s life easier.
“I’m Chanice.”
She stares at my hand like I used it to wipe my ass. The disgust is so apparent that it almost makes me feel dirty.
I try to look for traces of Alex in her, but she is the cold stone version of his malleable clay. The only thing they have in common is how they started out.
“I’ve never seen you before, and I’m pretty sure I would remember someone who looks like you.” She looks me up and down and then tsks. Her eyes are accusatory, as if I did something to her.
The utter disrespect finally pushes me past my panic.
“That’s because I usually work these events, and you don’t strike me as the type to look at the waitstaff.”
She literally gasps and places her hand against her chest. If this weren’t so offensive, it would be funny.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not,” I say, finally moving around her. Immediately, her hand grasps my arm, turning me back in her direction.
“Whatever you think you can get from him, I’ll double it.”
My cheeks sting from the slap of her words, and now it’s my mouth hanging open. Lost in the dreamlike nature of this reality, this conversation only becomes more warped as she keeps speaking.
“I’ll write you a check right now.”
I snatch my arm from her grasp and take a step back. Her audacity is making this large bathroom feel too small. Almost as small as her mind, and the things that seem to matter in it. I don’t know why I didn’t think it would be this bad. It was Elizabeth she wanted on his arm.
“All your son has promised me is love and respect. If you are willing to double that, then we are practically family,” I hiss at her. I stand up straighter, showing her the backbone that won’t have me bending to her will.
“This can’t be happening again.” She presses her hand to her wrinkle-free forehead that showcases none of her grief. Holding herself in a way that would make her seem regal, the look of hatred burning in her eyes shows me exactly who she is.
Not willing to see the rest of her breakdown, I move towards the door.
I hear the clicking of her heels, and then she is in front of me again, blocking my way. A few women enter the bathroom, their eyes trailing to our showdown. The sudden attention has her lowering her voice.
“My son has to marry and continue the Whitmore line, and that can’t happen with you.”
I don’t know if she is racist, classist, or both, but frankly, I don’t give a damn.
“Please move.”
“Do you know what you are? You’re a fling, a fantasy, an adventure, you will never be his wife.” The words are barely above a whisper, but they push me back like she yelled them.
Verbally assaulted for the last time by this woman, I physically move her out of my way and make my escape.
By the time I make it back into the main room, the only thing holding back my tears is my rage. Like an electric fence, all my embarrassment sizzles against it every time it tries to show itself.
I want to just leave, but he is waiting for me at the entrance to the room. The smile that takes over his face when he sees me instantly lowers. The twist of my mouth pulls it down.
“What happened?”
“I met your mother.” I keep walking past him, not intending to speak with another Whitmore tonight.
He trails beside me, his pace even with my own. Before I can walk out of the building, he grabs my arm.
“What did she say, Chanice?”
“Nothing I don’t already know. Now, please, just let me leave.” My voice quivers as the dam holding back my tears is about to break.
I take a deep breath. The last thing I need to end this night is to fall apart in front of these people.
“Whatever she said, it isn’t true.”
“Alex, I need to go. We can talk about this another time.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. I want to be alone.”
His hand lowers from my arm. I squeeze it and then turn and run away from this life.