Chapter 15 #2
“How was she?” he asks, straightening the takeout menus before shoving them back in the nearest drawer.
Danica stretches her arms through a yawn. “Same ol’, same ol’, asking for some loser named Dad. Oh wait, that’s you.”
He gives a noncommittal ‘hmm’ through a mouthful of cold cheese as he simultaneously presses the bag of ice to his eye.
“I don’t know why, though. You’re kind of lame.”
Brushing crumbs from his face and hands, he flicks her off before moving to sink into the seat next to her. Her laptop is open with a Word document.
“What are you working on?” he asks, nodding to the screen.
She sits upright, dragging the laptop between the two of them.
“I have to do a comparative analysis on two political thinkers on a specific topic, think liberty, equality, sovereignty, political obligation. So, of course, I’ve decided to focus on Simone de Beauvoir and Mary Wollstonecraft. Do you know who they are?”
He blinks. “Uh—”
Danica’s lip curls upward, and she shakes her head.
“You’re an embarrassment to the family name.
Simone de Beauvoir,” she says rather sassily, “was an existentialist philosopher. Those are philosophers who feel that the nature of the human condition is a key philosophical problem. Her work focused on women’s oppression.
Women are seen as ‘the other.’ Wollstonecraft, the mother of Mary Shelley—a.k.a the author of Frankenstein—predates Beauvoir.
She focuses on empowering and uplifting women through education.
Women are just as rational as men when given the opportunity to do so, and a woman’s femininity is socially conditioned. ”
Roman blows out a breath, nodding. “Sounds interesting, Dan. Have you decided which topic to focus on?”
She purses her lips. “Not sure. Either a critique of patriarchy or gender norms.”
His mind wanders to Jahlani’s words from the other night. You’re all the same. He wonders for a moment if she’s right. The light tapping of Danica’s computer keys slides through the air as he takes sips from his drink.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“Is Mom … happy?”
Her fingers stop typing and a tentative smile appears on her face. “What?”
“Do you think Mom is happy?”
Danica snorts. “Fuck, I don’t know. I mean, you gave her a grandbaby.”
He shrugs, swirling the drink in his hands, continuing to press the ice to his face. “Yeah, but not the right way.”
Her eyebrow arches. “The right way?”
He leans his head against the couch, blowing out a breath. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t. Please elaborate,” she says, closing her laptop before turning to face him fully, chin in her hand, expectantly.
Roman suddenly feels embarrassed, but he knows his sister. If he lies, she’ll see right through it. If he withholds, she’ll pester him until he’s six feet under. He shrugs, scratching the back of his head.
“You know, boy meets girl, they fall in love, she comes over for the holidays, Mom loves her, they marry, they have kids. Not my version.”
She tilts her head, deliberating. “But your version is so much more … fun. Romantic, even. Think about it. Accidental-pregnancy trope becomes a single dad and an almost-college dropout working at a bar to support their kid. It has flair,” she says, making jazz hands.
Roman sends her a blank stare. “I’m serious, Danica.”
She shrugs. “What? So am I.”
“You know what? Forget it.” Setting his drink down, he starts to get up.
Her hand shoots out. “Aw, Ro. Come back. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.” She pulls him back down on the couch next to her.
She takes a deep breath, trying to poker her face.
She motions her fingers, and he reluctantly hands her the ice pack for her to press against his face.
He winces when she applies too much pressure. She grimaces, mouthing a sorry.
He exhales slowly, scratching under his chin. “I just feel like, if I had done things differently, Kareena would still be here, and Mom wouldn’t have to keep giving so much of her life for us. I want her to be able to do what she wants and not worry about me and Lucy.”
Danica shudders dramatically. “Don’t say that she-devil’s name.”
Roman scoffs. “She’s the mother of my child.”
Her eyes snap to him. “No. She’s not. She gave up that right when she left.”
She exhales loudly, moving the ice over his eye before dropping it back to his lap.
Danica rubs her forehead. “Look, Ro. This is life. Not a cheesy Hallmark movie, you know? Shit happens. And Mom, she’s fine.
Stop worrying about her. She makes her own choices.
Her happiness isn’t on you.” She waves her hand between the two of them.
“It isn’t on us. So, you know, don’t put that kind of pressure on yourself. ”
She gives him a harder slap than necessary on his back before moving to pack her things.
“I will say, though,” she starts, drawing the zipper up on her purse, “sometimes I agree with her about the bar when things like this happen.” She gestures toward his face before moving to shoulder the bag.
He rolls his eyes, sitting up. “This is the first time this has ever happened.”
Her eyes squint at him and she folds her arms over her chest. “Yeah. Why did it happen, Ro? Don’t they have other people to handle drunk patrons?” she asks, raising a brow.
They do, but this one put his hands on Jahlani, and that he couldn’t let slide, he thinks as he shrugs his shoulders, finishing his drink before standing. “Dan, it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Roman,” she says, raising her hands, before letting them fall to her sides. She blows out a breath, rubbing her forehead. “God, I just wish you would reconsider it, so that you’re not somebody’s punching bag,” she says through gritted teeth.
Roman sets his glass down on the counter. He drops his hands onto Danica’s shoulders before grabbing her left cheek and pinching it.
“Aw, Dan the Man, are you worried?”
She swats his hand away, the crease in her forehead deepening as she steps back.
“I’m serious.”
He lets out a groan, looking to the ceiling. “God, you’re starting to sound like Mom,” he mutters before he looks at her. “I like what I do.”
“But why a bar? Why there? There are plenty of other jobs. You’re smart, and capable, and I just …” She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t understand.”
“Why do you have to understand it?” he asks, his gaze hardening. “Why do you and Mom have to pick apart everything that I do?”
“Because, Roman.”
“Because what?”
“Because,” she says, her eyes jumping around the room, “you make really dumb decisions sometimes, and we just worry about you. We just want to help.” Her words strike a nerve in his chest, knocking the wind out of him, but he refuses to let her know how much her words hurt him moving toward the fridge to grab a drink and setting it on the counter, his jaw tense.
“No, you don’t. You just agree with everything Mom says. ”
Danica follows, folding her arms across her chest. “No, I don’t.”
Roman exhales, running both hands down his face. “You know what?” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’m tired. I’ve had a long night, can we just … put a pin in this, please?”
Danica’s arms fall to her sides, and he suddenly sees his little sister again. The one who used to look up to him. Not this new version that looks down on him.
“Sure,” she says, grabbing her keys from the counter. “Love you, Ro.”
“Love you too. Text me when you get to the house.”
When he hears the latch of the door, he drums his fingers against the countertop before peeling his shirt from his body.
Walking down the hallway, he gently opens Lucy’s bedroom door, tiptoeing to undo a few buttons on her onesie.
Most nights she sleeps soundly, but the new medication has made her more irritable.
Planting a kiss on her forehead, he turns the sound machine on before moving across the hall to his room.
Still gripping the shirt, he starts to drop it into his hamper but notices a brown marking on the collar. He draws it closer, running his thumb over it before letting out a soft laugh.
Her makeup.
For a few seconds, he’s tempted to leave it be, to tease her about it the next time he sees her, but as the plan formulates, Danica’s words make a reappearance.
You make dumb decisions.
Messing with Jahlani is as dumb as it gets, he thinks as he drops the shirt on his growing pile. She’s responsible for your grades. She determines if you graduate or not.
And then Jahlani’s own words.
You think everything is a joke, that we can just laugh away our problems.
But as he wrestles with sleep, all he can think about is seeing her again and talking to her. Making her laugh.
And most importantly: fixing things with her.