Chapter 25
HOW IT SHOULD BE
JAHLANI
Jahlani used to love the holidays. When she was younger, and both her parents were around, it was the things she looked forward to the most as a kid.
Growing up in a somewhat religious Caribbean household meant that Halloween was a no-go for her.
She spent most of them sneaking around with her cousins for candy.
But Thanksgiving and Christmas were everything.
At Christmas, they’d decorate the tree together, she’d make a list, and then she’d take turns going shopping with each parent, a true non-believer, but she wasn’t upset.
Always too logical to believe in things like the Easter Bunny.
The Tooth Fairy. Bloody Mary. It was the act of spending time with her parents that she liked.
Thanksgiving is her favorite.
Was her favorite until the divorce. Every year until high school, they would alternate holidays, until she left for college, and then she just stopped showing up for either one. Not that they noticed or cared.
Which is why she can’t stop the twitch that grips her left eye as she reads the confirmation email her dad had forwarded to her last night. A round trip to visit him for the weekend. She immediately dials his number, chewing on her lip as she waits for him to pick up.
“Jahlani.”
“Dad, hey.” She exhales, deciding on her next words carefully. “The plane ticket?”
“Yeah.”
She blinks slowly. “Why?”
His sigh is deep and heavy and so him. “Well, Helen figured …”
Ah. Helen.
Jahlani doesn’t hate Helen. Truthfully, she’s a wonderful person—an elementary school teacher who volunteers at a homeless shelter on weekends, walks when she can to cut carbon emissions, and takes care of everyone.
She takes care of him. She reminds my dad to take his medication. She makes sure he takes care of her.
And that’s the problem.
“Jahlani? Did you hear me?”
She blinks, shaking her head. “Sorry, bad connection,” she mumbles.
“Okay, well. Let her know what you want.”
Her head rears back. “Dad, I’m not coming.”
Silence greets her on the other end for a moment before he clears his throat, the noise loud in her ear.
“Does that date not work for you?”
“No, I just …” She sighs, running the tips of her fingers across her necklace. Don’t think you actually want me there.
Jahlani pulls the phone away from her ear as her throat tightens. She takes a shaky inhale before blowing out the air and drawing the phone back to her ear.
“Dad, I’m confused. You’re confusing me. The last time we spoke, you called me greedy and a whole bunch of really hurtful things. Why would I want to spend Thanksgiving with you?” she says, letting out a bitter chuckle.
“Because I’m your father and we haven’t seen each other in years.”
Jahlani can’t help the sound that slips out. “So, that’s supposed to excuse everything that you said to me? Because we share some DNA? And what about all the other years? You didn’t seem too concerned about buying me a plane ticket then.”
His sigh is ragged. “Look, baby. I’m just stressed out. I didn’t mean to take it out on you, okay?”
Bullshit.
And as she sits on the bench, she’s struck with a sharp realization.
She looks up at the sky, her throat tightening. “Dad, no. It’s not okay. It’s not,” she says, letting out a shuddering breath. “Would you want another man to treat me the way you do?”
His laugh is deep through the phone. “What, with love, Jahlani?”
“This isn’t love, Dad,” she whispers over the line, wiping under her eyes, thinking of Roman with Lucy. “This can’t be. You don’t know anything about me. Whenever you call I feel like shit. I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this.”
He clicks his tongue. “Jahlani, don’t be silly, of course I love you.”
Jahlani nods, trying to fight the tears that form in the corners of her eyes as she grips the phone tighter.
“No,” she says, her voice coming out sharper than she intends. “This is toxic. One minute you love me, the next I’m greedy for wanting the money that you promised me. You don’t call me for weeks, months sometimes, and when you do, it’s to tell me you’re having another baby.”
“Jahlani, what? That is not true.”
“Yes, it is. And I’m just … exhausted,” she says, swiping under her nose.
“I’m exhausted. So, please don’t try to manipulate me into wanting to spend the holidays with you,” she says, her voice shaky.
“I need to focus on me, and I can’t do that when you’re making me feel guilty for wanting my basic psychological needs met by the person who gave me life. ”
“Jahlani, can you just–”
She ends the call and drops the phone onto the swing, burying her face in her hands as she tries to stave off her tears. She’s not sure how much time passes when Roman’s car pulls into the driveway. She sits up straighter, checking her face in her cellphone, before sending him a small wave.
He starts to walk toward her, and she moves to gather her things, slipping her bag onto her shoulder. She makes it a point not to linger when he’s here. She shows up on time, she leaves on time. She’s punctual.
Professional.
How she should have been from the beginning, and Roman hasn’t been giving any pushback, and she’s thankful and really irritated about it for some outrageous reason.
She clears her throat, starting to stand when his hand shoots out to her shoulder, pressing her gently back into the seat. His eyebrows are knitted together and there’s a look on his face.
“What’s wrong, Jahlani?”
“Nothing,” she says fast. Too fast.
He sighs, removing his hand before dropping into the space beside her.
He rubs his fingers over his eyes, his shoulders taut under his dress shirt.
The past few weeks seem to have taken a toll on him.
It’s the middle of the semester, which is always the hardest. She sees the list of tasks on his laptop right before he leaves for work every day.
His hair seems more unruly than ever, his pants wrinkled, as she takes him in.
The mid-term was today, and she’s excited to tell him that he passed despite their awkward dance over the past two weeks.
“Are you okay?” she asks. He turns to her and doesn’t say anything for a while. She turns away when it becomes too much. “You passed your mid-term by the way.”
She sees him lean closer from her periphery. “You were crying, Jahlani. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, sharper this time.
He rolls his neck, wetting his lips. “Look, I know things are weird between us—”
Not weird. How it should be. Corrected.
“—but you can still talk to me. It doesn’t have to be awkward. We don’t have to tiptoe around this. Around each other.”
She lets out a soft laugh before sighing and rolling her eyes. “Ah. Good, because my feet were really starting to hurt.”
He bumps her shoulder with his, shaking his head. “Tell me.”
She blows out air between her lips. “It’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing. It’s my dad. He bought me a plane ticket to go see him for Thanksgiving.”
Roman sits up to look at her. “And that upset you?”
She purses her lips, tilting her head. “I’m not upset about the ticket itself. It’s more about what it represents.”
“Which is?”
She shrugs, looking down at her feet. “His new life. His new family. He doesn’t actually want me there,” she says, shaking her head. “It was Helen’s idea to invite me.” She looks back at his clear, very bright, very seeing, moss-colored eyes.
He frowns. “And that’s what’s upsetting you?”
She turns her entire body to face him, nodding.
“I just wish he’d thought of me for once.
I get it, I’m not a kid anymore, but it hurts being an afterthought or not even being a thought at all to the one person that evolution had determined is supposed to care about me the most,” she says, quietly. “It’s kind of heartbreaking.”
Roman doesn’t say anything for a while, but he looks at her as if he’s unlocked some secret window into her soul.
And a part of her likes to think that he has.
His jaw works, and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but then he stops himself. Instead, he drapes his arm around her, pulling her so that her cheek is pressed to his chest.
“Your dad is an idiot,” he says, his voice raspy and quiet. “And I’m sorry he ever made you feel like this.”
“Yeah,” she says through a watery chuckle. “But that seems to be the pattern with the men in my life.”
And at this confession, he’s pushing her up to look at him, his eyes hard as he wraps his hand around her jaw, his thumb swiping across her cheek. “Not with me, Jahlani. Never with me.”
She nods, her lips trembling as he draws her back into his chest. The monitor crackles to life and she swipes sweaty palms against her jeans as she stands up. He does the same, so that they’re face to face.
“I should head out,” she says, unable to meet his eyes.
“Yeah, thanks again.”
She sends him a small wave, turning to walk to her car when he calls her name. His arms grip the railing of the front porch. The wind whips against his hair, flushing his cheeks.
“I won’t be in class this week.”
She smiles, trying to hide the fact that her stomach dropped at the prospect of not seeing him after tonight.
She nods. “Okay.”
His eyes narrow slightly as he nods, before releasing the railing to step back. “Have a good Thanksgiving, Jahlani.”
“You too, Roman.”
Jahlani spends her days prepping next to her mom. She crushes, slices, and mixes dutifully before helping her separate items into Ziploc bags to marinate in the fridge.
She watches her grate cheese over the baked macaroni while she works on dicing onions. Thinking about her conversation with her dad, she clears her throat.
“Dad asked me to visit him for Thanksgiving,” Jahlani says, cautiously, watching her mom from the corner of her eye. She sees her shoulders tense, but she continues working on the cheese.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I told him no,” Jahlani says, looking up at her. “He’s never asked me before. I don’t understand why he did it now.”
Her mom meets her eyes. “You can go if you want, Jahlani. It won’t bother me,” she says, wiping her hands off and moving to grab the cheese sauce. “I’m used to going alone to your grandmother’s.”
Her chest pinches at her words and she sets her knife down. She sighs, walking closer to her mom.
“Mom, why did you and Dad separate?”
Her mom’s eyes flash with something before she slips her mask back on. She lets out a chuckle that sounds forced, moving away from her.
“Why are you asking me about that, Jahlani?”
She chases after her as she opens an overhead cabinet, rifling through it.
“Mom,” she says, closing the door, forcing her to look at her. “I’m not a kid anymore. Tell me,” she says, in a gentle tone, hoping, praying, wishing to get through to her.
“I don’t walk to talk about this,” her mom says brusquely, and all the anticipation fizzles in Jahlani’s chest as she brushes past her. After a moment, Jahlani moves back to her cutting board, chopping in silence. She wonders if she’s cursed to never fix things with her parents.
At work the next day, Jahlani feels more lethargic than usual during class and office hours and decides that it’s her cycle that’s making her feel this way.
Only a few students show up, so she decides to cut the lecture short, choosing to upload everything online, telling everyone to enjoy their break as they exit.
And it isn’t until later that night, when her phone vibrates with a message, that she feels that familiar smite of energy that she’s been missing the past few days.
Roman
You’re welcome to join us if you want.
Roman
No pressure.
And it isn’t until the next morning that she realizes just how badly she needs it.