The Better Half(63)
“I didn’t so much say ‘no’ as I said ‘I don’t know,’ and then I made a stupid joke about how altitude was making him all kinds of crazy.” I wince recalling my immature response.
“Terrible ring choice aside, I watched that kind, loving man get out of the car and walk through his front door crushed to the core, Nina. What’s your holdup? Take a leap of faith off the platform of your perfectly planned life for God’s sake. Xandra’s heading back to school, hopefully with a much-improved attitude, Fitzroy’s healthy and happy to spend half his time with you and the other half in Queens when he’s tired of you. You got plenty of dough, and, news flash, you do love this man you’re about to have a baby with. I know you do. So, what’s your problem?”
I shrug.
“Then put the man out of his misery. If you aren’t going to marry him, for the love of my personal time and growing boredom over this topic, move in with him.”
“Okay, here it is, Marisol. How’s a White man going to raise a Black son?”
“Do you know you’re having a boy?!” Marisol lights up.
“Hypothetically speaking.”
“He’s going to learn on the job. Same as a Black man, or any other man for that matter.”
“So, what? I’m finally gaining personal confidence again after dealing with Graham, and building a strong foundation on my own two feet, and now I’m supposed to abandon myself and commit to Leo?”
“Yes, that’s generally how it works when two high-functioning adults fall in love. Jesus, if Roan and Tate can do it and make it last way longer than either of us gave them credit for, then I’m willing to bet you and Leo can hold strong too. Unless your hesitation has nothing to do with the baby or your sense of independence and everything to do with how you feel about Leo,” Marisol challenges. I fall silent.
“Nina, please say that is not what it is.” Marisol turns my shoulders and keeps hold so we are looking each other squarely in the eye. “Are you hearin’ me, girlfriend? I want it understood, right now in this driveway, that I cannot go another five years back in the dating pool with you. This is it for us, Nina. Leo’s our guy. I know it, so don’t blow it.”
“I know we’re best friends, didn’t know we are sister-wives too. And no, my feelings for Leo as a man haven’t changed. It’s my feelings about us together as parents and how complicated our lives have become with a baby on the way that are tying me up. With this baby, Leo also comes with a family who has loads of child-rearing opinions and zero experience with my culture.” Marisol is genuinely listening to what I have to say, soaking it in, not perched waiting for me to shut up so she can offer her solution, per usual.
“So did Leo’s family say something out of pocket while you were there?” Marisol digs, ready for some drama.
“No, but you know how it is as the only melanated person around. Being on constant guard includes seeing those things that go unsaid.”
“Don’t tell me they had a lawn jockey in the front yard.” Marisol grimaces.
“Dolls,” I deadpan.
“They had dolls in the front yard? That’s weird!” Marisol shudders.
“No, you nut. I saw two blonde-haired, blue-eyed dolls in the nursery when Mrs. West gave me a tour.”
“Come on, her granddaughter probably just left them there,” Marisol suggests.
“Nope. They were still in the box,” I correct. “One soft hairbrush plus one Black children’s book does not equal multiculturalism.”
“Look at you with the mathing.” Marisol elbows me to lighten the mood. I’m too deep in my emotions to turn off my thoughts now.
“You know how it is. It’s not just the dolls, though they were creepy, but at work I’m immersed in a predominantly White universe all day long, always putting a positive spin on everything, making it look easy, making it look like I don’t mind spending my days smoothing an already level path for White folks. That’s all okay, at least for me, because when I come home to my dad and Xandra, I can be the real me no one else sees. And Leo can join if he wants to, but either way for a few hours a day I can truly be me.” I stop, but Marisol waves me on, uninterested in my dramatic pause. “On top of work, I’m going to have to join THEM. The fairest family in America. I can’t even wrap my head around the amount of sunscreen that family must go through after long Nebraska winters.” Marisol stays quiet, she knows there’s a punch line to my predicament.
“If I move in with Leo, my world gets Whiter. If I marry Leo, my life is White. Every holiday spent with the Wests will be me Blacksplaining our Jamaican family recipes at Christmas as well as what it means to be ashy and why shea butter is the cure. And you know I will be constantly encouraging Emily not to use please on the end of every sentence when asking my child to do something; just tell the kid to do it. Twenty years in schools, and I still don’t get why White parents think every interaction with their child is a teachable moment followed by endless explanation.”
“You just went allllllll the way off into left field. When are you going to stop looking at what’s wrong with Leo and start seeing what’s right? Please tell me you did not lug all this emotional baggage with you to Omaha?” Marisol demands. “’Cause that kind of load needs a mule to carry it.”