The Better Half(83)
“This Mr. Petrov accusation, is this something widely known on campus, or is this something only the two of you believe?” I dig, looking directly at Xandra.
“I believe I’m hungry,” Dash declares, opening the car door. In addition to the baked ziti I smell, I also smell fierce allegiance to a friend mixed with waning personal conviction.
“Let’s hustle, ladies, I’m starving too. We can rake Mr. Petrov’s White privilege over the coals once we dig in to our lasagna.” Graham hops out of the car. “I’ll meet you all in there,” he says over his shoulder, jogging to the door of the restaurant to beat out the two other groups heading that way.
“I know you don’t believe me, Mom, but I heard what I heard in that class. And what I heard is Mr. Petrov does not like people of color.” Xandra huffs as she exits the car.
I wind my way around the few parties that are separating me and the girls from Graham. I want to find out how long the wait is to be seated. Typical Graham, he’s already chatting up a couple who seem to be waiting for a table as well. The din of the restaurant is loud, so Graham’s leaning over to catch what an attractive petite woman is saying. She looks South Asian, her skin almost as dark as mine. I would have guessed Graham is hitting on her, but then I see the woman’s holding hands with a man I think I know but can’t quite place. His back’s slightly turned to me, so I don’t have a full view. A bored looking boy about eight or nine is wedged between them. I can’t help but stare at the child. In a month’s time, my baby could come out a similar hue.
“There you are, Graham.” I pull gently on his jacket sleeve. Even though we’ve been divorced for years, I can still read all Graham’s faces. The look he’s wearing screams, Get a load of this!
“Nina, this is Dave Petrov, Xandra’s theater arts teacher. I was just saying how much we enjoyed tonight’s performance.” Graham rolls his lips together, indicating he’s waiting for me to make the next conversational move.
That’s where I know him from: the stage forty-five minutes ago. I size him up and down. He’s an inch shorter than me, and I’m in a low wedge. His hair’s graying at the temples, and his wireless glasses could use a serious clean. Nothing about this dad dressed in Gap gives off a racist vibe. “Nice to meet you, Dave. Well done this evening.” I give Dave a strong handshake to ensure my compliment is sincere. It’s not his fault my daughter has no theater chops nor regard for time.
“Thank y—”
“Mom. Mom,” Xandra calls.
I release Dave’s hand and wave Xandra and Dash over. I’m looking forward to us all being in one big uncomfortable cluster.
“Hello, girls. Glad to see you out celebrating your first Pemberley performance.”
“Hi, Mr. Petrov,” Dash and Xandra mumble in unison, barely making eye contact.
Mr. Petrov continues addressing the group. “The three of us had a rocky start establishing a mutual understanding of rules and protocols for the theater, but I think we eventually got there. I hope to see you two again for the spring one-acts. Each grade has their own act, so you two have a real shot at a lead role. Quick turnaround, though, auditions are the end of next week.” Wow, that’s extremely generous of Dave given the performance Xandra put out there.
“That’s encouraging, isn’t it, girls?” I say, squeezing Xandra tight to my side.
“Sorry, so rude of me, let me introduce you to my family. This is my wife, Rashmi, and our son, Shan. This is Rashmi’s third time seeing Wonderful Town, but she keeps showing up.” Dave puts his pale arm around his brown-skinned wife’s waist. I smile.
“Should we all sit down together?” Rashmi offers.
Xandra’s flair for the dramatic finally kicks in. “Thank you for the offer, but my mom’s really been wanting quality time with me. She hasn’t seen me since Christmas.” I squeeze Xandra’s arms tighter. I sure do want some quality one-on-one time. To the outside world my side-arm squeeze reads profound pride, but between me and my daughter it reads you better be seeing what I’m seeing.
“All right then, have a nice evening,” Dave says, followed by a warm smile from Rashmi. Shan’s been waiting patiently to be released from this grown-up prison so he can have his noodles with butter.
I turn slowly, placing my face inches away from Xandra’s. “THAT’S Pemberley’s resident racist?” And before Xandra or Dash can defend themselves, Graham and I are chuckling again, at their expense. “Now I know what ears you were using when you heard what you heard, the kind that assumes the worst in White people.”
“Fine, but look who’s talking,” Xandra snaps back just loud enough for me to hear. Wait, what did I do? “Maybe my ears heard wrong, but my eyes are working just fine, and I’ve been watching you assume the exact same thing of Leo. Give the guy a break already.”
TWENTY-SIX
Nina, you’re here late,” Pablo says to me, cranking his head far left to look over his shoulder.
“Sure am. I have a long to-do list to get through before I go on maternity leave in three weeks.” And work keeps my mind off my analysis paralysis of how I’m going to win Leo back, but I know that’s more detail than Pablo’s fishing for.
“Aye, family is such a blessing,” Pablo gushes, searching to see if my left hand has a ring on it yet. “Are you going to see Mr. Hawkins?”