The Better Half(86)

“It shows, Fitzroy. Happiness is the best treatment money can’t buy,” Marisol chimes in on a subject she knows best, looking your best. It only took her thirty seconds to break my father’s gag order.

“Says the person hawking expensive treatments and potions to women all over Los Angeles,” Dad jokes back, placing one hand on top of Marisol’s and squeezing.

“Though I want to, I’m going to avoid responding to that comment for the bigger picture here. What gives, Fitzroy? What’s got you all high on life?”

Dad straightens up in his seat. One of his favorite childhood stories was when he crushed the competition in the eight-hundred-meter race at the all-island high school track championships. Maybe Dad’s been doing more than walking on a treadmill and waxing philosophical with his friends at the Y. Maybe he’s been training with a master’s track team and has his first competition coming up. Oh, I hope it’s over Xandra’s spring break, it would be so fun if we could all go together. I’m definitely getting shirts made. FITZROY’S FEET FLEET.

“I’m moving to Pasadena. My things will be arriving here in a few weeks,” Dad announces.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! In my mind I just committed to an afternoon at the track cheering on my father, not seventy years of life arriving at my front doorstep the same time as a baby. I’ve meant it every time I’ve invited my father to move out here, but he’s picked a hell of a time to finally agree. I know I’m not ready to have a newborn, Xandra, AND my dad all in my house. Four people under my roof and I’m still the only one who cooks. Or cooks well.

“And I’m getting married.”

“AY, DIOS MÍO!!” Marisol shouts.

“TO WHO?!” I yelp in shock. The man eats my food, works in the garden, goes to the Y, and plays endless dominoes. I’ve never once seen him with a woman outside the family since Mom died. This makes no sense.

“Sex!” Marisol snaps her fingers. “That’s why you look so good. I knew it! I didn’t want to say it out loud, but I knew it!”

I cover my eyes. I would have preferred to start with, oh I don’t know, maybe the name of my new mom.

I gather up my head of school voice to gain control of this meeting and launch into a fact-finding mission about my dad’s, uh, love life. “Before we get to who this woman is, can we start with when you’ve been going on dates? I’ve never once seen you on your way out to dinner.”

“Nina, before this past year, have you ever once heard of me playing dominoes?”

I quickly scan my memory.

“Ummm, noooo. I guess I just assumed dominoes is the bingo equivalent for Black men of a certain age.”

“Have you ever seen me play dominoes at home, or any other game for that matter?”

I’m stunned into momentary silence by the scheming of the most honest man I know.

“No.” Dad never even liked playing Monopoly with me and Clive when we were kids, so his recent devotion to dominoes should have caught my attention.

“You dirty dog, Fitzroy, you’ve been using outings with the boys to front your romantic life! Nina, you getting all this?” Marisol pushes, making sure we’re both following along word for word.

“Okay, so you’re not actually an old-school gamer. Anything else you’ve been holding out on me? Like, oh, I don’t know, you’ve never stepped foot on a treadmill, and I’ve been paying your Y membership for no good reason?” I demand, though I’m afraid of the answer.

“The Y is what got me in shape and feeling confident to start dating. I promise, your old man getting remarried is all I have for one evening. Well, that and I’ve invited my fiancée over for coffee and dessert. She’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

“This night just keeps getting better and better,” Marisol gushes. “What’s her name, Fitzroy? And do we have time to do a quick Google search?” Marisol checks her watch.

This woman’s stepping foot in my house now?

“Her name’s KayCee Lang, and she owns a nail salon not too far from here.”

“HA! So, you have been cheating on me with another salon owner. Nina called it back in the fall, but I didn’t believe you would ever do me like that,” Marisol accuses, getting up to envelop Fitzroy in a giant hug. “But I’ll let it pass this time. Congrats, papi, I couldn’t be happier for you.”

I want to be happy for my dad, too, I do, but first I need to wipe off the shock and swipe on some lipstick before the second love of my dad’s life comes walking through my front door.





There were many things I may have expected when my father introduced me and Marisol to his fiancée, but KayCee being Asian and twenty years his junior were not two of them. Church going, of course. Age appropriate, I would assume. Black, no doubt in my mind. Turns out Dad really enjoys the pastor at KayCee’s church, but I misread the rest.

With Marisol on her way home to relieve Spanny and wrangle her boys into bed, Dad and I have been doing dishes in silence. It’s been a newsworthy evening, and we both need a moment to process. Or I need the moment.

“I want you to know, I’ve had a lot of late-night conversations with your mother about me, ummm, moving on.”

“You have, huh? I imagine it’s pretty easy to convince a dead woman to see your side of things.” Dad grins knowingly at my assessment of his talks with Mom.