Cheesecake and Teardrops (7 page)

“Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry,” she said as they both got their bearings.

“Wait a minute. I know you. We met in the Green Acres Mall, right?” he asked. “I'm from the modeling agency.”

“That's right,” Heather agreed.

“My name's Don.”

“I'm Heather,” she said simply.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I'm fine, just running a little late.”

“Here, take another card,” he said, extending his arm.

“And don't forget to give me a call when your're ready for a career change. It's all up to you.”

She took the card and hurried back to the library.

 

Against her better judgment, Heather spent Tuesday night grocery shopping. Pathmark was open twenty-four hours a day, and apparently half of Springfield Gardens was there too in preparation for Thanksgiving. A cute-looking guy followed her up and down the aisles, trying to make eye contact.

When he got up the nerve, he introduced himself as Jamal and gave her his home number. She took his number, promising nothing. His eyes lit up nonetheless. In the frozen food department two women were fighting over the last thirty-pound turkey, even though management assured them that more would be delivered the next day. From the looks of the checkout lines, you'd think they were giving food away. Heather made certain that she stuck to her grocery list. By the time she walked out the door, the thought of a hot bubble bath was the only think that kept her sane. That and the box of chocolate chip cookies she'd be devouring later that night before she embarked on her secret ritual.

Her mother was working a double shift at the hospital and wouldn't be home until Wednesday evening. Since Heather was only working half a day, she agreed to start the cooking. Thanksgiving was easily her favorite holiday. The thought of turkey and dressing, macroni and cheese, greens, mashed potatoes and gravy—not to mention a slew of delectable desserts—always put a smile on her face.

They were expecting ten for dinner. She looked forward to seeing her family. Even though Heather was adopted, she never thought of them as anything less than that. Heather never told another living soul except Charisma and Tangie about her birth. They were the closest she had to sisters. It was nobody else's business.

By the time she got to bed that night, it was after midnight.

She tossed and turned and barely made it to work on time. It was a quiet day at work since most people were home cooking and baking. The four hours that she worked crept by like a centipede crawling against a windstorm. Her zebra-print slingpumps hurt so badly that she felt like her feet were dying a slow death. Now she remembered why she hadn't worn them in years. It was a relief when noon came and she could wish her coworkers a happy Thanksgiving—especially since she wasn't due back until Monday.

Feeling like steak knives were eating away at her feet, Heather crept to Hillside Avenue where her car was parked.

She slipped off her shoes and exhaled. Thankfully, the car started right up, but traffic was a nightmare. Everybody and their mother must have left work early that day.

The minute she arrived home, she threw her shoes in the hamper. That way she wouldn't be tempted to wear them again. At least not anytime soon. She handled her business in the bathroom, making certain to brush and rinse thoroughly with mouthwash. She examined her teeth carefully in the mirror. Thank goodness, they still looked the same.

Then she walked upstairs. Her mother was already in the kitchen making the dressing.

“Hey, Mom.” Heather grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down at the kitchen table. Her mother was busy chopping green peppers, onions, and celery. The sweet potatoes and cornbread were already baking. Even though the food processor sat right in the cabinet above her head, Leola chose to cook the old-fashioned way.

“Hi, boobie.” Leola stopped just long enough to lean over and exchange a kiss with her daughter before returning to the tasks at hand.

“How was your day?” Heather asked.

“Those double shifts are a killer.” Leola shook her head.

“Thank God I'm off the next couple days. I just may sleep all day Friday. I'm exhausted.”

“Here, I'll take over. You go get some rest.” Heather shooed her mother away.

“Boobie, you're tired too,” Leola said.

“I can handle it. You taught me well, remember?”

“Okay,” Leola said. “I'm just going to take a quick nap. Call me if you need me.”

“Okay, Ma. Go get some rest. Everything's under control.”

“Call me if you need me.” she said again, yawning as she retired to her bedroom.

Heather finished chopping up the veggies and took a skillet out of the bottom cabinet. She put a small amount of oil in the pan and proceeded to cook them until they were tender. She checked the cornbread to make certain it was browning nicely. When the sweet potatoes were done, she pulled out the mixer and added all the ingredients for the four pies. After washing the greens several times, she added them to the pot of smoked turkey to cook.

Heather took a quick break before starting on the cakes.

She sat down at the kitchen table and pulled up a chair upon which to elevate her slightly swollen ankles. It would be a long night, but at least she could save the macroni and cheese and mashed potatoes until the morning. That way they wouldn't dry out. Heather got up, went to the fridge and then the cupboard. She placed all the ingredients for the cakes on the table and the counter. Next, she oiled and floured the pans. She mixed the batter for both cakes and poured it into the pans, saving just enough batter on the spoon for a double reward. She loved licking the spoon as a little girl. Some things never changed. Once the cakes were in the oven, Heather busied herself cleaning up the kitchen. Her mother taught her to clean up as she went along so there really wasn't much left to do.

Next, she dusted and vacuumed the living room and dining room. She also cleaned the bathroom. The aroma of the cakes baking in the oven put a smile on her face, and she was able to finish mopping the kitchen floor. By the time she finished cleaning her mother's house, it was after 1:00
A.M.
Sweating, she eased herself down the basement steps to her apartment, her knees creaking from the household workout. She took a two-minute shower and passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Heather woke up Thanksgiving morning to the aroma of roasting in the oven. She made a quick call to Charisma before getting up. She was still upset about the twenty pounds.

She could have been halfway to a modeling contract. She could kick herself. Charisma assured her that if she did it once, she could do it again. The world wasn't over. Heather had to laugh at that one. She hung up, comforted. Charisma would make a good mother one day. She got up, put on her robe, and headed upstairs to her mother's kitchen. Leola was pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sweetie. Want some coffee?” she asked her daughter.

“Sure,” she said. “You're up early.”

“I got up around five and put the turkey in the oven. It feels so good to have the day off.” She handed Heather her coffee then opened the oven door to check on the turkey.

Heather added milk from the fridge and sweet-ner to her coffee before sitting down at the kitchen table. “Looks like everything's under control.”

“Uh-huh. Let's see, all I have to do is make the mashed potatoes and gravy and macroni and cheese, and I think that's it. You've been a big help, Heather. I tasted the stuffing. It's delicious. I couldn't have done a better job myself, and the cakes and pies look scrumptious.”

“Where are they anyway?” Heather asked, looking around.

“Oh, they're all on the dining room table.” Heather got up to view her handiwork. Her mouth watered at the sight of the pies and cakes. “Was that one of Grandma's tablecloths?” she asked as she sat back down.

“Um-hmm.” Leola was peeling white potatoes.

“Wow, it's in great shape. How old is it, anyway?”

“Let's see. Mama must have bought that when I was in junior high. So we're talking a good forty years.”

“A family heirloom,” Heather added.

“You'll treasure the things your mother's given you. Especially when she's gone,” Leola said simply.

 

By three o'clock the guests started arriving at the Greys' house. Heather's Uncle Frank and Aunt Joan were the first to arrive, followed by her cousins and their husbands and kids. Bored with the adults, the kids quickly decided to camp out in the den and play video games. When dinner was served, the kids had their own little table while the adults had theirs.

Heather enjoyed turkey and all the trimmings and cut herself some cake and pie for later. She was headed over to Charisma's parents' house and would probably have dessert with them. There was no way she could pass up all these homemade goodies.

“Sissy, you got any ice cream to go with this sweet potato pie?” Heather's Aunt Joan asked her mother.

“I'll get it,” Heather said, heading for the kitchen. She returned with three gallons of ice cream—butter pecan, chocolate, and good ole vanilla.

Aunt Joan grabbed an ice cream scoop and dug right in, heaping several scoops on top of her sweet potato pie.

“Aren't you having any, Heather?” she asked her niece.

“Maybe later,” Heather told her as she checked her watch.

“I'm headed out to see some friends. You remember my friends Charisma and Tangie?”

“From college? Of course. Well, in case we're gone when you get back, give me my sugar now.” She hugged and kissed her niece.

Heather headed downstairs to rid herself of the Thanksgiving dinner. She evaded the mirror, unable to look herself in the eye. She hated having succumbed to this. It was humiliating.

Then again, maybe if she had thought of this sooner, she'd have more control over her weight problem. She took a deep breath and leaned over the commode.

Then she changed her mind. She might as well wait until after she returned from the Dearborn's. That way she could kill two birds with one stone.

“So how'd your date go with Nate?” Tangie asked Charisma over drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Charisma opened her mouth to protest, then shut it.

“Thank you,” Tangie said. “At least you're no longer in denial.”

Charisma gave her a quick rundown of that night, including his candid remark over dinner about possibly wearing her out in the bedroom and being Mr. Right.

“Girl, I bet if you gave him a piece it would blow his mind.” Tangie laughed.

“I've looked at this from every angle and the bottom line is the same. When an office romance is good, it's very good. But when it's bad, it's extremely bad. And I can't afford to take that chance. I need my
job.
” Charisma shrugged.

“Don't we all?” Tangie said nonchalantly.

“Well, I don't see you kickin' it with your boss,” Charisma said.

“Have you seen my boss?” Tangie asked. “Stone Canyon is a worn-out racist. But back to you, stop being so noble. If you want him, go for it.”

“I have too much to lose.” Charisma ran her hand through her hair.

“Not really. He has more to lose than you do,” Tangie said. “What can Dex offer you but great sex? What
has
Dex offered you but great sex?”

“You know Dex wants more. I'm the one who's not ready for marriage.”

“At least not with him,” Tangie reminded her.

“But you don't know what Nate has to offer. Maybe he's not even interested in a relationship. Maybe he's just after a good time,” Charisma insisted.

“Anything's possible,” Tangie admitted. “But I don't think so from what you've told us. I think he's really feelin' you. And because he's a gentleman, he's trying not to rush you. You know how Miss Crappuccino loves our black men, and you're ready to just hand him over to her on a silver platter? Charisma, so help me, if you blow this one, I better not hear a peep out of you about shoulda-woulda-coulda.”

Charisma thought for a moment and took another sip of wine. “I don't know, Tangie. Maybe deep down inside I'm afraid of happiness. Maybe I don't think I deserve to be happy in the traditional way. Maybe on some level we all fear commitment. When's the last time any of us has had a real relationship?”

“I'm not afraid of commitment,” Tangie insisted. “Men are just dogs—black, white, well-bred, ghetto, mutt, pedigree. They're all dogs—two-legged, dysfunctional dogs.”

“No, you mean three-legged, and it's that third leg that gets them and us into trouble every time.” Charisma laughed and Tangie joined in.

 

Charisma went in to work Monday morning with the intent of asking Nate over for Thanksgiving dinner that Thursday. She caught up with him in the break room pouring a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Charisma,” he said with a smile.

“Good morning, Nate.” She returned his smile, pleased that he was wearing her favorite suit. Charisma loved the way he looked in his gray pinstripe. She took it as a good omen that maybe he'd accept her dinner invitation.

“Ready for Thanksgiving?” she asked simply, adding cream to her coffee.

“Absolutely. I'm going to San Diego to see my son. I can't wait. I haven't seen him since I moved here.”

“That's great. How old is he?”

“Sean's fifteen, and he's as tall as I am. He's a great kid.”

“Nice. Have a wonderful time. I'm glad you won't be alone. I wanted to invite you over for Thanksgiving, but I'm glad you'll be with family.”

“I appreciate your offer. So what are you doing, Charisma? Are you cooking?”

“I'm going over to my parents', but I'm taking a couple of dishes.”

“I bet you're a good cook.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking into her eyes. “Hopefully, one day I'll find out.”

“Maybe one day you will.” She smiled.

As if on cue, Charisma sneezed just as Chase Martini tipped in, her royal blue stiletto heels the exact shade as her suit. “Must be the fumes in here,” Charisma said, fanning herself from Chases's daily overdose of the latest designer fragrance.

Nate got back to business. “Chase, I need to see you in my office about the Grant account. The Grant brothers just called for status. I told them I'd have some figures for them before noon.”

“No problem,” Chase said as she and Nate left the break room together. If her slit had been any higher it would have cut her throat.

Well, so much for inviting Nate over for Thanksgiving dinner. Now it was safe to ask Dex. He loved having her with him on the holidays or at least stopping by afterward and hanging out with her folks. She went back to her desk and dialed his work number. He picked up on the fifth ring just as she was about to hang up.

“I know your mother's having Thanksgiving dinner, but I thought you might want to stop by for dessert,” she told him.

“I'd love it even more if you came with me to my mother's. My brothers'll be there with their wives, and I'd love to show you off, but dessert's good,” he told her.

“Great. I'll see you Thursday.”

Next, Charisma quickly dialed Tangie. “I have good news.”

“What's that?” Tangie asked.

“I invited Nate over for Thanksgiving dinner, but he can't make it. He's going to spend Thanksgiving with his son in San Diego so I'm off the hook.”

“So much for the Thanksgiving massacre. Dex would've kicked Nate's behind.”

“Don't be so sure,” Charisma said.

“You're gonna stand by your man, huh, lady?”

Charisma shook her head. “Don't start, Tangie. I am
not
in the mood. I'm just relieved to be skipping all that drama.”

The next couple of days flew by as Charisma did her last minute grocery shopping and errands for Thursday. Wednesday afternoon, just as she prepared to leave work, Nate stopped by to see her.

“All set for tomorrow?” he asked her.

“Not hardly. I have to go home and start making the cakes and lasagna. JFK must be a madhouse. What time's your flight?”

“Would you believe my plans have been canceled? I just got a call from my ex-wife. My son's grandmother had to have emergency surgery so he and his mother drove up to Oakland to be with her. So if your invitation still stands for tomorrow . . .”

“Absolutely,” she said, wondering how Dex would react to Nate, but she couldn't uninvite either of them. “Dinner'll be around five.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” She gave him easy directions to her parents' home and told him she'd look forward to seeing him there.

The minute she got home Charisma called Tangie and Heather and told them about the change in plans.

“I just hope I'm there in time for the cockfight,” Tangie said, laughing.

“I knew I shouldn't have let you talk me into this,” Charisma said.

“Charisma, breathe. I wish I had one man interested in me, let alone two. Miss Diva, you better count your blessings and have some fun with it,” Heather told her.

“You know how jealous and possessive Dex can be. All Nate has to do is look at me the wrong way, and it's on. And lately Dex has been talking about moving in together. So he's gonna put two and two together and come up with eleven. But you guys are welcome to stop by and watch the fireworks if you're feeling a little sadistic,” Charisma told them.

“Girl, we wouldn't miss this for the world,” Heather said.

“Wish me luck,” Charisma told them.

“Luck,” Heather and Tangie both said before hanging up.

Charisma slowly exhaled and poured herself a glass of white zinfandel before taking a quick shower, changing into sweats, and getting busy in the kitchen. It was going to be a long night. Somewhere after midnight, Charisma was awakened by the sound of her phone ringing. It was Dex.

“Hey, Miss Lady, mind if I stop by?” he asked her, his speech slightly slurred.

“What time is it?”

“Twelve-twenty. Can I come by?” he repeated. Charisma yawned and opened her eyes, hesitating slightly before answering him. “I'm really exhausted, Dex. I've been up baking and cooking for hours. Can't it wait till this evening?”

“Baby, I need to see you now. I just wanna hold you in my arms and feel you next to me. I promise I won't stay long.”

Charisma thought fast. Maybe if she let Dex come over tonight, he'd feel no need to come by after Thanksgiving dinner. “Okay, come on by,” she said simply before hanging up. She quickly headed to the bathroom to wash and brush her teeth.

He was there within minutes. “Gosh, you even smell good.” He tickled her neck with his nose. “It should be against the law for a woman to get up looking so fine,” he told her as he took her in his arms. “I missed you so much, baby.” He sat on the sofa and pulled her toward him.

“Come sit on my lap.”

“Boy, you're sure in a good mood.” She yawned. “What 'cha do today?”

“My brothers and I went out for drinks, and they were all bragging about how special their wives are and how they wouldn't trade their marriages for the world.”

Charisma could tell it was going to be one of those nights. She knew that whenever he got around his brothers, he ended up putting the pressure on. But the truth was she just wasn't ready for marriage. Sure, she cared for Dex, but she enjoyed her freedom too much to settle down. For the umpteenth time, she tried to make him understand.

Finally, he asked her, “Is there somebody else?”

“No, there's no one else, Dex.”

“Then, you're not making any sense. Don't we have a good time when we're together?”

“Yes.”

“And don't I make you laugh?”

“Yes.”

“And don't I take care of business in the bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“So, what's the problem? What more do you want? Don't you know I'd give you the world? Maybe you're the one with the problem.”

Charisma got off his lap and stood, pulling her robe closer to her. “I care about you, Dex. I really do. Yes, we laugh and have a good time. Why can't that be enough? Why must you push and push and push?” She ran her fingers through her hair.

Dex sobered up. Finally, he stood too and grabbed her from behind. “Baby, I'm gonna wine and dine you till you beg me to marry you. And that's a promise. Lord knows you don't need any more beauty sleep, but I'm gonna let you get some anyway. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Dex,” she said simply, taking his hand and leading him to the door. He kissed her on the forehead and left.

 

First thing Thanksgiving morning Charisma got up and fixed herself a cup of coffee. While enjoying the sight and aroma of the cakes she had baked last night, she turned on the Macy's parade. When she was a little girl, her father would take her and her brother Eric down to the city to see the big, colorful floats until she got lost in the crowd of people when she was seven. After that, the Dearborns never went farther than their living room to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.

Heather called, still boo hooing about her weight gain. She was suffering from the shoulda-woulda-couldas. She was petrified about putting on even more pounds. Sometimes, she dreaded the holidays.

“You know Thanksgiving is just the beginning,” Heather whined.

“Heather, it'll be okay,” Charisma told her. “Just drink lots of water beforehand and don't gorge yourself on sweet potato pie.”

“Yeah, and macaroni and cheese and dressing, and lemon coconut cake.... I can go on and on. I don't stand a chance.”

“Heather, if you lost it once, you can do it again. The world isn't over. But, if you really can't resist temptation and you wanna skip my parents' house, it's okay.”

“And miss bachelor number one meets bachelor number two? Are you kidding me? I wouldn't miss it for the world,” she said.

“Don't remind me.”

“I think you better talk to your girl.”

“Why, what's up?”

“She's back with Blade.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Charisma sighed.

“Not only that, but he wants to move in with her.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“As a root canal.”

“I'll talk to you later. Let me call Tangie and see if she needs to be committed.” Charisma got up from the sofa and poured herself another cup of coffee before calling Tangie. She ended up leaving a message on her answering machine and enjoying the last hour of the parade. Dinner wasn't until five, but she decided to hop in the shower and head over to her parents a little early to help with last-minute preparations. Just as she finished showering, the phone rang. She grabbed her bathrobe, dripping water along the way.

“Hey, girl, what's going on?” It was Tangie.

“I can't believe you're back with Blade.”

“Heather has such a big mouth!”

“You're crazy.”

“I knew you wouldn't understand.”

“Hmmph. What's to understand?”

“No, you did not.”

“Tangie, you could do so much better than Blade.”

“Charisma, you've had your choice of guys since we were five years old. Some of us aren't so lucky.”

“What school did you go to? Don't even try it.”

“Look, Charisma, men treat you like a freakin' princess. You crick your little finger and they come running, ready to wine and dine you. Your every wish is their command. Men save their best side for you, and their backside for me. Right now you have one man who wants you and another just itching to get with you. And you're still not satisfied, Miss Prima Dona.”

“If men act like dogs around you, it's because you let them.”

“Are you saying it's my fault?” Tangie asked.

“I'm saying that we teach people how to treat us. Stop treating these men like they're the prize.
You
are the prize, Tangie. Not them,
you
are, Tangie.”