see what I mean.”
Now he was noticing more than just my breasts. “Wow,” he said. “Maybe I will stick around. Especially now that there’s a beautiful, intelligent woman to tell me all about it.”
Oo, nice. “I’m sitting over there.” I pointed to where Rich had found us a table, about halfway between the bar and the stage. “But I could come and hang out with you a little bit.”
He looked where I was pointing. His face got wary. “So, that guy’s your boyfriend?”
I laughed. “Naw, he’s my brother.” I was testing him now, though I bet he couldn’t tell.
He looked at Rich. He looked back at me. He said, “You’re kidding me, right? You’re just trying to pretend he isn’t your boyfriend.”
Oh, he was skating on thin ice. “No, for real, he’s my big brother. You can go ask him.”
He got this look of hopeful comprehension. “Oh! So he’s your half brother, or something? Or one of you is adopted?”
Yikes. He could still pull this one out of the hole he was digging for himself, but the signs weren’t good. But his was a reasonable question, right? I didn’t have to be so trigger-happy. Still, my voice came out a few hundred degrees cooler than before. “We both have the same parents. One black, one white. Can’t you see how much we resemble each other? I came out lighter and Rich came out darker, is all.”
“Wow.” He visually compared me and Rich again. “I never thought it could happen that way. I just figured the kids would all come out, I guess light brown, you know?”
“Uh-huh . . .” Our champion only has one more chance for a comeback! Can he do it?
“I think it’s so neat that you’re each a different mix. You’re both unique.”
Okay, a step in the right direction. I gave him a little smile.
Again he tried to hide how hard he was checking me out. I knew this blouse would rock with these jeans! Totally worth the price I’d paid for it.
He leaned forward and said, “But you know what’s really cool?”
“What?”
“You don’t look like you’re half black. I mean, you could be almost anything at all, you know?”
And, he’s down. Down AND out. My smile froze on my face. Nothing left but the shouting, folks . “I could, huh?”
“Yeah! You could be Jewish, or Arabic, or Persian. I had a Persian girlfriend once. You could even—”
“Pass for white?”
He stopped, a confused frown on his face. “Well, yeah, if you wanted to. But you don’t have to be black or white. You’re, like, a child of the world!” He smiled, threw his arms out to punctuate his not-the-least-bit-triumphant conclusion.
I slid off my stool, picked up my drink. “Yup, that’s me. Child of the world, daughter to none. I’m going back to my table now.”
“Oh. Well, can I come and sit with you guys?” He was halfway off his own stool.
“No, you can’t.”
He stopped midslide, one foot frozen in midair, the other on the floor. “What? You really mean that?”
“I really do.”
“What’s wrong? Did I say something?”
“Oh, you said plenty.” He genuinely had no clue. They never did. I was seething as I walked back to our table. I could be anything. Right. I could pretend to be Jewish, maybe from one of those old Montreal families. Invent a whole different set of parents, of relatives. Disown my brother, maybe, so no one would see him and wonder about me. Disown my mum, too.Or I could hint at some “exotic” Middle Eastern heritage. Or Greek, or Gypsy. I could be anything but what I actually was; the daughter of a white Jamaican and a black American. Yeah, that would be so freaking cool, to have no people, no culture.
I threw myself into one of the empty chairs at our table. “People can be so stupid,” I told Rich.
He didn’t look up from the sheet of paper in his hand. “Who was it? That guy you were talking to?”
“Yeah.”
“Which kind of stupid was it? He say something sleazy, something dumb, or something racist?”
Fake brightly, I
Now he was noticing more than just my breasts. “Wow,” he said. “Maybe I will stick around. Especially now that there’s a beautiful, intelligent woman to tell me all about it.”
Oo, nice. “I’m sitting over there.” I pointed to where Rich had found us a table, about halfway between the bar and the stage. “But I could come and hang out with you a little bit.”
He looked where I was pointing. His face got wary. “So, that guy’s your boyfriend?”
I laughed. “Naw, he’s my brother.” I was testing him now, though I bet he couldn’t tell.
He looked at Rich. He looked back at me. He said, “You’re kidding me, right? You’re just trying to pretend he isn’t your boyfriend.”
Oh, he was skating on thin ice. “No, for real, he’s my big brother. You can go ask him.”
He got this look of hopeful comprehension. “Oh! So he’s your half brother, or something? Or one of you is adopted?”
Yikes. He could still pull this one out of the hole he was digging for himself, but the signs weren’t good. But his was a reasonable question, right? I didn’t have to be so trigger-happy. Still, my voice came out a few hundred degrees cooler than before. “We both have the same parents. One black, one white. Can’t you see how much we resemble each other? I came out lighter and Rich came out darker, is all.”
“Wow.” He visually compared me and Rich again. “I never thought it could happen that way. I just figured the kids would all come out, I guess light brown, you know?”
“Uh-huh . . .” Our champion only has one more chance for a comeback! Can he do it?
“I think it’s so neat that you’re each a different mix. You’re both unique.”
Okay, a step in the right direction. I gave him a little smile.
Again he tried to hide how hard he was checking me out. I knew this blouse would rock with these jeans! Totally worth the price I’d paid for it.
He leaned forward and said, “But you know what’s really cool?”
“What?”
“You don’t look like you’re half black. I mean, you could be almost anything at all, you know?”
And, he’s down. Down AND out. My smile froze on my face. Nothing left but the shouting, folks . “I could, huh?”
“Yeah! You could be Jewish, or Arabic, or Persian. I had a Persian girlfriend once. You could even—”
“Pass for white?”
He stopped, a confused frown on his face. “Well, yeah, if you wanted to. But you don’t have to be black or white. You’re, like, a child of the world!” He smiled, threw his arms out to punctuate his not-the-least-bit-triumphant conclusion.
I slid off my stool, picked up my drink. “Yup, that’s me. Child of the world, daughter to none. I’m going back to my table now.”
“Oh. Well, can I come and sit with you guys?” He was halfway off his own stool.
“No, you can’t.”
He stopped midslide, one foot frozen in midair, the other on the floor. “What? You really mean that?”
“I really do.”
“What’s wrong? Did I say something?”
“Oh, you said plenty.” He genuinely had no clue. They never did. I was seething as I walked back to our table. I could be anything. Right. I could pretend to be Jewish, maybe from one of those old Montreal families. Invent a whole different set of parents, of relatives. Disown my brother, maybe, so no one would see him and wonder about me. Disown my mum, too.Or I could hint at some “exotic” Middle Eastern heritage. Or Greek, or Gypsy. I could be anything but what I actually was; the daughter of a white Jamaican and a black American. Yeah, that would be so freaking cool, to have no people, no culture.
I threw myself into one of the empty chairs at our table. “People can be so stupid,” I told Rich.
He didn’t look up from the sheet of paper in his hand. “Who was it? That guy you were talking to?”
“Yeah.”
“Which kind of stupid was it? He say something sleazy, something dumb, or something racist?”
Fake brightly, I
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