Read Online Zora and Nicky: A Novel in Black and White by Claudia Mair Burney - Free Book Online

her loud and clear, she adds, “Zora.”
    When Betty walks out of the room, I challenge Mama, something I rarely do. “I don’t see anything wrong with Betty calling me an endearment. She’s been working for us for years. I’m crazy about her.”
    It’s Daddy who responds. “Betty is a wonderful woman and an excellent cook. We simply don’t want her to get confused about her role around here. We’ve had some experiences we don’t want to repeat when we’ve blurred boundaries.”
    Which means they’ve treated people horribly and it turned into a hot mess. Now, Betty has gone to our church forever. But when she’s at work for us, she becomes the help. A hot mess!
    “Seems to me like boundaries get blurred all the time around here.”
    Daddy put his fork down. “Excuse me, Zora. Do I need to ask for the keys to that Lexus until you can learn some respect?”
    “It might take a long time for me to learn some respect so, yeah, I guess I’ll need to give you the keys to my car.”
    “It’s my car,” Daddy reminds me. “I believe I pay for that Lexus, baby girl .”
    My mother graduates to phase two of “the look,” which is more stern and menacing. By now I’m good and tired of them treating me like a surly teenager.
    Or am I acting like a surly teenager? I don’t even know.
    I only know my face burns so hot I can hardly stand it. I can hardly breathe. Betty comes back into the room with a bowl of buttery mashed baby red potatoes. She must feel the palpable tension in the air. She scurries out of the dining room to get the next portion of food.
    Miles tries to play peacemaker. “I don’t think you’ll need to take the keys to the Lexus, sir. Zora is just stressed, that’s all.” He gives me one of his Denzel smiles, complete with the Hollywood caps. I think I should be happy I’ve got this good, handsome man having dinner with my parents and asking me if I’m okay. I try to breathe. I try hard.
    “I have a lot of work to do,” I say when I can speak.
    Daddy waves away my comment. “I told you, Zorie, you don’t have to worry your pretty head about that. The newsletter will get done. That’s why I have a visual arts staff.”
    I try very hard to keep my voice even. “It’s my job to do the newsletter. It’s my job to do most of the graphic design at LLCC, or at least it used to be, Daddy. It’s what I get paid for.”
    He winks at me. “Being the bishop’s daughter has its benefits.”
    I bristle at the word bishop . Nobody made Daddy a bishop. One day he told us God had elevated his position. Deacons suddenly became associate pastors—as did my mother—and Daddy was suddenly a bishop. He didn’t have to answer or explain. We simply held a lovely service in his honor, and we gave him outrageous gifts and offerings.
    “I prefer to do my work myself,” I say.
    “Well, I prefer if you enjoy the leisure that I’ve paved the way for you to have, in the same way you enjoy your Prada and … who is it, Mother?” he asks Mama.
    “Kate Spade.”
    He nods briskly, approving of her answer but not mine.
    I have no recourse. Daddy pays my salary. Daddy pays for my car. Daddy gives me gifts. Daddy pays for the gifts Mama gives me. Everything in my life belongs to Daddy. I’m Daddy’s girl in ways I never realized.
    I stand up. Miles stands up, ever the gentleman, looking confused. I fish in my handbag for my car keys and plunk them on the table. In fact, I toss that Kate Spade designer bag on the floor. He paid for that, too.
    “Thanks for the use of your car, Daddy. Thanks for everything, but I think I’m going to choose on my own like I should have done instead of going to Spelman.”
    He bolts up from his chair. “Zora Nella Johnson, just what do you think you’re doing?” I noticed he didn’t include my mother’s maiden name before Johnson.
    I don’t answer him. I’m too busy leaving. He may not have noticed I walked out on him at church, but now I’ve made my statement. This time