Fixin’ Tyrone (23 page)

Everything was perfect. Mia couldn’t have asked for more. But still, she wasn’t happy. She hated how even miles away Tyrone was still able to ruin her date, but halfway through their meal Mr. Manitou decided to ruin it himself.

“You are not eating much,” he said. “Is something troubling you?”

Mia sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be distracted. I have things on my mind.”

“It is probably work. You do not go very long without thinking about the office.”

Mia smiled.

“Is it something you would like to talk to me about?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “It’s nothing, really.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m thinking about you now. Just you.”

He grinned. “I like that. Tell me, do you think you might be interested in going with me to Africa on my next vacation?”

“That’s a big trip,” Mia said. “I hope I have a lot of time to get to know you before then.”

“Oh, yes. I was definitely speaking of the distant future. You would love it. There are many beautiful women there. But none quite as beautiful as you are tonight.”

“Hey, flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased. “My son would like Africa. He’s wanted to go since the first time he saw a cheetah chase a gazelle.”

“Your son?”

“Yes, my son, and my daughter. Don’t tell me you didn’t know I have children.”

“Yes, of course I knew. I did my share of research before taking on this venture.”

“Good,” Mia said. “For a minute there I thought this was going to turn into an awkward moment.”

“I would like to know about your children,” he said. “What are their ages?”

“My son’s name is TC. He’s nine. My daughter is Mica. She’s seven. They’re very beautiful. And smart. You’d like them.”

“I’m sure I would,” Mr. Manitou said. “I like children. Your son, why do you call him TC?”

“His name is Tyrone Christopher. I call him TC for short.”

“That is nice. Everything gets a nickname in America.”

Mia smiled.

“Tell me something,” Mr. Manitou said. “Your children, their father is your ex-husband?”

“No,” Mia said. “I wasn’t married to either of my children’s fathers. I’ve never been married.” This news wasn’t always a big deal to most of Mia’s dates, but the analyst responded like she’d just grown a third eye.

“You have
two
children by
two
different men and you were not married to either of them?”

Oh, God
, Mia thought,
He’s going to be one of them
. But she had no idea.

“I had my children when I was younger, Mr. Manitou. I was a young girl, a different girl. But after they were born I stil
l
went to school. I busted my ass and I graduated. I’m doing well for myself. Maybe my children were not conceived under ideal circumstances, but I love them and don’t consider them mistakes.”

Mr. Manitou still looked confused. “These . . .
men
, they are still around? You see them still?”

Mia was getting a little ticked off by this line of questioning. “My daughter’s father is dead, so, no. I don’t see him anymore. My son’s father just got out of prison a little over a month ago. He’s been coming by to see TC. So yeah, I do see
him
. I saw
him
today, as a matter of fact.” She was getting more and more heated. Mia knew she was about to redline. What Mr. Manitou said next would determine whether she gave a damn or not.

“This is not good,” he said. “I do not believe this will work.”

“Why, whatever do you mean?” she asked politely.

“Mia, I will be honest: I am surprised by this information. This is something I was not aware of. You do not seem like the sort of woman who would do these things.”

“Do what, Mr. Babatunde?
Have sex?
I don’t seem like the kind of woman who would
have sex?
Well, don’t worry about it. I sure as hell ain’t
having sex
with an asshole like you.”

The analyst looked around nervously. “Mia, I will have to ask you to lower your voice. And watch your language.”

“
Babatunde
, you don’t tell me what to do.” She gave him a onceover. “You got
some
nerve, you know that. You ask
me
out, then condemn me for something I did
ten
years ago. You don’t know me. You have no idea who I am or what sort of woman I am.”

“Yes, I believe I now know
exactly
what type of woman you are,” he snapped.

Mia flicked her plate. She did not throw it. She did not swing it. She merely grabbed it with two hands and lifted it from the table with a quick motion, and at a distinct angle. When she stopped the plate’s forward progress, the grilled salmon, prepared according to the chef’s whim, accompanied with mixed vegetables, continued its route. Most of it landed on Mr. Manitou’s face. The rest splashed on his nice white shirt.

A few nearby patrons watched in disdain. An elderly woman gasped. Mr. Manitou let out a startled yelp that was both depressing and satisfying. He wiped sautéed onions from his eyes and stared at Mia with a look of abject horror. She casually picked up her wine glass and downed it in one swallow.

They stared at each other in complete silence for what felt like a whole minute.

A waiter approached their table cautiously with a bundle of white cloths in hand.

“Napkin, sir?”

Mia smiled. That would have been nice, but not too kosher. She already broke a windshield this year. That crazed act would have to last her.

So instead of throwing her poisson du jour, Mia stared at Mr. Manitou defiantly, then took one last sip of her wine.

“Enjoy your meal,” she said and then stood graciously, gathered her flowers, and left the restaurant. Mr. Manitou stared after her, as neat and clean as he was when she arrived.

Mia got into the car laughing. By the time she hit the freeway she was crying, but the tears were gone when she got home.

And damned if Tyrone’s car wasn’t sitting in her driveway.

* * *

Mia waited down the street for a few minutes, hoping he would leave and not see her, but his car didn’t move. From where she was parked, Mia couldn’t see her own front door. She didn’t know if Tyrone was in the car or in the house or in the doorway or coming or going. But the longer she sat there, the more frustrated she became. Finally, Mia asked herself why she was avoiding her own house. Men had been making her life miserable as of late, but she’d be damned if they’d make her uncomfortable on her own property.

She drove up to her driveway just as Tyrone was backing out. She waited for him, and then took the spot he vacated. Rather than continue on his way, Tyrone parked next to the curb, just as she knew he would. Mia opened her door, and he was standing there by the time she got out.

“What do you want, Tyrone?”

“Those some nice flowers,” he said.

“Okay, thanks. What do you want?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She looked into his eyes. They were warm and comforting, as usual. He looked genuinely concerned, which was funny to her for some reason. She chuckled. “You’re

some piece of work.”

“Why you say that?”

“Do you have a curse on me, or what?”

Tyrone shook his head. “Naw, I ain’t got no curse on you. Why you think that?”

“’Cause since you’ve been back, since you gave that declaration of love, I’ve been having big-time problems with men. You said nothing would work out for me, right? I think you put a hex on me. You know, I haven’t had sex since you got out.”

“I haven’t either,” Tyrone said. He still looked serious, not a glint of happiness on his face.

“Yeah, right,” Mia said. She felt drunk, though she only had one glass of wine.

“I said I was gon’ wait for you, and I am,” he said. “You don’t have to believe me.
I
know the truth.”

But Mia did believe him.

“All right, Tyrone,” she said. “Where do you want to take me for our
date
?”

“Oh, you wanna go out with me now?”

“Yes. I want to go out with you. You wore me down.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to go out with you ’cause you
wore down
. I want you to go out with me, ’cause you see I’m a good man. A good man who’ll love you and never treat you bad.”

“Is that what you are?”

“I ain’t go’ no money,” he said. “But
I am
a good man.”

Mia smiled. “Well, I could use a hug from a
good man.
”

Tyrone closed the distance between them and held her like he’d been waiting on the embrace for six years. He did not grab her butt and he did not kiss her. He simply clung to her for a full five minutes, sometime during which Mia dropped her flowers. They would remain in her driveway until morning.

* * *

When she got inside, the kids were ready for bed. Mia read them five chapters of a Scooby Doo mystery and tucked them in tenderly. They were precious, and beautiful, and if she could go back in time and have them all over again, she would.

FIXIN’ MIA

Tyrone showed up Sunday afternoon at 3:00 p.m. He wore dark blue denim jeans that were starched and neat. He had on a white Polo golf shirt, and it was actually tucked in. He had on a pair of Polo boots that looked new. He was clean-shaven and had apparently been using a wave cap: a sea of ripples cascaded from the back to the front of his head. Mia answered the door herself, and was very impressed.

“You look nice, Tyrone.”

“You look good too, Mia.”

She wore white twill shorts, a short-sleeved linen blouse and white low-top sneakers. Her blouse was a beautiful baby blue. She wore it unbuttoned and untucked with a white camisole underneath. She didn’t think there was anything special about her outfit, but once again Tyrone looked her up and down like she was dressed to the nines.

“You look like a model,” he said.

“It’s just shorts, Tyrone.”

“I know, but no matter what you got on, you’re beautiful. I like how you dress for work, and that dress you had on the other day was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Even now, you’re not wearing anything special, but

you’re awesome, fresh, and vibrant.”

“
Fresh and vibrant
?”

“I’ve been reading Essence,” Tyrone admitted.

Mia laughed. “Why are y’all having a family reunion this time of year?” she asked.

“It’s really my grandma’s birthday,” he said. “It’s the only birthday the whole family gets together for. We still have a family reunion in the summer.”

“What’d you get her?” Mia asked.

“A microwave.”

“
A microwave?
”

“Yeah. She’s had the same one since before I got locked up. It’s not even digital. I’m trying to bring her into the twenty-first century.”

“That’s a good gift,” Mia said. “I didn’t know it was going to be a birthday party. We’re going to have to stop somewhere so I can get her something, too.”

“You cool,” Tyrone said. “The microwave’s from both of us. I already put your name on the card.”

“That’s nice,” Mia said. “Okay, let me get the kids, and we’re ready to go.”

“You know she lives in Cleburne, right?”

Mia didn’t know that, but decided not to let it ruin her day.

* * *

Cleburne, Texas, is about thirty miles south of Overbrook Meadows. It’s a quaint little town, but not a place Mia would ever have reason to visit if not for Tyrone. She couldn’t imagine living there. Not only was Cleburne small, but it was borderline desolate. Driving there from the big city, you would see an immediate shift in scenery once you passed Alvarado. The buildings got smaller and smaller and more spread apart. Soon you would see no buildings at all, just rolling hills, dense tree lines, and enough land for all the illegal immigrants in the United States.

When power lines started to pop up again, you knew you were getting close, but you still had to pay attention. If you went too fast you would miss the whole city. Cleburne boasted a population of 29,000. Main Street was only eight blocks long, and that was the whole downtown. There was only one movie theatre in Cleburne, and one bowling alley. The two fancy restaurants there were Chili’s and Applebee’s.

The kids had never seen so many horses and goats in people’s front yards, so Mia drove slowly and let them gawk. When Tyrone pointed to a rundown shack with a real, live chicken coop beside it and said, “There it is,” Mia thought he was kidding.