Sweet Violet and a Time for Love (10 page)

“Don't touch those cookies.” Leon playfully swatted at my hand which was reaching for his signature dessert. “They're for the dinner at your mother's house tomorrow. You know we have to go there with a peace offering since we kept them from coming tonight.” We'd decided that Roman should know the news first before bringing in my mother, father, and sister in on the announcement.

“You could make a living off of these.” I ignored him and broke off half of one. My words were meant to be encouragement, but I saw the shadow fall over his eyes.

His bakery by the Inner Harbor had hit some bumps in the road. Not as many customers as the summertime, plus a recent snowstorm had forced him to close the shop for nearly a week. Missing a week's worth of sales would hurt any business, especially one as new and unsteady as Leon's.

I'd hated that I had attacked him on that matter the Sunday we first argued about my insistence on finding Sweet Violet. Though I'd since apologized and offered encouragement every chance I could, I still always saw the shadow, the sadness, the hurt in his eyes.

This marriage business was hard.

I'd thought my marriage, or whatever it was, to Roman's father, RiChard, had been difficult, but he hadn't been there. The loneliness, the pain had been what was difficult. The marriage itself was easy because you don't have to go through the difficulty of working through issues with an absent person.

“It will get better,” I offered again as Leon mashed—no, pounded—a pan full of peeled and boiled potatoes.

A knock sounded at the door.

“He's here already?” My face wrinkled, not because I wasn't glad to see my son. I'd imagined and rehearsed how the evening would go, how we would tell him, and how he would respond. The early knock was not part of the script.

“Roman.” Leon opened the door and greeted him with an elaborate handshake and fist bump.

“Hey, Ma.” Roman came over to me and bent down to kiss my cheek. “Something smells good in here. Where's everybody?”

“Everybody?” I walked behind him, reclosing all the pans and containers he began opening while he spoke.

“You know, Grandma, Pop-Pop, Aunt Yvette, and . . .”
Skee-Gee
. I knew his cousin's name was next on his lips, but Skee-Gee still had several months before his release from jail this time. “And my cousins and Uncle Demari?” He finished up to include Yvette's four other children and new husband.

“They're not coming.” I looked over at Leon who nodded back with reassurance.

Roman dropped a pan lid to the floor and it clanged and clashed like a bag full of metal bricks. “What do you mean they're not coming? We have Christmas dinner together as a family every year.” His eyes darted around the room as if our family members were hiding and were about to step out from behind unseen curtains.

“We haven't seen you all semester and just wanted to share some time with you alone before everyone starts calling for you to come over their homes. It's our first Christmas as a family.” I offered a smile, but could tell from Roman's sudden frozen state that he was not pleased. I picked up the lid, trying to understand his angst.

“Aw, man.” He shook his head. “I was really hoping to catch everyone so I could give my updates one time.”

“Well, you'll be able to share whatever it is you have to share at Grandma's house. Grandma is fixing a Caribbean-themed Christmas dinner for all of us.”

“Is she still trying to drop hints to Pop-Pop that she wants to go on a cruise?”

“I think those hints have gone from dropped to pounded. But her hints have paid off. She doesn't know yet, but your grandfather has already booked a ten-day cruise for the two of them to the Bahamas in the spring.”

“Good for her. I know I promised to send you on a cruise for your fortieth birthday next month.” Roman pulled an ear, looked down. “But it looks like those plans will have to be put on hold for the moment.”

“Roman, you are a sophomore in college working a part-time job. I never expected for you to pay for a cruise. That's why I have Leon.” I winked at my husband. “Cruises can be a lot of money for a college student.”

“It's not about the money.” Roman still pulled on his ear, still looked down. Leon raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, not that I'm worried about you giving me a cruise, but, what do you mean?”

“Look, I'd rather talk about it all at Grandma's house. Like I said earlier, I really only want to share my news one time. Get everyone's questions and offer answers at one setting.”

“Roman, you said ‘updates' before. Now you are saying news. What is going on?” I looked over at Leon, trying to ignore the alarm ringing somewhere in my chest.
What's going on?
Roman seemed to be avoiding eye contact with both of us.

“Ma, I'll go over everything at Grandma's house tonight.”

“Her dinner is not until tomorrow. She respected, somewhat, that Leon and I wanted to have Christmas Eve dinner together with just the three of us.” I glanced over at Leon again, who had stopped basting the turkey and had his full attention on me and Roman. “She said she would start a new family tradition and have her dinner on Christmas Day now instead of Christmas Eve. So, you're going to have to wait until tomorrow to share with the rest of the family your ‘news,' but you can share whatever it is with me and Leon right now.” I crossed my arms.

Roman still avoided eye contact. He'd gone from pulling his earlobe to rubbing the back of his head.

And then he dropped his arm, straightened up, and looked me square in the eyes.

“I did not know Grandma's dinner had been changed to tomorrow. I'm going to miss it. I have a flight out first thing in the morning. It was cheaper to fly on Christmas Day.”

“Wha . . . Huh?” I felt my head pop backward. “You just got here. I thought your winter break wasn't over until mid-January. Why would you fly all the way from San Diego just to turn around and go back? And on Christmas Day at that?”

“I'm not going back to San Diego.” His voice was monotone.

“Where are you going?” This from Leon, who had put the baster down and now joined us in the kitchen nook. His eyes were just as much on me as they were on Roman.

“India.” Roman let the word settle in our ears.

“Indawho?” I gasped.

“Bangaluru, India.” Roman glared at me like I'd done something to him. “Like I said, my flight leaves first thing in the morning, though it's going to take almost two days to get there. I have connecting flights in Canada and Germany.”

“Roman, what the—”

“Whoa, wait a minute.”

Leon and I spoke at the same time, though Leon sounded calm and my voice had gone up several octaves. I held up my hand.

“Okay, where do I even begin with this? Roman, what on earth are you talking about? Flying to India? Bangla . . . whatever you just said, India? What the heck?”

My mother had not raised me to be a cussing woman, but, Lord Jesus, I was as close as I had ever been at that moment.

“It's Bangaluru. Bangaluru, India.” Roman glared.

“And what exactly is going on there that you have to fly out tomorrow morning?”

“It's not what. It's who.” His voice dropped, and so did his eyes.

“Does this involve a girl, Roman?” Leon sounded. Though he was still calm, I could hear a slight elevation in his tone. Slight.

“She's not a girl. She's a woman, a lady. I'm going there to meet her family.”

“So, she's Indian. You're traveling to meet her family during your break.” Okay, maybe this wasn't going to be that bad. Roman rarely talked to me about girls, excuse me, women. Had to be serious. But, India though?

“Her name is Changuna. It means ‘a good woman.' I met her at my school.”

It was the way he said it. Like all our questions had been answered. Like he'd just said all we needed to know and everything was now okay.

“So, she's a fellow student and you're spending winter break with her in India.” Leon shrugged, turned back to the turkey, baster back in hand.

Like this was really not a big deal.

I didn't know this “Changuna the good” and I knew even less about India.

“How are you paying for this trip?” I hadn't even begun to ask my questions. “Roman, I had to help you out just to get here from California. A roundtrip to Bangladesh has to be what, at least three grand?”

Now, Roman had the nerve to frown up his face even more.

“Not Bangladesh. Bangaluru.” His voice began fading away, but not before I heard him utter this last sentence. “And it's not a roundtrip.”

A crash sounded from the far side of the kitchen where Leon had retreated. The pan full of mashed potatoes lay upturned on the tile floor with several cooking utensils falling down beside it. Leon seemed oblivious to the mess he'd just created as he marched back to where Roman and I stood in the kitchen nook. “What do you mean it's not roundtrip?”

Roman bit his lip, but then seemed to stand taller, talk stronger.

“It's not a roundtrip because I'm going to be staying there for a while. You're right, Ma. It is an expensive flight, and since the ticket was paid for by someone else, I figured the least I could do is find the cheapest flight; hence the holiday travel and the two-day trek.”

“So how and when does this new girlfriend of yours come back to the States to start the spring semester? Whoever bought your ticket didn't see fit to ensure that you resume your studies as well?” Leon drilled him.

“I never said she was a student. You did.”

Now, the only reason I had grown quiet was due to the fact that my tongue felt literally locked. Stuck to the roof of my mouth. Cemented. When it did loosen, I knew that it was not going to be pretty.

“You said you met her at school.” Leon paused between each word.

“That is correct.” Roman nodded. “She was a guest lecturer for one of my technology classes.”

“Lecturer? Wait, she's out of school already? How old is she?” Leon inched closer to him.

Roman took a few steps back. “I mean, she's a couple of years older than me, but not anything really noticeable.”

“So, I'm assuming that she is the one who bought your ticket,” Leon continued.

Roman nodded.

“And her parents are okay with all of this? Do they even know that you are coming, or are you just going to be popping up at their front door?” My husband crossed his arms, his muscles tight, rippling.

“Her parents?” Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, her parents,” Leon challenged back. “You said that you were meeting her family.”

“Oh, yes, I am, but not her parents. I don't know if I'll ever meet them, nor do I want to.”

Leon raised both eyebrows.

“I'm meeting her kids,” Roman explained. “At least that's what we're hoping.”

“Kids?” Leon looked over at me. My tongue was still locked.

“Yes. She has a seventeen-year-old son and a fifteen-year-old daughter.”

My eyes fluttered. I grabbed ahold of a wooden chair, gripped the top to keep myself from falling over.

“Roman, you'll be twenty-one in March, just four years older than her son.” Leon kept his poise while my tongue remained under combination lock and key. “Exactly how old is this woman?” he inquired.

“Look.” Roman shook his head and sighed. “This isn't how I was going to tell you two. I had planned on telling the entire family all at once so I would not have to repeat answers to the many questions I know all of you will have. Changuna is a United States citizen and has been one for the past thirteen years. She was helped out by a charity that assisted her with running away from a forced marriage to an abusive man thirty years her senior. She was only fourteen when her parents took her out of school and made her marry a wealthy farmer in their rural village. She had her son ten months after marrying, lost a baby, and then had her daughter. She managed to escape, but doing so meant leaving behind her children with an aunt she's since lost contact with.

“Changuna has worked hard to get her education. She earned two degrees from Stanford in computer science and sociology, and an MBA from Harvard. She's a frequent guest speaker and lecturer at business schools across the country and is focused on developing technology to help at-risk girls and women in third-world countries receive education.”

“We're still trying to understand what any of this has to do with you having a one-way trip to India.” Leon's arms were still crossed. I was glad that Leon said “we.” I wasn't alone in this.

“Bangaluru is like India's Silicon Valley. She's starting a tech company there with the hopes of somehow helping girls who may otherwise be subjected to becoming child brides, including her own daughter whom she has not talked to or heard about for over seven years.”

“And all of this has to do what with you?” Leon pried again.

“I'm going over there to help her. We're going to be business partners. She's saved up enough to fly both of us over there and pay rent for a few months while we get up and running. She has a lot of investment capital to get us started.”

“School,” Leon stated flatly. The word echoed through the kitchen as I shut my eyes and recalled being an eighteen-year-old college dropout to follow Roman's father around the world.

Worst mistake of my life.

I opened my eyes and stared at my son who was the spitting image of the man who contributed to his DNA, black curls and all.