The Naughty Sins Of A Saint (26 page)

“Now, let me get some things straight with you right from the gate. My daughters are my main concern. They’re the reason why I get up in the mornin’ – them, my son, and my grandbaby. Anybody, and I mean anybody, that tries to screw ’em over will deal with me. I don’t know you from a can of paint. What I do know is that you ain’t Black, and according to Porsche and Xenia’s friend, Stacy, you’re some sort of sex man. I don’t know if you’re a pimp or what you are, but I can see through you. You grabbed my daughter and married her before she could even think straight.”

“That really isn’t how it…”

 “I know you’re up to something. You may have her fooled, but not me,” Pam continued as she sat back in the chair, crossing her swollen ankles that were covered with thick, knotty, bluish-green varicose veins. Now, I want you to tell me why you messed wit’ my daughter. I want you to tell me where the hell you came from and what you want.” Pam’s face was stern. Saint licked his lips and clasped his hands together as he leaned forward.

“I love your daughter, Ms. Donnellson. I actually…”

“I can see what she saw in you. You’re quite the looker – handsome, pretty actually. Pretty men can’t be trusted as far as your tall ass can be thrown. Go ahead,” Pam said as she waved her hand.

“I don’t expect many people to believe me when I say that I love Xenia, but I do. I asked her to marry me because I love her. I’m attracted to her, she has a great personality, we have a lot in common, and…”

“Pshhh! What the hell could you possibly have in common with my daughter, Stunt? Besides your voice, nothing about you looks or sounds Black.”

“Ms. Donnellson, having something in common with someone doesn’t always begin with race. Your daughter and I are both in the limelight. We both understand how this business works. We both want the same things in life. We understand each other. We enjoy similar music and entertainment, and we complete one another.”

“Just when I think you can’t say anything dumber, you keep talkin’. I see you rehearsed before you brought your ass over here,” Pam said. “Do you realize that Xenia is a Black business woman, Stunt? She’s the first of our family to go to college. There are brothas trying to get with my daughter 24-7! She’s Black! We believe in the Black family. I have no idea why in the hell she would bring your ass up in here! All that stuff you just said sounds real good and all, but you ain’t from her hood, you don’t know where she grew up, and you don’t understand Black culture because you ain’t Black! I find it insultin’ that you’re even here, really. What do you want with my daughter? Is this a sex thing? You could’ve gotten someone else to take care of that for you!”

“No, it’s not a sex thing. We have an actual relationship that surpasses that,” Saint sighed. “I know that Xenia is a Black business woman. I love that about her. I also know she’s college educated. So am I. I have a PhD.”

“Well, goody for you.” Pam rolled her eyes.

 “The brothas may be trying to get with your daughter 24-7, but she chose me. Those same brothas didn’t wife her up, I did. I don’t want a baby mama. I want my wife and mother of my children. For me, I needed them to be one in the same.” Saint looked closely at Pam, his eyes narrowing in on her. “My profession isn’t a pimp. I’m a sex therapist, public speaker, activist, and author. I deal primarily with interracial unions and sexual relationships. I know I could’ve gotten someone else, but I didn’t want someone else. I wanted your daughter.”

Pam sat back farther in her chair, smiling as she took a drag from her cigarette. She crossed her legs, her ashy foot swung back and forth in pink flip flops.

“Saint, huh?” she said with a wide smile. “That’s an unusual name. I asked you before, what’s your race? I can see you’re not white, at least not completely. I guess things could be worse. You could be white,” she said with a chuckle.

“Ms. Donnellson, I highly doubt you care what race I am. All you care about is what race I’m not,” Saint said, a slight frown budding across his face.

“You need a trophy for that little observation! You’re damn right.” Pam blew smoke out the side of her mouth and smiled. “There’s a bunch of chocolate brothas around that could’ve married my daughter and gave me chocolate grandbabies. For whatever crazy reason – and I hope it wasn’t because of how you look, because I can see how a woman could get caught up in that – Xenia decided to allow this shit to happen. She’s always been smart. I never had problems out of my daughters. This disappoints the shit out of me, but she’s grown. You must be layin’ it down because I can’t understand this,” Pam said. “Good sex will make us do some foolish shit, and I think that’s what’s happened here.”

“Ms. Donnellson, do you want your daughter to be happy?” Saint asked.

“What kind of dumb ass question is that? Of course I do,” Pam snapped.

“Well, she found happiness with me. So, you need to be proud about that instead of disappointed. I treat her well, and I love her. I thought that’s what a parent would want for their child. Am I missing something here? Would you prefer she be with a Black man who doesn’t treat her right, but just as long as he’s Black, everything is copasetic? So, he could treat her horribly, but he’s Black, so everything is cool? Now I’ve sat here and let you have your say. I’ve been respectful and let you disrespect me from the moment I showed up. I’d never want to disrespect my wife’s mother, but you’re really pushing me. And my name is Saint.”

“Pushin’ you? This is my mothafuckin’ house, and if you don’t like it, Mr. Cheech and Chong, you can get on a banana boat and peel out, ol’ Yo-quiero-Taco-Bell-lottery-ticket-sellin’-at-the-Seven-Eleven-lookin’ mothafucka!” Pam yelled.

Saint paused, then burst out laughing. Pam looked at him and started laughing too as she put out her cigarette.

“Cheech and Chong? Banana Boat?” he laughed again as he laid back on the couch. “I hadn’t heard that one before. That’s pretty damn funny. I’m not Hispanic, but that was funny,” Saint said as he continued to laugh. A deck of dog-eared playing cards were stacked on a floral print TV tray on the other side of the sunken in couch. Saint stood up and picked up the deck of cards. He saw another folding chair and picked it up, then put the tray in between himself and Pam and sat down in the folding chair.

“You want to play Spades?” he asked as he shuffled the cards. Pam laughed and drummed her long dark-red nails on the tray.

“What do you know about Spades?” she asked, cackling, then taking a sip of her coffee. Saint smiled and shuffled the deck again. He placed it between the two of them. Pam drew the first card and looked at it. She put the card down then drew another.

“You sound like you’re from New York. Are you?” Pam asked as she continued to look down at the cards.

“Yes,” Saint said as he took his turn. “Born in the Bronx, raised in Brooklyn.”

“I went to New York once,” Pam said with a smile. “I told myself I was gonna move there but never did. I liked it.” Pam then picked up a Men’s Fitness magazine she had face down on her tray and thumbed through it. “This article didn’t say where you were from, or I must’ve missed it. I decided I needed to read up on you before Xenia brought your ass over here. Impressive,” Pam said as she flicked ashes into the ashtray.

Saint drew his fourth card. He then placed his cards face down on the table and took out his wallet. He removed a hundred dollar bill and placed it on the table. Saint returned the wallet to his pocket and continued to play. Pam looked at the crisp bill and burst out laughing.

“I see you want to lose your money today. I was gonna take it easy on you, but now that you’ve upped the ante, that plan is out the window,” she laughed. Pam looked up at Saint, observing him as she watched him look at his cards.

“I play to win,” Saint said with a wide grin. Pam looked at him, mulling over what he had just said.

“Why did you marry my daughter so fast, Saint? Is she pregnant?” Pam asked, looking down as she drew more cards.

“Because I didn’t see a reason to wait,” Saint answered while he waited for her to choose her last card. “And no, she isn’t pregnant.”

“So how does your family feel about you bein’ married to a Black woman?” Pam asked, looking over her thirteen cards carefully. “From the article, it appears all you talk about is Black women and sex.” Pam rolled her eyes.

“My true friends and family are fine with it. No one expected me to do anything differently, that is, marry a Black woman.”

Pam popped a piece of gum in her mouth then continued. “Do you want a piece? It’s forbidden fruit – I mean, juicy fruit,” she offered as she smirked. Saint nodded and held his hand out as she placed the silver wrapped rectangle in his palm. Pam took notice of his wedding band and turned away.

“Forbidden fruit, huh?” Saint said with a grin. “Did you think that one all by yourself?” he asked sarcastically.

“Well, you must have mad game and swagger because you got my very level-headed, headstrong daughter to marry you in less than a week or two. I’ve never heard of her doin’ anythin’ so foolish in all her life. If it’s not the sex, she must love you. That would be the only explanation. Either that or you put some kind of spell on her,” Pam said.

“I can assure you I didn’t put a spell on her,” Saint said blandly.

“What did Xenia tell you about me – about her childhood?” Pam asked, her lips turned downward.

“She said you were a good mother and did the best you could as a single mom with three children. She didn’t have much to say about her father.”

“We’ve been through a lot as a family. And let me tell you something – I’ve never asked my daughter for a dime. I’ve refused to accept money from her unless somethin’ was getting ready to be shut off. She tried to move me outta here, closer to her, but I refused. I’m not ridin’ on her coattails. She’s my child, not the other way around. Family’s important – the Black family especially.”

“You can support your daughter’s marriage and still support Black family, Ms. Donnellson. Xenia is still very much in love with her culture and heritage. Who she happened to fall in love with has nothing to do with it. Who you love or don’t love doesn’t make you more or less loyal,” Saint said.

“How can someone support the Black family while marryin’ someone who isn’t Black? That’s not supportin’ the Black family at all. That’s tearin’ it down. I feel like I went wrong somewhere with Xenia, considerin’ this shit. I never talked bad about other races to her, well, ’cept them damn Mexicans, but I raised her to uphold her race and not betray it. What she’s done is a betrayal, and ain’t nothin’ you can say gonna make that untrue,” Pam said angrily.

“First of all, when it comes to African-Americans, there is no Black race. Do you realize that most of you have white, Native American, and some even Latino and Asian blood? The African-American race isn’t one hundred percent Black, and without racial mixing, most of you here in this country wouldn’t even exist.”

Pam rolled her eyes. “You gotta come better than that, Stunt, I mean, Saint. We’re still Black, no matter how you turn it around, and you know it’s true or you wouldn’t be so obsessed with Black people,” she said.

 “Look at you, Ms. Donnellson. Look at your complexion. You’re not much darker than me. Xenia is brown-skinned, not dark-skinned, and definitely not light. Yes, light-skinned Africans exist, but they weren’t the majority in West Africa where the slave trade originated. The shape of your nose even tells on you and Xenia. I’m really tired of hearing this ‘protect the Black race’ shit. Instead of focusing on who Black women are marrying, you need to be focusing on what your children are learning and making sure you choose good fathers to have those children with in the first place.”

“You’re an outsider lookin’ in with a Black woman fetish! You didn’t think my ghetto ass knew what a fetish was, did you? Xenia got her brains from somewhere. It sure as hell wasn’t from her deadbeat, dumbass father!” Pam said.

“And whose fault was that? You chose him,” Saint shrugged. “I see that old picture of you on the wall there. You were beautiful. I know men were coming after you. You probably ignored other suitors who may not have been Black or cool enough for you. You chose to sleep with a man who wasn’t shit, and now you want to dog him out when you knew he wasn’t shit the first day you met him. Did his being Black help you and your children? Did his Blackness make the relationship successful? Did his Blackness help ensure that your children ate and had a roof over their head?” Saint asked sarcastically.

Pam raised her eyebrow and laughed.

“Oh, my, aren’t you somethin’?” She said, then spit her gum out into the wrapper.

“It’s easy to look elsewhere and place blame and say you’re doing it in the name of maintaining the Black race, but if you really cared about that, you’d look within instead,” Saint snapped. “I have no problem with people wanting to preserve and uphold their race, but you brought up protecting the Black family in a conversation about your daughter’s and my marriage. That’s bullshit. I don’t give a damn anymore that you’re Xenia’s mother. You came raw at me, and so here are the consequences.”

‘This shit must run in the family,’ Saint thought.

Pam glared at him, holding her cards steady and remaining silent.

“I’m a good husband trying to be great. I love your daughter more than words could ever express. That’s all I care about as it pertains to your daughter, Ms. Donnellson. I just want her to be happy. Too bad you don’t feel the same.”

“I don’t know about you, Saint, but I’m startin’ to warm up to you a bit,” Pam laughed.