When You Come to Me (49 page)

Natalie tried to assure him that all she wanted to do was marry him, and all the frills and fancies of the wedding didn’t matter to her.

But they did.

She internally admitted that she was one of those girls who hung a pillowcase off the back of her head, pretending as she were a bride, marrying whatever snot-nosed boy she had a crush on at the time. She’d always wanted the dream wedding, always wanted the big, white princess dress, always wanted to get married in the church she grew up in. But, as she watched her fiancé fumble through his financial records, as if he were trying to search for some hidden money that he’d stashed away and forgotten about, she couldn’t help but feel her heart fall at the sight, watching those dreams crumble right before her eyes.

“Two thousand isn’t a lot,” Brandon began, as they got ready for bed. “But, we can make it work, can’t we? I mean, I know my way around a computer, we can make invitations on there, and Maya’s pretty nifty, she can do flower arrangements and stuff like that…”

“Sure…” she agreed, climbing into bed beside him.

He pulled her near him, exhaled when they got settled, and he reached over and turned off his lamplight.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he whispered to her in the darkness, sensing her unease. “We can make this work…”

Sure, they could. If they could dump their significant others at the drop of a hat just to be together, curse at their parents, create a scene in front of hundreds of guests at an anniversary dinner, then they could definitely make this work…

She told Jo about her financial woes while en route to Decatur for Christmas. She’d taken off two weeks from work to be with her family and she planned on enjoying it, and, in the process, trying to convince her mother that Brandon was still the person that she intended to spend the rest of her life with.

“That’s a sticky situation,” Joanna Greene said with a sigh. “But, what you should realize is, is the fact that not every wedding has to be the huge, grand affair that we all dream about…in the end, it’s about you and Brandon…it may not be what you dreamed of, but being surrounded by your friends and family and the love of your life should be enough satisfaction…”

Although Jo made so much sense, she couldn’t help but feel the same, considering herself spoiled, childish and selfish, knowing that Brandon was putting up twice as much money as she was and yet she still wanted more.

But she kept quiet. She knew that that would be the best thing, knew that it would keep the tension at bay, and she tried to convince herself that it was just one day…just one day…

Brandon elected to spend the holidays with her and her family in Georgia, and she thought that they’d made progress when Helen hesitantly agreed to let him stay on the couch in the den.

“He won’t enjoy himself,” Helen huffed, fumbling around in the kitchen over Thanksgiving. “Why doesn’t he spend Christmas with his own family? Won’t they miss him sitting at the dining room table in front of a dry turkey and runny cranberry sauce? Won’t they miss him sitting by the marble fireplace, sipping on high-end tea and singing terrible renditions of Christmas carols? Why on earth would he want to miss out on all of that fun?”

“Because he wants to spend the holidays with me,” Natalie said firmly, folding her arms. “He wants the southern Christmas experience…and I think that this is the best place to get that, don’t you, Mama?”

“Fine,” Helen Chandler said. “But does the boy have to stay in the house?”

“Yes, Mama, yes he does. If you’d like, he can sleep in my bed with me…”

Natalie knew that this would irk her mother, and she anticipated the moment that her mother’s lips would curl tightly, as if she were imagining the idea of her daughter’s white fiancé with his arms wrapped around her, kissing and rubbing on her. Oh, what a travesty!

“Natalie Savannah, no such nonsense will go on during Christmas. He’ll sleep on the couch, right in front of the Christmas tree. And he’ll help your grandmother and I put the presents under the tree for your cousins.”

“Nothing else would make him happier, Ma,” Natalie smiled.

Natalie wasn’t sure about how he’d feel about her setting aside a couple hundred dollars for the Seiko watch he’d seen in a shop in Athens, after his old one cracked. She also wasn’t sure about how he’d feel about the extra fifty or so she’d spent on getting the back of it engraved with the initials BDG. She only hoped that he appreciated the gesture, not caring if he got her anything in return. She would completely understand.

He’d flown into the Atlanta airport the night before Christmas Eve and she and Maya went to retrieve him promptly, her, leaping into his arms and kissing his cheeks as if she hadn’t seen him in an extended period of time, him thereafter, giving Maya a hug and a polite kiss on the cheek. They walked to baggage claim with their arms around each other, she, finding it hard to contain her excitement.

This was the first Christmas that they’d ever spent together! This was really happening, wasn’t it? She couldn’t wait to show him all of their traditions, old photos, and coax him into singing Christmas songs like she and her family did every year. Her only worry was her mother.

How would she feel having Brandon around, drinking her homemade eggnog? Eating her honey-baked ham? Sitting by the Christmas tree on Christmas morning? She only hoped that her mother remained placid, that her mother would attach to Brandon’s easiness as much as she had once upon a time.

She soared down West Trinity Place under a starlit sky, held Brandon’s hand over the handbrake as she crossed over College avenue, and headed west up the Ponce de Leon to the suburban forest, near Clarkston, where she could annually smell the burning of wood in the distance, like the burning of kindling in a fireplace. Up a hill and down another, her black Camry disappeared among the fencing of naked trees, her windows fogged from the frost, her music playing lowly, Brandon, running his thumb along her skin, the level of her excitement and her fear rising.

She prayed to God then that her mother didn’t kill him. She prayed to God that they could get through the holiday without her mother saying something mean to him. She’s probably sure that he felt the same way. He was quiet again, reserved again, and she could feel the nervousness in the tension of his hand. She wished then that she weren’t driving. She wished that she could wrap her arms around him, kiss the side of his face and tell him that he shouldn’t worry, that she’d take care of him, for once, as he’d done for her so, so many times before.

She cascaded down another hill, and pulled into the short driveway of her childhood house, with black shutters, moldy brick and a wraparound porch with chipped white paint.

This time, she helped him with his bag, and they entered the house, Brandon, with his arm tossed across Maya’s shoulder, into the low lit and warm interior, that smelled of Mama’s cooking, and a television, blaring from her living room.

“Ma!” Maya called into the house, tossing her purse onto the worn living room sofa, a piece of furniture that she and her sisters spent many years jumping on and off of.

“Mama!” Natalie repeated, placing Brandon’s overnight bag down, reaching for his hand.

Natalie and Maya found their mother over the stove, in the narrow kitchen, with both Aunt Miriam and Aunt June, sitting at the round wooden kitchen table. Maya kissed the side of her mother’s face as Helen said, “Maya, please don’t scream like that, what will I do without that beautiful squeaky voice of yours?”

“Sorry, Ma,” Maya said, placing herself at the table with her aunts.

Helen Chandler then looked at the engaged couple and sighed, simultaneously stirring the boiling pot before her.

“I’m making tomato soup,” she said simply, pursing her brown lips. “I assume that the boy hasn’t eaten since he left New York.”

“No, ma’am, I haven’t…”

“Very well,” Helen said. “Natalie get a plate and set it down at the table for him…”

Natalie did as she was told, heading toward the cabinets above the sink and retrieving a small bowl with blue trim down, and handing it to her mother.

“Thank you,” Helen sighed, scooping a few spoonfuls into the bowl. “Now tell the boy to sit down at the table and stop looking all awkward.”

Brandon did as he was told, and Helen sat the bowl down in front of him, on a red placemat with white snowflakes.

“Good to know that we didn’t run the boy off,” Aunt Miriam said, looking at Aunt June.

Aunt June nodded and said, “He’s a good one, isn’t he, Helen?”

“Do you mind not talking about him like he’s not here?” Maya reminded them, retracting slightly when Helen gave her a cross look.

“I agree with that,” Natalie said quietly, doing the same as her sister when her mother looked in her direction.

“Oh, we meant nothing by it, darlin’,” Aunt Miriam said, patting him on the back. “We were just making an observation…ain’t that right, Juney?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Aunt June said. “Just an observation, baby…”

#

He’d never heard some of the Christmas music that they played on the stereo in the cozy den, adjacent to the kitchen. But he liked it. Especially the Donny Hathaway one called, “This Christmas”, that Natalie sang softly why swiveling her hips gracefully. It was refreshing, and definitely sounded a lot better than hearing “King Wenceslas” each year, in front of a plate of runny mince meat pie and cold, stiff green beans. The song presented itself with warmth, a glow, and a sort of soul that he wasn’t used to…the kind that put him at ease, especially considering that Helen and the two aunts were in the back bedroom. He could barely finish his soup with Helen Chandler, staring at him ardently, like she wanted his head as the centerpiece for dinner on Christmas day. He almost wished that Natalie had stopped rubbing the top of his head (something that gave him pleasure on any ordinary occasion). With each stroke of her fiancée brown hands, Brandon could see her mother get visibly agitated with her. He tried to convince himself then that it was only his mind playing tricks on him. After all, the woman fed him. That in itself seemed a solid step in the right direction.

He sat by the brick fireplace, while Natalie and her sisters wrapped presents by a humble fir, decorated with old ornaments from years past, a few streams of tinsel and balls of red and gold.

“I’m glad Brandon’s here,” Maya began, reaching for the scissors. “So he can finally see how terrible you are at wrapping.”

Brandon couldn’t help but laugh. Of course he couldn’t help but recall the two consecutive Christmases of wrapped boxes with the paper hanging off, and Natalie smiling endearingly as she handed him his present.

“I’m sorry,” she’d said. “I tried…”

Sure, she did. Lucky for her, he was less concerned about the wrapping job and more concerned with the gift, which, she’d always deliver. Natalie was always good for getting him something useful for a gift, something he’d mentioned and didn’t think anyone heard.

Ha, she always did…

“She doesn’t know it,” Sidney began, leaning in as if to keep the information private. “But me and Mama always have to go back and do hers over, because Mama doesn’t want the presents from our house to look bad…”

Natalie stopped dancing, looked down at her older sister, and poked her in the side of the head. “I knew it!”

“Ha, she actually thought that she was good,” Maya chuckled.

“It doesn’t matter how it’s wrapped,” Natalie defended, placing her hands on her hips. “Ain’t that right, Brandon?”

Brandon nodded, grinning slowly. “I can agree with that…”

“Thank you,” his fiancée replied. “He’s basically saying that my gifts are better, too…”

“I didn’t hear that come out of his mouth, Nattie,” Sidney said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, that’s what he meant,” Natalie assured them. “Because I know him…better than anyone else…ain’t that right?”

Hell, yes, he could definitely agree with that. That skinny girl knew him better even when he didn’t want her to, even when he was so mad at her that he couldn’t think straight.

He nodded. “Yes, Tallie, you do…”

“Are you sure you want to marry her?” Maya asked him, arching her right eyebrow, the same way Natalie does when he says something that she thinks is stupid.

Yes, he was quite sure, against all odds. He was even more sure as they stole looks at each other from across the room, her, winking delicately at him, teasing him. He was as sure as his urge to take that girl in his arms that very moment and take her in their own little world, that they rarely escape to anymore. Hell yes, that world that only they understood, that allowed him to kiss those amazing brown lips over and over again with relentless strength and power and passion, smell that vanilla perfumy scent that he’d been detecting on her neck since she was seventeen years old, run his fingers through her soft coarse hair, laugh at the silliness that she only portrayed around him, feeling his heart tighten each time that she whispered that she loved him into his face.

Brandon nodded again. “Yes, I’m sure…”

They retired on the couch, killed the lights, and watched television as the fire in the fireplace died down. Natalie found a home against his chest, and fell asleep sometime after a Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer Claymation movie commenced. After her sisters teased her a little bit, bid him a quick goodnight as they pulled her up by her arms, as she groggily mumbled, “Put me down, you monkeys.”

Maya gathered her sister in her arms, saying, “Come on Nat, get off Brandon’s bed…”

Ha, oh how he wanted her to stay.

The two Chandler sisters proceeded to drag their taller sister down the hallway, but she stopped them suddenly.

“Nat, what in the world are you doin’?” Sidney asked, smiling.

Brandon watched as Natalie turned around, broke away from her sisters, dragging her feet toward him. She then proceeded to fall against him, he, who lay on his back, causing a noise of discomfort to come his mouth.

Natalie took the side of his face and kissed his lips once.

“I forgot to say ‘Goodnight’,” she admitted, smiling at him.

“Oh, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” Maya teased.