“Alright,” he sat up and clasped his hands on the table. “We’re ready. Let’s hear it. What do we owe the pleasure of your company?”
“What?” Asante forced a small laugh.
“You haven’t been calling or coming by often so I feel like it’s safe to assume that there’s a reason you’re gracing us with your presence.”
“Something like that,” Asante sat up in his seat. “I’m not going to beat around the bush or try to make things sound any better than it is. I just want to let you know that I’m getting married, that we’re getting married.” Asante nudged his head toward me. “We’re getting married and I want y’all to come to the wedding.”
Asante’s mother and Nadira both looked at her father. I knew immediately shit was about to go downhill.
“You’re getting married a second time?” He questioned. “To a man?”
“That’s right,” Asante said simply. “I’m getting married for a second time and to a man.” Asante exhaled. “Look. I’m not asking for a blessing or a dowry or for you to jump for joy. I’m just looking you in the eyes like a man and telling you what I’m doing. You can come or you can not come. The choice is yours but?”
His father cut him off. “I know it is.”
Asante didn’t drift away from his original statement.
“The choice is yours but if you don’t show up to my wedding don’t show up for anything else. Don’t call me or have Nadira pass messages along. Just move on without me and I’ll move on without you.”
I reached over and set a hand on his knee but he was unmoving his eyes focused on his father.
“Are you giving me an ultimatum, boy?”
“Nah. I’m just telling you what’s going to happen.”
“Well let it happen then Asante because the fact that you’re going to get married a second time and to a man is an abomination and you know it. You weren’t raised that way and the fact that you’re choosing?.”
Asante cut him off. “It isn’t a choice and you wear your fucking religion like a cloak to hide all your own fucked up ass problems,” Asante said simply. “Before you judge me, make sure your own shit is in order.” He climbed to his feet, dug his wallet out and started to pull cash out. He tossed some on the table. “Nadira, I’ll have an invite sent to you if you want to come. Good to see you, mom.” He looked over at me. “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”
I cleared my throat but climbed to my feet.
“Nice meeting you.” I grabbed the bags I’d brought and set them on the table. “Dowry,” I said in explanation and pivoted around.
Asante reached for my hand and I linked my fingers through his so he could lead me out of the restaurant.
“You got a cigarette?” he asked halfway through the parking lot.
“Yeah. I’ve got one.”
I fished the cigarette out and handed it to him. We stopped next to the car and I lit the cigarette up for him.
“That didn’t go that bad,” I thought out loud. “I think they may come around.”
“You don’t know them.”
“But I know you and Nadira and I know my family went against generations of tradition. Shit can change in the blink of an eye and I have faith.”
“And if they don’t come around, fuck it.” Asante took a hit of his cigarette. “I did my part. I told them what it was and what it’s going to be. I don’t have shit else to give for real.”
“Either way I’m proud of you and I can’t wait to marry you.”
Bishop took another hit of the cigarette. Then he tossed it tot he ground, stepped on it and glanced at me. “I can’t wait to marry you too.” He stuck a hand in his pocket. “You’re driving.”
“Alright.” I held my hand out for the keys and he handed them over.
We climbed in the car and Asante played music while I drove.
We were halfway home when Asante looked at me, reached over and set his hand on top of mine. I twined our fingers together.
