“You missed hors d’oeuvres, so you should be hungry.”
I wasn’t sure if my father was being snarky or just making a comment, so I simply nodded.
“Let’s head back to the dining area, shall we?” my father encouraged us, placing a kiss on Marjorie’s cheek, then grabbing her hand to lead her down the hall. Tori and Jason each grabbed one of the kids, and I followed suit.
Not for the first time, I admired the earth tones and desert style decorations of the house. Marjorie was originally from Phoenix and brought that desert feel into her decorating when she moved in with my father. We entered the dining space that was separated from the kitchen by the huge counter that was currently being used to place the cooked food and serving trays. I watched as Jason and Tori placed the kids in their highchairs, and then my brother pulled out a chair for his wife. I remained taken aback at how affectionatehewas toward Tori. Lord knew, he’d never treated any of his past women with the same level of affection. I grinned, happy for them.
What caught my attention was when I turned and noticed my father pulling out Marjorie’s seat and patiently waiting for her to sit. Once she had, he took his place at the head of the table. It took me a second to realize I was the last one standing, as I’d been too surprised at his continued open affection to move.
“You going to sit down?” Jason’s smart-ass tone was the only thing that made me realize I was looking like Boo Boo the Fool while everyone else took their seats.
“Chanel, you working on any interesting cases down at that second-rate law firm?” Jason began.
“Oh, no!” Marjorie interrupted before I could think of a comeback, holding up her hand. “Jason, you know the rules at the dinner table.”
“Rules?” I asked, my eyes darting between Marjorie, Jason, and Tori.
“Yes, no talking business or work at the dinner table,” Tori explained.
I scoffed openly at that, but looking around, I noticed everyone was on board. Even my father, who’d remained silent. “So, you don’t talk about work at the dinner table? Like, ever?”
“No.” Marjorie shook her head. “Not if we can help it. There are so many other things we can talk about. Why spend the precious hours we have together discussing work?” She shrugged one shoulder.
I looked toward my father, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange.
“Marjorie’s right,” he finally spoke up. “Work is great, but there is life outside of business.”
After that comment, you could have knocked me over with a feather. My father spent my whole damn childhood telling my mother he couldn’t spend much time with her or me because he had some big case, or more important matters to handle. I swallowed the lump of regret in my throat when I, once again, noticed my father grab Marjorie by the hand and press a kiss to the back of her palm. I’d become so preoccupied with my thoughts, I barely noticed the salad that now sat in front of me.
“Tori, tell us how your art class is going?” my father asked.
Tori was a stay-at-home mom to the twins, but had recently begun taking art classes at a community college after encouragement from my brother. She’d always loved art but had never studied it, choosing to pursue a degree in the sciences. She worked for some years before getting burnt out, being one of the few black women in her workplace. She and Jason made the decision that she’d be a stay-at-home mom when she got pregnant. I was glad my brother still encouraged Tori to have her identity outside of being a wife and mom.
I listened as she told us about her art class and a drawing competition her teacher was encouraging her to enter. Soon enough, the table was immersed in multiple conversations, with my father and Marjorie discussing their recent vacation to the Maldives and Jason proudly declaring that both his children were making progress learning their ABCs and counting past ten. For my part, I remained mostly quiet, marveling at the way conversations seemed to flow around the table, and none of it involved discussions on litigations or contractual agreements. That, I could’ve kept up with. This other stuff? These conversations were those of a...family. This family banter, I wasn’t expecting. So I kept to myself, only speaking when spoken to, or playfully engaging my niece and nephew.
More than once, Marjorie’s giggles grabbed my attention, and I stared at the interactions between her and my father. I saw the way he would incline his head when he’d make a comment that was for her ears only, or the way his lips tightened in concern when she discussed her passion for scuba diving. He openly told the table how he disliked her diving because of the possibility of danger underwater where he couldn’t get to her. Marjorie gave him an admonishing look, and I swear I almost dropped my fork when he gave her a bashful look in return.
I plopped my back against the wooden dining chair, stunned. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. But when I looked back at Jason as he spoke to Tori, then back at my father, I saw it. These were two men completely in love with the women they’d married, and the four of them were a family.
I couldn’t get the hell out of there fast enough.
“Leaving already?” Marjorie questioned my back as I headed to the door, hoping to make a quiet exit.
“Uh, yeah. I have to stop at the office to pick up a couple of files from work to look over this weekend.”
“It’s pretty late,” she frowned, looking at her wrist watch. It was close to nine p.m.
“Not too late. The office is open.”
“Chanel, are you leaving?” my father called out as he emerged from the hall.
“Yeah, she said she has to go pick up some work files.”
He frowned at me. “On a Friday night?”
Oh, this was rich. Was this not the man who used work as an excuse to get out of practically every one of my childhood school plays or recitals or whatever the hell I was involved in?
“Yeah, well, can never work too hard. You would know, right, Dad?”
