30 Love, page 9
I could feel the sting, but there was a salve in her words. We went on being friends all throughout high school, even taking different people to our senior prom. It was clear from the look of things that being friends was all we would ever be to each other.
What she didn’t know is that I was prepared to wait her out. Clearly, I was in it for the long haul.
Even now that we are thirty, there’s a kind of Irkle-esque quality to our relationship. Apparently, I wore her down, but in each kiss that she gives me and each time she wraps her body around mine, I don’t sense any regret in her decision.
We agree on five groomsmen, including the best man, and five bridesmaids, including the maid or honor. That part does not take all that long. I already know that Akil and J will be topping that list anyway. Where things get a bit more interesting is when Lailah breaks out several swatches of fabric combinations.
“These are some of the colors I was thinking we should use for the wedding,” she says.
I immediately kick into groom mode. “Whatever you think is the best combination is the one we should use.” Only this time my deference doesn’t work.
“Dizzy, seriously? Are you going to do this for the entire planning stage?”
“What do you mean? I trust your judgment.”
“You just don’t want to have anything to do with this, do you?”
“That’s not it at all. I am here with you right now because I want to be. I just figure that your taste in things is so much better than my own that I didn’t want to drag us down with my unnecessary input.”
“You are the man I am marrying,” she says. “Would it be too much for us to make some decisions together?”
“We are. I am voting on whatever you decide.”
“Damn, Dizzy!” she says, exasperated. She stands up and walks out of the room, leaving me in her den with the swatches laid out on the floor. I am still trying to register what just happened. Is she really mad at me? Over some swatches? I shake my head and try to get a handle on things as I stand up and start to walk toward the kitchen, where I see her leaning against the counter drinking a glass of water.
I don’t know what to say, so I just start apologizing, since I figure that would cover everything that I must have done wrong in the last few moments.
“You don’t get it at all. Do you?” she answers. “I bet you don’t even know what you are apologizing for.”
“Truthfully? No, I don’t, but I hate the fact that I set you off, and I want to make it right.”
She laughs sarcastically under her breath. “If you want to make it up to me, go in there and pick out the swatch combination that you like and bring it to me.”
I turn around and head back into the den. I glance at the pinned colored squares on the floor. There are four combinations. One is a light tan and a cranberry red, another is navy blue and silver, and the other two are baby blue and cream and a reddish pink pinned to an almost white silver. They all look nice, but I have convinced myself that this is something that she should be doing with Marcia, not me. But why do I feel that way? Has she ever really given me any reason to not feel like I could contribute to the decisions involving our wedding? Not that I can think of.
I also think about when we were doing our registries and how I had deferred to her. She seemed like she was cool with that, so I thought I might have mastered the first rule of married life: staying out of my wife’s way on matters that are largely subjective to her personal tastes. Plus, we will be living in her house, so I figure she has a better idea of what colors would work on the registry items and what appliances she would want to have. I thought that just loving her and pledging my undying love to her was my job and that the superficial particulars were things that she could decide, and I would step in only if I needed to.
Now I am starting to suspect that she wants me to be an equal partner in planning the details of the wedding, so I grab each of the swatches off the floor and walk back into the kitchen.
“I told you to just bring in the one that you liked,” Lailah starts.
“I like all of them.”
“So you’re not even going to try to help me at all?”
“Actually, I am,” I say. “I figured I would tell you what I liked about each of the combinations, and hopefully we can discuss what you liked about each of them, since you selected these few.”
She nods, unsure of whether she should yield on the hostility. I move quickly before she fires up the venom again.
“I think that each of the combinations is nice, but I noticed that the baby blue and cream and the pink and silver are the softest colors. While I love the navy blue, it seems a little heavy a color to use in March. And if the temperature continues in the same cycle from last year, it will probably still be a little cool in March. That’s why I am leaning toward the cranberry-ish color with the light tan color. It’s not heavy or light. It seems like it could be a nice complement to that time of year.”
Lailah listens, nodding as I finish my argument. Up until I opened my mouth, I really didn’t know which one I had a preference for.
“Cranberry and champagne,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“The color is champagne, not tan.” She chuckles and walks over to me, wrapping her arms around me.
“So did I do okay?”
“Yes, you did. I was going back and forth between the rose and silver and the cranberry and champagne anyway.”
“So we are going with the cranberry and champagne then?”
She smiles. “Why not?”
I kiss her tenderly, relieved that I managed to come through this experience unscathed—at least for now.
“You would have had me wearing a pink tuxedo?” I ask, joking.
“It’s rose, not pink. And you should have a white vest to match my gown. The groomsmen would be the ones wearing the rose tuxedo vests to match the bridesmaids dresses.”
“J would have killed me!” I say, laughing.
“J would have just had to bite his tongue and wear the colors. I can’t see him bailing out on something as simple as the colors.”
“You apparently don’t know J all that well.”
“Well, hopefully he won’t have a problem with cranberry and champagne then,” she says.
“Who cares what he thinks anyway? As long as the tuxes are nice, he won’t even be able to complain.”
We walk back into the den and sit on the couch.
“There’s something I want to show you,” Lailah says, as she leaves the room.
A few minutes later, she returns with a CD and puts it in the small boom box that she refuses to throw away, despite the fact that she has more music on her iPhone than I do on mine. As soon as she presses play, I hear Brian McKnight’s “I Remember You.” It’s the CD that I gave her back when we were juniors. I can’t believe that she still has it, that she would have held on to it for as long as she has.
“Man, is that a blast from the past!” I say. “You know, when I gave you that CD that was me trying to make a play for you. I was convinced that each song would tell you everything I couldn’t bring myself to say.”
“I know.”
“You knew? Why didn’t you say something then?”
“Back then, I wasn’t trying to be with you like that. Don’t you remember me telling you that I didn’t want you to say anything while we were standing in the parking lot.”
I shake my head. “Here I am thinking that you just didn’t get what I was trying to say. I figured maybe I was being to abstract with my intentions. I mean, I was totally convinced that you had no idea that I liked you.”
“Dizzy, how long have I known you?”
“Forever.”
“Of course I knew what you were trying to do. How could I not?” She nods to the music as she listens. “It’s all about a boy and a girl sharing that special bond, even as kids. That’s us.”
I smile. “Yeah. I just wish I knew that then. I straight played myself in the parking lot then.”
“No you didn’t. You just pushed the point a little past the point that you had to. No harm, no foul, though. After all, you did eventually get me in the end.”
Now I’m cheesing. “Yes, I did.”
“Want to hear something funny? I was sitting up here after you had proposed, talking with Marcia and she was combing through my Dizzy box...”
“Dizzy box? What’s that?”
“That’s the box that I put all of the things you have ever given me.”
“You kept all of those things?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you gave them to me, and you are my best friend in the world.”
I start blushing, unable to stop smiling. “So you were feeling me then?”
She mockingly rolls her eyes at me. “Anyway. Marcia was over here and she found the CD in the box, so she took it out and put it in the CD player. I hadn’t heard it in years, but it started to bring back memories. That’s when I realized that you have always been there for me. You have always been my sounding board. You have always been my standard for the guys I would date.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I wanted them to be smart, nice, thoughtful, talented, and handsome. In some way they had to at least have those basic qualities, and now that I think about it, I was really just looking for a man who was just like you—but wasn’t you.”
“Well, you could have had me anytime you got ready. You were always the one who could have pulled me away from any relationship I was in. But I’m glad you waited, because I am a better man than I was back then. I would have hated to lose you in behind some of the immature bullshit I must have put some other women through.”
“So this is what you want? You have to be sure, Dizzy.”
“I am more than sure. This is what I have always wanted. This is probably the only thing that I have ever been sure about in my entire life.”
“I hope you feel the same way after you start getting pet peeves about me.”
“Trust me. I will love you through those.”
She laughs. “You sound like you’ve already found some pet peeves.”
“We all have them. It’s no big deal.”
She snuggles up next to me, and I place my arm around her petite body. “What are some things that you don’t like about me?”
“There’s nothing that I don’t like.”
“You just suggested that you have some pet peeves about me.”
“I don’t dislike them. They are a part of the whole you.”
“Come on, Dizzy! Tell me!”
“Why don’t you tell me something first,” I offer.
“Okay. Sometimes you forget to put the toilet seat down. And sometimes you will leave dishes out rather than just put them in the sink.”
“Fair enough. I can work on those things.”
“Your turn,” Lailah says.
I hesitate for a moment, knowing that the things that I am thinking about saying are things that she probably can’t help. I consider just making up something, but when she nudges me again, I tell her, “Sometimes you poot in your sleep.”
“No, I don’t!” she squeals, covering her face with her hands. “I do not poot.”
“Okay, then. Maybe I’m mistaken.”
She pushes me again. “I do not poot in my sleep.”
“Whatever you want to believe is fine with me. At least I didn’t say you farted in your sleep.”
“Pooting and farting are the same thing,” she says.
“When you’re cute, it’s pooting, but when you’re not cute, it’s just straight farting.”
She looks up at me, trying to keep a straight face. “Does it stink?”
“Just a little. Smells like sour milk. You’re just a tad bit ruin’t, but not all the way.”
She starts laughing and covering up her face again. “I am so freaking embarrassed! I want to just crawl up and die right now.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “If you would like for me to let one loose, I can work up something in a few minutes. That way you won’t feel so bad.”
She shakes her head vigorously. “No. That’s quite all right.”
“I’m just saying. Because I can crack a motherfucker off so hard that my ass will be sore afterwards.”
“Damn, Dizzy!”
“I let loose. I’m a grown man. That’s what I do. It’s all about volume and velocity. Shit, I remember one time I farted so hard I thought I had bruised my anus. For real.”
“T.M.I.,” Lailah says, doubled over laughing. “Too much information!”
“I just don’t want you to think that you need to be embarrassed about doing something that is natural. Just do me a favor and point your ass away from me when you feel it coming on. I swear I thought an ant was crawling up my leg the other night.”
She continues laughing, before adding, “I might just give you a Dutch oven!”
“What the hell is a Dutch oven?”
“It’s where you pull the covers over someone’s head after you pass gas.”
“Oh, hell no!” I say, unable to keep a straight face. “Have the whole bed smelling like you pooted corn flakes and peaches.”
“Corn flakes and peaches? I thought you said sour milk.”
“It smells like all of that.”
She playfully hits me on my arm. “You still love me.”
“More than anything else in the world.”
“Chris Rock said you have to love the crust of a person,” Lailah says. “Do you love my crust?”
After I finish laughing, I lean in and kiss her lips softly. “Yes. I love you and your crust.”
“Well, I love your crust, too.”
13
As soon as I make it to my cubicle at JACOPLEX, Gerald Lewis comes around to each of our cubicles telling us that we need to meet up in the conference room in the next few minutes. I look over at Akil, and he shrugs his shoulders.
We head in and grab one of the few remaining seats at the conference table. At the head of the table is Duvall, and seated next to him is a woman in a suit. I have never seen her, but she clearly exudes power. Even Duvall is wearing his best suit today. The rest of us, however, are dressed all over the spectrum from khakis and casual shoes to cargo shorts and sandals. We make games, after all. We don’t deal directly with end users.
“I wanted to call everyone together this morning to make a special announcement,” Duvall starts.
I can see Akil nibbling on his lip. He is clearly nervous about what is going on, and I can’t blame him. I am just praying like hell that we are not getting fired today. I don’t know if I would be able to handle that, not with the wedding coming up. I am already feeling guilty about the fact that I am having to move in with Lailah after we get married. I feel like a scrub. If I lose my job, I will be the biggest scrub ever, and while I know she would have my back, I am not prepared to put my marriage to the test so early in the game.
Duvall continues. “I want to introduce you to Mrs. Joanne Bishop. She is the COO of Gameland Media. I’m sure that you are all familiar with the work that they have done in gaming.”
I glance at Akil. So this is it. This is how it’s all going to go down. This is the part of my life story where the conflict that leads to the climax occurs. I tell myself that being unemployed is not so bad. I will bounce back. I have a degree from Ellison-Wright and over five years of working with video games. I am marketable, I tell myself. I’ll survive. Right.
“We have always been a small company, and we have always known that there was only so far we would be able to get ourselves on our own steam. Our staff is small, and I think we have accomplished a miracle, but I also believe that JACOPLEX can be so much more than it is. It’s funny standing here like this, but I must confess that I have steered this ship as far as I can, and I honestly feel that another company will need to steer us the rest of the way.”
People look around at each other confused, so Duvall quickly adds, “Gameland will be acquiring us. Now, before you go and get upset, let me explain some things. Each of you were issued anywhere from 15,000 to 30,000 in stock when we incorporated. Gameland has agreed to pay $17.50 per share, and I have been guaranteed that the JACOPLEX team will remain actively involved over the next six months with the transitioning of our games to Gameland. After that, Gameland will assume control of everything.”
“So we are basically being fired?” someone asks.
Duvall responds, “No one says that you will be fired.”
“But you just said six months! After that, it will be up to them to keep us.”
Mrs. Bishop quickly stands to speak. “Gameland values what each of you has contributed to JACOPLEX, and in acquiring JACOPLEX, we are just as concerned with the talent that is here as we are with the games that you have created.”
“Oh shit!” Akil yells out, surprising everyone at the table.
The room becomes so silent that you could easily hear a mouse pissing on cotton.
“The person with the fewest shares of stock options at this table stands to make $262,500 in cash!”
I watch him continue punching numbers into the calculator on his phone. He looks up and pushes his phone across the table to me, as everyone around us begins to do the math as to how much money they stand to make from this acquisition. I am one of the fortunate ones who had 30,000 shares. I look down at Akil’s calculator and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. $525,000! Over half a million? Hell, for that kind of money, I am sure I can land on my feet at the end of the day, whether Gameland keeps me or not.
Duvall tries to seek control of the meeting, but all of us sitting around the table are still trying to figure out how to spend the six figures that each of us will collect. Once we finally settle down, Duvall says, “I guess I should have started with the money part first then.”
Akil laughs loudly. “Hell yeah!”
Duvall smiles and nods. He turns over the meeting to Mrs. Bishop, and while we listen to the goals that she has for JACOPLEX as the newest member of the Gameland Media family, our heads are still in the clouds, and the only thing I can think of doing is buying a bottle of bubbly and surprising Lailah with the news.
