DEENA’S KHAKI LOUIS Vuitton clutch was perfectly suited for the iridescent capris and form fitting three-quarter length white button-up she chose to wear to meet her grandmother for coffee. Grandma Emma, on the other hand, donned a barnyard red potato sack dress complete with looming white buttons and white orthopedic slippers. As they exchanged icy greetings Deena was perfectly aware of the violent contrast they made.
They’d not spoken since Deena brought Tak over for Sunday dinner two months prior. The meal had been a fiasco from the onset. When they arrived, Grandma Emma peered behind the two as if she were expecting a second, more acceptable man as Caroline, Keisha and Lizzie gaped in wide-eyed astonishment. And the questions! Deena’s cheeks still burned with the shame.
“So Tic,” Aunt Caroline said as she leaned forward. “What part of China you from again?”
“His name is Tak, not Tic. And he’s not Chinese,” Deena said.
“I’m—I’m actually from here,” Tak said.
“What do you mean, here?” Caroline demanded.
“I mean here, here. Miami. I was born here.” Tak shifted in his seat and cast Deena a single, amused glance.
“Oh,” Aunt Caroline said.
“Well, where your daddy from?” Grandma Emma asked, mashing collard greens and cornbread together with her fingertips. “What parts a China he from?”
Tak sighed. “My father’s from Phoenix.”
“But he wasn’t born there though, right? He was born in China. Right?”
Tak shot Grandma Emma a pointed look. “My father was born in Phoenix and his father in San Jose, California.” He took a sip of water. “But I do know what you’re asking me. I’m Japanese.”
Deena recalled the poise with which Tak handled everything, from being offered pig entrails to fielding questions as to whether he was “some kin” to the Chinaman who ran Chan Wok’s on 69th. And just when she’d been certain that she could tolerate no more, Deena discovered that she was right.
“So, you been down to the prison to tell your momma you getting married?” Caroline asked.
Deena closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. She would not cry. She refused to cry. Next to her, Tak squeezed her shoulder.
“Hmph. You know she ain’t told him that. No man in they right mind going to fool with a woman that’s got that kinda evil in her blood. You carry that stuff in your blood, you know. Evil ways,” Grandma Emma advised with a wave of her fork.
“Actually, I know all about her mother,” Tak said. “We talked about it a long time ago.”
“Well, you know Emma, not everybody even believes in good and evil, God and the Devil. The boy probably don’t even know Jesus Christ died for his sins.” Deacon Moore, an increasing regular at the Hammond table, turned his attention to Tak. “Do you know that, boy? Do you know that Jesus died for your sins?”
“Oh my God! If you don’t shut the hell up!” Deena cried. “Will you all just shut the hell up?”
“This girl has lost her damned mind,” Keisha whispered.
“I knew she lost her mind when she brought that Chinese boy around here like somebody ordered some wonton soup,” Caroline said.
Deena stood. “One more word. One more word about him and, as God is my witness, I will come across this table and—”
“Deena.” Tak grabbed her arm.
“You’ll what, Deena? What are you gonna do to my momma?” Keisha stood to meet her.
“Bring it, Keisha,” Deena said through gritted teeth. “You bring it and I’ll shove it down your goddamned throat.”
Grandma Emma stood. “Sit your ass down before I come cross this table! Anybody gonna be putting hands on somebody it’s gone be me laying holy hands on your ass for bringing this Chinese boy round like dis.”
Deena and Grandma Emma stood, staring at each other as Keisha lowered herself into her chair. Around them, each Hammond gaped as Deena, still on her feet, defied the will of their family’s matriarch. Never had it been done so brazenly.
“I don’t answer to you,” Deena said. “Not anymore.” She turned to Tak. “We’re done here.”
When Deena and Tak left, it was with the belief that she’d been ejected from the fold. After all, had not her grandparents turned their backs on their only son when he married her mother, a white woman? Had they not remained steadfast in their contempt up until his death ten years later? So it was with shock that Deena answered the phone when Grandma Emma called weeks later and suggested they meet.
“Can I get you something, Grandma Emma?” Deena asked with a touch to the old woman’s shoulder.
Emma looked up from her work-worn and wrinkled hands.
“They got Sanka?” Grandma Emma asked from her seat in the center of the Starbucks. Deena sighed. Shaking her head, she made her way over to the counter, to stand in the weaving line.
After ordering two cups of venti decaf, Deena carried the sweltering brew to a corner table in the eclectic coffee shop, where she gestured for her grandmother to join her. While she told herself that she’d chosen the corner table in regard for Grandma Emma’s hip and back concerns, she was aware that it offered a semblance of privacy from the boisterous regulars that crowded the café. The spot seemed detached from the rest of the room.
“Deena, you know I love you. I love you more than anything. I raised you and your brother and sister like you was my own. So when I tell you things it’s with your best interest in mind.” Grandma Emma tapped her temple.
“I know you seem to think so,” Deena said carefully.
“No. No. No. I do. I don’t tell you things for my own benefits. Like this here I got to tell you. For your own good.”
“For my own good,” Deena echoed distrustfully, her eyes trained on the wisps of steam escaping the lid.
Grandma Emma looked up at her, nodded, then leaned forward conspiratorially, her synthetic wig shifting in the process.
“You can’t marry that Chinese boy.”
“Japanese,” Deena said.
“Chinese. Japanese. Really, when you gets down to it, it’s the same thing,” Grandma Emma said.
Deena stared at her. “Alright. I’ll humor you. Why can’t I marry him?”
Grandma shook her head. “Your whole family against it. Ain’t that mean nothing to you?”
“Not anymore,” Deena murmured.
Grandma Emma stared in shock. “Look here, gal. Ain’t they got no black men whereabout you could find?”
Deena’s patience evaporated. “I don’t want a black man. I want him, Grandma. I love him. Weren’t you the one who told me that if I found a man that I loved, that treated me right, that I should hold on to him, no matter what?”
“Chile, you takes my words and you twists ‘em. You twists ‘em to suits you.”
Deena sighed. “You’re impossible.”
Grandma Emma shifted in her seat. “Look. It ain’t jus that he’s a Chinese. Listen. This what I know. You two go hot tailing up out of here and get married both your families gonna be upside down.”
She waited for Deena to deny this. When she didn’t, her lips curled into a satisfactory smile.
“I’m pretty sure his people want him to stay with his peoples like we want you to stay with yours. That’s the first thing. Second is this. I mean let’s just be for real here. Y’all two get together and you bound to have a funny looking child!”
Grandma Emma whooped with laughter, clapping her hands all the while. Deena knew she couldn’t wait to tell the ladies of the church how she came right out and told her what was what, right to her face.
“See, people like you don’t ever think about who you affecting, just yourself.” Her eyes narrowed with seriousness.
“Well,” Deena said carefully. “I could say the same thing about you.”
The women stared, a dark silence passing between them.
Emma’s face darkened. “Listen, I’m here cause I am a woman of God.”
“And I’m not?” Deena said.
“No, now, it ain’t that,” Emma held up her hands, gesturing for Deena to calm down.
Was she the aggressor now? Deena wondered.
“You were raised in the church now and even though you got some ways about you like you wasn’t, you still was.”
Deena began to massage her temples. “I don’t follow you, Grandma.”
“Those people don’t believe in Jesus Christ!” Emma shouted.
Deena nodded, tiredly.
“Uh huh. Deacon Moore says they Buddin. And that they pray to a fat Chinese man. Now who in they right mine ever heard of a fat Chinese man being the son of God?”
Deena closed her eyes, counted backwards from ten, and spoke. “Yes, lots of Japanese people are Buddhist, Grandma, Tak included. But I don’t see your point. In fact, I think you need to learn to tolerate other people’s differences.”
She regretted the words in an instant.
“Girl, Jesus Christ died for your sins! He laid down and died for you! For you, Deena!” Grandma banged her fist on the table for emphasis. “They nailed him to a cross and—”
“Grandma, calm down,” Deena hissed, eyes darting in humiliation. “Calm down right now!”
“You think Jesus laid down and died so you could marry a Buddin?” Emma cried. “No! I don’t think so!”
They’d drawn the attention of the go-getters, the early morning suits, who consumed both caffeine and the morning’s headlines as if they needed both to survive. Among them she spotted William Henderson, the wide-eyed, pudding-faced investor in the Skylife project with whom she’d traded barbs on more than one occasion. He, like the other onlookers, gawked at the unfolding debacle.
“Grandma, would you please keep it down? People know me here for Christ’ sake.”
“No! Jesus Christ—” Grandma Emma screamed.
Deena stood. The lively café had fallen sinfully silent, despite the multitudes present. Aside from her grandmother, all Deena could hear was whirring from the refrigerated display case.
“Grandma, if you don’t shut up right this second then I will consider this conversation over,” Deena hissed.
Grandma Emma struggled to her feet. With a single, hard glare she reeled back and smacked her.
Deena’s lips parted in disbelief. Tears filled her eyes as she brought a hand to the stinging cheek. Despite the threats, despite the harsh words, it had never been Grandma Emma who hit her. Never.
“I won’t.” Deena’s voice broke. With the eyes of the café on her, she decided to salvage her dignity by bringing their meeting to an end. “I won’t sit here and be hit, Grandma. I don’t care how much I disappoint you, I will not tolerate being hit.”
With a trembling hand, Deena dug into her purse and retrieved a sheet of gold embossed parchment. She held it out to her grandmother, who stared at it. Deena cleared her throat and set it on the table.
“My wedding is in six weeks. The details are on the invitation. Come if you like. But as of now, the matter is closed to further discussion.”