Diamond held onto Baptiste’s hand for dear life. He took his thumb and gently rubbed her own thumb back and forth. It was a delightful show of tenderness and it calmed Diamond.
Stepping into the estate, the servants were there to greet them, and one handed Diamond a glass of champagne.
“Merci,” she said, taking it and enjoying a bubbly sip.
“Right this way,” Baptiste said, leading her into the living room. “This is Pierre, my cousin. And here we have Robert and Georges. These are the children Marie and Samuel, and here are Agnes and Julie.”
The guests gave Diamond polite nods, but there was distrust in their eyes. Diamond could see it as plain as day.
“So nice to meet you all,” Diamond said, confident that she’d never be able to keep all their names straight.
“Are you hungry?” Agnes asked, motioning towards a silver platter of charcuterie.
“Yes, I am actually.”
“Help yourself,” Agnes said with a smug smile.
Diamond made her way to the platter and grabbed a little plate, arranging a few pieces of meat and cheese upon it.
“The baguette is quite good,” Julie said. “Unless you are watching your figure that is,” she added, inspecting Diamond’s body.
“I’m not,” Diamond said, taking a rather large piece of the baguette and putting it on her plate. As she nibbled on her food, the conversation in the room returned to French, and she couldn’t understand a word that anyone was saying. Diamond wondered if this was intentional, because every once in a while Baptiste would translate a bit of the conversation so that Diamond could hear.
“They’re talking of the weather. How it’s usually warmed this time of year,” he said.
“Oh, I see,” Diamond replied.
“Did you get enough champagne?” Baptiste asked.
“I have plenty, thanks,” Diamond said, taking a sip.
Considering that she was not allowed in the conversation at all, Diamond decided that it was time to amuse herself. She walked about the room, inspecting the paintings and other objects of art that populated it. Such opulence. Diamond couldn’t imagine living such a life of privilege, from the moment that one was born. It seemed unbelievable to her, and yet, there were countless people around the world that lived that way on a daily basis, without thinking twice about it.
“Oh damn,” Diamond heard her mother’s voice say, and she turned to her quickly.
“Mama, you can’t be here now,” Diamond said with hushed tones.
“And why not?” Bernice replied, sipping her champagne.
“Cause it just ain’t the time or place,” Diamond protested.
“Ooh, child. From what I can see, you need all the help that you can get.”
Both Bernice and Diamond looked over to where the Laurent family continued their self-involved banter.
“I know, mama. But I gotta do this on my own. Just this one time,” Diamond pled.
“Well, I suppose,” Bernice said, downing her champagne. “But if one of them says something mean to ya, I gonna knock their ass into the next century.”
“Okay, mama. Now, goodbye,” Diamond said, and with that Bernice melted away. Diamond heaved a sigh of relief.
My imagination is always getting the best of me when I’m nervous, she thought to herself. And even though she managed to make it through her first glass of champagne, Diamond’s nerves were still raging. She had never felt like such an outsider in all her life.
“Everything alright?” Baptiste asked, approaching her.
“Yah, I guess I just don’t know what to do with myself,” Diamond replied candidly.
“Come, let me show you around the house. I don’t believe that we had the time or sense to do it when you were last here,” he said with a playful grin.
“That would be lovely,” Diamond replied.
“Let’s start with the library,” Baptiste said, leading Diamond out of the room. Was it her, or were there glares coming from Robert and Georges when she exited? There was no way of knowing for sure, but she did manage to swap out her empty glass of champagne for a fresh one upon exiting the room.
“My father used to spend a great deal of time here,” Baptiste explained, entering the cool library. It was dark and secretive, and the books were countless. Each wall had a sliding ladder in order to reach the upper shelves.
“Is this him?” Diamond asked, motioning towards a painting over an empty fireplace.
“No, that is my grandfather. He was the one that built the library. It was merely a drawing room before that, but he had a tremendous love of letters and spent most of his life perfecting this room.”
“He did a great job,” Diamond said, pulling a book from the shelf and opening it.
“Homer,” Baptiste explained.
“Yah, I remember him from The Simpsons,” Diamond joked.
“I beg your pardon?” Baptiste asked.
“Never mind,” Diamond said with a laugh. Clearly, some things were going to be lost in translation.
“Next is my favorite part of the house,” Baptiste explained, putting his warm hand at the small of her back again and leading her towards the next destination. “The atrium.”
Diamond stepped inside the atrium and could immediately tell why it was Baptiste’s favorite room. In fact, it was less like a room and more like a greenhouse of sorts. Its high glass ceiling made the space feel airy and open, and marvelous green plants surrounded them, with a little fountain in the center, surrounded by benches.
“This is wonderful!” Diamond said.
“Yes, this was the work of my great grandfather. He had a great fondness for roses, and his theory was that the salty air of the sea stunted their growth.”
“Is that true?” Diamond asked. “I feel like I see all kinds of roses growing around town.”
“I think that he made it up, in all honesty,” Baptiste explained. “It was merely an excuse to never leave the house.”
“I’m always making up those excuses myself,” Diamond said humorously.
“Would you like to sit for a while?” Baptiste asked.
“That would be lovely.”
Baptiste and Diamond sat on an atrium bench and watched the fountain for a while. The trickling sound was calming, and that combined with Diamond’s second glass of champagne put her at ease.
“Why did you invite me here, Baptiste? I mean, we barely know each other.”
“That is true. I don’t know what it is, though. I feel as though I’ve known you for a long time.” Baptiste placed his arm along the back of the bench, behind where Diamond sat. She felt cozy and protected sitting next to him like that.
“I’m not so sure that your family likes me,” Diamond explained, looking down at her glass.
“Nonsense. They don’t like anyone,” Baptiste quipped.
“Is that true?” Diamond asked, relieved that it might not be just her presence that set them off.
“They are French, after all. They always have those smug faces,” Baptiste said with a laugh.
“I just thought they didn’t like me cause I’m black,” Diamond admitted.
“They don’t like you because you’re American. The French love black people.”
There was silence after that and Diamond didn’t know whether she was offended or not. Baptiste saying that the French love black people was his attempt at being nice, but it didn’t land all that well. Diamond wanted to explain it to him, but she held her tongue. She was in his home, after all, enjoying his food and wine, and his hospitality. Schooling him on racism would have to go down another day.
“Come, let me show you the veranda,” Baptiste said, taking Diamond by the hand and pulling her up from the bench.
It was a short walk from the atrium to the outdoor patio, and Baptiste pushed open the double French doors with pride, as though introducing Diamond to something that he, himself, was the most proud of.
“This is where I take breakfast,” Baptiste explained.
“Yes, I noticed that you weren’t in bed when I woke up the other day,” Diamond said with a smile.
“Oh, good. I’m glad you at least noticed,” Baptiste said jokingly. “I’m always doing work over breakfast and that’s why I need to be alone. That morning I had to meet with an ambassador and several dignitaries.”
“Yes, I remember seeing them outside the window,” Diamond explained.
“And I remember looking up and seeing you, wishing that I was behind that window with you,” Baptiste explained. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Diamond’s mouth. She closed her eyes and relished in it. There was something so warm and inviting about Baptiste’s mouth. She could kiss him all night long and be perfectly content.
Waves could be heard crashing in the distance, and Diamond felt like the two of them were suspended in time. Finally, they pulled away, fearing that they could get locked in that kiss forever.
“Look out there,” Baptiste said, leading Diamond to the balustrade. “I would be out here often as a child, playing on the patio. Sometimes I’d just watch the sea all day long.”
“What a way to grow up,” Diamond said in wonder. “I remember doing that, too. But I was staring at the projects.”
“What are the projects?” Baptiste asked.
“They ain’t nothing worth explaining,” Diamond said. “This is where your bedroom is pointing. I remember looking out the window and seeing my apartment.”
“Yes, it’s too dark to see it now.”
“We should be able to see it. I left the light on,” Diamond said, trying to locate it but not seeing it anywhere.
“Such a pity you waste the electricity,” Baptiste said. “I don’t believe you’ll be going home tonight.”
There was a rush of butterflies to Diamond’s stomach, and a wave of heat rolled down her spine. How was it that this French guy could have such an effect on her? Was it his money? His name? His good looks? More than anything, Diamond was beginning to believe that it was his warmth and generosity.
“I do believe that it’s time for dinner,” Baptiste said, returning to the double doors.
“Thank God. I’m starving,” Diamond said, feeling a growl in her belly.
The dining room was no less impressive than the rest of the house. There were lit candelabras at the center of the table, and the finest china was set at each seat. The table was long enough to host twenty people, but only the center seats would be used. However, every place was set in the same way.
“Come,” Baptiste said, pulling out a chair for Diamond.
“Thank you,” she said, seating herself.
The extended family continued their conversations in French, as though willfully excluding Diamond, but Baptiste would still translate for her from time to time. They would tell jokes and laugh. Diamond concluded that there was nothing more awkward than listening to folks laughing while speaking a language that you couldn’t understand.
“It is a leek bisque,” Baptiste explained when soup was placed in front of her.
“Wonderful,” she replied, leaning over and smelling the intoxicating flavors. It was creamy, garlicky, and with a hint of sweetness. It wasn’t like any soup that she had ever tasted before.
“Do you like rap music?” Pierre asked out of the blue, and all eyes turned towards her.
Did this motherfucker really just ask me if I like rap music? He hasn’t spoken two words to me the whole night and that’s the first thing that he asks?
“I don’t listen to it all that much,” Diamond replied congenially, masking her emotions.
“How odd,” Agnes replied. “I thought all Americans listened to it.”
You mean you thought all black folks listen to it, Diamond thought.
“I think that’s probably an over-generalization,” Diamond explained, defending herself. “I don’t think that all Americans listen to it.”
“I have always been fond of Oprah,” one of the children said.
Shoot, you can’t even make this shit up. I gotta tell Tanesha, Diamond thought to herself.
“Oprah is a remarkable woman. She’s a great inspiration,” Diamond said, taking another sip of her soup.
“She is the most powerful black woman in America,” Georges explained, proud of himself.
“Well, I think she’s the most powerful woman in the world, period,” Baptiste said, defending Diamond from the subtle racism that surrounded them. Hell, it wasn’t even that subtle. Baptiste placed a protective hand on Diamond’s knee.
“This soup is amazing,” Diamond said, wishing to change the subject.
“Yes, wonderful,” the other diners agreed.
When the soup course was cleared, a dish of fresh shrimp was served, complemented with lemon butter and capers. Diamond had never tasted seafood so fresh in all her life. She had to wonder if it was caught right there in town.
The conversation improved for a bit after that. In fact, Diamond was relieved when the guests continued their discourse in French again, because then she didn’t have to have a friggin’ clue what it was that they were saying.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Baptiste would ask between courses.
“Immensely,” Diamond replied.
A mushroom risotto was served, followed by the beef bourguignon, and Diamond was beginning to wonder how it was that the French ate so much food and remained so small. The French Paradox was a very real thing, and Diamond had not yet cracked the code.
“Oh my God,” Diamond said after first tasting the tender beef. It completely melted in her mouth like butter.
“Yes, this is the favorite. My chef studied at the Cordon Bleu.”
“No shit,” Diamond said, bringing a hand to her mouth. All eyes turned to her after she used the curse word, and Diamond was filled with remorse. She couldn’t help it. Her mother’s voice rang in her head. “Motherfucker!” Bernice would have exclaimed, had she taken a bite of that wonderful dish. Thank God Bernice had not managed to show up to that dinner.
Diamond recalled growing up and enjoying barbecues out back in the yard on summer days in Chicago. There would be eating and chatting and playing. But the atmosphere of enjoyment was much different in Baptiste’s home. The Laurent family seemed to fall silent while they ate. They were probably just enjoying the flavors and focusing on their meals, but the quiet made Diamond a little tense. The joy that the food brought her made her want to talk.
“I just can’t get over how good this is,” Diamond said with glee.
“Beef bourguignon I suppose is the French version of fried chicken?” Robert said.
“Popeye’s fried chicken!” Agnes said. “And KFC.”
The room fell silent and Diamond looked down towards the napkin on her lap. She was afraid that she might start to cry. Every single word that had come out of the Laurent family’s mouths had been a subtle way of attacking her, and putting her in her place. Diamond wanted to take the high road. It wasn’t her house, after all. She was a guest, and Baptiste was showing her the utmost generosity. But Diamond simply felt like she couldn’t stand another moment of it.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Diamond said softly, folding her napkin and placing it on the table.
“Is everything alright?” Baptiste asked.
“Yes. I’m just going to the lady’s room,” Diamond explained, not making eye contact with him. She exited the dining room, again feeling all eyes on her. A servant showed her where the toilette was and Diamond stepped inside, locking the door behind her.
Diamond didn’t actually need to use the restroom, she just needed space. She grasped the sink with her hands and took a look at herself in the mirror.
“Now you know I be doing my best to not intrude,” Bernice said, sitting on the toilet.
“Mama, why you be sitting on the toilet?” Diamond asked.
“Child, I ain’t relieving myself I just needed a place to sit!” Bernice protested.
“Go on, then. What you got to say?” Diamond asked, resigning herself to her mother’s counsel.
“I was going to say that you’s a strong girl. You can handle all this.”
“Mama, I don’t want to handle all this. I don’t want to hear what they got to say. It’s hurting my heart.”
“Listen, don’t you pay no attention to those fools. That man you got is better than the rest of 'em.”
“He does seem like a good man, but I ain’t got nobody. I don’t even know what this is between he and I. And I don’t know if I’m able to put up with this much nonsense in order to be with him,” Diamond explained.
“Listen, we all gotta make sacrifices. Someone gotta teach those dumb white French folks a lesson, and maybe that’s why you be here.”
“Mama, I ain’t got time to teach no one no lessons. If they want to be dumb white French folks then let them. I’d rather just go my own way.”
“Well, suit yourself. I just sayin’ that you got a good heart, and you smart. If anyone can find a way to teach them, it’s you. I’m not just saying that cause you’s my daughter and I love you.”
“Thanks, mama.”
“Now, I be gettin’ off this toilet and getting me some of that beef,” Bernice said.
“Okay,” Diamond said with a laugh.
Bernice being gone, Diamond exited the lady’s room and returned to the dining room, her head held high.
When she sat herself again at the table, the beef bourguignon had been cleared and the cheese course had been set. Diamond took a deep breath, and felt Baptiste’s hand take her own under the table.
“In France, we conclude a meal with fromage,” Agnes explained to Diamond, taking a piece in her fork. “It is like a dessert.”
“How lovely,” Diamond replied.
“And in America, I hear that watermelon is a dessert,” Robert said, laughing to himself.
“Actually, no. Watermelon is a stereotype of what black folks in the South eat,” Diamond said calmly, her voice not sounding angry in the slightest. “Just like fried chicken is a stereotype. But these are subtle stereotypes, so perhaps you didn’t know that you were being offensive?” Diamond asked.
The table fell silent, guilt on everyone’s face.
“No . . .” Robert said, looking at the other faces around the table. “I suppose that I didn’t.”
Diamond could feel Baptiste’s hand clutching hers more tightly.
“That’s what I thought,” Diamond replied with a smile.