Page 4 of Unwrapped

“Woman, are you out of your damn mind? That boy and our daughter will never be a couple, okay.”

“You don’t know that, Nigel. We’re not getting any younger. I want grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”

I cut a piece of chicken and stick it in my mouth, hoping they’ll quickly move on from this conversation because I am not in the mood tonight.

“Listen to your mother about the grandchildren, gal. I need someone to bounce on my knee before the arthritis takes over completely,” he says.

I contain my laughter because my dad does not have arthritis or anything else wrong with him. “Can I finish college first?” I sass.

“If you must.” He winks at me again before he turns back to my mother. “You know how I know? I know that boy is as gay as an Easter basket, that’s how I know. I also know that his father is in denial about it, and I know you need to open your eyes. If you want to fix junior up, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“What? When I mentioned it to Darren, he said it was a great idea.”

“Of course, he did. Not only is he in denial, he’s a homophobe. He’s not about to use our daughter to fuel his denial. Drop it.”

Dad doesn’t give orders often, but when he does, my mother tends to listen. Unfortunately, my mother turns the conversation back to me.

“Forget about junior. Sherry’s nephew Glen will be there too. He’s going to medical school and his father is from Jamaica.” This time, Mom jabs dad’s ribs with her elbow. If she thought Glenn being half Jamaican would get him excited, she’s mistaken.

“Our daughter has her own mind, woman. She can choose her own man. Is that okay with you, Ms. America?” Nickname number three. The one he uses when she gets too sassy. With that, Dad turns back to his food and Mom focuses back on me.

“You have a dress, baby girl?” she asks. “I want you to have a good time and forget about that nonsense with that Brandon. I never thought he was right for you.”

She was planning our wedding six months into my relationship with Brandon, even though I told her it was not that serious. She included him in every family dinner or event until he decided he was too young to settle down. I was only the second girlfriend he ever had; he wanted some time to play around and not be stuck in a committed relationship.

“I hope you don’t take him back, baby girl,” Mom says.

“Of course, she’s not going to take his sorry ass back, Mona. We raised a sassy gal with self-respect. Why would she want that idiot? Our Miranda is a beauty, and she can do better than that flat-footed fool.” My father’s Jamaican accent gets thicker the more upset he gets, and lately, Brandon is a trigger. According to Nigel Moore, nobody breaks up with his baby girl. Neither of my parents realize that I was never that upset over it.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I put my hand on top of his to calm him down. “It’s been six months, and I’m over it. I was hurt for a few days, but honestly, it’s for the best. Let’s not talk about that flat-footed fool anymore.” I smile at my father. I have no idea what a flat-footed fool is, but he’s seems satisfied with my answer.

“I don’t know what you ever saw in that boy. I don’t know what’s wrong with the young men these days. He shows up here wearing jeans tighter than any man needs to wear. When I ask him where he’s taking you, he says you both have appointments to get manicures. What man needs a manicure? Listen to me, baby girl, if the man’s hands are softer than yours, run.”

My mother nods in agreement, and I choke on my laughter.

“It was a birthday gift, Daddy. You give Mom money for the nail salon all the time.” The fact that Brandon also treated himself to a pedicure is something my father never needs to know.

“I know, but why does he need a manicure, too? And that’s right. I give your mother money, and if I’m in a really good mood, I’ll drop her off and pick her up. I don’t go with her to get my cuticles trimmed. What man does that? If I ever see that Brandon again, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands,” he says.

“And I’ll bury the body,” my mother says.

“You see, baby girl, teamwork. Get someone who’s willing to bury the body for you.” He kisses my cheek one more time before getting up from the table. He takes his plate and goes into the living room, probably to watch the news.

Thankfully, my mom is silent while we finish our dinner.

“Why don’t you go watch TV with Dad? I’ll clean up before I go downstairs.” She nods and leaves the kitchen. As soon as she’s gone, my father comes back. As I’m loading the dishes in the dishwasher, he grabs my wrist and puts something in my hand. I open my palm to find a wad of cash.

“Get your hair done or whatever women do. You’re already perfect, so I don’t think you need anything, but I know it will make you feel good.” He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head.

“Thanks, Daddy.”

CHAPTER 3

MIRANDA

“You look good, baby,” my mom says to me, looking me up and down. She reaches up and strokes my hair, which I have in loose curls today.

I have a long coat covering my dress, but I feel confident tonight. I did my own hair, and I used some of the money my dad gave me to get my makeup professionally done. My mother caresses my hair as we step inside the Sheraton Boston Hotel, leaving the cold December chill behind.

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