Page 118 of Pride and Protest
“There are only thirty-six questions in the app, Dorsey,” Liza reminded him.
He smiled and took a deep breath. “Liza, will you marry me?”
Liza could barely breathe. Hundreds of small, glowing floats made from banana leaves were placed in the water. The Anacostia River was positively ablaze with everyone’s hopes and dreams. Over her head, hundreds of candlelit lanterns of various sizes made from a thin gossamer fabric stretched and floated into the sky.
“You don’t have to answer now.” Dorsey took their huge lantern and scribbled out a note. Liza made out the wordsNetherfield Must Goin print. She wroteFirst Impressionson her own right before she lit the base. The lantern gently floated up and met the others in the sky. In the dark of night, the floating lanterns took on a filtered sodium glow, and it looked like they were at the bottom of a champagne glass. Above her and below her, the shimmering points of light blazed. She put her old mistakes away, and when she looked up at Dorsey, her heart was ready to walk fearlessly into her new purpose.
“Yes.”
Dorsey’s hands clasped hers, and his slightly sweaty palms trembled. She turned to look at him, and he was already drawing near her. When his mouth met hers, the shutters clicked, and the murmuring fell away. He was all there was and all there would ever be.
EPILOGUE
The basement at Mount Tabernacle African Methodist Episcopal Church was at fire hazard capacity. Liza looked down at her feet, vivid and glittering green against the garish red carpet, and tried to imagine them swollen. She held a fresh bouquet her mother had strong-armed a florist for. Janae pulled at her peacock-feather shawl. Her sister hated feathers, a fussy holdover from her pageant days, but Bev had insisted. Now all the women stood around her looking like the Supremes as the pastor recited his third (and counting) vow.
The fold-out tables on the far-left wall overflowed with foil trays of chicken, macaroni and cheese, greens, yams, and ribs. Well-wishers squeezed tilting cakes in Tupperware cases next to punch dispensers with floating citrus slices. Green cloths covered all the tables, giving the reception a decidedly Christmasy feel despite the warm weather.
Her mother stood in the middle of the aisle in a lovely eggshell brocaded dress she had painstakingly sewn herself. Bev was a bride. The reverend had finally come around. And god help them, Bev was insufferable.
Hours later, Bev hobbled to her children’s table, breathing heavily, undoubtedly from the unholy amount of booty shaking she was doing in a church basement. The last of the well-wishers filed out of the room, and Bev finally sat down.
She gestured. “See this, girls? Look around. This is arealChristian wedding.”
Liza would not take the bait. “Congratulations on your wedding, Ma.”
Bev pulled her heels off and pointed the toe of one shoe at Liza. “Youflew us all out to the end of the world.”
“Mom, South Africa is actually not the end of the world.” Liza’s tone was flat.
Bev shrugged. “Where is it on a map? It just sounds made up.”
Deya elbowed Bev. “Ma, it’s on a map. It’s a famous country. Nelson Mandela’s from there.”
Maurice put a firm hand at his sister’s back. “Liza, Mom has a point. Cape of Good Hope looked like the edge of the world. But that’s what was so dope about it. I’m going back.”
Bev huffed and gestured to the table overflowing with wrapped gifts and presents. “And you didn’t even get any wedding gifts. You just had all of those rich-ass people there donate to the school? Child, I haven’t taught you anything.”
“Ma, you cried like a baby when that little girl gave you a hug after you donated those schoolbooks,” Liza said. The table rumbled with laughter at the memory.
Bev looked only slightly chagrined. “Well, that’s just human nature, Liza. I’ve always been a giver, but you shouldn’t put people to work at your wedding.”
Liza squeezed Dorsey’s thigh under the table. He gave her alopsided smile.None of this matters, he seemed to say. “As always, sorry to disappoint, Ma.”
“It’s not worse than your sister—had us flying to a farm in Maine. Maine! Some states don’t have Black people on purpose.”
“I liked it,’’ LeDeya said. “I’ve never been horseback riding before.” She posted a picture of herself making a funny face. Deya was a social media powerhouse by now. At twenty she had eschewed college and began building a social media empire propped up solely on makeup influencer drama.
“But picking apples? They really had all those Black folks out there picking fruit?”
Janae passed her wiggling infant girl over to David, who kissed her forehead. “It was a weekend of activities. Everyone could choose what they wanted to do. You didn’thaveto go pick apples.”
“Oh right, just so I can be the mom sitting everything out?”
Janae expertly steered her mother away from this topic. “The reception is beautiful, Ma.”
David shook his head enthusiastically. “The food is fantastic. Seems like everybody took a plate.”
“Damn right. I haven’t even had a chance to eat. Brides never eat at their wedding, they say.”
