Page 1 of The Phyre that Burns
“I don’t wantto marry Kavia,” I told my parents for the umpteenth time.
“And every time you bring that up, we let you know where we stand,” my mother, Clementine, said.
“I don’t recall us asking you what you wanted. This has always been the plan, Phyre. Why are you changing up now?” my father, Bradly, questioned.
“It’s always beenyourplan.”
“Son, you used to like Kavia, but it seems like every few weeks you come to us about this same thing. When did your feelings for her change?” he asked.
“I liked her as much as any teenage boy likes a girl who’s willing to do things that boys that age like to do with girls. I don’t love her, and I damn sure don’t want to marry her.”
“The Jordans and the Blacks have been working towards joining our families since we began having children. Love has nothing to do with it. Together, we’re the epitome of Black royalty and excellence, and?—”
“Ma, please. This isn’t the seventeenth century, and I don’t want to be forced into an arranged marriage. What’s the benefit of the Jordans and Blacks joining together besides the fact that it would look good to your uppity friends? It doesn’t benefit either family business-wise.”
My father ran a successful technology company, and for a while, he expected me to take over. When I began to show interest in the medical field, he was crushed, but disappointing him didn’t move me one way or the other. He still tried to bully me into following in his footsteps, but I had dreams and aspirations of my own that didn’t include working in the technology field.
Kavia’s father, Kevin Sr., owned a grocery store chain. Although he was very successful, his business wouldn’t benefit my father’s, or vice versa. Joining our families didn’t benefit either family in any way, so I wasn’t sure why they were so determined to do so.
“We’re trying to build a legacy, and to do that, we have to ensure our children marry people who come from an elite bloodline. Lord knows, if we leave you to your own devices, you’ll come home with a hood chick just to spite us,” my mother said.
My thoughts immediately went to Ginae, and I couldn’t help but smile. I didn’t think she was a hood chick, but she always referenced being from the southside of Chicago when shewanted to me to think she was tough. I assumed that meant it was a rough part of the city, but I wasn’t familiar with Chicago.
“What is that smile for, Phyre? Have you already gone and fallen in love with a hood chick?” my father questioned.
“Ginae isn’t a hood chick. She is studying to become a nurse practitioner, and?—”
“Oh, God. Who is her family?” my mother asked, her voice laced with irritation.
“I don’t know who her family is, and I don’t care,” I shouted.
“It doesn’t matter because that relationship will go nowhere. There are only two ways the Jordans and the Blacks can unite, and if you don’t follow through with this, it only leaves Phoenix,” Dad added.
I shook my head at the mention of my sister’s name. She was three years my junior, and I was fiercely protective of her. I would never allow my parents to force her to marry someone she didn’t love.
“Don’t even think about forcing her to marry someone she doesn’t love, especially if you want her to marry Kevin Jr. He’s an asshole.”
Kevin Jr. was Kavia’s brother. He was a year older than me, which made him four years older than Phoenix. I couldn’t stand his ass and would never allow my sister to marry him.
“Watch your mouth, Son,” my mother warned. “We think you and Kavia are a better match than Phoenix and Kevin Jr., but if you refuse to marry Kavia, we may have no choice.”
“Excuse my language, but that’s bullshit, Ma. There is always a choice, the main one being allowing us to choose our own life partner.”
“Watch your mouth, Phyre. That’s no way to talk to your mother. I understand you might think Kavia isn’t the woman for you, but?—”
“Kavia is for the streets, and in case you don’t know what that means, she’s the woman for every nigga that gives her the slightest amount of attention. She comes off as this prim and proper girl in front of you and her parents, but she’s . . . how can I say this without being inappropriate? Kavia freely gives herself to any man who smiles at her. Is that who you want as your daughter-in-law?”
“I’m sure she won’t be that way once you’re married. The engagement party is still on. The invitations have been sent out, the caterers have been paid for, and everything else is set and ready to go. It’ll be beautiful and the talk of the town,” my mother announced before disappearing into another part of the house.
“I hate this shit,” I barked.
My father didn’t correct me this time, because my mother had left the room.
“Son, I promise you, this is for the best. Your mother and I were chosen for each other, and look at the life we’ve built.”
“How is forcing me to marry someone I barely like for the best? You’ve gotta be kidding me. You probably don’t even love Ma.”
“I’ve been around long enough to know that marrying for love ain’t it, Son. Kavia is probably a little friendlier than you’d like because she’s trying to make you jealous. Your refusal to commit to her hurts her feelings, and she’s acting out. She’s been groomed for this role her entire life. Once you’re married, you’ll be content.”
