Blind Date, Part Two

“The first time I saw you, my heart whispered, ‘that’s the one.’”
– Unknown

KENTO PARSONS

Wednesday, June 28
3:54PM

I finish cleaning my paint brushes and notice it’s a little before four o’clock. I should’ve been in the shower twenty minutes ago. I lay the brushes on a towel, then stand back to take in the canvas leaning against the exposed brick wall of my living room. For now, it looks like shapeless shades of gold, yellow, and brown, but once it’s finished, it’ll reflect the window to her soul.

I haven’t been able to get her out of my head all day. If I’m honest, she’s been on my mind since I first saw her. The young woman with the striking hazel eyes and kissable lips. Those round hips and long legs that I desire to have wrapped around me. The memory of her is so fresh and clear, as if it were yesterday.

 

One month ago…

I step through the entrance of the museum. I’m supposed to meet Tabitha so we can head over to a burger joint not far from here. I’m not sure why we didn’t meet there instead. The foyer is packed with all sorts of people, which will only make it that much more difficult to find her.

I scan the crowd when I see the tall blonde standing near the information desk talking to someone. I hope it’s not some guy. Tabitha gets a little flirty and talkative when she’s around attractive men. Honestly, she’s chatty no matter who’s standing in front of her.

I make my way around a few patrons. I notice Tabitha’s companion is a woman who appears to be a little over average height. I continue in their direction, hoping to get Tabitha’s attention. My stomach growls for the fifth time. Hopefully, she won’t talk this lady’s head off.

Suddenly, as if she knew I was talking about her, the young woman glances in my direction. Our eyes meet, and I’m floored. She’s very attractive, with her light brown skin and long, dark hair. Her eyes are stunning. She smiles warmly before turning her attention to Tabitha.

Careful not to be seen, I head to my left to get a better view. She’s wearing a black, sleeveless dress with a slit that goes up mid-thigh, along with black pumps. I notice a name tag just below her collarbone. I’ve been to this museum several times, but I’ve never seen her before. Someone who looks that good isn’t hard to notice. Who is she?

She says something funny, because Tabitha can’t stop laughing, which causes the woman to grin and laugh as well. Her slender hands move about as she relays her story. When she places her left hand on the curve of her hip, I notice she’s not wearing a ring.

I can’t believe I’m staring at her. This is something a stalker or a pervert would do, but I’m none of those things. I’m merely making sure a gorgeous woman is single.

I’m also trying to work up the nerve to walk over to introduce myself. Normally, I can handle myself in any conversation, but when I’m nervous or uncomfortable, I tend to say some of the most brainless things. I don’t want to make that mistake with her.

I’ve never experienced this kind of attraction before. Not even with my high school crush, Shanice. Remembering Shanice makes me think of how my parents didn’t care for her. They definitely wouldn’t like the brown-skinned beauty in the black dress standing before me.

The memory of my parents’ distaste for Shanice makes me pause. I’m not going over there. I’ll wait to catch Tabitha’s attention. It would help if I move so she can see me, but I don’t budge.

The pretty woman glances in my direction as she tells her funny story. Our eyes meet again, and like before, she smiles, nodding at me. I return the smile. She looks back at Tabitha right when I raise my hand to wave at her. I try to play it off by running my hand through my hair. Smooth, Kento. Real smooth. This is why I can’t approach her. I can’t even wave like a normal person.

I spot Tabitha glancing at her watch. I know that move. She’s going to call or text if she doesn’t see me soon. Slowly, I make my way over, bracing myself to say hello to the mystery woman. I get within twenty feet when Hazel Eyes hugs Tabitha, then waves goodbye. She heads toward me as her gaze connects with mine.

This time, I’m going to speak to her. I have no idea what I’ll say, but I’ll at least say hello. Just as I work up the courage to talk to Hazel Eyes, she glides by me. Her right hand brushes against mine. My index finger reflexively extends, barely touching her fingers.

I look over at her while she continues in the direction of a jolly-looking man who might be her boss.

“Kento!” Tabitha calls, jolting me out of my reverie.

I walk over, greeting her with a hug.

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” Tabitha starts, but I’m barely listening.

I glance over my shoulder again to see Hazel Eyes still talking to the same man. “The woman you were just speaking to? The one with the pretty eyes?”

Tabitha observes me curiously, “Yeah? What about her?”

“Is she seeing anyone?”

 

One look. That’s all it took for her to become my obsession. My mind usually isn’t consumed with thoughts of a woman. Sure, I think of certain women here and there, but not every day. Well, at least not all day. She does that to me.

This has been the longest month ever. It took some convincing to get Tabitha to do this favor for me. Turns out, they’ve been best friends for a long time. Their bond has to be really tight for Tabitha to be so protective of her.

 

“So, are you going to help me?” My foot taps impatiently against the linoleum floor.

Tabitha stops chewing her burger then takes a long sip of her soda. She’s taking her sweet time answering a simple question.

“Help you with what?” she asks with indifference.

I hate when she does this. She erects this barrier between herself and whoever she’s guarding. It’s like she doesn’t trust me.

“You know what.” I try to mask the exasperation in my voice. “With Vanessa.”

Sighing, she says, “Kento, I don’t know if setting you up with my best friend is wise. It would be one thing if the two of you met on your own and hit it off.” She bites into a steak fry before she continues, “However, if I get in the middle and things don’t go well, then I’m the one to blame. I value my friendship with Vanessa too much to make that kind of mistake.”

“And what about me?” I gawk at her.

“What about you?” she shrugs. “We’ve only been friends for at least a few years. Vanessa’s been my girl since college. I’m always going to be Team Vanessa.”

“Then you should have no problem setting us up. You’ve always said any woman who ends up with me would be lucky,” I say in my defense.

“That’s not what I meant by that, and you know it,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“C’mon Tabitha. Just this once. I promise I won’t do anything to make you look bad, and I won’t hurt her.”

“Those are some hefty promises, Kento. Are you sure you can keep them?” she challenges.

 

I put away my paints and remove the drop cloth from the hardwood floor. I live in a loft, so my living room doubles as an art studio. After cleaning, I head upstairs to take a much needed cold shower. My obsession brings on emotions that are a mix between lust and more lust. Needless to say, I’ve taken lots of cold showers these past few weeks. I don’t know how I’m going to get through tonight.

My cell rings while I’m removing my paint-stained t-shirt. Tabitha’s name flashes on the home screen.

“Hey,” I answer.

“Hi, Kento,” she begins. “I’m on my way to V’s to help her get ready for tonight. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“Are you sure?” she asks with concern. “I called your work. They said you left early. If you’re not feeling well, maybe you should reschedule the date.”

Lately, I’ve been pretty restless, plus I didn’t get much sleep last night. As a result, I had trouble focusing during my lectures this morning. Unfortunately, my students noticed. It was so bad, they had to correct me. One of my worst students informed me that I wasn’t myself. When your worst student tells you something’s not right, that’s when you know you’ve got it bad. I ended up leaving early in hopes of clearing my head, which only resulted in having even more time to think of her.

I can’t let Tabitha know I’m not myself. If I worry her, then she’ll regret what she’s done. “Yeah, uh, I had to take care of something that came up. It’s not a big deal.”

I run a hand through my thick, black hair, hoping she believes me. If she doesn’t, this date is over before it begins.

“Huh,” she hesitates. “For a minute there I thought you were having second thoughts.”

 

There’s a knock on my office door. I glance up to see Tabitha peek in.

“Hi. Are you busy?”

“No, just grading some papers,” I answer as I gesture for her to come in. “One of my students decided to draw Okakura Kakuzō’s influence on Pre-war art instead of writing it.”

“They should get extra credit for creativity,” she laughs.

“Ha! Then all my students will hand in drawings.” I shuffle the papers around on my desk. “I admire her creativity, but she still owes me a five-page paper.”

“Wow. Aren’t you hardcore?” She sits in the chair across from me, then gets down to business. “So, I talked to Vanessa.”

My heart beats a little harder when she says her name. I lean back in my chair after I set down the papers. I tap my pen against the desk unconsciously while I wait for her to continue.

“It took some persuading, and a pair of Louboutins, but she agreed to go out with you,” she says casually.

“Louboutins? She wouldn’t go out with me until you gave her a pair of shoes?” I frown.

“Well, not exactly. A client gave me a pair as a gift. Since I’m an awesome friend, I gave them to V. She agreed to the date before I gave her the shoes.”

She sees the puzzled look on my face before going on to say, “I have plenty of shoes and V’s wardrobe needs a little help.”

Shaking my head, I say, “None of that makes any sense to me. Frankly, I don’t care to understand. The most important thing is she said yes.”

 

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, drying myself off. I look over my hair which has grown out from my usual medium-length fade. The hair in the back and the sides need to be cut. I grab the clippers and get to work.

I run a little gel through my hair to keep the long strands out of my face. A light beard has unintentionally joined my goatee. What the hell has been happening to keep me from noticing this? Oh, right. Her.

I shave the stubble, and then trim my goatee as fast as I can. My eyes run a quick inspection from head to toe. I mess around with my hair some more, trying to get it just right, but it’s doing its own thing. I hope she likes what she sees.

I guess that’s the bad part about meeting her this way. I’ve already seen her, but she doesn’t know it. I know what I’m getting, whereas she has no clue. Vanessa’s a knock-out. I’ve never dated a black woman before. What if she doesn’t like Asian guys?

I know I’m attractive. Women, specifically Asian and white women, tell me so. They’re always gushing over my brown eyes and high cheekbones. If it weren’t for my six-foot two-inch height, I don’t think I’d get a second look. To hear these women talk, you’d think I’m an anomaly.

I’m in great shape, but not because I want to. My job requires me to teach something I’d rather be creating. I spend a lot of time in my own head, so every now and then I need to clear my mind. I do what I can to get away, so I run as far as I can.

I ran cross country in school, which is why running long distance doesn’t bother me. Sometimes I swim or go hiking. Every once in awhile I’ll go rock climbing with the guys. More importantly, I paint. I don’t get to do much of it because of work, but I do it whenever possible.

If it were up to me, I’d move to France, where I’d spend my days painting and my nights with a beautiful woman – the same beautiful woman. Some might assume I don’t want to settle down, but they’re wrong. I want to spend the rest of my life with my muse.

I head into my closet, where everything is organized by type and color. It’s a little OCD, but I need some kind of order. Living in a small space doesn’t afford much room for clutter.

I’ve been preparing for this night for some time now, but I’m still on edge. I shouldn’t be freaking out like this. She’s not the first attractive woman I’ve gone out with. I’m sure I can get through the night without doing something stupid. I’m not new to this.

I tuck the crisp navy blue, buttoned-down shirt into my dark blue jeans. I’m meeting Vanessa at Mancini’s, an upscale restaurant on Melrose. I want to look relaxed, but not too relaxed, hence the jeans. I decide to add a charcoal gray vest with a tie to dress it up a bit.

I have plenty of neckties, so there’s absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t be able to find something decent to go with this shirt. It’s not that complicated. I try on a black one. No, absolutely not. Too many dark colors. I reach for one with pinstripes, but it clashes with the stripes in the shirt. Frustrated, I grab another one which has some sort of weird design. Sighing, I take it off. Why on earth would I pick this one, let alone wear it out in public?

Feeling defeated, I make one more attempt. Like the others before, it doesn’t feel right. I’m not sure what’s wrong with it, but I’m not wearing it. I guess tonight isn’t the night for a tie. I snatch it off and toss it on the bed.

Maybe it’s the shirt. It’s too blue. I wonder if Vanessa’s having as much trouble as me. No, no she’s not. I don’t care what Tabitha says. I can’t imagine Vanessa having any problems with her wardrobe. She’d look hot in a burlap sack.

I finally settle on a light blue, buttoned-down shirt and a gray tie to go with the vest. I put on a charcoal gray suit jacket. Grabbing my cell, wallet, and keys, I take one last look in the mirror. I look good. I’m sure she’ll be impressed. Besides, there’s no turning back now.

 

After driving around for several minutes, I finally find a place to park my gray 2015 Lexus IS 350. I’m twenty minutes ahead of schedule. I don’t know why I’m so early. For the most part, I’m a punctual kind of guy, but this is a tad much. I decide to call my boy, Aaron, while I wait.

“Hello?” He picks up on the second ring. Music is blaring in the background.

“Hey, Aaron, it’s Ken!” I shout above the noise.

The music dies down a little.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” He chuckles, “What happened? Your Cinderella turn out to be one of the ugly stepsisters?

“No, that only happens to you. I don’t drink and date. It’s bad for my health.”

We laugh at Aaron’s track record for picking up hot girls with the worst attitudes.

“Touché,” he concedes. “Alright, so what’s going on?”

“Man, I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” I confess.

“You’re cutting it kinda close, don’t you think? Why are you having second thoughts now?”

“At first, I thought it was because she might not like me. But when I think of her, I think about my parents.”

“I thought you said she was hot? How does thinking about a hot woman lead to your Iowan parents?” he inquires.

“Aaron, you know my parents,” I sigh. “They would lose their shit if they knew I was going out with a black woman.”

“Oh.” There’s a long pause before he says, “My parents were the same way when my sister started dating my brother-in-law. I really can’t say they’ve embraced him as much as they tolerate him. My sister had to give them an ultimatum: her and her man or no one at all.”

“My parents – well at least my dad – aren’t up for negotiating. I already know the terms,” I profess. I pinch my eyes shut with my fingers. Dread creeps in my bones.

“Well, you haven’t really met this girl, so you don’t know what could happen,” Aaron points out. “Also, she’s the first black woman you’ve gone out with. Maybe your concerns have nothing to do with your parents.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No offense, but she’s not the kind of woman you normally date. Is it possible you subconsciously believe the crap you were fed growing up? There’s a reason why you’re flipping out. It can’t all be about your family.”

I can’t believe he just accused me of being racist. Two of our best friends are black and Latino. Hell, I’m half Japanese. There’s no way I’m as ignorant as my father.

“We’ve known each other for over five years,” I remind him. “Have you ever known me to mistreat another minority?”

“Not exactly,” he answers.

I sigh heavily into the phone.

“I’m not trying to mess with your head before your date,” he assures me. “I’m just letting you know there’ve been some times when you’ve been condescending to certain people.”

“And those people are black?” I frown.

He’s silent for a brief moment. “Listen, forget I said anything.”

“I can’t.” If I was nervous before, I’m a wreck now. My friend just told me that I’m a chip off the old block.

“Sure you can.” He sounds too chipper for someone who just dropped a bomb in my lap. “Relax and enjoy yourself. Whatever you do, don’t screw it up. She doesn’t know you or your parents. She has no idea she’s about to step into a landmine.”

 

I enter the pricey establishment trying to rid my mind of the uncomfortable conversation I had with Aaron. The first thing I notice is the amount of people already there. I knew it would be packed, but not like this. Especially on a Wednesday night.

I look around to see how the men are dressed to make sure I’m not out of place. Some guys are in a suit and tie. Some look like hipsters, but with a touch more class. I fall in the middle, which is fine by me.

“Good evening. Welcome to Mancini’s,” welcomes the perky, brown-haired hostess. “Do you have a reservation?”

Her freckled face is slightly shining from perspiration. Her bangs appear to absorb most of the sweat. She smiles pleasantly even though her gray eyes beg me to hurry up so she can move on to her next task.

“Good evening,” I begin. “I have a reservation for two under Kento Parsons.”

She glances at her tablet before taking two dinner menus.

“Ah, there you are,” she says. “Right this way.”

She takes off without hesitation. Her short legs get her to our destination before I can catch up with her. The table for two is situated behind a huge decorative plant, blocking my view of the entrance. I want to see Vanessa before she sees me. I don’t want to be surprised.

“Thank you, but is it possible to get another table,” I ask. “I know you’re busy and this is last minute, but I’m meeting someone for the first time.”

Her eyes brighten at the realization of what I’m asking.

“Oh, like a blind date?” She giggles. “I totally feel your pain.”

She has no idea what I’m feeling in the moment, but I need a great table, so I smile in agreement. She rushes over to a table tucked in the corner that has a great view of the entrance. I’ll be able to spot Vanessa as soon as she walks by the hostess stand.

“How’s this one?” she suggests.

“It’s perfect,” I reply as I unbutton my suit jacket to hang it behind the chair. I sit with my back facing the wall.

After the hostess disappears, I take in my surroundings. Oak wood tables for two and four run parallel to each other. To my left are booths for six or eight that are divided by thinly veiled partitions. The grand room has more of a Tuscan vibe.

Some people look like they just came in from work, but all I notice are the couples. They’re everywhere. Hopefully tonight goes well, or I’ll look like a fool in front of all these people.

“Good evening, sir,” says a middle-aged man. “My name is Tom. I’ll be serving you this evening. I see you’re waiting for one more person.”

“Yes, I am.” It’s either really warm in here or it’s just me. I unbutton my sleeves, rolling them up my forearms.

“Here’s a list of our specials. I’d be happy to go over them now or wait for your guest to arrive.”

“Can we wait?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” he says with a cordial smile. “Might I interest you in our house wine?”

I set down the list of specials. “Actually, I’d like to have an Appleton Estate Rare Blend rum. Neat.”

“Yes. I’ll be back with your drink,” he assures me before stepping away.

I glance at my black and gray Armani Exchange bracelet watch. Seven fifty-seven. I have a feeling she’ll be on time. Vanessa strikes me as an ‘on time’ kind of woman. My heart rate increases. Clearing my throat, I pick up the menu, hoping to collect my thoughts.

My mind revisits the conversation I had with Aaron. Do I have a tendency to talk down to black people? I’m sure if I did someone would’ve said so. If I had a problem, then I wouldn’t be attracted to Vanessa.

While I look over the menu, I think about the black people I’ve hung around or worked with, searching for signs of any hidden biases. I remember a few occasions when I may have talked down to someone, but that wasn’t because of their race.

I dismiss the idea that I could be the reason why I’m suddenly so conflicted. I’m attracted to this girl. I wouldn’t harm her. Besides, the last time I was attracted to someone like Vanessa, my parents intervened and they never stopped.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of heels resonating against the shiny wood floors. My pulse quickens. I raise my head slowly to see Vanessa saunter toward me. I’d hoped to see her coming before she saw me, but I was lost in my own world.

Our eyes meet once again. I stand, never taking my eyes off her. I imagine running my hands up her smooth legs, wrapping them around my waist in the short time it takes her to reach our table. Her smile reaches her eyes. Those mesmerizing eyes. Oh god, I’m a dead man.

I don’t know if it’s because her stare is so strong, or if I’m horny as hell, but my gaze travels down to her breast. I don’t think she’s wearing a bra. My dick grows hard. Licking my lips, I take in her small waist which leads to ample hips. I can only imagine thick thighs hiding underneath that coral dress. She’s not as tall as Tabitha, but she has legs for days.

Realizing I may be looking at her like I’m about to devour her, I pull my eyes up and they get stuck on her mouth. Her lips are so enticing I’d like to taste them. She bites her bottom lip and it takes everything in me not to take hold of her and kiss her. What the hell is she doing to me?

 

“Until a man finds himself, he’ll ruin every woman he comes across.”
– Unknown

“I don’t know what possessed Tabitha to think you and I have anything in common, but we have absolutely nothing in common. I don’t know how you can be a person of color and be so tone-deaf. How you can sit there and justify your behavior is beyond me. But I can’t subject myself to this, this – whatever this is – any longer.”

Vanessa shoves her chair back from the table. She’s pissed with me, and I don’t blame her. I just insulted her by essentially telling her that black women are beneath me. This wasn’t my intention. This definitely isn’t going as planned. Sometimes I can be condescending when I’m nervous, but I’m behaving like an ass. Aaron warned me about this.

“I’ve offended you again.” I reach across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry. This isn’t going the way I’d hoped. I keep putting my foot in my mouth, and I don’t mean to hurt you. I’ve never gone out with a black woman before, and I’m a little thrown, which is unusual for me.”

I hold onto her hand as long as I can, hoping she doesn’t leave. She closes her eyes. It looks like I may have smoothed things over. As I begin to relax, she shakes her head like she knows what I’m up to.

“Going out with a black woman really isn’t any different than any other woman. All you have to do is treat us with respect.”

She grabs her purse and walks out on me. I can’t believe I just blew any chance I had of getting to know her. All those weeks I spent thinking of her and what could happen between us were a waste.

Our waiter approaches looking concerned. “Sir, is everything alright?”

“Yes, Tom. Everything’s fine,” I assure him. “There’s been a change of plans. I apologize for the trouble we’ve caused, but is there any way the meals can be made to go? I’ll pay extra if necessary.”

“That won’t be a problem, Mr. Parsons. I’ll put a rush on the meals and have them ready in about five minutes. I’ll be back with your check,” he answers politely. His manners are in direct contrast with the confused look etched across his middle-aged face.

Tom strides back to the kitchen. There’s not a doubt in my mind that the good waiter isn’t going to gossip to his co-workers about the guy who just got dumped. Quickly, I glance around the open dining room. The diners are either focused on their meals or the person sitting across from them. They didn’t notice Vanessa’s exchange with me, or at least they’re not acting like it.

Tonight absolutely did not go according to plan. I had one opportunity and I blew it – repeatedly. I signal for the waitress at the next table.

The redhead does a double take before walking over to me, “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

I look at her intently, asking, “Where are your restrooms?”

Her cheeks redden, “Down the hall. It’s the first door on your left.”

Smiling, I thank her, then head down the hall. I feel her eyes on me. I know she’s attracted to me. If it were any other night, I might indulge her. Right now, I’m not in the mood.

I push through the door of the men’s restroom. Someone’s in the stall to my right. I walk over to the sink to wash my hands. There’s a flush behind me. A short, stout man wearing a suit steps up beside me. I wait until he’s gone before I splash cold water on my face.

After drying off my face, I rest my palms on the sink, leaning in to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I run my fingers through my thick, dark hair. I look at my eyes; my mother’s eyes. Toshi Parsons would be disappointed in my behavior, even if Vanessa isn’t her cup of tea. Closing my eyes, I let my head drop forward, trying to make sense of what just happened.

What kind of man patronizes a woman on their first date? Two minutes hadn’t passed before I turned into someone I didn’t know. How many dates have I been on with white women who made offhand remarks about my skin color? I know what it’s like to be stereotyped, and I had the audacity to do the same thing to Vanessa.

I’m not sure how many minutes pass when my cell vibrates in my pocket. I know it’s Tabitha without having to check. Shit! She’s going to kill me. How am I going to explain this to her?

“Hi, Tabitha,” I answer, heading back to the table.

“Kento, what the hell did you do?!” she shouts in my ear.

Before I can respond, Tabitha forges ahead.

“Need I remind you that you’re the one who asked me to hook you up with Vanessa? What was the point if you were going to act an ass? And what’s this about me not telling you that V’s black? You already knew what she looked like,” she bellows.

I reach the table just as Tom approaches with my food and the bill. Tom couldn’t have come at a worse time.

“Tabitha, I’ll explain, but can you hold on a sec?” I ask.

She’s only going to yell even more, so I don’t wait for a response.

“Keep the change.” I hand him the cash.

I take the food then head toward the front entrance.

“Hey, Tab, sorry to put you hold. I had to pay for the food,” I explain.

“Mm hmm.”

She’s waiting for an explanation, but I don’t know where to begin. I get inside my car and sit for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts.

“Tabitha, you’re right. I’m sorry,” I say. “She walked in looking gorgeous. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The way she looked at me…The moment I saw her I knew this couldn’t work. It’s not her. It has nothing to do with her. I just know how my family can be. There’s no way my parents would go for a black girl. Not in a million years. I know how cruel they’d be if they ever met her. I didn’t want to put her through that.”

“So you were cruel to her instead?” Tabitha asks, bewildered. “And how do you know this would’ve even worked?”

“No, I…”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she continues. “She thinks you’re a racist. Ugh! I vouched for you, and this is what you do?”

“I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t make sense,” I sigh. I can’t admit the truth. If I do, Tabitha wouldn’t look at me the same. No one would.

I look over my shoulder, making sure nothing’s coming down the street. I merge onto Melrose to head home.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” she says. “This is the type of thing you do when you’re a college student. You’re a college professor. You’re supposed to be above this. You begged me to set you up. Now she never wants to speak to you again.”

I groan, “I was nervous and I didn’t know what to say to her. I’ve never gone out with a black girl before. I freaked out. My parents -”

“Kento, you’re thirty-five years old. Be a man for Pete’s sake!” She urges. “Your parents have nothing to do with this. This was all you and you need to fix it.”

My neighbor is walking her German shepherd when I turn onto my street. She glances in my direction. I slide down in the seat, afraid she can see me for what I truly am.

“How? She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Rightfully so. I was a jerk. I said some pretty shitty things.”

“I don’t know how, but you need to do something.”

“Can you-”

“No. I’m not helping you with this. I feel guilty enough as it is. You’re the one who got yourself in this mess. You need to get yourself out.” She disconnects the call.

I slam my fist against the steering wheel. Sharp pain shoots through my hand. I don’t know exactly how I’m going to resolve this. I know I need to apologize and ask her to forgive me, which means I’ll have to explain why I behaved this way.

I trudge into my apartment building, pissed at myself. I spent a month fantasizing about a woman who, tonight, was within my grasp. All I had to do was play it cool. Act like a normal human being. However, I acted like a milder version of my father.

I step inside my home, taking the key out of the deadbolt. The light from the street lamps shines through the living room windows. I toss my suit jacket on the black leather sofa before going into the kitchen to put away the food. I grab a bottle of Appleton Estate Rare Blend 12 Year Old Rum. There’s not much left so I don’t bother with a glass.

Slowly, I step into the living room, staring at the canvas I worked on earlier. I can’t believe I treated her so poorly. Aaron tried to tell me. I thought I could choose my own happiness, but at the last minute, I chose my parents. At least, that’s what it feels like.

For as long as I’ve been alive, I’ve sought their approval – particularly my father’s. Being the middle child forced me to compete for their affection. I was very different from my brothers so I stood out, but not for the reasons I wanted.

My father, Henry Parsons, played football and baseball most of his life. He wanted his sons to follow in his footsteps. My older brother, Taro, started off on the right foot by playing second baseman through middle school and high school. Katsuo, the youngest, was a center fielder. I, on the other hand, was a talented artist. I was seldom seen without my drawing pencils, paints, and a spray paint can or two.

In order to satisfy my father, I joined the track and field team in middle school and started cross country running. This way I could participate in a sport without actually having to heavily rely on a team for success; plus, it pacified my father.

However, I didn’t have to work so hard for my mother’s affection. She favored me over my brothers because she too had a creative side. She was always writing songs and singing around the house. She encouraged me to pursue my art, oftentimes coming to my defense whenever my father took issue with my unconventional ways.

Then again, she didn’t always stand up to him. They both had an idea of what their sons’ lives would be and who would be a part of it. Even though my mother didn’t pass the Parsons family litmus test, she still raised us to bring home a nice girl. A white girl or an Asian girl. Preferably white. Nevertheless, the only girls I’ve ever been attracted to have been black.

I never understood where their disdain for anyone brown or black came from. The racist comments that my parents endured from those closest to them should’ve been enough to make them embrace everyone. I assumed they’d be more empathetic. Instead, they picked up where my grandparents left off. Tonight I found out I might be continuing the tradition.

 

Twenty years ago…

Her lips taste like pink vanilla cotton candy. I didn’t expect this to happen, but I’m glad it did. Shanice Mitchell, the prettiest girl in school, just kissed me.

“Is this your first kiss?” she asks after she pulls away.

My face grows warm as my tongue tastes the traces of her lip gloss. Her mouth curves into a smile while she waits for my answer. No sense in trying to lie, especially since she’s the one who had to make the first move.

“That obvious, huh?” my voice shakes.

“Mm, a little, but it’s cool,” she shrugs, her smile fading away. “This is as far as we go. Isn’t it?”

Seconds ago, I was in heaven with Shanice. Her russet, reddish-brown arms linked around my neck as our tongues did some weird, yet awesome dance. Now I’m steeped in the realization that we had to hide behind the bleachers just so we could talk. If anyone saw us together, it would get back to my parents, who’d be furious.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” I admit solemnly.

She stares at me with sadness in her brown eyes. I turn my face slightly, trying to avoid her watchful glare, but there’s no escaping it. She tries to put on a brave face, but I know she’s hurt.

“I understand,” she steps back. “I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend anyway.”

“Do you think we can we still be friends?” I can’t date her, but I want her any way I can have her.

She thoughtfully grinds a clump of dirt with the spikes of her track shoes.

“Your parents don’t like me cuz I’m black. What kind of friendship can we possibly have?” she kisses my cheek before walking away.

 

I catch a ride with my teammate, Jason, who lives in my neighborhood. I run up to my house, knowing my tardiness will bring unwanted attention. I can only hope one of my brothers did something to disappoint my dad.

I enter quietly through the back door into the white kitchen. It’s empty and quiet. I hope my mom’s in her studio and my dad’s working late. Grabbing an apple off the counter, I hurry in the direction of my bedroom.

As I round the corner into the living room, my eyes meet my dad’s. He and my mom are seated on the beige couch watching TV. My parents paint a happy picture with my mom nestled under my dad’s arm. Sometimes I forget they’re still in love. They place such high expectations on my brothers and me that it’s hard to remember it.

“Kento, you’re late,” my dad announces with a gruff voice.

My mom sits up at his declaration. She stands and reaches up to kiss the top of my forehead, before she strolls into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” I began. “Practice ran a little late.”

He pats the cushion next to him. I move slowly over to him, and then sit down. My dad is kind and funny, but he’s very clear on what he requires of us.

“How’s track coming along?” he inquires.

“Great,” I answer.

“How are you getting along with your teammates?”

“Good, I guess,” I reply.

“Make any new friends?” His tone changes ever so slightly.

I grow wary of this line of questioning. He either knows something or he’s fishing. Either way, I need to shut this down as quickly and politely as possible.

“Yeah, Jason’s pretty cool,” I answer while getting up to head upstairs to my room. “I have a lot of studying to do, so I’m going up to my room.”

“What about Shanice?” he asks.

I’m frozen solid. He knows, but how? Quickly, I sift through my memory of all the times I was around her. We hung out in groups. We were very careful not to be seen alone. Unless…

“It doesn’t matter how I know.” He points the remote at the TV and the screen goes dark. “Kento, your mother and I want what’s best for you and your brothers.”

“Shanice is a cool girl.” My heart pumps blood fiercely through my veins while my face remains composed. “She’s one of the smartest girls I know.”

My dad shakes his head as if he knows Shanice better than me.

“She’s not your type,” he says with a flat voice.

My eyes flash with anger. “How do you know she’s not my type? I barely even know.”

“Watch your tone.” His gray eyes glare at me. “I know she’s not the kind of girl you need to be hanging around. Those girls are wild and promiscuous. She’ll use you then trap you. Once that happens, there’s nothing your mom and I can do to help you. You need to stay away from those people. It sends the wrong message.”

“What?” I’m confused. “That’s not Shanice. She would never do anything like that. I don’t know anyone who would.”

“I don’t care what she’s like! You’re not allowed to talk to her anymore. You understand me?!” His voice grows loud and deep.

My mom quietly comes into the living room. I look at her with pleading eyes, begging her to come to my defense.

“Mom, you know she’s not like that. Tell him!”

Her voice, much like her face, is soft and sympathetic. “Son, your father’s right. We only want what’s best for you. It’ll be easier this way.”

My eyes well up with tears. My voice cracks, “But she’s my friend. We’re on the track team together. How am I supposed to stay away from her?”

My father stands abruptly forcing me to shrink back. His face and neck are beet red. “This isn’t up for debate! When you start dating and want to bring someone home to meet your mother and me, you better make damn sure her ass isn’t black. Do you understand me?!”

 

My father’s words replay over and over like a broken record. The next day at school, I avoid Shanice. I don’t know how my parents found out about her. I don’t want to take any chances.

At practice, we steal glimpses of each other. For a second, I caught a knowing smile from her. From that moment on, we were never more than classmates.

 

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head at the childhood memory. I was too young to do anything about Shanice. Truthfully, I didn’t know what type of girl I liked. It wasn’t until college that I realized I wasn’t attracted to the women my parents preferred. Yet, I dated them anyway so I wouldn’t have a repeat of Shanice.

This may not make sense to anyone else, but I’m extremely close to my family regardless of their views. I can date whoever I want, but the minute they find out that she’s not a nice girl, that would be the end of my relationship with my family. I have a stronger bond with my mother than my father. My greatest fear is losing my connection to her.

I can’t undo what’s been done. My parents may have intervened when I was in high school, but tonight I was my own worst enemy. If I hadn’t behaved like a jerk, the date would’ve gone perfectly. I would’ve asked her out on a second, maybe even a third date. I’m pretty sure we would’ve fallen in love. I’m not being arrogant. I simply know. Just like I know my parents would mistreat her if given the opportunity. Or worse, disown me. If I get involved with a black woman, can I live without seeing my parents ever again?

Sipping the smooth rum calms my nerves. My mind experiences a moment of clarity it hasn’t had in awhile. I scroll through my iPod for my R & B Soul playlist. I press play and the sultry melody of Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You” pulses through the speakers.

I strip down to my t-shirt and jeans. Switching on the lights, I scoop up my paint and brushes. I pad over to the canvas, staring at what will soon become a replica of her. I’m so entrenched in this creation that I barely notice the song change to Maxwell’s “Whenever, Wherever, Whatever”.

Taking the paint brush, I shape the eyes before filling in the eyebrows with dark brown and black paint. Several songs later, the pieces of the portrait have to come together. The outline of her face, along with her eyes is complete, but there’s still more to go. The more I paint, the more I’m sure of what I need to do. Standing back, I admire my work. Yeah, she’s most definitely my muse.

Tomorrow I’m going to stop by the museum. She’s not going to like it, but I have to talk to her. Hopefully, I can salvage this. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.

 

“If you don’t sacrifice for what you want, what you want becomes the sacrifice.”
– Unknown

I put on my sunglasses as I step into the bright sunlight. I relive the moments just before. I can’t help but smile. It wasn’t easy, but she heard what I had to say and forgave me. Not only that, she’s giving me a second chance. Except that’s not the best part. We kissed. Technically, she kissed me first, but that’s beside the point. She doesn’t hate me.

Right now, I’m feeling great. So great, I send up a silent thank you to a God I barely know. Now all I have to do is plan our next date.

She already knows how my family feels about dating black women. She seemed more put off by my actions than my parents’ beliefs. I really don’t blame her.

At one point I considered myself to be one of the good guys, but I’m no better than my father. I believe she’s my muse, but I won’t find out if I treat her less than she’s worth. I can’t expect this to go anywhere if I’m not in it all the way.

I didn’t have the heart to admit my upbringing only played a small part in how I behaved last night. Part of me is disgusted with how easy it was to behave so rudely. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for hurting her. Knowing this sucks all the happiness out of me.

I reach the driver side of my Lexus. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply then exhale. I just got a second chance with a woman I don’t deserve. I can’t deny I have some issues I need to work on no matter what happens with Vanessa. But for now, I don’t want to worry about any of it.

I climb into the car, smirking as I realize I’m going out with someone I’m actually interested in. She wants to know the real me. I think I know just the place for our next date. Some might think I’m crazy for doing this, but this is the best way to show her who I am and that she can trust me. It’ll also give us some alone time to talk.

I’m about to call Aaron when my phone rings. It’s my mother. I stare at the screen a few seconds too long. When I look up, I notice the truck in front of me is stopped. I slam on my brakes, resulting in a loud high-pitched horn, along with the middle finger, from the woman driving the small hatchback behind me.

My mother’s voice fills the car’s interior.

“Hello? Kento?” Her voice is soft.

“Hi, Mom,” I say as I reach for folders that slid onto the floor. “How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I haven’t heard from you in a while so I called to check on you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been really busy with summer classes.” I wipe the sweat off my brow.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d slow down. Take some time for yourself. Hopefully meet someone nice,” she explains. “Your brothers have settled down. It’s time you do the same.”

Now isn’t the time to talk about my dating life, especially when it could potentially involve someone they’d dismiss solely on the basis of skin color. I don’t know what will happen with Vanessa, but I want the opportunity to find out. I’d like to tell my parents about the woman who intrigues me and makes me feel alive, but it’ll have to wait.

“Mom, don’t worry,” I say, trying to calm her fears. “When I meet someone, I’ll take the time to make sure she’s the right one before introducing her to the family. I’ll settle down soon enough.”

I hear a worried sigh on the other end of the line.

“Sometimes I wonder if we were too hard on you,” she says. “You always did dance to the beat of your own drum.”

I don’t color inside the lines. My mother understands this. I’m sure sometimes it can be difficult having to explain this to my father. Nonetheless, this is the first time she’s said this.

“Mom, where is this coming from?” My forehead furrows.

“It’s nothing. I just want you to find happiness. Settle down, marry a good girl. Give me more grandbabies,” she laughs.

I chuckle, “I’m working on it.”

“Good.” She seems pleased. “Okay, son. I’ll let you get back to California living. Visit us before the summer ends. All right? We miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Tell Dad I love him.” I choke back the emotions that threaten to surface. “I’ll call back to make arrangements to come home soon.”

We say our goodbyes as I head back to my office. A somber feeling settles throughout my body as I contemplate what I’m doing. Everyone wants me to be content, but they don’t approve of what makes me content. My relationship with my family may suffer as a result of choosing to live on my own terms. On the other hand, I’ll learn to get over my own insensitivity.

Almost immediately, I remember the softness of Vanessa’s lips, the smell of her perfume, and the feel of her body pressed against mine. It was amusing to see her panic just a little when her boss almost walked in on us, even though I was slightly freaked out as well.

I want to know who she is when there’s no one around. When it’s just the two of us. No best friends, employers, or parents. Just us. Now, I’m positive the place I initially had in mind is perfect for our next date. A lopsided grin appears on my face as I park the sedan in the parking garage. I don’t know if she’ll go for it, but it’s worth a shot.

To be continued…