On the Other Side(2)
“Are you sure it’s not because he’s controlling as hell and he’s paying for the wedding? He wants to make sure he gets exactly what he paid for?”
“So, what’s wrong with that? Neal didn’t get where he is by squandering his money. That’s one of the things I love about him. He’s responsible and intelligent. He’s also a man, not some sniveling boy or a man who wants to behave like a woman. I feel safe with him; like I can count on a secure future.”
“Security comes from within, baby, not from a man or from money. Don’t let bad relationships of the past guide you out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
Damita was so wrapped up in her impending nuptials she couldn’t be bothered to truly pay attention to the importance of what her mother was saying.
“Yes, Mom, I realize that. You don’t have to keep telling me these things. You and Daddy raised me to be a strong, independent young woman. Falling in love doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten everything you both taught me.”
“It’s your choice of words, Damita. Words like security and falling in love. Words like that have always been red flags for me when it comes to relationships. Somehow the world has embraced the theory that love is something you fall into. That’s not love. That’s a temporary distraction and once the distraction is gone, what’s left?”
“I’m not you, Mom. You and Daddy were married for forty-two years before he died. Things have changed quite a bit since the days when you got married.”
“I’m a dinosaur, but I’m not so much of a relic that I don’t see you possibly giving up the better part of what makes you unique.”
“I promise you that’ll never happen.”
“I hope not.”
“Come on, Mom. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. I want you to walk with me down the aisle and I want you to be happy for me. Okay?
“Neal is everything I’ve always wanted in a man. I’ve got a great job and so does he and we both want the same things. You know my history with men; the narcissists, the unemployed, the cheaters. For a while there I was beginning to think there was a sign on my back that read ‘single black female seeks dysfunctional male.’
“I’m healthy and, dare I say, not unattractive, and I’ve got this perfect man so in love with me. Mom, I’m sitting on top of the world.”
“Just don’t forget that you’re still all of those things, with or without a man.”
“I won’t.”
Her mother didn’t want to point out her use of one of those red flag words: perfect. Instead, she decided to drop the subject.
The minister’s secretary opened the door. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, I am,” Damita responded emphatically.
Her mother wanted to be excited for her. She could see how blissful her daughter was. But, Karen knew within every fiber of her being that Neal was not the right man for Damita. But, oftentimes, the most any parent could do was tread softly in explaining their viewpoint. There were certain things that their children had to learn on their own. She hoped the lesson wouldn’t come with too great a cost. But, no matter what, she would be there to cushion her daughter if she fell.
The moment Damita heard the soulful sound of “You for Me” playing she knew she had chosen the perfect song to walk down the aisle. She thought of the words to the song: “It seems like forever that I have waited for you.” She had waited for a man like Neal her entire life. Now, it was finally happening. She glanced at Karen and smiled. As much as she missed her father, she was happy that her mother could be there. When she was making wedding plans she considered accepting her lifelong friend, Brandon’s, offer to walk her down the aisle, but the only person that could take her father’s place was her mother.
The familiar scent of African Violets greeted Damita as soon as she entered the church. As she walked toward Neal, the vibrant beauty of the purple flowers filled the room and reminded her of their first date. She could remember being impressed with his unique choice. Ever since she told him how much she preferred the sensuously purple flower to roses, he bought her nothing else. Everyone she cared about was in attendance. Carmella and her coworker and friend, Wendy, were her bridesmaids. They were wearing simple, royal blue, satin sheath dresses. She wanted both of her friends to be able to wear the dresses again, so she had chosen something subtle. Despite the fact that Carmella and Wendy’s complexions couldn’t have been more different, they both were equally vivacious in their dresses. Carmella’s reddish-brown color against the blue hibiscus flowers in her hair brought out the rich bronze tones of her skin. Damita looked at her and smile. Carmella was such a small girl, at only five-foot-two, but she had a body that wouldn’t quit. Even in the understated dress, her thirty-eighty D-cups and more than ample hips could not be concealed. Wendy, on the other hand, was at least seven inches taller than Carmella and was as flat as a pancake, both in the front and the back. Although Wendy identified herself as Black, she was biracial. Her olive skin and dark eyes were due to the combination of her African-American father and Italian mother and what their union had produced.