“How did you know, then?”
“Know what?”
“That your father had a heart attack?”
“I heard my mother screaming for me. Go on, eat,” he said. “We don’t waste food. My father used ta make me eat for breakfast what I didn’t eat for dinner. He’d shove it in front of me and say, ‘Eat this or starve.’?”
I started to eat. It was good; it was fresh, and the dressing was not bad at all. My whole body wanted to revolt against liking anything, but I was hungry, and that overpowered my reluctance. Keep him talking, I thought. Maybe he’ll say something I could use to help me escape. “What did you do when you heard her screaming?”
“I ran up the stairs and outside, and sure enough, there he was spread-eagle on the sidewalk he built out of slate. He looked like he was trying to fly or something. I swear, the first thing I did was laugh. You wanna see someone get mad, you shoulda seen my mother. ‘Don’t laugh, you idiot,’ she said. ‘Go see about him.’ She pushed me forward. She had long fingernails. Did I tell you that? Thought it made her glamorous or something. My father didn’t like it, but she wouldn’t give in to that. Her fingernails stung like a knife when she pushed me. I didn’t know what to do. I never saw a dead man. I poked him and called to him and tried to turn his head, and then I just shrugged and said, ‘Ma, he ain’t right.’ ‘How’s that?’ ‘He ain’t right.’ Truth is, he was never right to me.”
“Didn’t anyone else come to help?”
“Who’d come? We don’t exactly have neighbors close-by.”
“No one driving by could see?”
“We’re up from the road. It ain’t easy to see someone lying on his face.”
“What happened next?”
“Ma ran to the phone and called the police, I think. Took a while for an ambulance to come. Maybe they knew him and didn’t want to come,” he said. “I knew you’d like that salad.”
“How far did they have to come?”
“Far enough.”
It sounded like we were on some back road with so much undeveloped land around us.
“How’s the wine?”
I sipped some. He was waiting for my response. “It’s okay,” I said.
“Just okay? That bottle was expensive. I wanted something extra special for our first romantic dinner.”
“I don’t know much about wine.”
He thought a moment. “I coulda sworn . . . you said you did. You mentioned some wines I never heard of, said your father liked them. I’m sure this is one of them. I wrote it down when you said it. You even spelled it out for me. You said you wanted it for our first dinner together, just like you wanted the candlelight and the music. You ordered what we’d eat, too.”
“I lied, just like I lied about everything else,” I said. “That’s why I’m sorry, but this won’t work. I’m not old enough for you, Anthony.” I’ll force him to listen, I thought. “I’m too young to be anyone’s wife. I don’t even know how to cook anything. We had maids when we were young, and my mother did everything for us.”
“Naw. In half the world, girls are married younger than you. You’ll learn stuff. I’m a patient guy.” He drank some more wine and then picked up our salad plates and returned to the stove.
“You should have someone older,” I insisted. “Someone who can make things easier for you and not harder.”
He turned and looked at me. “When I look at you in Ma’s dress there, you remind me a little of her when she was young. I seen her pictures. You know, she was married just a year older than you are. But you knew that. Don’t be afraid to tell me when I’m repeating stuff,” he said. “We should be telling each other new stuff.”
He brought our food to the table, serving me first and then himself.
“You know,” he said when he had sat again, “after Ma called the police and the ambulance was coming, I went back out and took my father’s watch off him. I
bet they would have stole it, huh? I was going to pull off his wedding ring, but it was as good as soldered on his finger. Ma got it later and put it in a drawer.” He held up his hand to show it to me. It was a simple silver band. “I put it on the night you arrived.”
Then he reached into his pants pocket and took out another ring.
“Give me your hand,” he said. I started to shake my head. “Go on, don’t be shy, now, Kaylee. Your left hand,” he commanded. “Do it!”
I held it out, and he slid the ring onto my finger as if he had known it would fit because he had sized it. I stared at it in disbelief. It was silver, too, but with very tiny diamonds embedded in it.