What He's Been Missing

“November.”

“What?”

“The show aired in November,” I pointed out over a cackle coming from Scarlet across the room. Ian’s hand fell to her waist.

“Oh. OK.” Jennifer took a sip from her flute as if that was all she had to say. Or maybe that was the point in the conversation where I was supposed to ask her something, but I didn’t because I knew what was coming next. She turned to look longingly at her boyfriend standing in the huddle like he was a football field away. “You here by yourself?” she asked. “No date?”

“No,” I said. “I’m a friend of Ian’s. And I’m here with you guys.”

“No . . .” Jennifer laughed a little. “You know what I mean. Like ‘alone.’ Like with no date.”

“You got me! No date tonight!” I picked up my flute and sipped the last little bit of champagne left so I’d have an excuse to walk away.

“How brave of you, sister! I remember those days. Being single and just out there. Living life out loud!” She turned back to stare into the huddle. “But then I found my man and everything in my life changed.” Her voice sank way too deep for a cocktail party conversation. “I just love him so much.”

“Yay for love.” I pumped my fist and sounded decidedly obnoxious. “You’re so lucky. How long have you two been together.”

“Three months! But it feels like three lifetimes.” She waved at him like he was going to try to escape if she forgot to keep an eye on him. “You know, they say the true way to build a strong black nation is to get married. Have a family.”

“Really? Where’d you hear that?”

“A class I’m taking . . . grad school.”

Ian’s hand had retreated to his pocket. Scarlet slipped away and was taking pictures with her girlfriends again.

“Don’t worry. Your ship is coming in for sure. Your life is all about love. You breathe it every day.” Jennifer leaned into me. “It must be hard seeing all those people in love when you’re not.”

Ian turned around in my gaze and gave me a weak smile before shrugging his shoulders.

“I mean, you do want love, right?” Jennifer asked. “You’re not like . . . you know . . . a—”

“Yes, I want love,” I said. “But something real. Not just someone I can take to cocktail parties and pose in pictures with.”

“Oh yeah,” Jennifer said distantly and just then I realized she wasn’t listening to a word I was saying. “Hey, can you hold my purse?” She turned and handed me her little hot pink clutch before rushing over to grab her boyfriend’s hand and dragging him into one of the pictures that had claimed Ian as well.

From where I was standing behind them, I could see Ian reach into his back pocket and finger his book. His head tilted away from Scarlet, he pulled the book up a bit, then pushed it back down when she laced her arm around his waist.

“My sister!” Scarlet came to me with her arms outstretched after dispersing from the photo op. “So glad you could make it out to my little surprise birthday party!” She hugged me so tightly it felt like a chiropractic back adjustment. Ian nearly had to pull us apart.

“Oh, Ian was so excited. I wanted to support him. To support both of you,” I said, watching Ian. The confidence he’d grown in his eyes was wavering. I saw bungee cords in his pupils.

“Yeah, this beautiful black man!” Scarlet pinched Ian’s cheek. “I can’t believe he planned all this behind my back. Such a blessing. But it’s no wonder. You know, I’ve been so busy organizing the girls I mentor at the Sankofa Institute. That keeps me away so much. I’m just happy my loving kingman puts up with all my volunteer work.”

“Ian’s always been quite the understanding kingman. My bestie,” I said, nudging Ian in the gut.

He nodded rather mechanically. When Ian and Scarlet had started dating he used to complain about some of her half-baked ideas about the world, about politics and revolution. She was in a place where we used to be when we were in our early twenties and still thinking we could save the world by building one house with Habitat for Humanity. Then we’d gotten real jobs and had bigger fish to fry. Not that we didn’t want to build the house. That was important work. But our days bragging about it were long gone. And time to commit to it was just plain limited. Sometimes Ian dragged me out for drinks to get away from Scarlet’s philosophizing about things she only half understood.

“My kingman.” Scarlet pinched his cheek again. “What about you, Rachel? Do you think you could find some time to come down to the institute to work with the girls? I know you’re really busy with your business and all, but they could use someone like you there—you know, you grew up poor in the country, first in your family to go to college—that kind of thing. They’d relate to you.”

Scarlet was holding my arm the entire time she spoke. Ian had pulled that little book out of his back pocket and I was thinking maybe it wasn’t me she should be holding onto.

“You OK, Ian?” I asked.

“Yeah. Yeah.” He fanned himself with the little book. “Just a little hot in here.”

“Yeah, babe.” Scarlet fanned Ian with one hand without stopping to look at him. “Speaking of hot, Ian tells me you have a new beau who kept you out last night so you couldn’t join us at Masquerade.” She grinned at me with pursed lips like I was her old aunty who’d somehow stumbled upon a boyfriend.

“Really? I have a beau?”