Should Have Known Better

We laughed, but everyone else just sat in their chairs lazily and rolled their eyes. Cheyenne fingered a meatball on her plate of spaghetti. I would’ve snapped at her, but she was the only one of them who was still showing signs of life. R. J. and Re

ginald were completely worn out by our conversation.

After surviving a series of Sasha’s questions about what it was like having a twin, R. J. was avoiding eye contact with Sasha. And Reginald only broke his stare to give me a look of disapproval about something Sasha had said.

“So what’s it like being a big television star?” Reginald asked rather randomly.

“It’s wonderful,” Sasha answered. “I get to travel the world, meet interesting people”—she looked at Cheyenne and smiled—“learn new things. I couldn’t have asked for a better career.”

“It can’t be all good—must have some downsides,” Reginald pushed and I managed a half-pleasant smile, afraid of where he might be going with his questions. I knew Sasha could feel the tiny tension, too, and was hoping she’d back down quickly, give him what he wanted, so she could get back to talking to me.

“I can’t say anything bad about the industry at this point. Of course, I have to work hard—go up against the big boys on bad days—but who doesn’t have to do that?” She looked over at me for agreement and I nodded.

“Actually, at the library, my coworker Sharika and I always have to try to—” I offered, but Reginald quickly cut in.

“I don’t bow down to any big boys,” he said. “I have my own business. I’m my own man. That’s how it is when you work for yourself.”

“Well, of course, I wouldn’t mind running my own business, but I couldn’t exactly open my own television network and have the same outreach that I do at CNN.”

“Bob Johnson did,” Reginald pointed out.

“Bob Johnson? He sold his soul to Viacom. Sold our soul. You can’t compare that,” Sasha said.

“Who’s Bob Johnson?” Cheyenne asked after finally eating her meatball.

“The founder of BET,” I replied.

“The man went out there and made something happen for himself. He didn’t depend on white folks for anything,” Reginald said.

“OK,” I interjected. “Enough of the grown people talk. You two are boring the kids.” I reached over and rubbed R. J.’s back.

“The kids need to hear this,” Reginald said. “They need to know all about their mother’s friend who works at CNN. What it’s like being on top. Nothing wrong with a little spirited conversation. Right, Sasha?”

“Of course not,” Sasha agreed. “Do you two ever watch the show?”

“Once in a while,” I said quickly. “I loved the piece you did about black women serving in Iraq last Thanksgiving. It was so touching.”

“Oh, you saw that? I so loved working on that feature. I used every favor I ever had to get on that base. Those women were so courageous.”

“So what brings you to Augusta?” Reginald asked abruptly. “Must be hard to get time away.”

“Well, as I told Dawn, I’ve been at a journalism conference in downtown Augusta for the last three days and I figured I had to stop through to see you guys before I headed back to Atlanta. I’m actually on a two-week vacation.”

“And you came to little old Augusta?” Reginald asked. “I’d think someone like you would go to France or Paris.”

“Paris is in France, Daddy,” Cheyenne snarled. “If she goes to Paris, she’s been to France.”

Reginald didn’t even look at her.

“Wow, that was so smart of you, sweetheart,” Sasha said. “What school are they at, Dawn? Westminster? Episcopal Day? Augusta Prep?”

“Oh, no; we don’t have them in private school,” I answered. “We just can’t do it right now.”

“What? Are you serious?” she pushed, waving off the bread basket as I tried to pass it along. “You simply can’t trust your children’s education in the public school system. I did a special on it. I’d put them in private school. What, it’s only about $18K a year per kid.”

“Yeah, Reginald and I have considered switching them over,” I said, avoiding Reginald’s eyes. “But the public schools here aren’t so bad.”

“Don’t believe the hype,” Sasha said. “Look up the numbers.”