His First Wife

“What can you offer?” his mother asked again.

“Well, I can offer a lot. I’m going to be a doctor too . . . and then I’ll learn how to cook and clean and I’ll . . .” I couldn’t even believe what I was saying. I wasn’t about to cook and clean for anyone. That was where I drew the line in the sand. But it sounded good. So I thought.

“Don’t give me that shit about no med school. He done already told me you didn’t get accepted to none of those med schools you applied to, so you can stop lying to me.”

I looked at Jamison hard. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the letters.

“Stop putting on airs and shit,” she went on after reloading by having a sip of her beer. “You ain’t got nowhere to go and you thinking you about to cash in on my baby.... But it ain’t gonna happen. My Jamison is going to Cornell Medical School, where he done already been accepted, and leaving your ass right here in Atlanta. I promise you that.”

Jamison jumped up from his seat and reached for me.

“Mama, you know I’m not going to disrespect you,” he said, “so I’m just going to leave. You didn’t have to do this.”

I didn’t even wait for Jamison. I was in tears. I ran out of the house and walked right past the car, toward nowhere, I guess. I’ve seen and heard of humiliation, but never once in my life had it come at my expense.

“Where are you going?” Jamison called.

I stopped in my tracks but kept my back to him. While I was angry, both Jamison and I knew I wouldn’t get far. I’d never been on public transportation and I was wearing two-inch heels.

“I want to go home,” I said with my back still to him.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I had no idea she’d act like this,” he said. “I’ve brought girls home before and she was always . . . agreeable.”

“I feel like crap,” I said with my voice cracking. “She made me feel like crap.” I could feel Jamison close behind me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why did you have to tell her?” I asked. “About my letters? That was private.” I turned to see that he was closer than I thought.

“I was confused. I didn’t know how to comfort you, and I asked her for advice. I don’t even know why she brought it up.”

“I know why . . . she obviously doesn’t like me. She thinks I’m a spoiled little rich girl.”

Jamison was quiet.

“Is that what you think, too?” I asked, stepping away from him. “That I’m spoiled . . .”

“Well, there are some things about you that I . . . that I’m not used to.” His face scrunched up so tight, I could tell he was nervous.

“Are you kidding me? Not used to?”

“You’ve never worked,” he said, “and you have a brand-new car, you dry clean all of your clothes . . . and you can’t cook . . . anything.”

“How is that different? Everyone I know is like that. How is it so different? It’s just me . . . and if that’s not enough for you then . . .” I started crying again. I knew my points were empty. I was suddenly feeling embarrassed about the things I owned, ashamed for the things I couldn’t do.

“Baby,” Jamison said, cupping my face with his hands, “you are all I need, you’re all I want, but we’re different. You know that.”

“But how can we survive, get along if everything I am you hate?” I asked.

“What if everything I am, you hate?” He held his hands out and looked around the street. “You don’t even want to be here . . .”

I was quiet this time.

“But all of that doesn’t even matter, Kerry,” Jamison started. “Not this place, not the differences, not even our mothers. What matters is that I love you.” He wrapped his hands around my waist. “I love your dry-cleaning-for-no-reason, no-cooking-skills ass.”

I could see the sincerity on Jamison’s face beyond my tears. It was the first time he’d ever said I love you and it came from deep within him. It was as if I’d never heard the words before, not like that. And while love had never crossed my mind where he was concerned, the fortitude in his tone, the seriousness in his eyes awoke within my young body a flame that set me on fire. I believe it was what Marcy had said was “going crazy.”

My mother had always told me that a real lady never initiates a kiss, but I heard none of this that day in the middle of the SWATS. I stepped up on my tippie toes and kissed Jamison so passionately that much of what happened after that was a blur. Suddenly I was back in his car, then in his dorm room, and then, right there on the twin-sized bed I once secretly said I would never lose my virginity on, Jamison made love to me for the first time. “I love you,” I said to him so many times that night. “I love you, Jamison, and nothing will keep us apart.”