Page 54 of One True Loves

“Enough.” Mom cuts him off. Her voice is soft but powerful. “We are not going to do this right now.” There is nothing my parents hate more than a scene—than us giving white folks an opportunity to look at us and have their stereotypes confirmed—so I know she’s pissed without even looking at her. But I’ll be honest. I actually feel weirdly satisfied that she might be mad at Wally, for once.

To my horror, though, she’s not giving her steely, squinty look to Wally. Her eyes are locked on me.

“Lenore, I’m disappointed,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. And Dad doesn’t even have to say anything. I can read everything in his dangerously arched eyebrow.

My chest tightens, and I have the strongest urge to run, to flee. But instead I just mumble, “Sorry,” and stare at my plate. Who was I kidding, to think this would go any other way? I should have kept my mouth shut and let the Wally praise party continue on unencumbered. I can feel Alex’s eyes on me, but I don’t look up.

The conversation moves on, awkward at first, but then it finds its natural rhythm again, as dessert and more drinks are brought to the table. Etta tells the table all about the history of pizza in Naples, where we’ll be docking tomorrow, and our parents move on to a spirited discussion about the controversial election for governor, coming up in the fall. Wally stays silent, mean-mugging the tiramisu like he wants to fight it. He’s probably imagining my face there.

“I’d love to see them,” Dr. Lee says at one point, and the whole table is silent, which makes me look up, finally. All eyes are on me, so I guess that was directed my way.

“Sorry. I... I missed that, Dr. Lee,” I say.

“Oh, it’s fine, honey!” She beams, obviously going out of her way to smooth out the tension from earlier. “I was saying that I’ve so enjoyed watching you take pictures with your camera on this trip so far. That camera is just so unique, and I can tell that you’ve got a good eye. I’d love to see all of your photos sometime this week.”

“Thank you. I’ve been having fun with it.”

“You better do it quick,” Dad chuckles. “Before she moves on to her next project! What did your last photography period last? A couple months? If that? It doesn’t take our Lenore long to get bored and move on to something else.”

My neck flames and something churns in my stomach like acid. What he’s saying doesn’t sound mean-spirited, and everyone is laughing kindly. But it feels like another torpedo, sent stealthily over to my side. And this one has sunk my battleship.

I paste a fake smile on my face and try to hold in all my feelings and the words of defense that are burning the back of my throat. This meal is almost over, and I just need to power through.

“All of my respect, sir,” Alex says next to me, “but I don’t think that’s a fair way to characterize Lenore. I’ve only known her for a week, but already I can see how talented she is, in so many different areas. I think it’s a sign of her... her ingenuity, not her lack of commitment.”

I know Alex probably wants me to fall over myself with gratitude, but instead I feel low-key irritated. He’s just making it worse with my dad. And this feels like a resurgence of the Alex I met in the beginning—the know-it-all, trying to take control.

“Stop,” I whisper, my words venom. “I don’t need you to do this.”

Confusion passes across his face, quickly replaced by panic.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I was... I was just trying to help,” hestutters. His face breaks open and softens, and his cheeks turn red. All of a sudden, the fury that was building within me dissipates and I feel... bad. Was it so terrible what he said? Or am I looking for someone to take my anger out on, since I can’t be real with my family?

“I’m sorry,” he repeats again, and then he turns to my dad. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bennett.” Alex stands up. “Excuse me. I’m going to get some air.”

I watch him leave the room, winding between all the tables, and then turn to see everyone at the table staring wide-eyed at me, their mouths in identical Os.

I find Alex outside on a pool lounger next to the empty splash pad, his head in his hands.

“I don’t need you to go to battle for me,” I say, sitting down next to him.

He runs his fingers through his hair and looks up, his curls sticking out in every direction. He bites his lip and nods, his eyes full of anguish. “I know. You made that clear.”

“But also... thank you.” He blinks at me. I smile. “I know that wasn’t easy. And I appreciate that you... um, even thought to say something.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “It’s not like I could just sit there and see you hurting, Lenore, and say nothing.”

“I wasn’t hurt. It’s fine.” It comes out without even any thought, a reflex.

“That’s not true. We both know it.” He reaches forwardand places his hand on mine. His palm is warm, and that feeling spreads to my whole body. “And you don’t have to try and convince me that’s true. It’s okay to be hurt. You’re allowed to... feel however you feel. You don’t have to hide it all with me.”

His brown eyes meet mine, melting away all of the tension and hurt feelings that were oppressive in the dining room. And I know—I know—that it’s only been a short time. I know that it makes no sense. But when he looks at me like that, I feel seen. I feel overwhelmingly accepted. And I’m certain, from the top of my crown all the way down to my baby toes, that I’ve never been this understood by someone else before.

Anddamn. It’s scary.

I flip my hand over anyway, lacing my fingers with his and squeezing tightly.

His eyes widen in surprise and then crinkle in delight. He squeezes back, and then envelops my hands in both of his. This is some G-rated shit. I mean, we’re holding hands! I’m pretty sure I skipped right on past this step with Jay, and the other guys I’ve talked to. But somehow this feels like the most intimate thing I’ve ever done. Every inch of my skin is on high alert, and my stomach aches in anticipation.

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