Page 96 of Glass Half Full
I scooch myself even closer and let him tuck me under his arm. “There’s no one I’d rather face life with than you.”
Twenty-Four
Dylan
NEGATIVE CAPABILITY: A poet or writer’s ability to access beauty, truth, and understanding without the need for logical certainty or proof
The bar isn’t nearly as packedas it was for the slam back in November, but the crowd is still a big one for a poetry night. Renee’s got a whole army of supporters in here, so I’m guessing a good portion of the folding chairs are taken up by her fans.
I’m damn lucky to be one of them. I still catch myself wondering if I’m enough for her sometimes, if being with me really is the best thing for her, but now I know what to do about it.
If I don’t feel like I’m enough for her, I put in the work until I do. If I think she could do better, I step up and start being better. I may be working to get there forever, but she’s worth the fight, and I’m ready for battle. Never again will I let my past determine how far I allow myself to reach, and every day, I’m grateful to Renee for helping me learn that lesson.
I’m grateful for everyone who helped me put it into action: my mom, Monroe, the support group I went to in Montreal and now the one I help manage in Ottawa. This might be a battle, but I’m not fighting alone.
“Dylan.”
A hand claps me on the shoulder where I’m standing by the bar, waiting for DeeDee to pass me some water. I turn to find Renee’s dad standing beside me.
“Mr. Nyobé.” I reach out for a handshake, and he returns it with a firm grip.
His handshake was extra firm on the night he met me—me, the guy seven years older than his daughter who used to be her boss. I might even go so far as to say it was bone crushing, but he’s softened up over time.
Marginally.
“How were things at the museum today?” I ask, doing my best not to sound like I’m scared shitless.
He’s dressed in black slacks and a deep red dress shirt, looking like he just came straight from work. I think my interest in his job is what gained me a shot at earning his approval one day. As soon as he mentioned the art museum on the first night I went over for dinner at Renee’s house, I couldn’t stop myself from asking a dozen questions. Being surrounded by art all day, of any kind, must be fucking incredible. I used check out the museum with Stella on a regular basis, and we’d always leave with poems just itching to get out from under our skin.
“We were robbed.”
I do a double-take. “You what?”
Mr. Nyobé assesses the shock on my face and then bursts out laughing, all his sternness disappearing for a moment as he throws his head back and lets his mouth split wide into a grin. For a second, he looks so much like Renee it’s startling.
“Dylan, I’m kidding,” he assures me once he’s pulled himself together. “You need to loosen up, boy. I know you make my daughter happy, truly happy, happier than I ever thought I’d see her again. For that, you have my trust.”
He was laughing a second ago, but now we’re both the picture of solemnity.
“Thank you,” I answer with a nod.
“You can thank me by treating Renee like the queen she is. I may trust you now, but she will always be my daughter, which means you will always need to watch your back.”
“Yes, sir.”
I have to restrain myself from giving him a salute. DeeDee finally appears with my water, and Mr. Nyobé heads off to sit with his wife.
Oh, I will be watching my back all right.
That dude can be damn scary when he wants to be.
“Here you go.” I slide into my seat next to Renee and hand her the drink. She turns from where she’s talking to her sister and Tahseen to take it from me.
“Oh, thanks.” She glances down at the water and frowns. “Dylan, this is half empty. Did you drink some?”
I wink at her. “Is it half empty...or half full?”
I expect her to shake her head or roll her eyes in exasperation—I have a habit of taking ‘just a sip’ of her drink—but instead she lets out a chuckle and gives me a mysterious smile.
