I knock on the door, anyway, and everyone in the living room turns in my direction. Camile gets the door. I can see she is holding herself from crying. The man standing over Camile's looks like someone who could pass for her father.
“Is this a bad time?” I ask Camile. Even though she shakes her head in response, I can tell it is the worst timing ever.
"I was just getting introduced to my father," Camile replies, unexcitedly. I was right; after all, he is her father. The man is tall. His hair looks neatly cut, and his clothes are ironed as if he had been preparing for this trip for days.
His name is George. George Howard.
"I will be outside," I say, trying to excuse myself from the family drama. "I think you should have your moment."
Camile disagrees; she thinks I should stay. "Stay," she says. "Please," she begs.
I swallow, agreeing to Camile's plea, discovering I cannot reject it. I stay, sitting on the couch next to Camile. It feels awkward to listen to Camile's father apologize for leaving them.
I never thought it could be this comfortable until Jesse introduced me as Troy Robinson, and somehow, he knows me or my name.
"Why is one of the Robinsons here?" he demands. I think his history with my family clouds his judgment of me.
His jaw drops as Camile tells him that I am her husband. He doesn't believe it; he doesn't want to believe it. He turns to Jesse, asking her why she had allowed Camile to marry me.
He looks at me like I am some kind of monster that he can't deal with. I understand what my parents did to him; he also has the right to feel the way he does.
"You should stop it!" Camile begs. "Please stop. I don't want to discuss this now, and I am out of here." She points to her father and stammers, "He is not welcome in my life."
Camile walks past me. I call her to wait, but she refused to answer until she stops by the car. "I want you to take me home." Her eyes beg me. "I can't deal with this right now."
I oblige. I think she should talk to her parents, even though I feel guilty for being the son of the people who stabbed her father in the back.
Camile is more angry than sad. She can't even buckle her seatbelt as her hands start to shake. I lean in to help her. As I kick start the car into gear, I see Camile's parents at the front door, watching me take their daughter away.
Camile is silent for the rest of the night, which means the house is silent too. Camile's bright smile and glowing eyes spread; it changes the mood in the house.
It is almost midnight already, and the maids are probably asleep. I offered to make Camile dinner, and she was more than surprised.
I am glad she finally smiles as asks if I have ever made my meal. "Maybe cereal," I say as she chuckles at my joke. I tell her I am not joking; I can only make cereal for myself.
“Why do you want to make me dinner then?” Her left brow arches. “It’s going to be a disaster.”
"You think so?" I ask, "Because I think so too." We both burst into laughter.
She disagrees with letting me cook, and I decide to make a bowl of cereal for us both.
After eating, I pull her to me. "I am sorry it had to be like this. Mom doesn't want to see you, and your father wants to break my head; it is so sad."
It is clear that my mother is not the only person we have to convince about this marriage; her father is also in great opposition to it. "If you want to talk about it," I tell her. "I am here to listen."
Camile doesn't say anything; she has that dead-eye look. I hear her draw a deep breath. "Did you know about my father before now?" she asks. "And that he was your dad's best friend?"
“No,” I reply, “I am just as surprised as you are.”
Camile's shoulders relax as if she has been praying to hear me say “no”.
She places her head on my chest and tells me she doesn't know what to do about the whole drama.
I take a deep breath, knowing I don't know what to do, either. I think conversing with Mr. Howard was a huge step. I will talk to him and find out what he wants.
Mother will be mad at me, but I think giving the Howard family a huge share in the hospital is the right move.
These past few days have been a rollercoaster ride for Camile and me, but I am sure the next few days will be even worse. "Brace yourself, Camile," I whisper.