No Ordinary Love (11 page)

“Telling the world that
I
did you wrong,” Robert interrupted.

“You
did
do me wrong and you’re
still
doing me wrong,” Trina said. “How about being a man and paying me back for paying your way through med school?”

“The judge said that—”

“I know what the judge said,” Trina interrupted. “I should have said much worse in that online bio. I could have kept my married name and
named
you and Dr. Too White. I wonder if that would have affected your careers. Hmm. I think I’ll call the producers and make some changes in that bio.”

“What are you trying to do?” Robert asked. “Shame me? It won’t work because you
won’t
get on that show. You think America is going to vote for your black ass?”

No, though my ass is still fairly decent.
“It doesn’t matter if they do or don’t. I am a finalist for that show. I’m one of twelve women America is voting on right now.”

“And you’re proud of that?” Robert asked. “The people who run that show saw your black face and said, ‘Hey, we
need
one of those.’ I thought I taught you better than that. Didn’t you listen to me at all during our marriage?”

“I couldn’t help listening to you preach at me day in and day out, Robert,” Trina said. “That’s how you communicated with me. Preaching. You never once simply talked to me.”

“You know one of those white girls—”

“That you love so much,” Trina interrupted. “I’m not stupid, Robert. I know I don’t have a chance, and I didn’t learn the reason why from
your
black ass. But how is Dr. Too White? Is she going to marry you? I mean, now that our divorce has been final for so long and all. I thought you’d be calling me from your honeymoon in Ireland or Scotland or one of those Scandinavian countries.”

“That’s none of your business,” Robert said.

He normally likes to throw her in my face. Yes!
“She dumped you, didn’t she?”

“She most
certainly
did not,” Robert said. “We are still together. She appreciates how we enhance each other’s careers.”

“Oh, I know what it is,” Trina said. “She
won’t
marry you, will she? That’s the problem with cheating on your first wife, fool. The second wife already knows you’re a cheating asshole. She can’t trust you, can she? I’ll bet you’re banging some other pigment-challenged woman now. Am I right? I’m thinking East Coast WASP with a name like Kitten.”

“You’re talking gibberish as usual, Katrina,” Robert said, “and you’re making a fool of yourself for even trying to go on that show.”

I probably am.
“Better a fool for a little while than a fool for life like you.” She turned off her phone completely.

“You told him,” Clara said.

Trina shrugged. “Not really. He didn’t hear me for ten years. I doubt he heard anything I said now.”

Clara patted her leg. “Don’t you worry, honey. He’ll mess up an operation and get sued to the poorhouse.”

“I hope it doesn’t happen,” Trina said. “I don’t ever want to feel all the sacrifices I made were a complete waste of time. There aren’t that many black doctors in this country, much less black surgeons. I helped make one.”

“I hope you get voted onto that show,” Clara said. “You deserve a second chance.”

“Thank you.”

Clara smiled. “I think I’ve voted for you seven hundred times. I hope it helps.”

“I hope so, too.”

As the sun rose to her right, Trina lay back and closed her eyes.
I know I won’t get enough votes to win, but maybe I can win me a doctor or a surgeon one day, too.
She sighed.
But the only doctors at Saint Francis who are remotely interesting are gay, married, philandering, married
and
philandering, or socially backward.

No. I am in need of an ordinary guy, someone I can trust.

She bowed her head and prayed:
God, how are You? I’m . . . here. Just sitting here on a bus on the way from a pipedream back to reality. I know I said some harsh things to You the last time I prayed two years ago, and I’m sorry. It wasn’t Your fault Robert cheated on me. I still wish You would have struck him with a bolt of lightning or something or at least given him and Dr. Too White one of those Old Testament plagues. And forgive me for hating on Dr. Too White. She saw an opportunity, and she took it. It’s my fault I married a weak-minded, spineless, sniveling coward of a man.

Okay, God, it wasn’t my fault. I just had to remind you of all that Robert is, You know, in case You want to send some thunderbolts or plagues his way.

And God, if You’re not too busy, could You maybe have me cross paths with an ordinary guy someday? He doesn’t have to be buff or superintelligent or rich. He just has to be honest, faithful, and true to me. Thanks. Amen.

She opened her eyes and smiled at the sunrise.

She closed her eyes.
Oh, one more thing, God. He also has to love me for me. But You already knew that because that’s the way You made me. And that’s the way You expect all of us to love each other.

Brooklyn, New York

11

T
ony Santangelo adjusted so quickly to Aika Saito’s arrival at the Castle that it seemed she had always lived there. They ate Cap’n Crunch with bananas every morning while watching the Weather Channel—and later
SportsCenter
—before she went to work. She sat with or near him while he studied his maps and she edited manuscripts in the library. Tony even stayed in the theater and watched Aika while she and Angelo watched television shows. She said “Good-night, Tony,” and he said “Good-night, Aika” every night before he went up to bed. At times, Tony couldn’t keep his eyes off Aika and did his best not to let her see him staring.

On a snowy night in early January, Tony stared at Aika’s soft lips while she and Angelo curled up on a massive black leather sectional sofa watching a Knicks basketball game.

“Are you trying to flirt with my future wife?” Angelo asked.

Tony’s eyes dropped quickly to Pacific Heights, yet another section of San Francisco. “I do not know how to flirt.”

“I saw you looking at her,” Angelo said. “What were you staring at?”

“Her lips,” Tony said. “Aika has soft lips.”

“How do you know they’re soft?” Angelo asked. “Has she been kissing you?”

“No. They look soft.” Tony glanced briefly at Aika. “I am sorry I stared at your lips.”

“Don’t be, Tony,” Aika said. “At least you don’t stare at my ass all day.”

“Hey, it’s my way of flirting,” Angelo said. He squeezed her left buttock and kissed her neck.

“But she will be your wife,” Tony said. “You should not have to flirt with her anymore.”

“Flirting keeps our relationship fresh,” Angelo said. “And I don’t mind if you look at Aika, Tony. As long as you don’t touch her.”

“I will not touch her,” Tony said. “But you must find someone like Angela and Aika for me who is dark brown.”

“Not this again,” Angelo said.

“Did you include me with Angela this time, Tony?” Aika asked.

“Yes,” Tony said. “You are very pretty.”

“Thank you,” Aika said. “That’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever gotten.”

Angelo sat up and rubbed Aika’s back. “He still wants me to be his pimp,” he whispered.

Aika elbowed Angelo in the ribs. “That was rude.”

“He didn’t hear me,” Angelo whispered. “Ever since he came back from Angela’s, that’s all he’s been talking about. I was hoping he’d get over it.”

“I want a dark brown woman so we can have snowflake children,” Tony said.

“It doesn’t sound as if he’s over it,” Aika said.

“Tony, be realistic,” Angelo said. “What woman of any color will want to marry you?”

“I do not know,” Tony said.

“Well, if you don’t know. . . .” Angelo shrugged. “How will I know how to find her for you?”

Tony stood. “I want you to help me find her.”

Aika moved to the other end of the couch. “Well? Help him.”

“Help him do what?” Angelo asked.

“Help him find a dark brown woman,” Aika said. “Let him look at Match.com or something.”

“But the Knicks are on,” Angelo said.

“They’ll fall apart in the fourth quarter as always and lose,” Aika said. She hit several buttons on the remote, and the opening Google screen appeared. She typed in “Match.com” on the remote’s little keyboard and handed the remote to Angelo.

Angelo rolled his eyes. “I suppose you want me to create a profile for him, too.”

“Not yet,” Aika said. “Let’s see what kind of woman Tony likes first.”

After plugging in “11201” for the zip code and selecting “within 10 miles,” Angelo stood in front of the television. “Let’s talk about age first,” he said. “How old or how young do you want her to be?”

“I do not care,” Tony said.

“As long as she’s dark brown, I know,” Angelo said. “Let’s make her at least thirty but less than forty, okay?”

“Why?” Aika asked.

“Because she can’t be a young thing with no sense and she can’t be an old thing who’s desperate,” Angelo said.

“I’m forty-two,” Aika said. “I must be desperate, huh?”

“No, you waited for the right man,” Angelo said.

“And where is he?” Aika asked.

“Funny,” Angelo said. “Okay, Tony, how tall do you want her to be?”

“I do not care,” Tony said.

“Let’s make her between five-one and five-ten,” Angelo said.

“Why?” Aika asked.

“Are you going to ask ‘why’ for every category?” Angelo asked.

“Probably,” Aika said. “Tony, do you want her to be Angela’s height or my height?”

“I like your height,” Tony said. “And I like Angela’s height.”

“Between five-one and five-six,” Aika said.

Angelo made the change. “What about her body type, Tony?”

“She must have a body,” Tony said.

“I know that,” Angelo said. “Do you want her to be skinny, ripped, or stacked?”

“It says ‘slender,’ ‘athletic,’ and ‘curvy,’ Angelo,” Aika said.

“I like slender,” Tony said. “Aika is slender.” He read the screen. “Her eyes must be brown and her hair must be black.”

At least he’s sure what he wants there,
Angelo thought. “Okay, let’s look at common interests.”

Tony scanned the screen. “Music and concerts.”

Angelo clicked the box. “Anything else?”

“Coffee and conversation,” Tony said.

“How about ‘Exploring new areas,’ too,” Aika said.

“Yes,” Tony said. “I like to explore.”

Angelo clicked the boxes. “Okay. Ethnicity?”

“Black or of African descent,” Tony said. “That is all I need.”

“You don’t care if she smokes or drinks?” Aika asked.

“I care,” Tony said. “No smoking or drinking.”

Angelo checked the appropriate boxes and clicked the search button. Eighteen pictures of New York–area black women appeared on the screen.

“Only eighteen,” Angelo said. “That’s a shame.”

“Look at the bottom of the screen,” Aika said. “This is page one of six.”

“Oh,” Angelo said.

“One hundred and eight women,” Tony said. He left his chair and stood in front of the television, his eyes moving from photo to photo. He pointed at one woman. “Her ears and nose have too many earrings.” He pointed at another. “She has too many teeth.” He pointed at another. “That is not her hair.”

Aika wrenched the remote from Angelo’s hand. “Let
me
help you, Tony.” She clicked on one woman’s picture. “Oh, shoot. We have to register first.” She sighed. “I’ll just sign in.”

“What?” Angelo said. “You still have a profile there?”

“Yes,” Aika said. “And I still get e-mail from men, so you better do right by me.” She rubbed her left ring finger.

“Soon,” Angelo said. “Very soon.”

Aika smiled and signed in, and the first woman’s full profile appeared. “What about this woman? She likes singing, taking walks at the beach with her dog, cooking Italian food, and dancing.”

“I cannot dance,” Tony said.

“She could teach you,” Aika said.

“She is too . . . curvy,” Tony said.

“There’s nothing wrong with curves,” Aika said.

“Her body makes me dizzy,” Tony said.

Aika returned to the first photoset, clicking on the next woman’s picture. “What about her? She is a high-school math teacher who enjoys working out and playing the piano for her church.”

“She cannot play my piano,” Tony said. “She wears too much makeup. She should not have silver eyelids and silver lips.”

“You’re being too picky, Tony,” Angelo said.

“And you weren’t?” Aika asked.

“Well, yeah, of course I was,” Angelo said.

Aika sighed. “What
exactly
should she look like, Tony?”

“She must look like Angela McConnell at Angela’s Sweet Treats and Coffee on Driggs Avenue in Williamsburg,” Tony said. “She must also look like Aika Saito of the Castle.”

“I am so flattered, Tony,” Aika said.

“There’s only one Angela in the world, and there’s only one Aika in the world,” Angelo said. “They’re both one in a million, Tony.”

“There are seven billion people on earth,” Tony said. “If Angela is one in a million and Aika is one in a million, there are fourteen thousand women like them on earth.”

“What Angelo is saying is that Angela and I are unique,” Aika said. “There is no one like us
anywhere
in the world.”

“But I like Angela,” Tony said. “And I like you.”

“We know you do,” Aika said.

“I must find someone like you and Angela,” Tony said. “Click on the next woman.”

An hour later, Tony had found something “wrong” with all 108 women. “Show me more,” he said.

“This is a longshot, but . . .” Aika typed in “Second Chances” and hit
ENTER
.
“I heard about this show at work. It’s like that show we watched the other night, Tony.”

“
Rich Man, Lucky Lady,
” Tony said. “I did not like that show. The women told lies. Angela does not tell lies. You do not tell lies.”