The Donor: When Conception Meets Deception (12 page)

SIZZLE…POP POP POP…SIZZLE

“Okay you can crack the eggs now,” Chase says.

"I thought you said that was turkey bacon?” Devantay replies.

"It is."

"Sound just like the pork stuff at the group home to me. Smell like it to."

“
Smells
with an
s
on the end young man. And we don’t do pork on these forks,” Chase winks.

“Am I stirring the eggs right?”

“Just about. It’s all in the wrist. Take the whisk and angle the bowl a little,” Chase says. He places his hand on the back of Devantay’s wrist and demonstrates proper egg beating technique.

“See here? Quick and controlled flicks of your wrist. Fast circles….good…just like that,” Chase says.

Devantay focuses on the task at hand. He squints his eyes and bites his bottom lip as if he were Picasso.

“Alright, come on now. The frying pan is getting hot. You still need to sprinkle the cheddar cheese in your egg mix," Chase barks like a reality TV food chef.

"Umm okay, okay,” Devantay says with a frenzied whisking.

"Excuse me? What did you say?" Chase says.

"I mean…Yes Chef,” Devantay replies with a salute and a chuckle.

Chase turns the heat down under the frying pan with the turkey bacon, and opens the cherry wood drawer; he retrieves a wooden serving spoon. He stirs the quart sized pot of old fashioned grits that’s been simmering on the burner. With his free hand he opens the oven door. A flood of baked air escapes with a belly arousing aroma of buttermilk biscuits.

“Tick-tock, tick-tock mister,” Chase goes
TAP TAP TAP
on the skin of his wrist.

The young boy grabs the white porcelain bowl and steadies the raw egg and cheese mixture over the hot frying pan. He looks up at Chase who gives the boy a hurried nod. Devantay pours the thick liquid into the smoking pan. A staticky swoosh of crackles and pops erupts; Chase winces from the spark of hot olive oil in the steel pan. He takes out a wooden spatula and begins to scramble the eggs.

"I can do it myself," Devantay's pre-pubescent voice squeaks.

Chase fights back laughter and hands the utensil to Devantay as the eggs begin to firm up.

"Oh no we forgot the milk?" Devantay says.

"Milk?" Chase asks.

"Yeah...this guy at the home says you should add milk to scrambled eggs. His name is Philip but it’s spelled funny and you pronounce it weird. You say
fuh-leep
with a long eeeee sound. You know like that phrase ‘you should look before you leee—”

“Uh, I get it Devantay. I’m a college professor remember?” Chase chuckles. “Finish your story. And keep stirring.”

“Oh, okay so we don't really call him Philipe though. His nickname is Cake."

"Cake?"

"Yeah, like ice cream and cake.”

Chase places his hand on top of Devantay’s hand with the spatula and adds more vigor to his egg stirring. Devantay snatches his wrist away.

"I can do it myself," he says.

Chase shakes his head with a smile.

“Anyway, no to adding milk. It thins the egg mixture and limits the flavor. So what about this cake dude? Why exactly is his name Cake?"

"'Cause he’s fat.”

“Devantay!”

“Well he is.”

Chase turns off the burners.

"So that's why the kids at the group home call him cake? Because he’s overweight?”

“Well almost. We call him Cake because of 50 Cent."

“50 Cent?"

"Yeah. The rapper? Come on Chase you don’t know who Fitty is? You old."

"I know who 50 Cent is Devantay."

"Well you know he has that line in his song Twenty-One Questions?”

“How do you even know that old record?” Chase says.

“When DJ Tanaka was here last year he said,
kids today don’t know their hip-hop history so make this song a part of your collection
.”

“Mmmhmm. Sounds like him.”

“Anyway. 50 cent has that line where he says…
I love you like a fat kid love cake
. So that’s what we call Philipe. We call him Cake.”

"That's horrible," Jenae says standing in the kitchen doorway.

Chase and Devantay drops their mouths and shoot a startled look at her.

“Babe?” Chase says.

His eyes droop as he drops the wooden spoon on the granite countertop.

"You were supposed to still be asleep," Chase says with a frown.

Jenae flashes kitten eyes.

“Awww, my big boo boo. Was him trying to suh-pwize him fiancée?”

She shuffles over to Chase in her lilac chenille slippers. Her burgundy and rose fleece robe hugs the bounce and boom of her curves. She is both royal and ravenous in her stride. She slides her palms on the kitchen counter, squeezes into Chase’s waist, and cranes her chin up.

"Come here my handsome, sensitive, thoughtful, surprise breakfast-maker-upper,” she says. Standing on her tippy toes she plants a juicy one on his thick lips. Chase grabs the terrycloth knot of her robe and draws her in. The subtle scent of her fresh pomegranate and shea butter shampoo seeps into his hungry nostrils. He wants to inhale more of her, so he breaks the kiss to nestle his face inside a pillow of plush, endless, natural curls. Her hair has always been his catnip. She expresses her creativity through her soft and bushy mane; she switches hairstyles every other month. No matter the groove she is in, no matter the color or texture, Chase always wants to dive into her pool of hair. As they kiss, he inches his long fingers into her nutty forest of strands. Jenae snaps her head and smacks his hand back.

“Oh no you don’t," she says waving her finger. "I love you, but you are not about to put those slimy egg 'n cheese 'n grits ’n melted butter fingers all up in the hair I just washed."

“Really?” Chase says dumbfounded.

“What you mean really? Yes,
really
,” Jenae says.

“Black women and their hair," Devantay mumbles.

“Boy, what did you say?" Jenae says.

"Cake says you better not never touch a Black woman's hair. They turn into Jekyll. Or is it Hyde? I don't know, whichever is the crazy one," Devantay says. His eyes are focused on placing just the right amount of food on their plates.

“Hmph. You're lucky I like you little man," Jenae says. She pecks the top of his close cropped head, grabs a thin wedge of turkey bacon, and starts munching.

"I still think it's sad you kids call an overweight little boy
cake
," she says.

"He don't care," Devantay says.

Chase fires a stern gaze at Devantay.

"I mean he
doesn't
mind," Devantay says. Chase grins.

"I seriously doubt,
he doesn't mind,
but I guess boys will be boys. Probably gonna be on a therapist’s couch in thirty years talking about you and your friends," she says. Devantay shrugs his shoulders. He has been engrossed in preparing breakfast
all by himself,
and this singular focus has been his morning mission.

The hickory and maple smoked aroma fills their nostrils. Jenae scrunches her nose and breathes in. “Mmmm, almost smells like my Aunt Helen's country morning breakfast back in Ridgeland, South Carolina. We used to drive down there every summer," she says, stroking Devantay's day old barbershop haircut.

"This was supposed to be a surprise for you," Chase says.

“Oh, honey it was. I was all snuggled up in my big strong man's bed…dreaming about spending the rest of my life with him. And then this intoxicating, savory wave of down home goodness just flooded my nose. My lungs and my eyes just popped open, and my arms and legs curled up like I was hugging sunshine on the fourth of
Joo-Lie
," she says with an exaggerated Carolina accent. She twirls and hugs herself like a scene in
The Sound of Music
.

Chase bursts with laughter. Devantay stares as if Jenae is a Saturday morning cartoon.

"Keep going. You’re pretty good,” Devantay says.

"Sorry boys...that's all I got. I'm a lawyer not an actress. Now let’s eat. I don’t want my surprise breakfast to get cold.”

Chase and Jenae gather at the center island of the kitchen sitting on walnut wooden bar stools. Devantay brings each a plate, before setting his own next to Chase.

"This looks and smells so good,” Jenae says.

They begin eating. Devantay dives into the cheesy eggs. He devours the morsels as if his fork and mouth were a conveyor belt. Chase and Jenae are more casual and deliberate in their consumption. They converse about the latest law firm gossip and university happenings, while savoring mouthfuls of creamy grits and flaky oven biscuits.

"This is like family breakfast. At least what I see in pictures," Devantay's says through stuffed, gerbil cheeks.

The adults smile into each other's eyes. They acknowledge what both must be thinking.

“You know what? This
is
a family breakfast, Devantay. It is," Chase squeezes Devantay’s shoulder. Jenae strokes the boy’s head.

"You can have seconds if you like Devantay," Jenae says.

Devantay looks at Chase for approval.

"Don't look at me. She's the big boss lady," Chase says.

"Smart man," Jenae says with a wink. “Now, Chase don’t forget…tonight I have—“

CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP
[Chase’s smartphone]

“—I have that dinner with the founding partners of the law firm tonight. Apparently it's a big deal. They called to confirm twice," she says.

Chase, distracted by his smartphone's chirping text notification, looks down at the text and grunts,
uh huh,
to Jenae. The text message reads:

ANDREA

(1/2)Spoke with Vicky. All set for 2nite.

Said I was Eugene's asst.

Be here at 6p.(2/2)She comes at 7p.

Wear my cologne. She'll like it 2. Don’t B L8!

"Why does your face look like that? Bad news?" Jenae says.

"Huh? No, no...just um…just a meeting I have to go to tonight," Chase responds.

"A meeting? On a Saturday night? Dean Ganges must be lining you up for something big," Jenae says.

“Meeting? But Chase you're supposed to come to my talent show tonight remember?” Devantay says with a mouthful of food.

"Shit," Chase slams his fist on the table. He had completely forgotten about the group home’s talent show tonight. Jenae and Devantay both look at Chase astounded.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blurt that out like that. I’m sorry little man. I forgot about this meeting and I have to go.”

Devantay’s eyes start to well up.

“Well…okay. But can you come instead Miss Jenae?"

Jenae sighs and grabs the child’s hand.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I wish I could go. This dinner meeting is something I have to attend. I promise I’ll—"

Devantay snatches his hand away from her. He spits the food out of his mouth and jumps down from the table.

"Devantay?" Chase yells.

"What!" Devantay says folding his arms.

“What? Excuse me?” Chase says.

“Devantay, sweetheart listen," Jenae tries to console.

“No. I knew this was going to happen. I told you what people do Chase,” Devantay says as he stretches his finger to Chase's mouth.

"Devantay, it's just that we're both busy tonight," Chase says.

"Yeah I know. Important meetings. Important. So that means I'm not important. I'm not an important meeting," he says.

"Of course you are. It's just that something came up and we—“

"No, no, no, no, no" Devantay covers his ears and begins to hyperventilate. He kicks the bar stool over and in a high pitched scream he runs from the kitchen, stomps through the living room, and darts up the stairs. Chase and Jenae can hear his voice echoing “Some family breakfast. Love somebody, they hurt you. Always, always, always." The faint boo-hooing of the child's cries is followed by the sound of a door slam.

Jenae looks at Chase who has his hand on his hip, and another on top of his lowered head.

“Chase. Why don’t you just reschedule with Dean Ganges. She loves her star professor. She'll understand. I mean geez how important of a school meeting can it be on a Saturday night?"

“Oh, so my meetings aren't as important as yours," he snaps back.

“Excuse me? Where did that come from?" Jenae says.

"I'm sorry babe. That-that wasn’t…that wasn’t me," he says.

She pauses and takes a deep breath.

“Look, you've been kind of jumpy ever since you proposed. I mean. If…if you're having second thoughts about marrying me then we can—“

"No, no, no babe,” he rushes over to her. “Not that at all. It's not you. It's not the engagement. I’m just a little overwhelmed at work. Dean Ganges has been putting more on my plate lately. I'm just…I don’t know…agitated I guess."

"You know what. Let’s do this instead. I'll call Octavia myself. We get along great. I'll cancel your meeting for you and you can put that little boy's heart back together again. Now where’s my phone? Oh…you know what? It’s upstairs. Let me just use yours." She walks over to the counter to grab Chase's phone, which she has done on numerous occasions with no prior objections from him. She starts to dial. Chase grabs her arm and snatches the phone away.

"No. Don't do that. I said this meeting is important," Chase snaps.

Jenae looks with an unblinking stare that Chase has never seen before. Three seconds pass.

“Let…Go…Now,” Jenae commands.

Chase’s eyes turn curious until he looks at his own clutch and snatches his arm away. He hadn’t realized he had even grabbed her and was squeezing her arm. For the first time, Chase has touched Jenae without a feeling of love, concern, or desire.

“Oh, babe. Jenae, honey I didn’t mean to—“

“Shhhhhh," she says shutting her eyes, and touching her finger to her angry lips. She pauses, swallows, and opens her eyes. Chase’s head goes limp, eyes droop sheepishly, and his hands fidget inside his front pockets.

“Okay, Chase. Okay. You go to your meeting. You go handle your
important
business. I'm going upstairs to handle the
more
important business of consoling a brokenhearted child."

She tightens the belt on her robe and walks up the staircase. Chase hears her knock on the guest room door. It creaks open. He hears the muffled wails of a little boy trying to hide his cries. The door creaks again as it closes to the sounds of Jenae's soothing coos and shushes. Chase sits on one of the bar stools. The kitchen was full of joy just a few moments ago. Hearts were warm like fireplaces, and smiles were bright as morning sunshine. But now the room is cold and as barren as loneliness forced to stare at happiness.
CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP