Put A Ring On It (14 page)

She couldn’t quite pinpoint why she felt so irritated by Vangie’s newfound happiness. Nivea didn’t like the idea of being the only single person among her family and friends. It was cruel of Vangie to announce her new status with a caption and an image of a tacky Christmas tree. Nivea felt compelled to put Vangie in her place by sending her the picturesque shot of her parents’ elegant tree.

“Don’t you look pretty, Nivea!” Nivea’s father bounded into the living room, his arms outstretched. She quickly sent the image to Vangie and then set the cell phone on a nearby end table, freeing her hands to give her father a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she murmured, her words slightly muffled by his wool sweater.

At fifty-two, her father was still a very handsome man. His salt-and-pepper-colored hair added to his distinguished look. He was a partner in a law firm, specializing in corporate accounts, but at home, his wife was the boss. Denise Westcott ruled with an iron fist, and her handsome husband dared not stray.

“Where’s Eric?” her father asked.

“He had to work.”

“Are you spending Christmas Day with Eric’s family?”

“We’re supposed to, but he may have to work. He’s putting aside money for our honeymoon and his job pays double on holidays.” Nivea felt like a blithering idiot, going on and on, weaving lies.

“Eric’s a hard-working young man,” her father said with a firm head nod, letting Nivea know that he didn’t share her mother’s disdain for laborers. He guided Nivea toward the dining room, his arm around her, his large hand gripping her shoulder. “If he has to work tomorrow, I want you to spend Christmas Day with your family.”

“I will, Daddy.” Guilty and upset with herself for lying to her father, her voice came out choked.

“Hey, Niv!” Courtney called out brightly. She was perched on her boyfriend’s lap, an arm draped around his neck.

A slight flush of annoyance warmed Nivea’s face.
Get a hotel room!
Sitting on her boyfriend’s lap at the dining room table was such inappropriate behavior, but Courtney could get away with murder and her parents would think it was adorable. Nivea groaned inwardly.

There was no denying her sister’s beauty. Courtney was sickeningly stunning. While Nivea was covered in MAC makeup, Courtney only required lipgloss to enhance her looks. It was so unfair that Courtney got the soft features, satiny skin, and overall fabulous looks of their handsome father, while Nivea, who inherited her mother’s pronounced chin, had to work so hard to look attractive.

“You remember Knox, don’t you?” Courtney asked, beaming.

“Sure. Hi, Knox,” Nivea mumbled, noting that Knox wore an argyle sweater vest, a yellow long-sleeved shirt, khakis, and a pair of L.L. Bean loafers. A real preppy-looking fucker. Though she needed something much stronger, she accepted the glass of eggnog that her father handed her and chugged it down. This was going to be a long and torturous Christmas Eve brunch.

“Good to see you again, Sis,” Knox said cheerfully as he stroked the side of Courtney’s neck.

I’m not your sister.

“Those two are real lovebirds,” her father chimed in.

Nivea wanted to roar like an infuriated lion, but she forced a tight smile.

Her mother swept into the room. Carrying trays, the caterers stepped behind Mrs. Westcott.

She bestowed a bright smile upon Courtney and Knox. “Before we begin our meal, Knox has something to say.”

With a look of surprise, Courtney gazed at Knox and then peered around the dining room. Knox kissed her on the cheek and then patted her hip. “Get up a minute, Courtney.”

Giggling, and suspecting that something wonderful was about to happen, Courtney stood, glancing around in wide-eyed amazement.

Oh, God. This is an ambush. Had I known I was going to forced to witness some contrived marriage proposal bullshit that I’m definitely not in the mood to see, I would have stayed my ass at home!

Acting out of spite, Nivea asked, “I don’t know what’s going on, but it needs to wait until after brunch. I’m starving.”

Mrs. Westcott gave Nivea an irritated glance, and then ignored her. “Knox,” she said sweetly, “Go ahead, dear.”

Knox nodded his assent. “Courtney,” he began in a serious tone, “from the moment I saw your face, I realized that you were the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with…” He paused and reached inside his pocket and pulled out a velvet case.

Courtney yelped. She actually clapped her hands and jumped up and down. “Oh, my God, Knox! Oh, my God!”

That fake little bitch knew she was getting a ring!

Mrs. Westcott cleared her throat. Knox looked in her direction. Nivea watched her mother mouth the words and motion with her hand, “Down! On your knee!”

Being a good sport, Knox got down on one knee. Nivea wanted to vomit over the hypocrisy that was unfolding before her eyes. Her parents and Courtney all knew that Knox was going to propose
today. It was vulgar and insulting to be forced to watch Courtney and the rest of her family pretend that this proposal was a goddamn surprise.

Revelling in all the attention she was getting, Courtney held out her hand and smiled joyously. Knox slid a hell of a rock on her finger. When Nivea noticed the size of the diamond, which appeared to be at least three carats, she felt her stomach lurch. She shot out of her chair and hurried from the dining room. Cheeks ballooning and a hand covering her mouth, she ran toward the powder room that was on the other side of the kitchen.

Nivea was on her knees, heaving into the toilet bowl when her mother opened the door. It felt like the whole world had turned against her and she was open to being comforted by her mother. Instead of seeing a mother’s sympathetic face, she was met with a cold expression.

“You ruined Courtney’s moment. How could you?” Mrs. Westcott said bitterly.

Nivea looked up at her mother. “I can’t help if I’m sick. Do you think I planned it?”

“You’ve been pulling attention-getting shenanigans since the day your sister was born. I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“I have a queasy stomach. I’m sick. If I wanted to intentionally ruin Courtney’s moment, I would have stayed in my seat and spewed all over the table.”

Lips drawn tight in anger, Mrs. Westcott waved her hand in the air. “Wipe your face. You look revolting,” she snarled.

Wounded by her mother’s sharp words, Nivea dropped her head. When she forced herself to look in the mirror, she was mortified to see traces of vomit at the corner of her mouth. She grabbed a tissue, hurriedly wiped her mouth, and then filled a Dixie cup with water.

“You need more than water. There’s mouthwash in the medicine cabinet,” her mother said, running her hand over her hair, clearly aggravated. “You are seven years older than your sister; it’s not normal for an older sister to constantly compete with her baby sister. You need to see a shrink. I’m serious, Nivea. This sibling rivalry is really unhealthy.”

“Mother, my stomach is upset. Why are you yelling at me when I’m obviously not feeling well?”

Mrs. Westcott sucked her teeth. “I hope you’re not pregnant.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You feel that it’s acceptable to marry an uneducated laborer, so I wouldn’t put it past you to walk down the aisle, heavy with child.”

Nivea groaned. She wasn’t pregnant nor was she walking down the aisle anytime soon. This conversation was disgusting.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Nivea, if you’re brazen enough to sashay down the aisle in God’s house with a big belly, don’t expect your father to escort you.”

“I said, I’m not pregnant. I have more sense than to get knocked up.”

“Stop using vile terminology. That thug you intend to marry is really starting to rub off on you. The way you speak, your lack of concern over punctuality—”

“Mother, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Something is wrong you. What is it?” Her mother’s eyes searched Nivea’s face for the truth. Nivea looked away.

Everything’s wrong, Mother. Eric cheated on me. He fucked a stripper and had a baby.
But Nivea couldn’t reveal the true source of her ailment without facing harsh ridicule. She looked down at her engagement ring. Compared to her sister’s new bling, Nivea’s
ring looked like junk jewelry. Nivea sneered down at the meaningless piece of glitter on her finger, angry at the fact that she would have to keep up the payments if she intended to maintain good credit.

Nivea’s life was joke, while Courtney’s future seemed as bright as her new diamond. Nivea’s stomach roiled again. She dropped to her knees, sticking her face back inside the toilet.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mrs. Westcott said in a voice filled with loathing. “If you’re that sick, why’d you come here in the first place?” Her mother paused for a moment. “Don’t return to the table. I want you to go home, Nivea. I can only pray that you haven’t infected the rest of us with that nasty bug you’ve got.” Her mother expelled a long sigh of disgust before closing the powder room door, leaving her daughter behind, groaning and retching her guts out.

“Something smells funny.” Yuri wrinkled his nose.

“I’m cooking collard greens,” Vangie responded, busy peeling sweet potatoes.

“They stink.”

“No, they don’t. You’re not used to the strong smell of collards.”

“I’m not used to the smell of anything cooking.” Yuri giggled.

“Oh, listen to you. You’re starting to sound like your dad.” She shook her head, smiling at her precocious child.

“Daddy says I need to eat more home-cooked meals if I expect to be strong enough to play football.” Yuri pushed his sleeve up and flexed his muscle. “Look at the muscle I got from drinking two glasses of milk this morning.” Teeth gritted, he strained to pump up the little knot in the middle of his arm.

“Wow! You are getting strong,” Vangie said, indulging him. “If milk did that, imagine how big you’ll get from eating collard greens and other vegetables.”

“I like milk. But I don’t like vegetables.”

“What did Daddy tell you?”

“He said I have to start eating vegetables,” Yuri mumbled.

“That’s right. We’ve been eating nothing but junk food, but we’re going to start eating healthier.”

“Daddy, too?”

Holding back a wistful smile, Vangie nodded. “All of us.”

“Does Daddy live with us now?”

“No. He still lives with Nana.”

“How come he doesn’t sleep at Nana’s house? I always see him sleeping in your bed with you,” Yuri added. “Are you and my Dad married?”

Vangie took a breath. “No, Yuri. We’re not.”

“Divorced?” He looked worried.

“No. We were never married.”

Face scrunched in thought, Yuri scratched his head. “If Mommies and Daddies sleep in the same bed, doesn’t that mean they’re married?”

Vangie rubbed her forehead, thinking hard on how to respond. “Yuri, I don’t have time to answer a million questions,” she said, dodging his question. “Your dad bought a ton of food and I have to cook all of it by tomorrow, so give me a break, okay?”

Yuri didn’t look happy and Vangie felt guilty. “Do you wanna help me cook? Want me to teach you how to use this potato peeler?” She held the kitchen tool up, waved it back and forth as if she were tempting him with a fun toy.

Yuri recoiled. “I don’t wanna cook. I wanna play Smackdown vs. Raw.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Vangie was glad to get him out of her hair.

Yuri dashed out of the kitchen, and took off down the hallway. She could release a sigh of relief now that the interrogation was over. But Vangie felt troubled and unable to resume her culinary duties. Yuri’s probing questions had really struck a nerve. She sat down at the kitchen table, and thought hard about her predicament. Sure, Shawn was back in their lives, but he hadn’t proposed.

Tomorrow was Christmas and he hadn’t asked her about her ring size, and hadn’t taken her to look at any jewelry. She hoped that Shawn’s idea of family life wasn’t having a toothbrush in her bathroom, some clothes in her closet, throwing money her way, and sleeping in her bed when he chose to.

So far, Shawn was proving to be a good parent. Vangie didn’t want to lose that, but she really preferred a husband to a hands-on baby daddy.

Deep in thought, Vangie sat down at the kitchen table. She had to figure out a way to get Shawn to put a ring on her finger. But she couldn’t pressure him, or spring the idea on him suddenly. She had to be patient.

God, she wished she hadn’t lied to Nivea. The lie had slipped out of her mouth in a moment of anger. Now instead of enjoying the fact that her little family was reunited and preparing to celebrate their first Christmas together, Vangie was staring at her bare ring finger, wishing Shawn loved her enough to put a ring on it.

Vangie had always been hardworking. By the time she was nineteen, she’d been employed as a bank teller for over a year. She was driving a new Honda, had her own, modest, one-bedroom apartment, a closet filled with designer-labeled clothing from TJ Maxx and Marshall’s. Possessing a fake ID, she was very active on the Philadelphia club scene.

Mature for her age, back then Vangie only became involved with men who were about their financial business. From ballers to married men, she’d had her share of love affairs gone wrong and way too much drama.