Crimson Footprints Part 41

"A trefoil."

Daichi whirled as if seized by madness, searching, rummaging wildly.

"And this? What's this, Kenji?"

He brandished a copy of Architectural Record.

"A magazine."

"The building, son, the building."

"Oh," Kenji gave it a second look. He bit his lower lip and looked up uncertainly.

"You can do it, Kenji. You're my son. It's in you."

Kenji frowned before returning to the picture.

"It's a church."

Daichi sighed, already turning away.

"Gothic Revival."

"What?"

Kenji hesitated.

"Look again."

Daichi held up the magazine and Kenji studied the cover carefully.

"Now what is it?"

He frowned. He was trembling ever so slightly, never taking his eyes off the cathedral on the cover.

"What is it, Kenji?"

He looked up. "Gothic Revival?"

"Say it like you mean it."

"Gothic Revival."

"Louder."

"Gothic Revival."

Daichi tossed the magazine aside and took his seat again. "Tell your mother we'll take our lunch in here."

Kenji raised an eyebrow. "We?"

Daichi looked up. "Yes, 'we.' Unless you're unwilling to share a meal with your otosan."

Kenji grinned and disappeared from the room.

PART FOUR.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE.

Deena's khaki Louis Vuitton clutch was perfectly suited for the iridescent capris and form fitting three-quarter length white b.u.t.ton-up she chose to wear to meet her grandmother for coffee. Grandma Emma on the other hand, donned a barnyard red potato sack dress complete with looming white b.u.t.tons and off-white orthopedic slippers. As they exchanged icy greetings, Deena was perfectly aware of the violent contrast they made.

They'd not spoken since Deena brought Tak over for Sunday dinner two months prior. The meal had been a fiasco from the onset. When they arrived, Grandma Emma peered behind the two as if she were expecting a second, more acceptable man, as Caroline, Keisha and Lizzie gaped in wide-eyed astonishment. And the questions! Deena's cheeks still burned with the shame.

"So Tic," Aunt Caroline said as she leaned forward. "What part of China you from again?"

"His name is Tak not Tic. And he's not Chinese," Deena said.

"I'm-I'm actually from here." Tak said.

"What do you mean here?" Caroline demanded.

"I mean here, here. Miami. I was born here." Tak s.h.i.+fted in his seat and cast Deena a single, amused glance.

"Oh." Aunt Caroline said.

"Well, where your daddy from?" Grandma Emma asked, mas.h.i.+ng collard greens and cornbread together with her fingertips. "What parts a China he from?"

Tak sighed. "My father's from Phoenix."

"But he wasn't born there though, right? He was born in China. Right?"

Tak shot Grandma Emma a pointed look. "My father was born in Phoenix and his father in San Jose." He took a sip of water. "But I do know what you're asking me. I'm j.a.panese."

Deena recalled the poise with which Tak handled everything from being offered pig entrails to fielding questions as to whether he was "some kin" to the Chinaman who ran Chan Wok's on 69th. And just when she'd been certain that she could tolerate no more, Deena discovered she was right.

"So, you been down to the prison to tell your momma you getting married?" Caroline asked sweetly.

Deena closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. She would not cry. She refused to cry. Next to her, Tak squeezed her shoulder.

"Hmph. You know she ain't told him that. No man in they right mind going to fools with a woman got that kinda evil in her blood. You carries that stuff in your blood, you know. Evil ways," Grandma Emma advised with a wave of her fork.

"Actually, I know all about her mother," Tak said. "We talked about it a long time ago."

"Well, you know Emma, not everybody even believes in good and evil, G.o.d and the Devil. The boy probably don't even know Jesus Christ died for his sins." Deacon Moore, an increasing regular at the Hammond table, turned his attention to Tak. "Do you know that, boy? Do you know that Jesus died for your sins?"

"Oh my G.o.d! If you don't shut the h.e.l.l up!" Deena cried. "Will you all just shut the h.e.l.l up?"

"This girl has lost her d.a.m.ned mind," Keisha whispered.

"I knew she lost her mind when she brought that Chinese boy around here like somebody ordered wonton soup," Caroline said.

Deena stood. "One more word. One more word about him and as G.o.d is my witness I will come across this table and-"

"Deena," Tak grabbed her arm.

"You'll what? What are you gonna do to my momma?" Keisha stood to meet her.

"Bring it, Keisha," Deena said through gritted teeth. "You bring it and I'll shove it down your G.o.dd.a.m.ned throat."

Grandma Emma stood. "Sit your a.s.s down before I come cross this table! Anybody gone be putting hands on somebody it's gone be me laying holy hands on your a.s.s for bringing this Chinese boy round like dis."

Deena and Grandma Emma stood, staring at each other as Keisha lowered herself into her chair. Around them, each Hammond gaped as Deena, still on her feet, defied the will of their family's matriarch. Never had it been done so brazenly.

"I don't answer to you," Deena said. "Not anymore." She turned to Tak. "We're done here."

When Deena and Tak left, it was with the belief that she'd been ejected from the fold. After all, had not her grandparents turned their backs on their only son, when he married her mother, a white woman? Had they not remained steadfast in their contempt up until his death ten years later? So it was with shock that Deena answered the phone when Grandma Emma called weeks later and suggested they meet.

"Can I get you something, Grandma Emma?" Deena asked with a touch to the old woman's shoulder. Emma looked up from her work-worn and wrinkled hands.

"They got Sanka?" Grandma Emma asked from her seat in the center of the Starbucks. Deena sighed. Shaking her head, she made her way over to the counter, to stand in the weaving line.

After ordering two cups of venti decaf, Deena carried the sweltering brew to a corner table in the eclectic coffee shop, where she gestured for her grandmother to join her. While she told herself that she'd chosen the corner table in regard for Grandma Emma's hip and back concerns, she was aware that it offered a semblance of privacy from the boisterous regulars that crowded the cafe. The spot seemed detached from the rest of the room.

"Deena, you know I love you. I love you more than anything. I raised you and your brother and sister like you was my own. So when I tell you things it's with your best interest in mind." Grandma Emma tapped her temple.

"I know you think so," Deena said carefully.

"No. No. No. I do. I don't tell you things for my own benefits. Like this here I got to tell you. For your own good."

"For my own good," Deena echoed distrustfully, her eyes trained on the wisps of steam escaping the lid.

Grandma Emma looked up at her, nodded, then leaned forward conspiratorially, her synthetic wig s.h.i.+fting in the process.

"You can't marry that Chinese boy."

"j.a.panese," Deena said.

"Chinese. j.a.panese. Really, when you gets downs to it, it's the same thing," Grandma Emma said.

Deena stared at her. "Alright. I'll humor you. Why can't I marry him?"

Grandma shook her head. "Your whole family against it. Ain't that mean nothing to you?"

"Not anymore," Deena murmured.

Grandma Emma stared back in shock. "Look here, gal. Ain't they got no black men whereabout you could find?"

Deena's patience evaporated. "I don't want a black man. I want him, Grandma. I love him. Weren't you the one who told me that if I found a man that I loved, that treated me right, that I should hold on to him no matter what?"

"Chile, you takes my words and you twists 'em. You twists 'em to suits you."

Deena sighed. "You're impossible."

Grandma Emma s.h.i.+fted in her seat. "Look. It ain't jus that he's a Chinese. Listen. This what I know. You two go hot tailing up out of here and get married both your families gonna be upside down." She waited for Deena to deny this. When she didn't, her lips curled into a satisfactory smile.

"I'm pretty sure his peoples want him to stay with his peoples like we wants you to stay with yours. That's the first thing. Second is this. I mean let's just be real here. Y'all two get together and you bound to have a funny looking child!"

Grandma Emma whooped with laughter, clapping her hands all the while. Deena knew she couldn't wait to tell the ladies of the church how she just came right out and told her what was what, right to her face.

"See, people like you don't ever think about who you effecting, just yourself," she said, eyes suddenly narrowed with seriousness.

"Well," Deena said carefully. "I could say the same thing about you."

The women stared, a dark silence pa.s.sing between them.

Grandma Emma's face darkened. "Listen, I'm here cause I am a woman of G.o.d."

"And I'm not?" Deena blurted.

"No, now it ain't that," Emma held up her hands, gesturing for Deena to calm down. Was she the aggressor now? Deena wondered.

"You was raised in the church now and even though you got some ways about you like you wasn't, you still was."

Deena began to ma.s.sage her temples. "I don't follow you."

"Those people don't believe in Jesus Christ!" Emma shouted.

Deena nodded, tiredly, conceding her point.

"Uh huh. Deacon Moore says they Buddin. And that they pray to a fat Chinese man. Now who in they right mine ever heard of a fat Chinese man being the son of G.o.d?"

Deena closed her eyes, counted backwards from ten, and spoke. "Yes, lots of j.a.panese people are Buddhist, Tak included. But I don't see your point. In fact, I think you need to learn to tolerate other people's differences."

She regretted the words in an instant.

"What! Girl, Jesus Christ died for your sins! He laid down and died for you! For you, Deena!" Grandma banged her fist on the table for emphasis. "They nailed him to a cross and-"