with Patrick Masterson of Masterson Wholesale Foods, she hadn’t been relaxed at all. And by the end of the evening she’d been ready to wrap her hands around Patrick’s scrawny little neck and squeeze until the shrill sound of his voice stopped completely. He was an annoying, self-centered man who thought the sun rose and set on him. And he had the audacity to call her stuck-up because she’d declined a third date.
The first date had been a favor to her mother, who was on some committee with Patrick’s mother. The second time had been because she feared she hadn’t given him a fair shot the first go-round. After an hour and a half on Monday night and hearing about Patrick’s latest accomplishments which centered around his new shipment of veggie burgers and other organic meats, she’d deduced that a third date would be the type of torture she did not deserve.
“I know you’re not desperate, Malik.” She took another deep breath and used the inside of her arm to wipe her forehead. “You can pick me up tonight at seven. We’ll go out and have some fun, because you think that’ll make everything in my world better. And we’ll be back here tomorrow for work as usual.”
Malik looked as if he were going to say something else. Instead he only nodded and continued to work on applying the fondant to the lower layer of the Ricardo wedding cake.
Hours later after they’d both worked themselves to the brink, Belinda drove herself back to her apartment. She stripped out of her work clothes, switched on the faucet in the tub and poured in a generous amount of bubble bath. She couldn’t wait to sink down into the water. Heading into her bedroom she grabbed a book from her nightstand. These were Belinda’s only indulgences—hot baths and reading. They were her only support system in a life she feared was spiraling out of control.
Just as she was almost out of the bedroom, the phone rang and she circled back to the nightstand to grab the cordless device. She said hello, continuing on her trek into the bathroom.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask when I saw you earlier. How was your date with Patrick?” Shari asked. The preschool had called Shari earlier this afternoon and she’d had to leave straight from her delivery to pick up Andre. So Belinda hadn’t seen her since this morning’s meeting. Of course she thought about her cousin’s reaction to the contest announcement—more aptly about how Shari really felt about Dina English and this upcoming competition. Shari had said she was fine with it, but Belinda hadn’t believed her. The grudge between Shari and Dina had been going on for years now, but as far as Belinda knew, neither of the women had ever confronted each other or had any reason to be in the same place at the same time. A live competition on national TV probably wasn’t the best setting for a reunion, but there wasn’t much they could do about that now.
“It wasn’t worth talking about this morning and it’s definitely not worth talking about now,” was Belinda’s reply to Shari’s question.
“But you two look so good together,” Shari said excitedly. “And just think, if you hook up with him, we could probably be a featured bakery in their store. You know those warehouse stores get lots of traffic. They usually make and sell their own baked goods. But what if we could work out some type of distribution with them? We could use that publicity.”
This was only a small sample of the pressure Belinda always felt weighing on her shoulders. Ever since she could walk and talk, expectations of her had been high. In elementary school she had to be the cutest, the smartest. By middle school her parents had encouraged—she wouldn’t say “forced,” out of respect—her to join the spelling club, which had her traveling for nationwide competitions. At the same time she needed to be well-rounded, so three years in gymnastics and four years of piano lessons were also prescribed. High school was the Debate Club, the Honor Society and every honors class she could enroll in. College was more committees and activities, but by that time, Belinda had begun to tune out more than she absorbed.
“You sound more and more like Drake every day,” she said. “I’m not going to pimp myself out, even for the sake of making Lillian’s a household name.”
“Come on, you know I would never suggest that, girl. I was just saying that would be a perk. Of course you would have to feel something for him, as well. Which by the sound of your voice I’m guessing you do not.”
“Then you would be guessing correctly,” Belinda said as she sank down into the tub, loving the soothing feel of hot water as it touched her skin, and the chamomile fragrance of the bubbles that permeated the air.
“He’s a pompous ass. And he had the audacity to call me names when I said I wouldn’t go out with him again. How childish.” Even though Belinda had to admit the fact that she was still bothered by his words probably spoke volumes about her own maturity. It wasn’t as if she had never been called names before—that, too, had happened when she was younger. Being perfect had never been Belinda’s goal—it was a prerequisite. For so long she went along with it because for the most part it came naturally. Now, twenty-six years later, she felt like she was renting space inside this body—living the life others expected her to live. It was a huge price to pay, one Belinda wasn’t sure she could continue to afford.
On the other hand, there was the guilt of wanting to lead what she presumed was a “normal” life. Her grandmother had risen above what was expected of a normal African-American single mother, and she’d made something bigger—her family and her business. And Belinda owed it to her, to their legacy, to be the best always. That’s what her parents had instilled in her and that was the rule she’d lived by all her life. The one that haunted her to this day.
“So you’re on the hunt again?” Shari asked with a chuckle.
“I’m not now, nor have I ever been on the hunt. My parents are the ones who think I should be married and ready to have babies by now.”
“You should have started young like I did,” Shari quipped.
Shari was a single mother and proud of it. She took care of her son on her own and never complained.
“I don’t even know if I want kids. Or a man for that matter.”
“Oh, you want a man,” she said. “It’s in our genes to want to get married and have kids. We’ve got a legacy to carry on. If we don’t have kids, who does it carry on to?”
Belinda was so tired of hearing about this legacy.
“The show will go on no matter what,” she said drily. “Anyway I won’t have time to think about men with this competition coming up.”
“I know. I’ve been drawing sketches all afternoon. Andre has a fever so he’s been sleeping. But I have so many ideas.”
Belinda had none. Sure, Malik thought she was thinking about the competition all day today, and she’d let him think along those lines. But it just wasn’t true. This competition was important, she knew that. But there was something else she thought was just as important. Something she feared she’d gone too long without experiencing.
Even now talking to her cousin was a distraction. Belinda had decided to make a change, one that was going to require some thought and planning. “Well, I just came home and I’m trying to take a bath. How about I call you later?”
“Sure, you go ahead. I want to work on my ideas some more. At some point all of us need to get together to figure out what our game plan is.”
Belinda nodded, knowing that would inevitably happen, no matter how much she dreaded it. “Right. You coordinate the others and I’ll be there.”
“Okay.
