Best of Neighbors

About five minutes passed at home before David's good tool box news reached Clarissa, Janie, and his mother. CoraBea quickly shuffled me off to her bedroom and closed the door.

"DJ," she said. "This is too much. Christmas was too much, but I didn't say anything. And now this. You'll spoil David. And what you going to do about Clarissa and Janie?"

I smiled at her. I knew exactly what I was going to do about them.

"I'm going to give them second Christmas presents, too. Am I doing something wrong?"

"You'll spoil them. You may have already!"

"I'm only trying to make your family so happy their mother will fall madly in love with me and screw my lights out every night."

She shook her head.

"What's the matter? Don't you like screwing my lights out? You're sure good at it, and I sure hope I haven't missed my mark with you."

CoraBea shook her head.

"You won't tell your girls, will you? I thought I'd make a New Years celebration out of it. I couldn't see any way to surprise David with his tool box ... since he's working off paying half. But the girls I'm gifting them outright, so I thought giving them something on New Years Eve would work out fine."

"So? Knowing your sense of fairness, I suppose that come New Years, you'll find something else David just can't live without?"

She had me there. I'd already found him an old Sturdevant torque wrench, the beam kind nobody uses anymore, but every mechanic should have because—short of out and out damage—they never go bad. He, or me later, could always get him a clicker type that are everywhere, cheap, and more convenient—if you can trust their calibration. I'd show him how to check the clicker's accuracy using the Sturdevant. All around, he'd learn something about tightening bolts properly, as well as end up with the proper tool(s).

"I know that look," CoraBea said. "What you getting David for his New Years present?"

"Already got him a torque wrench."

She gave me her what's that? look.

"A special wrench for measuring how tight you tighten a bolt. For a beginning mechanic it should be the first tool he buys, not the last."

She nodded, then smiled.

"You won't spill the beans, will you?"

"Of course not, but for the girls, I should know ahead of time, shouldn't I?"

"Ear sparklies for Janie, and some sort of sparkly necklace for Clarissa. Sort of Christmas in reverse."

She nodded to that, too.

"That leaves only one more."

I saw What's that? on her face.

I put on a knowing grin. "Still gotta find something for their beautiful mother. You'll have to help me with that. It's only a few day 'til New Years and I don't have a clue."

She pulled me to her and then down to her kiss, then slipped her lips alongside my ear and whispered, "Just remember last night. All I want is you again and again and again. And after I have that, again and again and again."

"I may be spoiling your kids' mother."

"I sure feel spoiled, but I'm game for more."

Chapter 3

I made the decision. At least I think I made it. Okay! I'll admit I made it the morning after another of CoraBea's bang-me-all-night weekend dates.

Why the day after Friday night? Because during that Saturday afternoon, she would be at work—yes, she still clerked in that Quickie-Mart. CoraBea claimed she liked working there for minimum wage because that's where she first spoke to me that fateful evening a year ago.

And the kids, if I timed it right, would be home that Saturday afternoon.

I felt like some teenager, nervous nearly to the point of nausea, hat in hand, as I rang CoraBea's family doorbell.

"Hi, DJ," Clarissa said as soon as she saw it was me. "Mom's working today, remember?"

I nodded as I said, "Are Janie and David home, too?"

"Sure. Come on in, okay?" She'd put on her usual amount of flirt, but it wasn't enough to be annoying. "Hey everybody! DJ's here to see us," she called over her shoulder toward the rest of the house.

I hoped my expression said thanks well enough. As she led me into the house, I aimed her toward CoraBea's dining room table. In a moment both David and Janie appeared and followed suit.

"I guess we should sit?" Clarissa said.

I nodded as I sat myself at the end of the table where CoraBea always seated me when she invited me for dinner. I looked down; I guess I didn't exactly look like Mr. Confidence.

"What's the matter, DJ?" Clarissa said as she sat at the table corner next to me; I saw the same question on her sister and brother's faces when I looked up.

Well, here goes! Here goes the rest of my life. Don't bungle it now, boy!

"You know I like you kids a lot, right? You young ladies and young man, I mean—sorry."

All three still had What's wrong, DJ? on their faces.

"And you know I like your mother a lot, too?"

All three nodded, then changed to faces with Tell us something we didn't already know on them.

"I ..." I said, choking and realizing I'd held my breath from clear out at the curb all the way in. "I ..."

Janie reached over and put her hand on mine where it lay in a nervous fist on the table. "What ever it is, DJ, it'll be okay."

I chanced a glance in her direction. God, she was beautiful, and that expression on her face only made her more so.

Another hand found mine, Clarissa's this time. I looked her way too, finding her face just as beautiful as Janie's.

Okay, DJ, I told myself. Go a head and spill it. You're among friends here. Make a fool of yourself, if that's what it takes.

"I ...," I tried once more to say something, but my stupid mouth wouldn't work.

"Ya know? It's like he wants to marry one of us," Clarissa said in a gloating tone that included a serious sounding chuckle. "We know he's not like that, so it can't be David. You're too young, Janie, so it can't be you. I'm old enough, but he knows I'm going to college come hell or high water, so it must be Momma."

Well there it was, out on the table.

"Am I right, DJ?"

I looked at both girls, and then David. Yes, they had me figured out, better than I did. I nodded.

"So, what's taken you so long?" Janie said. "We been wondering if you were ever going to decide. Every morning after you and Momma go out, when Momma comes back she's in such good mood we can get anything from her we want. We been thinking about coming over and waking you up, too, just to see if your mood matches hers."

Matching? I'm not sure, but however, it sure would be good.

"We think you and Momma should stay here after your dates, that way you could be together when you wake up, and then help each other shower, and have breakfast with all of us, before you and Momma go off work or whatever. We'd like that better, and you'd like it better, we know. All you're doing otherwise is pretending you aren't in love as much as you are. That's silly, isn't it?"

I looked down a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. So many times I'd wished I could wake the most beautiful woman in the world and enjoy the dawning, new day with her. I felt my tongue and throat and the rest of me regaining the facility of speech.

"Really?" Now that sounded retarded, didn't it?

When my eyes went from face to face, I saw what I would have earlier given a month's pay for.

"You want me to marry CoraBea? Really? Marry your mom?"

The nods kept coming.

"You'd be my daughters? And David? You'd be my son?"

"What you think we been trying to say? We been hoping for almost a year you'd want us for your family." Clarissa said.

So, I'd been out-flanked, out-understood, and out-maneuvered—all in the course of a few seconds.

"And if you did something really naughty or stupid or careless and I turned you over my knee and paddled you, you'd understand I did it because I love you and you'd disappointed me?"

Clarissa looked first to her sister, then David, then back to me. "Well, I'm never going to do anything like that, so you'll never have to paddle me."

"Me neither," Janie said.

I knew David thought the same by the way he looked at me.

"No siree," Clarissa said. "I'm going to be the perfect daughter. And if either of you aren't perfect, I'll help DJ paddle you, too."

"No, no. I'll do any paddling needed around here."

David looked up at me, the start of a smile on his face. "Does this mean I get to call you Dad?"

"Only if your mother agrees, and only after it's official. And then only as DJ. When you say Dad and you mean your father, Dee, I want you to always say Daddy Dee. When you mean me, always say Daddy DJ. Dee was a good man; he was my friend and I don't want to take away any of his credit for you three being so good. I never want you to forget your father."

"But he ...," the two girls said before I burst in.

"He made a mistake or two, so did your mother. Everybody makes a mistake now and then. I've made a few I'm not proud of, too. It's part of living. But other than those, they don't come any better than Dee and your mother."

The three of them looked up at me, now. I think that look on their faces was relief. Last thing I wanted for these kids—these kids I wanted as my daughters and son—was to feel shame for their father, but worse than that, to feel they had to give him up in order to be my kids.

"So? We're agreed? When you speak of your father, you'll always acknowledge and respect how good a man he was and how much he loved you and your mother and how good he raised you? And you'll always remember he was my friend and I'm thankful you think I can come close to being as good a father as he was?"

All three heads nodded. I figured that was a good sign.

"And one other thing, okay? We keep this all secret, so if I do chicken out at the last minute, it doesn't hurt CoraBea's feelings?"

"Why would you chicken out, DJ?" David said.

"You just wait until it comes your turn and you have to ask the best woman in the world to put up with your for the rest of her life. Just wait. It's not easy."

Janie raised her hand and waved it. I looked up.

"We'll help," she said. The other two looked up, agreement on their faces. "Sure, DJ. You come over tonight at six when she gets home and we'll help."

"No, I better do this myself. I don't want her to feel she must marry me just because you three want her to."

"But we do! That's the point. You gotta help us convince her."

"No, now that's final. I want CoraBea to marry me because she wants me that much, not because you guys pressured her."

"We won't be pressuring, DJ. We'll just be hurrying her along."

"You'll be pressuring. So no. I'll do the asking."

***

I picked CoraBea up at nine-thirty that evening, our usual time those days when she worked. We made it three blocks away from her house before she squirmed around in her seat to face me. She put her right hand on mine where it lay on the gear shifter.

"Okay DJ. What's up? You and my kids been cooking something up, right?"

"Oh, nothing." I gave my head a sharp shake.

"Yeah, sure!"

"Really. You'll probably think it's just nothing and not want anything to do with it."

She gave me her I doubt that look.

"So, did they say something?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't get anything out of them, but they were so jittery I know they've been cooking up something with you."

I turned off at the street's next wide spot, killed the engine, and turned to her. Well, here goes!

"I probably should have waited until I had my ducks better lined up for this, maybe tomorrow or next week. So, don't shoot the messenger, okay?"

She nodded. What I saw in her nod was don't string me along much more or I may burst!

"CoraBea?" I said, when I looked up from getting myself as organized as I could manage. "I want to marry you. Could you ...?" That was all I managed to say before—hell, I don't know how she did it, but in the course of those two syllables she launched from her seat, across to me and flung herself on top of me.

Before I shook my surprise enough to realize she was there, all she'd said was one word: 'Yes." Her yes came so fast, I'd have sworn she had it half said before I finished saying marry you.

"Yes, DJ. Yes, DJ. Yes, DJ."

"I guess you really mean yes?"

She kissed me a few dozen times before she calmed down.

"Oh, DJ? I want you so much I just about come unglued anytime I think about you when you're not with me. If you want me, I want you. Do I need to say yes a few hundred more times?"

I shook my head. "When you say it, once is enough."

"What about the kids?"

"Oh, I already talked to them. They're all for it."

"I'll bet! No wonder they were so wound up. I thought you'd just invited them to something they really like—riding on the carnival roller coaster or something."

"Well, future Mrs. CoraBea Simmons, I think they've already made their choice, and that choice is them being my kids from now on."

She looked down a moment, then up again, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, DJ, I'm sorry! I must look a mess."

"You do, just like the mess I want for my wife."

"But I should always look ... look ..."

"Look like the woman I want in my arms, in my bed, serving us, me and our kids, dinner on Thanksgiving and Christmas, greeting me when I come home from work, and waking up with me every morning."

"You got it. You bet. That's me. So can we stop at a phone booth and call them?"

"I think we should. Otherwise they won't sleep at all tonight, and they'll know exactly what time you come home tonight. You know? They made it quite clear we weren't fooling them one bit, what with you coming home early in the morning every other morning."

"Yeah, I suppose not."

"I guarantee you. They said when you come home with a silly grin on your face, they know for the next half day they can talk you into most anything they want.

"They said that?"

"Yup. But I told them if they were going to be my kids, I'd spank them when they deserved it."

"What did they say to that?"

"Clarissa said she'd never do anything that deserved spanking. Janie and David avoided the question."

"Oh."

"I told them I knew they were good kids, and if I ever did punish them for anything, it would be because they'd done something really stupid or careless or hurtful of others and disappointed me. I'd only punish them 'cause I loved them so much and it hurt me to be disappointed in them."

CoraBea nodded, then looked up and smiled softly. "What else you tell them?"

"That they should never forget Dee, that he was a good man, my friend, and I wanted only to be their father from now on, not before. I didn't want—ever—to interfere with their memory of their father.

"They asked about his death. I told them he made a mistake, but we all make mistakes and he was such a good man, they should overlook that one, including what all led up to it."

CoraBea looked down a moment, then back up.

"DJ? I'm going to try my best to be the wife who deserves you."

"Aw, I ain't nothin' special. Just a regular White guy in love with a wonderful Black woman."

"You are something and you are special."

"You want to go back to my place and call the kids?"

"Yes! That means we're closer to your bedroom. Did we really need to go to whatever that was you were taking me to?"

I shook my head. "In the long run, it was just an excuse to be with you."

"Honey? You don't need an excuse. I think an engaged woman should hop right into bed with her fiancé at her first opportunity."

***

So we hopped. And stayed hopped until Sunday, mid-morning. CoraBea pulled back from my somewhat—I'll admit—sleepy, rung-out kiss.

"Oooh, ten-thirty. I better call and tell the girls to make breakfast for David. He's a growing boy; he needs food, and on time."

"Maybe we should ...?"

"No, Honey. They can do it, and if David gets too hungry, he can make himself a snack."

"I just don't want to upset your family."

"As much as they like you, you couldn't upset them with a volcanic eruption. Hand me the phone, okay?" So I did. The resulting conversation went something like this:

"Hello? Janie?"

Pause

"Yes, he did."

Pause

"Yes, I did."

Pause

"Don't know yet."

Pause

"We don't know yet."

Pause

"That's awful soon."

Pause

"Might be home later."

Pause

"We'll all discuss that later."

Pause

"I know, Honey."

Pause

"I love you, too."

With that, she pressed the END button and handed the phone back to me. Along with the phone I got another CoraBea special, just got engaged kiss.

"Everything okay at home?"

She nodded, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. "Know what they were doing? Figuring out where we should live."

"And?"

"The girls are lobbying for separate bedrooms. Seems grown up ladies don't sleep in bunk beds."

"Well, I have four bedrooms here. I know it's not as fancy as your place, but ..."

"Problem solved. David gets the one you call your guest room, Clarissa and Janie each get one of those slightly bigger ones, and you and I get this big play-pen. Sound okay?"

"Okay, unless you get mad at me and kick me out."

"Honey, I ain't ever kicking you out! It'll be more like you having to get away from me 'cause I want sex again and you need sleep."

"Let's only worry about that if the problem arises, okay?"

She nodded. "Now, DJ, this bride-to-be is getting horny again. What you want first?"

First? Second? Third? Fourth, or whatever, I wanted CoraBea.

Epilogue (TwoYears Later)

What was taking CoraBea so long in the bathroom tonight? I hoped she was all right.

At last the door latch clicked, and I looked up to see how she had dressed to begin tonight. In the dim light of 10:00 PM I made out her dark body, the shape with which for fifteen hundred nights she had given me more pleasure than any man can reasonably expect in his life.

Ah, yes! Her white corset, the one that held her far-better-than-average breasts up as if presenting an award to me, and white net stockings held up by garters anchored where that corset spread to emphasize her waist to hip ratio. I suppose this show-off introduction and lead-up was necessary, but as soon as I got over the pleasant shock of seeing her there again, ready for me again, I'd begin the oh-so-pleasant task of removing them.

She bent at my side of the bed—to start each evening, she always began by getting into bed on my side—and turned the dimmable bedside lamp to almost nothing. Her dark chocolate skin glowed in the remaining light, her corset emphasizing its contrast with the white. How could any man resist that? Why would any man want to?

She pulled back the bedcovers, slipped in alongside me, and raked her fingernails up my chest. I knew what that meant. I always got that treatment when I returned home from business out of town, when she wanted me more than her fantastic usual.

But this week I'd been at home. I had to be, it was graduation week. David—who a month or so back informed us quite pointedly that once he graduated eighth grade, he was old enough to be addressed as Dave from now on—Janie, had graduated Salutatorian of her highschool class of over three hundred, and Clarissa graduated with Presidential Mention from our local junior college and now aimed for a yet to be chosen 4-year.

"I love you so much, DJ," CoraBea whispered, her lips brushing my ear.

Of course you do, and I love you right back.

"How can I ever show you how much?"

"You always do, Honey. Every time."

"I try, but what about tonight? Somehow it's got to be better tonight than ever before."