The Masks We Wear

"I don't know," I admitted.

"I know you love her," Mom said. "Do you ever envision yourself as a mother, Simone?"

"Not really," I said. "I know I'd be a horrible mom. I'm too selfish and I like my time being my own. I'm sure I'd fuck it up and my kids would be serial killers, or something."

Mom frowned at my profanity and Dad laughed. "I had the exact same feeling. You aren't secretly a serial killer are you, Simone?"

"Yeah, Simone the Zipper, stalker of the fashion world," I said.

Even Mom snorted at that one. "See, I'm funny as hell. You are both lucky to have a daughter like me," I told them.

I was sitting between them on the sofa and they squished me between them. "We know we are," Mom said, kissing me. "I was afraid I would be a horrible mother, too. I know we made mistakes, but I think you'll be a great mom when you make up your mind that you want to be one. You can practice on Célia."

I laughed. "Yeah, if she becomes a serial killer, it's Rick and Chelsea's fault. And Destry's."

"What are you really afraid of, Baby?" Dad asked.

Suddenly I was bawling, all the fears and insecurity of my life bubbling out. "I... I'm afraid I'll screw everything up. I thought I had it all going on with fucking Reuben, and it turned to shit. I... I love Destry, but I'm so afraid. I'm afraid the same thing will happen with him."

They just held me tightly and let me get it out. "I don't know what I did wrong. I tried so hard, and it all went to hell. I'm afraid I'll be hurt like that again. I'm afraid... I'm... Oh God!" I buried my face in Dad's chest and just wailed. I could feel Mom cuddling me and she was whispering in my ear.

"Shh, now. Why do you think you did something wrong, Honey? You don't have to do anything wrong for things to go wrong. Sometimes you do everything right and you lose. That's just life, Simone. You've been able to achieve so much just because you're so strong and so smart. You've succeeded at everything you've done, but losing is part of life. Sometimes it's because of you and something you did. Sometimes it isn't."

"I have to tell you, Love-bug," Dad said, "people do shitty stuff every day. They lie, cheat and there isn't necessarily any reason for it other than that they do. They stab you in the back, betray you, dump you and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"You just move on," Mom said. "Reuben's punishment is that he doesn't get to be with you."

"When I was doing trauma surgery, I would cut off whatever it was causing the problem, stitch them up and that's the best I could do," Dad said. "That's what you did. I think you're pretty well stitched up now, Simone,"

Mom piped in, "I agree with your father. Things happen and it's not your fault."

"Sometimes you get married to a shitbag," Dad said.

Mom clucked at him. "Well, he was," Dad said. "I never liked him, but I could never say it. Look at our baby, Tisha. Look what he's done to her."

"I know," Mom said. "Simone, what difference will having Célia make? Do you think that will make a difference between you and Destry?"

"No, I don't know. It might even be a good thing. I just don't know," I said miserably.

"No, you don't know," Dad said softly. "That's life, too, Simone. It's full of unknowns. You never know until you take a chance, and I'm sure it's worth taking a chance. Nothing bad will happen if you don't risk your heart, but nothing good will happen either. I'm sure that girl needs you, Simone. I know that. Give it a shot, Baby. Your mother and I are dying to meet her. Do you think she could come here?"

I was regaining my composure. "And, Simone," Mom said, "have this same talk with Destry."

I nodded. "Yes, I will. I needed my mom and dad to give me the courage. I don't think she can come here at least until Rick and Chelsea are gone. None of them would want to miss out on the time they have until they go."

I spent the night, and the next day I booked my flight to Winnipeg, told Destry when I would get in and spent two more days in the office, getting shit cleared up that needed my presence.

He met me at the airport and we drove back to his house, the elephant between us looming large. I was as horny as a cat in heat, and dragged him off to the bedroom. He had tremendous stamina, after a quick trigger the first time, and by the time we were done, I was worn. We napped a little, and when I woke up, I rolled half on top of him, using his chest for a pillow, and just basked in his strong arms around me.

I could feel him stroking my hair, smoothing it down out of his face. I giggled a little, and the rumble of his chuckle was audible in my ear on his chest.

"Des, do you love me?" I asked.

"More than I can tell you," he said.

"I mean, like for real? For good?"

"Yes, I'll never stop," he said.

I sighed and tried to melt into him. "How much do you think our schedules would have to change if Célia is with us?"

"I don't think that much," he said. "We're together most of the time. Harvest is done, I'm not going back on the tour, Simone."

That was a bit of a shock. I looked up at him. "Really? Why not?"

"It's a combination of things," he said. "One, it's hard on my body. I don't want to wake up when I'm 50 and hurt. Two, it would keep me away from you. I have this gorgeous brown goddess in my life." I kissed his chest. "Three, I don't need the money. I guess I never really did, but the competition was fun, seeing how far I could take it. It's not that much fun anymore. Four, Célia. I want her, Simone. I love her. I wish she was my kid. I always have."

I nodded. "I know. If we had a daughter, I would hope she would be like Célia. I wanna do it, Des. She needs us. Chelsea and Rick need us. Fuck, I may need her. It makes me happy when she's with us."

"I know. I see you with her," he said. "She worships you, Simone. So do I, for that matter, but if she can't be with Chelsea, I would want her to be with you."

"I'm not all that, Des," I said. "I promise to do my best."

"That's all you can do. All both of us can do."

"Imma Snap her," I said.

"Now?" He snatched at the sheet, covering most of us while I giggled. I Snapped her, both of us grinning like idiots.

I just sent one word, "Yes."

I reached to put my phone on the night stand, but it vibrated. It was a picture of Rick, Chelsea and Célia, all with very happy faces. "Really?"

"Yes."

"We're coming over," she sent back.

It was a tearful and happy little thing. I could tell that Rick, especially, was giddy with relief. I understood. This was some heavy shit. He had always been a little awkward around me, but that went away from that moment. I knew it had to be a tremendous load off his mind. It would be bad enough leaving his daughter with us. It was obvious he loved her with all his heart. Asking his family to make difficult choices like that must have been hard.

Célia's birthday was two days later, and Destry gave her the bag. As she tore the paper off, she pumped her fist in the air. "This is kinda special," he said. "It's a unique design from my beautiful girlfriend, and it's going to be the start of a line of bags and accessories called the " Célia Line," for girls and young women."

She was all big-eyed and ran to me. "I love it!" she squealed. "It looks good, and it looks like something I can use, too. Thank you, Simone. Thank you, Uncle Des." She threw herself on him and he swung her around.

"Wow, Baby, you're going to be famous!" Rick told her.

"I tried to make it tough and good looking," I told her. "You should be able to yeet it around and it still be okay."

She laughed. "Yeah, I do throw stuff around, but this is special."

*****

It was a long and tearful goodbye, but we finally got Rick and Chelsea packed and on their way to Russia. I couldn't imagine what it was going to be like, but they were as well-matched for the situation as anyone I had ever met.

Célia was pretty quiet on the way back, and I was thinking how we could take her mind off it. "Célia, how would you like a trip to Newark, then to San Francisco? Des, can you get away?"

She bounced up and down in her seat. "Really? That would be so fire, Simone. Can we, Uncle Des?"

His eyes were twinkling as he looked over at me. "I think I can swing it. Let's go," he said.

That took away the doldrums, mostly, with Célia being so excited. "Simone, I have to thank you," Destry told me the first time he got me alone. "This was just what we needed. I know it won't be a panacea, but it's perfect. You're a genius."

"I know, right? Remember that, dude," I told him.

He smacked my butt and laughed. "Oh, I never doubted. Smart, cute as fuck and conceited as hell. Listen to me. You've got me saying shit like that now."

I had to laugh. It was time to get packing.

I got Célia the next day and sat her down for a talk. "We're going to have a blast, Baby-doll, but Simone is going to be working some, both in Newark and San Francisco, okay?"

"Yeah, I know, but you'll be with us a lot, right?"

"Every minute I can," I assured her.

Newark was a blast. I introduced her to Mom and Dad and they loved her right away. Mom got her and took her out shopping once and to lunch twice. They got along great. I took her to work with me. She wore her backpack, and everyone made a big deal over her. I introduced her to the owner, and he was like through the roof.

"You are perfect, Célia," he told her. "Do you think we can use her in the campaign when we kick it off, Simone? She is the perfect model for the image we want."

"I don't know, Robert," I said. "I would have to check with her parents about that."

"Please do," he said. "Do you want me to give them a call?"

"I do," I said. "Let me break it to them first, okay?"

I had a thought. "Célia, is that something you would like?"

"I think so," she said. "You'd be with me, right, Simone?"

"Yes, baby, don't worry about that. Uncle Des or I will always be there."

He wasn't crazy about the idea, but she had the fever and he was wrapped around her little finger, so she soon had him onboard. We talked to Rick and Chelsea, and they signed the releases. Our baby was a model! That wasn't happening for three months, but she was very excited about it.

San Francisco was a blast, even though I spent several of the evenings working. Célia was doing well with missing her parents, although I caught her crying twice. I held her and we whispered.

"I just miss them, Simone."

"I know, Baby-doll. It's natural. I'm a little shook, though. I thought I was a fire mom."

She gave a watery chuckle. "Trust me, you are. I love you soo much."

"Me too. I want a cinnamon roll, how 'bout you?"

"Ooh, yes, I do." She dried her eyes, blew her nose and we dragged Destry off to find some.

Destry and I had our moments, both good and bad. Some of the awkwardness I knew was coming peeked up its ugly head. We were with a group of his friends at a fire department event in the small town near us, and some dude who wasn't exactly a friend joined the conversation.

He made some racist remark, and there it was. I had some choices: walk away, stay and ignore it or go off on his ass. I preferred the latter, but it never ends well. You always wind up looking over-sensitive and whiney, so you have to depend on your friends to stick up for you.

There was an uncomfortable silence and I felt the eyes on me. The racist fuck-wit sensed that he had fucked-up, and doubled down. "Oh, I don't even think of you as black, Simone."

The fuck? What did he think of me as, green? I turned and walked away. Destry hurried after me. He caught me before I had gone 10 feet and stood in front of me. "I'm so sorry, Simone. Please come back. Give me, give us, a chance here."

"A chance to do what, Des?" I asked.

"A chance to run dickwad off," he said.

I had to laugh, in spite of how pissed off I was. "No, Des, let's just get out of here. This is going to happen and you're going to find out it just isn't worth the drama."

"I'll go if you'll explain it to me," he said.

I tucked my hand around his arm and we left, heads high. I didn't want to go into it, but there it was. When we got to his house, I made coffee and we had "the talk."

"It wasn't the racist shit," I told Destry. "I'm used to that and though I can't say it doesn't bother me, I give zero fucks about the opinion of some ignorant fool. It's the "I don't even see color" thing.

Célia came in, and Destry told her we were talking about something important and she should go somewhere else.

"Why, Uncle Des? If it's important, shouldn't I know about it? I mean, if it's something private, I'll go read."

I hugged her. "You are so smart, Céliagirl. You're right. You can stay, right Des?"

"Yeah, you're right, Célia, sorry. Some douchebag said something down at the fire department fund-raiser about black people, and it's got Simone upset. She's explaining to me, us, why it upsets her so much."

She nodded, got two cookies out of the jar and poured herself a glass of milk. I sighed. "This is going to be a long story, okay?"

They both nodded and looked at me expectantly. I gathered my thoughts.

"Célia, your cookies reminded me: When I was your age, and younger, my classmates used to compare me to a cookie. They would say, 'You're like an Oreo, black on the outside, and white on the inside.' Do you understand that?"

Destry nodded, but Célia looked puzzled. "Not really," she said. "I know you're black, Simone. I have eyes, you know. Why would you be white on the inside, though? I'm pretty sure we're all like, red on the inside, like blood."

Destry chuckled, and I had to giggle, too. Having the innocence of an 11-year-old made this lighter than it could have been. Destry had something to say, I could tell.

"I can see why that would be offensive," he said. "It's like you're only acceptable if you can pass for white in the dark."

I admired him. "Yes, Des, that's it, exactly. And, Célia, your eyes are right. If you look at me and don't see that I'm black, you don't see me at all. I am black, even though my father is white, as you know.

"What those kids were telling me, and what Twatwaffle was telling me today with that 'I don't even see you as black, Simone,' was that I only have value because despite my brown skin, they consider me a white person, just like them. Even though they thought they accepted me, and it's still true, that acceptance comes with an unspoken condition."

"I think I get it," Célia said. "If they don't see you as white, you wouldn't be accepted."

I hugged her up. "You got it, Baby. The only way they can accept me, the only way I have value, is if they think of me as white. I'm not, though, and it is so offensive that they can't see me as I am and value me as a person, just because I'm Simone: nappy hair, black skin, full lips and all."

"Well, I love you," she said. "I think you're dope, just the way you are."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I love you, too." I squeezed her.

"This is the 'I don't date white boys,' thing, huh, Simone?" Destry said.

"Part of it," I said. "It's more like what being Simone is like," I replied.

"I can see why you don't want to be explaining it to people like Eric back there," he said.

"Good talk," Célia said. "Will you help me with my volleyball sets now, Simone?"

We all had a laugh and I got changed for volleyball.

That wasn't the only rough patch we had. Neither of them was happy with me flying to Miami for two weeks, and I knew I was going to miss the hell out them, too, but I needed to go. Destry and I had an argument about that, and I left feeling sort of hurt and mad that he was guilting me.

"Why do you have to go?" Célia asked.

"It's the big spring show," I told her. "I need to be there to make sure my stuff gets the best reviews possible."

"Can't someone else do it?"

"Not as well as I can," I said.

"But they COULD do it?"

"I guess, but it's my line; I would be irresponsible if I didn't go."

"I don't think it would be irresponsible, I think you're just selfish!" She flounced off with that shot.

I looked over at Destry and he was frowning at me. "What? Don't tell me you're going to start some shit."

"No, I'm not starting anything. I'm just disappointed in you. She is just starting to be happy and comfortable, not missing Rick and Chelsea so much, and now you're leaving."

"The fuck? I asked you to go. You told me you had too much going on. I'm not the one being selfish here, and I don't appreciate you being like this."

"I'm going to talk to her," he said, and went outside. I was fuming. Our first fight. I drove myself to the airport.

I didn't answer his texts or calls the first day I was there. I was very busy, but I was also feeling abused. I had a career, and felt he should understand that. I was spending most of my time in freaking Canada, the way it was, and I needed a little understanding I didn't feel I was getting. It was bad enough with just him, but involving Célia was over the top annoying.

He Snapped me that evening after I got back to the hotel. It was a picture of the two of them on the patio. The caption was, "Talk to us."

I answered. "I'm pissed off at both of you. Leave me alone." I turned off my phone and went to bed.

I went to a show the next day and worked hard. My summer line of dresses hit the runway and I got good reviews. I was feeling good about that, but guilty about not talking to them and determined to Snap them and apologize as soon as I got to my room. When I got back to the hotel, I took the elevator up and swiped my key card. It made that buzz with the lock thing, and I heard a sound from inside.

A little frightened, I cautiously opened the door, standing back around the wall and peeking inside. It was dark as fuck in there. I reached a hesitant hand in and turned on the light. There were rose petals all over the floor, and I saw Destry and Célia kneeling in the middle of the floor. They were each holding a flower arrangement of roses, lilies and orchids. I just stood there for a few seconds, stunned.

I could see tears in Célia's eyes. "Aunt Simone, I'm so sorry I was a bitch," she said, her little voice trembling.

"Babes, I'm sorry, too," he said. "Will you please forgive us?"

My feet took me rushing across the room to them. I took the arrangements and put them carefully on the table, fell to my knees and embraced them.

"I'm so... I don't... Wow! I can't believe..." I was crying, too.

"I can't believe you're here," I finally got it out. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you, explain better, do something differently. I don't know what to say. I love you both so much, and you came... How did you get away, Des? I thought..."

"My girl was hurting and mad at me." He squeezed me tightly. "There is nothing more important. We were at your show tonight. We see how important it was to you. We're sorry we were so..."

"Please, Aunt Simone, we're sorry," Célia said.

"Baby, when did you start calling me 'Aunt'?" I asked.

She made a little watery chuckle. "You are," she said. "I talked to Uncle Des on the way down here, and he said you would like it. Do you not like it? I can't stand you being mad at us. I want you to be my aunt, so bad."

"I'm not mad anymore," I kissed her. "I'm so happy you see me like that. I love it and I love you. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. You have to understand me, I've always been like that. I know it isn't good and I shouldn't be like that, but when I'm angry or hurt, I just kind of curl up in a ball inside and don't talk to anyone. Mom and Dad have always hated that, but I just do it. I'll try to do better, okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm kind of like that, too. Mom and Uncle Des yell at each other and just get over it. It takes me longer."

I looked at Destry and he had that half-smirk going. "Bae, we okay?" I asked.