Page 43 of Pride and Protest

“Thank you.” Granny beamed under his attention. He had finished her grandmother’s oxtails and complimented her garden. David was batting a thousand.

Liza rolled her eyes. “Yes, thank you for making our homes unaffordable. I’m sure thispartyshould make up for it.”

If looks could kill, the one Bev shot Liza would have her cold in the morgue.

“We host our Garden Sweepstakes inallof our developments in nearly every neighborhood across the country. Your grandmother’s creative use of space and variety and health of her greenery beat outeveryone, fair and square,” David said. It was the most serious tone Liza had ever heard him use.

“I’m not saying Granny didn’t deserve an award,” Liza said.

“Then whatareyou saying, Liza?” Bev asked tartly.

“And all of you are allowed a plus-one, so...” David continued awkwardly. “Except you.” He winked at Janae, who laughed that truly terrible laugh of hers. Everyone else in the room winced. God bless David if he could live with that laugh for the rest of his life.

“I know exactly who’s coming with me.” Bev spoke before Liza could say another thing. “The reverend is finally coming around, and I’m bringing him to Philly.” Bev thought for a minute. “But if we all get a plus-one... My word, that’s gotta be, what, ten thousand dollars for all of those people and the hotel and the food?”

“Momma,” Liza said under her breath, mortified.

“What? It’s a lot of money. No point in pretending like it ain’t. Liza, you can use your plus-one for Colin.”

“No. Nope. I have a plus-one, Ma. Let Deya use hers.”

“No! I’m bringing Derek!” LeDeya protested.

“I have a date too,” Liza said.

“Since when?” Bev smirked. “Chicho, have you seen this date Liza has?”

“Not exactly yet. But I know he’s—” Chicho started, but Bev had already turned away from her.

“Your own best friend hasn’t seen this very real perfect man of yours?” Bev asked.

“No! Dorsey knows him,” Liza shot out. “William Isaiah Curry. WIC.” Okay, they didn’t like each other, but he could at least vouch that WIC was a real person.

Dorsey’s back straightened. “I know of him.” His tone was clipped.

“He’s into, uh, public service and Black empowerment.” Liza muffled the last bit and put a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

“Of course he is.” Dorsey pulled the popcorn string from her other hand and threw it absently around the tree. He inhaled. “Smells like Christmas, doesn’t it?”

Liza flushed. She must have looked like such a bumpkin to him that night. Surelyhedidn’t have anything to do with David getting the tree? Was the tree for her?

“Liza, go and get some more tinsel from the closet.” Granny directed her granddaughter like a general. Liza padded toward the closet; she threw Dorsey a look over her shoulder, and he wordlessly followed her down the hallway. Part of her wanted to ask about that night at the hotel bar, and why they kept resetting every time they saw each other. Because after the drinks wore off and the sun came back up, they both came tumbling back to their senses. During the day they inhabited the realworld—which made this daytime family visit all the more surreal.

“How long have you been seeing WIC?” he said without any preamble.

“Oh, hi, Dorsey, how have you been?”

“Uncomfortable. How long have you been seeing him?”

“Well, we’re notseeingeach other...” Liza put up air quotes. It was exactly the impression she had meant to give her mother, but it sounded wrong coming from him.

“Can you say in one sentence what you know about WIC?” Dorsey looked more concerned than interested.

“He’s a community organizer...” Liza started.

“Who does he work for?”

“For his organization, the Black Israelites.”