His mother had tried to teach him to be proud of his African heritage.
“Your skin is dark because your bloodline isn’t diluted. You can trace your ancestry all the way to the slave ships and even back to the motherland. You’re a thoroughbred, a pedigree, the descendant of kings and queens and great warriors! You should be proud of your black skin. Those half-breed mulatto kids are just jealous because they’re mutts. You just tell them, the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice.”
Malik got up and stormed away from his desk with Kelly and Jennifer screaming in his head and the two office assistance boring their eyes into his back. He had to get some fresh air.
Walking briskly past rows and rows of identical cubicles in which the other office drones toiled, Malik began to calm down. The voices in his head began to slowly abate. He hurled himself into an elevator and rode it downstairs to the lobby then dashed out onto the teeming city streets into the flow of pedestrian traffic. He leaned up against a light pole and inhaled deeply several times finding himself inexplicably wishing he had a cigarette even though he’d never smoked a day in his life. The voices were quieter now but they were still there, whispering hateful things to him. It had been a long time since they had come on this strong and Malik new the reason for their renewed vigor. That damned office assistant with the Halle Barry smile and complexion. Despite his anger he could not ignore the fact that he’d been immensely attracted to her and Kelly and Jennifer had known it, too. That’s why they had attacked him.
“Those fucking bitches! Why can’t they just leave me alone!”
Malik gnashed his teeth together, the squeaky grinding sound drowning out the sonorous echoes in his skull. He whirled suddenly and almost jumped out into the street, pin wheeling his arms to stay on the curb as a cab rushed towards him, his eyes fixed in horror at the beautiful light-skinned office assistant that’d just placed her hand on his shoulder. She reached out for him again to help him regain his footing, pulling him back onto the sidewalk.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“You almost killed me!”
She continued smiling at him despite the bristling rage and hate boiling off of him in waves. She was oblivious. “She probably expects the world to love her,” Malik thought to himself as he struggled to calm his galloping heartbeat.
“I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Why?” Malik found himself backing away from her in horror as if she were something dangerous that might attack him. The woman took a step closer with every step he took in retreat until he was once again teetering on the edge of the curb.
“What do you want?”
“My name is Danika.” She held out her hand and Malik had to take it to keep from falling off the curb into traffic.
“I’m Malik.”
“I know. The girls in the office already told me about you.” She swept her eyes down to his feet and back up to his eyes again and once again his body tingled everywhere her gaze landed.
“What did they tell you about me?”
“They said that you only date white girls.”
“What? That’s stupid. I date plenty of Black girls. I date all kinds of girls.”
“Then why haven’t you asked me out? How come every time I look at you you look like you want to run away? Do you think I’m ugly or something or are you just scared of me?”
“Why was she doing this?”
“I’m not afraid of you and you know you aren’t ugly.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Why would you want to go out with me?”
“Why? Look at you! You’re gorgeous!”
Malik paused and looked closely at Danika’s face to see if she was serious, hunting for any sign that she was putting him on or patronizing him.
“What do you have some kind of bet with your friends or something? Is that what this is about?”
“Look, I just think you’re fine as hell and I’d like to get to know you. But if you’re not interested I ain’t going to beg you. A sista does have her pride. If you prefer those white girls then that’s just your loss.”
She turned on her heels and started walking back into the building.
“Danika?”
“Hmmm?”
“How about tonight?”
The date was going well. Malik was surprised by how much he and Danika had in common. Even the voices in his head were silent for once. Malik was enjoying himself. Each time Danika laughed he laughed with her. She reached out and took his hand as she told him about how her grandparents had to flee the South sixty years ago with the KKK hard at their heels because her grandmother had married a black man. She told him how much she hated being called “high yella” or “redbone” as if she were some other race than black and how she hated being called a mulatto most of all because it sounded so much like “mutt” which she’d also been called on a few occasions. Malik, kept his own stories to himself, listening instead, staring at her tiny brown hand in his and wondering what he’d ever been afraid of.
“What about your parents? Were they both Black?”
“My mom, like I said, was half black and half white and my dad was Puerto Rican.”
“So what do you consider yourself then?”
“Well, Puerto Ricans have Black blood in them too so I just call myself Black. It gets too complicated otherwise.”
She smiled and Malik smiled with her. The waiter brought their food and they ate their meal of Cornish game hens stuffed with wild rice and cranberries in small bites in between conversation, sipping zinfandel and never once breaking eye contact.
When the check came, they both agreed not to let the night end. They went to a nightclub down the street and sat at the bar drinking and talking. A Marvin Gaye song came on and they went out on the dance floor, hugging each other closely and swaying to the beat. He kissed her lightly on the lips as they danced to “Let’s Get it On” and she kissed him back deeply and passionately as the song ended.
An hour later she nestled close to him with his arm around her shoulders and her head on his chest as he hailed a cab.
“Where to?”
They looked at each other and Danika smiled again when Malik gave the taxi-driver his home address.
“So why did you act so weird around me at the office? I’ve been there a week and you never even looked at me.”
“Oh, I looked at you. I just didn’t know why you were always looking at me. It made me nervous.”
“What? Did you think I was some kind of crazy stalker or serial killer or something?”
Malik chuckled.
“Something like that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just wanted to get with you so I was trying to let you know I was interested.”
“Girls like you aren’t normally interested in brothas like me.”
“What do you mean girls like me?”
Malik paused. He knew what he meant, but knew that it would offend her if he said it.
“Sistas as pretty as you don’t normally dig me. I mean, I know a lot of white girls are into my look, but you know how they are. Once they decide they’re into brothas they ain’t too choosy.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve got self-esteem issues? You? I would have never guessed that. I mean, with a body like yours I’d think you could get any woman you want. I was worried that I didn’t look good enough for you.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
He reached out and stroked his fingers through her thick, curly brown hair, staring at her staggeringly beautiful face in amazement, amazed that she was actually attracted to him.
“Is that why you spend so much time working on this magnificent body of yours? You really don’t believe you’re handsome?”
She ran her tiny brown hands over his thick muscular chest as they huddled together in the back of the taxi. She slid them up over his shoulders and up his neck, cupping his face in her palms.
“I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”