"Del, don't forget the damn toiletries I put on the top of the list, and as for the strawberry cheesecake, it's in the bakery section of Walmart," Marla Curling-Beaumont all but shouted at her husband Delvin Beaumont. Sitting on the couch, the tall, blonde-haired, alabaster-skinned, somewhat surly and very pregnant gal flashed her husband a smile a shark would recognize. She was in the middle of binge-watching Luke Cage and would not be disturbed, lest it was to satisfy one of her cravings...
"I'm on it, dear," Delvin Beaumont replied, as he grabbed his keys, and Marla's grocery list, and headed out of their Barrhaven townhouse. Outside, the Ontario winter greeted him with full force...and then some. Gale-force winds, heavy snow, and icy roads, all that awaited him, as he made his way to the car. This is no time for a Haitian brother to be outside, this cold stuff is for White people, Delvin thought to himself.
A year and a half ago, Delvin's life changed, and not just because he finally graduated from Carleton University with his Criminology degree after five and a half years in the programme. Nope, his life changed because the right woman came into it, or rather, shoved her way into it. Marla came, saw and most definitely conquered, as they say. And now they were married with a son on the way.
The prospect of fatherhood had Delvin Beaumont both scared and excited, which were perfectly normal emotions for a man facing such formidable challenges. Born on the island of Haiti, and raised in the Capital of Canada, Delvin is the son of two worlds. As Delvin drove to Walmart through the snow-drenched streets of Barrhaven, Ontario, he saw an accident on Longfields road, and winced in sympathy. Hope these poor bastards are okay, he thought.
Delvin thought of all the twists and turns his life had taken in a year and a half, and smiled. In spite of his many difficulties, and the ups and downs of his relationship with Marla Curling-Beaumont, the beautiful, feisty gal whom he married, he was thankful for a lot of things. Anything was better than what his old life was like. A dreary existence spent hoping and daydreaming for changes which he thought would never come. The memories pulled away at him, and he remembered his not-so-distant past...
"Delvin, I like you, I do, but you're too nice for me, I am sorry but I need a brother with more edge, you know?" Sheila Jackson said, and Delvin Beaumont nodded, and sighed. The two of them were sitting inside the Starbucks located near Lansdowne Stadium in the south end of Ottawa, Ontario. Delvin, who was part of the security staff at Lansdowne, came to have coffee with his so-called 'prospective' girlfriend, but things didn't work out. Nice guy syndrome strikes again, or something...
Sheila Jackson, a six-foot-tall, curvy, short-haired and deliciously thick sister originally from Montego Bay, Jamaica, was a newcomer to the Criminology programme Carleton University when Delvin met her a couple of months ago. Delvin always had a thing for tall, dark-skinned women of African or Afro-Caribbean descent with big butts. It started with his fascination with Tennis champion Serena Williams in his younger years, and continued well into his twenties. That's why he initially approached Sheila at school, got her digits, and began seeing her. Now he was starting to wish he'd left her alone...
"It's cool, Sheila, no need to apologize, you like what you like," Delvin said softly, and then he stood up, flashed her a sad little smile, and then walked away. He could hear Sheila call his name, and felt other people inside the Starbucks stare at him, but he ignored both sets of distractions. All of a sudden, he wished that he had spent his break time on something else. Wasted time wasn't something anyone could ever get back. Sighing, Delvin went back into the complex, and headed for the men's washroom.
"What do women see when they look at me?" Delvin asked his reflection, and the six-foot-two, broad-shouldered and somewhat chubby but still handsome, dark-skinned, dreadlocked young Black man in the mirror stared back at him. It was ironic. In the eyes of lily-White Canadian society, Delvin Beaumont, the son of hard-working Haitian immigrants, was considered different because of his dark skin, his dreads, and his deep voice. Even at his racially diverse university campus, people tended to stare at him.
Hell, the other day, while Delvin was boarding the OC Transpo bus leaving the suburb of Barrhaven, Ontario, for downtown Ottawa, he saw an old White lady trip. On this crowded bus full of people going to work or school or whatever, Delvin was the only one who helped the old lady. When she turned to look at him, having regained her footing, she blinked in surprise. Oh, the old White lady thanked Delvin for his kindness of course, but she did look shocked, for one tenth of a second, when she saw who her good Samaritan turned to be.
"Welcome to my life," Delvin said to his reflection, and then he put his game face on. Tucking his hair under a tuque, Delvin readjusted his uniform, and returned to work. There was a big football game tonight, pitting the defending Canadian Football League champions, the Ottawa RedBlacks against a high-ranked professional football team from the Prairies. Like everyone else on duty, Delvin had a job to do. Might as well go and do it. Tuition had gone up at Carleton University recently, much to Delvin's annoyance. That's why he was taking extra shifts at Lansdowne...
"Hey, Del, are you alright? You look like hammered shit," came a familiar voice, and Delvin closed his eyes hard, then turned to face the source of said voice. Supervisor Marla Curling stood there, tall and athletic, with her short blonde hair, lively green eyes full of mischief, her lip curled as if ready to unleash a plethora of snide remarks. Among the security team at the stadium, Marla was known as the tomboyish gal with the sharp wit. Neither clients nor co-workers escaped her tart tongue, ever. The lady was simply fearless...and annoying.
"Oh, hey, Marla. Just another day on the job," Delvin said, hoping Marla was going to drop the subject and leave him alone. After Sheila simply ripped his guts out, friend-zoning the hell out of him after he'd been seeing her for over a month, Delvin was in no mood to get hassled by yet another female. It's like women can sense when a brother is having a lousy day like sharks smelling blood, Delvin thought bitterly.
"You sure, Del? You look like someone decked you or something," Marla said, offering him her hand to shake. Delvin smiled, shrugged and shook Marla's hand, and as expected, she nearly crushed his. On most days, Marla barely registered as female in Delvin's mind because she was so, ahem, not very feminine. The gal worked out a lot, had an iron grip, seemed seriously obsessed with comic books and superheroes, and her fashion sense went from tomboyish to androgynous. There was a lot of speculation about her private life, and sexual orientation, but Delvin seldom paid any heed to such things. He minded his own business at work...
"Well, Marla, if you must know, I just got dumped," Delvin heard himself say, and then he instantly ( and silently ) cursed himself for telling Marla, of all people, such things. Marla's eyes widened, and she bit her lip, then sighed. Delvin watched her face closely, on guard for the telltale signs of mockery or sarcasm. He'd once heard Marla taunt a drunk, overweight middle-aged White male client who came onto her during a football game by telling him that he was probably impotent. Stung by the remark, the dude attacked Marla, who swiftly tackled him and held him down until the cops arrived to haul him away...
"Delvin, I am so sorry," Marla said, and to Delvin's immense surprise, there was a lot of sympathy in her tone of voice and facial expression. Delvin paused, wondering if he should continue. Marla folded her arms across her chest, and looked at him expectantly. Clearly the lady wasn't ready to let such things go. Nodding, Delvin decided to fess up. Might as well get it out of his system as quick as possible. Moving on was the best thing to do...
"Long story short, Sheila dropped my ass because I'm too nice, or some shit like that, I think that deep down she wants a thug, not a boring gentleman like me," Delvin said, shrugging nonchalantly as if he didn't care. He actually surprised himself by opening up to Marla, the last person he ever thought he'd confide into. Miss Congeniality she definitely wasn't. Marla stood there, quietly observing him and listening intently to his every word. When Delvin finally fell silent, Marla's eyes bore into his, and amazingly, she grinned.
