“For what?”
“For putting my mouth in their business. He never stops warning me to just do my work and leave, and never say anything that doesn’t concern me.”
“Then don’t tell him nothing. This is only me and you. Go.”
Clark was standing alone by the window, looking outside either at traffic on West End or kayakers on the Hudson River.
Neni picked up a tray of scones and walked toward him. “Hi, Mr. Edwards,” she said. “Sorry I did not say good morning to you yet.”
“Hi, Neni,” Clark said. “Thanks for helping out.” He looked down at the scones. “I’m going to pass on that, thanks.”
“Should I bring you another kind of dessert?”
He shook his head. Two weeks since she’d last seen him and he appeared to be a different man: His hair seemed to have gone thinner, his face was unshaven, and he looked as if he needed a hug, a cozy bed, and at least fifteen hours blocked out to do nothing but sleep. He turned his face back to the window and continued looking outside.
Neni stood with the tray, staring at the blank white wall to the left of the window, unsure of how to say what she wanted to say. Cindy was at the other end of the room, chatting on the sofa with two of her friends; the husbands were thumbing their BlackBerrys and iPhones; the children were in another room—the timing and setting for her to tell Clark was ideal.
“Er … Mr. Edwards, I, er …,” she began.
“Yeah,” Clark said, still looking out the window.
“I was … I just needed to ask you a question.”
“Sure,” he said, without turning around to face her.
“It’s just that … er … I have always wanted to know … are you related to John Edwards?”
Clark turned around, chuckling. “No, not that I know of. But that’s funny. You’re the first person to ask me that.”
“I just think that maybe he looks like you a little bit,” Neni said, rubbing her elbow against her belly at the spot where the baby was kicking her, perhaps for being so boneheaded.
“That’s funny,” Clark said, before suggesting that she go offer the scones to others in case they were interested in trying them. Neni nodded and ran back to the kitchen.
“How did it go?” Anna asked her.
Neni shook her head and buried her face against the refrigerator.
“You don’t tell him?”
She shook her head again.
“Well,” Anna said, “we tried.”
Twenty-five
SHE SPENT THE DAY CLEANING THE APARTMENT, SHOPPING FOR GROCERIES, and preparing a five-course farewell dinner for Vince. All afternoon she stayed in the kitchen, making egusi stew with smoked turkey, garri and okra soup, fried ripe plantains and beans, jollof rice with chicken gizzard, and ekwang, which took two hours to make because she had to peel the cocoyams, grate them, tightly and painstakingly wrap teaspoons of the grated cocoyam into spinach leaves, then simmer in a pot with palm oil, dried fish, crayfish, salt, pepper, maggi, and bush onions, for an hour. She would have preferred if Jende had given her more time to prepare, but he’d told her only the night before that Vince was coming over. He had asked Clark, while dropping him off at home, if it was okay for him and Neni to have Vince over for a little dinner, just to wish him well and have him eat some Cameroonian food, which he’d said he’d love to try, and Clark had said he had no objection if Vince was interested. He and Cindy were taking Vince and Mighty out to dinner on Sunday but it was unlikely it was going to be a festive farewell dinner, so Vince might as well go somewhere where there would be more merrymaking. When Jende had called Vince to invite him, Vince had said sure, he would actually be free for a couple of hours in the evening, so he would be down for some sweet Cameroonian food, thanks man.
At three o’clock, two hours before Vince was supposed to arrive, Jende’s phone rang, and it was Vince.
“I don’t know, Vince,” Neni heard Jende say in the living room. “Let me first ask my wife what she thinks.”
His hands over the mouthpiece, Jende came to Neni in the kitchen. “Vince wants to know if it’s okay for him to bring Mighty.”
“No!”
“That’s what I told him.”
“God forbid! You want Mrs. Edwards to kill us? Her baby in Harlem? In the evening? Please, God, oh, I’m not participating. No, no, no. I don’t want any trouble whatsoever.”
Jende went back into the living room, spoke to Vince for a half minute, and came back. “He says his parents don’t have to know. Mr. Edwards is at work and Mrs. Edwards is at a dinner something and they’re not going to know anything. He says Mighty had a playdate, but the playdate canceled, so he’s just going to spend all evening sitting at home with his nanny.”
“Let him do that, then.”
Jende turned to walk away but hesitated. “Let the child come, Neni,” he said.
“I said no.”
“He’s never been on the subway, he’s never been to Harlem. Let his brother bring him. Vince is leaving next week, and they will not see each other again for who knows how long? And it’s only for one hour.”
“And you don’t think something bad can happen in one hour?” Neni said, sweating over the stove as she scrubbed off the grime from all the cooking and frying.
“If something happens, it’ll be on Vince’s head. I’ll tell him that.”
“That’s what you’re going to say when they try to put us in prison?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll go to prison alone for both of us,” he said, winking at her.
Neni turned her face away and continued scrubbing the stove with greater fervor. Just like him to think he knew the answers. She heard him tell Vince that it was okay, they were all excited to see them at five o’clock, and later tell Liomi that the special guest they’d spoken about was bringing another guest, so he better go change into even nicer clothes. By the time Vince and Mighty arrived, Neni had showered and changed her clothes, too, and her mood was far more excited than fearful.
“Neni!” Mighty said when she opened the door, rushing to hug her.
“What are you guys doing in my house?” she teased them as Vince gave her a hug and stooped to high-five Liomi.
“I can’t believe I’m in Harlem!” Mighty said. “Did you make puff-puff?”
Neni and Jende laughed. “That’s for breakfast,” Jende said. “This evening we have food that you will eat and your belly will get so full it will explode.”
“Cool!”
If the Edwards boys were fazed by the obvious signs of poverty in the apartment (the worn-out brown carpet; the retro TV sitting on a coffee table across from the sofa; the fan in the corner struggling to do the job of an AC; the fake flowers hanging on the wall and doing nothing to brighten the living room), they did not show it. They acted as if they were in any of the apartments they visited on Park or Madison, as if it were just a different kind of beautiful apartment in a different kind of nice neighborhood. Mighty ran to the bedroom with Liomi to see Liomi’s toys and called out to his brother that wow, everyone gets to sleep in the same bedroom here, how cool! Vince sat with Jende on the faded green sofa, drinking Malta and eating roasted peanuts with him, talking about America the good country, America the bad country, America the country that no one could argue was the most powerful country in the world.
When Neni was done putting the food in serving dishes and placing them on the table, Jende announced it was time to eat.