visiting

Benjamin tried to endear himself to my parents. One evening, he arrived at my doorstep after supper, looking dapper as always. My father had met him before but had largely ignored him, even when Benjamin tried to engage him in conversation.

When he arrived, my father was playing chess with my young brother, who showed not an ounce of interest and the game ended as quickly as it had started.

"That's an interesting chess set," Benjamin said. The board was hand-made by my father, and the men were leftovers of different discarded sets.

"Do you want to play?" Even I was surprised by my father's invitation. My mother egged Benjamin on who promptly pulled a stool and placed it on the opposite side of the chessboard.

I never played chess and I didn't know the rules of the game, so I went about my chores in the kitchen although I had a good view of the living room. Both men wore serious looks in their faces, the concentration visible in the clenched jaws. Obviously Benjamin knew the game quite well and that posed either an annoyance or a challenge to my father. If Benjamin won, he would in all likelihood be annoyed because he lost; but if Benjamin loses, he'd think my boyfriend is dumb. I was of course rooting for Benjamin.

When Benjamin won the match, to my surprise, my father laughed it off, telling Benjamin, "Were you not supposed to have let me win?"

Benjamin smiled, "Really? Is that the rule? We can have a re-match, if you want." And they both laughed

My father got up and took a bottle of rum from one of the drawers of his work table, asked for two glasses, handed one glass to Benjamin, and poured rum in the glasses. They engaged in discussion of the news, history and traded opinions on a number of issues. The night finished without me talking to Benjamin.


When the semester ended, I saw less of Benjamin. It meant he would have to come and visit me instead of us seeing each other in school. I had no excuse to leave the house so I contented myself waiting for whenever he showed up. One late afternoon, I was upstairs ironing the family's clothes when I saw him arrive, holding a whole package of sliced bread. He looked up and saw me through the window, nodded and smiled. As the good daughter of a rather conservative parent, I waited for my mother to call me to come down. I could hear them talking, sometimes laughing. It was dusk when I finished my ironing chores and I decided to come downstairs. Benjamin had already left.

"Where's Ben?" I asked my mother.

"He left, a while ago."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I was going to, but he said he came to visit me, not you."

I couldn't hide my disappointment and I was almost in tears. I haven't seen or talked to Benjamin for almost a week and he didn't even say "Hi" to me.


The next afternoon, I was playing some records on the turntable after siesta. Actually, it was just one record I played over and over. It was the 45 of Bobby Goldsboro's "And I Love You So".

"That record is going to have holes in it," my mother commented. When the needle started to jump, she said, "See, the needle's gone!"

And I still kept playing the 45.

At four o'clock, I heard a knock on the door. My mother said, "Must be your prince charming. Now you can stop playing that damn record!"

Indeed, it was Benjamin.

"Thank God you came!" my mother said to Benjamin as he kissed her hand. "Cynthia kept playing your theme song and frankly I got sick and tired of it. You have to find a new theme song now." Then she and Benjamin laughed.

"Did you come to see me?" I asked.

"Of course," he replied.

We sat around and talked, mostly about what happened at the store where he worked, and we played the rest of the family's record collection. We cannot hold hands, nor kiss. My mother chat with us for the most part. The few times my mother left the room, he whispered I love you then stared at my face with a slight grin. He wasn't paying attention to the record he was setting up on the turntable and the needle arm dropped on the rubber surface of the spinner. The needle broke. We would have to explain that to my father.

At the Angelus hour, he got ready to leave. We were standing inside the door and my mother had gone to the kitchen when he suddenly bent down and planted a quick kiss on my cheek. I thought my heart skipped a beat.

That night, I didn't wash my face.