Crescent City Connection

date, something black.
    She found it, too; the perfect black dress, made out of some taffeta kind of stuff that caught the light a real nice way and had a little jacket that buttoned at the waist to show off her best asset—her proportions. She went way in at the waist and way out at the hips, and she found a lot of guys thought that was more or less the perfect shape.
    She never wore red lipstick, but she got some of that, too, and some perfume that the manufacturers swore had been made in some way that didn’t hurt animals. Shavonne had learned in school that they did something awful to a certain kind of African cat to make perfume, and had made her promise never to wear it again. She couldn’t see how any Christian could condone such a thing and had instantly agreed. She hoped Dashan would know that there were perfumes that didn’t hurt animals.
    She would have sent Shavonne to her sister’s for the evening, but her sister had said, “Uh-uh, no way. I’m gon’ get a look at this dude the whole family’s talking about.”
    So she was baby-sitting on the premises, wearing a pair of sloppy old jeans, a T-shirt, and a slightly sulky look—not exactly an asset.
But I’m only responsible for myself,
Dorise told herself.
The preacher’s always sayin’ that, when people talk about their husbands drinking and their wives fighting with their in-laws. You can’t change anybody but yourself.
    And then she thought:
Maybe this night will change everything.
    She was so nervous, she was still getting ready when Dashan arrived, still putting on makeup; didn’t even have the dress on yet. She got a run in her pantyhose putting them on.
    Damn! That always happens. Good thing I bought another pair. Hope my sister and Shavonne don’t run him off by the time I get there.
    When she finally walked into the living room on three-inch heels, in a cloud of animal-friendly perfume, dress rustling, lips glowing, she felt like a movie star—and Dashan’s face told her it wasn’t just her imagination. He stood up, breaking into a wide grin, and offering what he had in his hand—a single red rose, with some tiny white flowers around it, and a fern frond or something. The whole thing was wrapped in cellophane.
    He said, “Look at you! You put this little flower to shame.” He was wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and striped tie, like the men at the parties where she worked. She wasn’t at all sure she’d ever seen a black man her age whom she actually knew wearing a suit, except to go to church or a funeral or a wedding. She’d been to clubs where other men wore suits, but no man she’d been with did, and not even any man in the group she was with. Delavon had money, but he dressed hip—anyway, he called it that; and Troy sure wasn’t into suits.
    I been missin’ somethin’,
she thought.
I sure been missin’ somethin’. Maybe I should have got saved, started going to church a lot sooner.
    “Mama, can I see the flower?”
    “Sure, honey, you go put it in water now.”
    Shavonne ran into the kitchen, as if there were no time to waste. Dashan and Dorise smiled at each other the way adults do when children do something cute. The whole scene had an oddly domestic feel.
    “She sure is a nice child.”
    Dorise’s sister said, “Mmmph,” as if to contradict, but neither of the others paid her any mind at all.
    Dorise said, “Did y’all have a nice visit?”
    “Well, we did. I’ve just been getting acquainted with your sister here. We had a lot to talk about—my family’s in the laundry business. And then Shavonne and I talked about kitty-cats. She likes the striped ones best.”
    Dorise had to laugh. “Which kind’s your favorite?”
    Her sister said, “Mmmph” again, jealous as hell—Dorise and Dashan were still looking at each other.
    Dashan said, “You know those nice black and white ones? More white than black, though, like with ink spots, and black feet.”
    “You’ve been doing some thinking about this.”
    “Well, everybody has a favorite kitty-cat, don’t they?” And he gave her a smile that made her feel like the queen of England.
    The restaurant was in this big old beautiful house—more like a mansion, really—and they showed Dashan and her to a table all set with white linen and a candle and flowers—real nice—and then Dashan said, “How about some champagne?”
    For starters, they ordered three things so they could taste everything, and then they ate some fish that made her feel