Dana Ellison tapped her black Nine West boots against the tile floor as she sat at her desk peering over the top of her reading glasses at her student. It wasn’t what he was saying that annoyed her; it was the fact that she was sitting in the classroom. If Dana had her druthers, she’d  be in her kitchen, elbow deep in flour, kneading dough and mixing batter for a cake or some rum brownies. She wanted to smell the aroma of sweets floating through the air. The only sound she wanted to hear was the ping of the oven timer telling her dessert was ready. The last thing she wanted was to sit there and listen to endless excuses from this student. Dana didn’t want to teach. It wasn’t her dream or her passion. She didn’t care that she came from a line of educators. This was not for her.
She decided to put an end to this discussion and put the responsibility for Martin’s education on someone else.
“Martin, I’m calling your parents,” she said. “This is totally unacceptable. You haven’t turned in any assignments in the last week.” The 12-year-old boy tugged at the bottom of his Washington Redskins sweatshirt. He’d run out of excuses. Dana looked at his oval-shaped face and his blank eyes. During the first half of the school year, Martin had been one of her best students. Now he wasn’t doing anything. She wondered if it was because he could sense that she didn’t want to be in the E.L. Wright Middle School classroom anymore.
            “Ms. Ellison, I’m sorry, but I forgot it.”
            “You forgot your science fair project? You had two months to put it together. No one else forgot their projects. You had two months to do it. Are you trying to repeat the sixth grade?”
            He dropped his head and Dana regretted her harsh words. “Listen,” she said. “I’m going to talk to your parents and we’ll work something out so that you can do some extra credit. I don’t want to see you fail.”
            “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly.
            “Now, go before you miss your bus,” she said as she glanced up at the black and white clock hanging on the wall.
            He ran out of the classroom, happy to get away from her tongue lashing.
            Now in the classroom alone, Dana pulled out her red ink pen and started marking the day’s spelling tests. She felt like a robot as she circled misspelled words. She sighed and ran her hand though her silky, relaxed tresses. Why am I still doing this? she thought. I’m so sick of teaching. -
Dana had been teaching for three years. The only reason she became a teacher was that  her father, Frank Ellison, had pushed her into it. Frank was a champion of education and he wanted his only child to follow in his big footsteps. He was the first black man to lead the Richland County District Two schools as superintendent. His trademark was his booming voice and dedication to making the school system better. Under his leadership, the struggling school system, where 30 percent of the students couldn’t pass the standardized tests, became a model for the state of South Carolina. After he retired, he wanted Dana to continue his legacy. So he began grooming her before she graduated from high school. He wanted to shape her in his image, despite what she wanted to do.
             When she was applying to college, he told her that her major would be education and she would work with middle school students. “Middle school,” he would say during their endless education chats, “is the place where students start to slip away.” He’d always quote a statistic about peer pressure, drugs and teen pregnancy and STDs in youth.
Dana wanted to major in marketing and go to Atlanta to work for Coca Cola. She wanted to get away from Columbia, South Carolina. She dreamed of a fresh start, but she couldn’t say no to her family, no matter how hard she tried. That was how she’d ended up at E. L. Wright, hoping the teaching bug would bite her. Never happened.
            In Columbia, the members of the Ellison family were the Rockefellers of education. Denise Ellison, Dana’s mother, was one of the co-chairs of the African Studies Department at the University of South Carolina. She and three other professors had lobbied to bring African studies to the university in the late ’70s. It was Denise’s moment to shine and step out of her husband’s shadow. Like the steel magnolia she was, Denise took on the administration and wealthy alumni to get the program off the ground and running. She could turn on the charm when it worked for her, but most of the time she was cold and hard. Especially when it came to Dana’s life. She wanted her daughter to follow in her footsteps, have a suitable husband and a career in education. Anything else was out of the question.
            Dana was tired of living her life for her parents. She felt like a computer program; her parents hit the keys and she reacted. Dana shoved her papers into her black Coach briefcase. She had to meet her fiance, Andre Harrington. Most women would think Andre was a perfect catch. He had a pair of piercing hazel eyes, a dry wit and stunning good looks. He was ambitious and would do anything to get ahead at the University of South Carolina, where he was a first year African American history professor. Dana suspected that’s why he was with her. What better way to butter up the department head than to wed her daughter?
            As for Denise, she quickly fell into the role of matchmaker. She felt Andre would be a good influence on her nearly 30-year-old child. Which explained why all of a sudden, he began showing up at the family barbeques and holiday dinners. It took him two months to ask Dana out. She went because she knew her parents approved of him and she was tired of dodging her mother’s questions about dating. Though she dated infrequently, she rarely brought a man home to meet her parents because of the hoops he would have to jump through. Moreover, she was content in her single status. Yet and still, Dana started dating Andre because she was expected to do so. And Dana always did what was expected of her, even when she didn’t want to.
            After she started seeing Andre, her mother began talking about engagement rings and wedding dates. She pointed out all of Dana’s friends who had gotten married and even brought bridal magazines to Dana’s house. Dana wanted to tell her mother there was never going to be a wedding because there was no chemistry, no passion, nothing.  Not only that, but marriage was the last thing on Dana’s mind. She was still trying to figure out a way to get out of teaching.
             Then Andre proposed. The Ellisons had gathered in front of Frank’s 52-inch TV to watch the Clemson and South Carolina football teams fight for bragging rights. Everyone settled on the black leather sofa with bowls of popcorn, potato chips and soda pop on the table. Dana didn’t really want to be there, but her parents had asked her to help cook dinner and that was rare, so she came.
 The family had decided not to make the trip to Clemson because Denise had some important meetings to prepare for, at least that’s what Dana had been told. At halftime, Andre pulled a black velvet box from his pocket. He dropped to one knee and quickly proposed during a Budweiser commercial. Dana was sure her mother had a hand in it. But she accepted because that was what she was expected to do. That was a year ago. Dana still hadn’t set a wedding date. How could she? She liked Andre, but she didn’t love him. He wasn’t her ideal man. Sure, he was smart and attractive, but Andre was dull. All they ever talked about was work. And the sex. It was like taking out the trash, something that had to be done at least once a week. If it weren’t for a silver bullet vibrator and an active imagination, Dana would never have an orgasm.
            Sighing, Dana slung her bag over her shoulder, shut the lights off and headed out the door. The smell of chalk was making her head hurt. Neither teaching nor Andre was in her future.
 The kitchen was calling her. All of the teachers loved it when she brought her moist seven layer cakes to the potluck meals. German chocolate was everyone’s favorite. Dana got more joy from cooking pies, cookies and cakes than she did from being with Andre. She found ecstasy as she kneaded dough and smelled the aroma of her creations wafting through the house. But she wouldn’t have time to bake tonight. Andre wanted them to have a romantic evening at his place. Ha, like he can even spell romance, she thought as she unlocked her silver Honda Accord and threw her bag inside. Dana plopped behind the driver’s seat and started the car. She half wished it wouldn’t start and AAA would take all night to get to her. But that wouldn’t happen because she kept up with scheduled maintenance.
            She turned down Gervais Street heading for Andre’s. Maybe I should tell him this marriage thing is a mistake, she thought. As she slowed down for a red light, Dana looked up at the sky. Clouds were rolling in, indicating rain was on the way. Already the wind was picking up, whipping dry brown leaves around the sidewalk. When Dana pulled into Andre’s driveway, she saw his black Chevrolet Impala was parked outside the garage of the two-story house. Dana looked up at the yellow shutters and frowned. She didn’t want to be there but she threw the gear in park and took her keys out of the ignition. The front door was open. “Dre,” Dana called out as she walked in.
            “I’m in the kitchen,” he replied. “I got a steak on the grill.”
 She kicked her boots off and headed for the kitchen. “You know I don’t eat red meat.”
“I know. I’m making you a salad.”
Dana sighed. She wanted more than a salad for dinner. She’d skipped lunch because she’d had to monitor lunch detention. “You don’t have anything other than steak? And isn’t it getting too cool to cook on the grill?”
“You’re complaining?” he asked, with annoyance in his voice. “How often do you get to go home and not have to cook?”
Dana frowned. If Andre knew anything at all about her, he would know she didn’t mind cooking.
 He looked at the scowl on Dana’s face and rubbed her arm, attempting to comfort her. “We need to celebrate tonight. I don’t want to fight.” His hazel eyes were glowing like stars against a clear sky. Dana wondered what he was so excited about.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Our wedding date,” he said as he took her into his arms and spun her around. “I was talking with Dr. Ellison today and she said March 14th would be the perfect day for us to get married.”
Dana pushed him away. “What else have you and my mother decided about my life?”
“D, we’ve been engaged for a year. It’s time for us to become husband and wife.”
She looked into his hazel eyes and faked a smile. Dana didn’t ever want to be Andre’s wife. Why couldn’t he take the hint? She didn’t want to have to spell it out. She’d hoped Andre would get tired of waiting for her to set a wedding date and move on. Her mother would accept Andre ending the relationship without question.  Dana sighed and turned her back to Andre. “This isn’t my mother’s wedding.”
He reached out and stroked her back. “I know. But she thought--”
Dana violently jerked away. “I don’t care what she thought,” she snapped. “Who do you want to marry, me or her?”
“You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill.” Andre waved his hands as if he were swatting away annoying gnats.
Dana rolled her eyes. She was tempted to grab her shoes and leave. How in the world did he think he could plan a wedding with her mother and expect her to go along with it?
“Anyway, babe, after dinner, I have something special planned for us.”
Dana could care less what Andre had planned. She just wanted to get through dinner and go home. She simply nodded and toyed with a loose thread on her jacket.
Andre continued laying out his plans.  “Your mother and father are coming for dessert. They’re bringing a wedding planner.”
She looked up at him with her brows furrowed and a hand on her hip. “That’s the surprise?” How exciting.-
“That and a hot bubble bath.” A mischievous gleam danced in his light eyes.
Dana looked at the soot stain on the bottom of his gray USC tee shirt and said, “I can’t spend the night. I have papers to grade.”
“Put it off.”
“I wish I could, but these book reports aren’t going to grade themselves.”
“I’m sure they can wait.”
“Just as much as your grading can wait.” Dana hated it when he made light of her responsibilities. Andre never thought her work was important. But when he had something to do for the university, he couldn’t and wouldn’t be bothered. He didn’t give Dana the same respect about her work, though. He thought teaching at a public school was just basic, not as important as shaping the minds of college students.
“Touche'.”
Dana sighed. She couldn’t see herself making love to him tonight. Not tonight or any other night. If she didn’t get out of this relationship, she was going to be trapped.
When Andre headed outside to check on his dinner, Dana followed him out onto the patio. Glancing to her left, she saw a tall chocolate brother, holding a shovel and standing by the empty pool. The setting sun made his skin glow. Despite the fall air, he had on a thin white tee shirt that clung to his rippling muscles. His Fubu jeans hugged his hips. He had a pair of dark Ray Bans on his head and brown gloves on his hands. Dana’s breath caught in her chest. He looked like a chocolate Adonis. She didn’t know who he was, but she wanted to find out.
 
-
-Where to Get Your Copy?-
-
Call your local bookseller

http://www.genesis-press.com/

http://www.amazon.com/

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/