Free More Than I Can Bear by E.N. Joy Page A

laughter. “Calm down, I’m just joking with you. My dad is great and very understanding. He just wants his little girl to be happy. So as long as I’m happy, he’ll be happy.”
    â€œAnd are you happy?” Norman pulled into Paige’s driveway and then waited for her response.
    Paige turned, looked at Norman, took his hand, and then said, “In all honesty, happier than I’ve been in a long time and happier than, just last week, I could have ever imagined myself being. And I thank you for that, Norman. Thank you for saving me.” Paige patted Norman’s hand with her free hand and then released it so that he could walk around and open her car door for her.
    The minute Norman got out of the car she began fanning herself. For some reason, it had just gotten hot in there . . .

Chapter Ten
    â€œOn the phone you were ecstatic to hear about my nuptials,” Norman said to his mother as the two of them sat in the family dining room alone. “You couldn’t wait to meet your new daughter - in - law. So what’s changed?”
    â€œNothing has changed. I’m still happy for you. I’m just a little taken aback that you married someone who is . . . you know.” Mrs. Vanderdale leaned in closer to her son and said in a whisper, “Colored.”
    â€œMother, no one uses that word anymore in reference to African Americans. You are just trying to be disrespectful and I will not tolerate it. I won’t tolerate it toward my wife or any person of color.”
    â€œSee, you said it yourself.” Mrs. Vanderdale pointed accusingly at her son. “You said colored.”
    â€œMom, don’t try to misconstrue my words. I didn’t mean it like that; not how you meant it. Blacks haven’t been referred to as colored in ages. And since I can remember, I can’t ever recall you referring to a black person as colored. Please don’t start now.”
    â€œOkay, then, black. African American, or whatever they’re calling themselves these days. Heck, some of them are still calling each other the N word, and I can’t say colored. How hypocritical.”
    â€œThis is bigger than what you choose to call a black person. This is about how you choose to treat Black people. My wife is black and she will not be mistreated or disrespected by you or anyone else because of it — not under my watch.”
    â€œAre you getting fresh with me?” Her cheeks turned red. She and her son had had their differences in the past, but he’d always spoken to her with the proper tongue. As far as she was concerned, he was sadly mistaken if he thought he was going to start getting fresh in the mouth with her now. It was time she reminded him that she carried the ace. “Don’t forget your inheritance isn’t engraved in stone. I can call up the family lawyers right now and — ”
    â€œMother, please.” Norman shooed his hand. “You know me better than that. The whole ‘waving the trust fund over our heads like a carrot’ thing works with Samantha, not me. And that’s the exact reason why I chose to be my own man and never got comfortable with your and Father’s money. I won’t be manipulated. I’m no one’s puppet. Like I told you guys the day I left here on my eighteenth birthday and never looked back: I will do whatever I want, when, where, and however I want to do it in spite of what you think about it. And that includes marrying a black woman.”
    â€œSo is that why you married a color . . . I mean, black girl? To spite me? If that’s the case, you win.” She threw her hands up in the air. “I believe you now; you’re your own man. Guess you told me. Now run, get an annulment, and we’ll forget it ever happened. Joke’s over. Ha - ha.”
    Norman shook his head. “Unfortunately for you, Mother, this is no joke. My marriage to Paige is very real.”
    Mrs. Vanderdale