Bebe Moore Campbell by 72 Hour Hold Page A

fires of 1992, and in the process they’d internalized an American mantra: A setback is just a setup for a comeback.
    It was a lesson few of the looters had learned.
    As we sat down, Clyde appraised the restaurant and the waiters bustling back and forth. “Now see,” he said, leaning across the table toward me, “I’ll bet you anything that everybody here is a family member. That’s why Koreans are so successful. If black people would just—”
    “Clyde.” I wasn’t in the mood for one of his “Up, up, ye mighty race, you can accomplish what ye will” speeches, but he ignored me.
    “—stop complaining and learn from these immigrants, they’d be better off.”
    “They?”
    Clyde sighed. “The secret of Korean success is hard work and unity.” He sat back in his chair and gave me a self-satisfied smile. “Do you still like eel?” he asked.
    “Love it.”
    “Okay, we’ll get the elephant roll,” he said, marking off a tiny square. “How about yellowtail?”
    I nodded, glad his diatribe had ended, watching his fingers as he held the pencil; he clenched it. When he looked at me, he seemed awkward, as though he’d spoken out of turn and regretted it. The waitress appeared; he ordered, didn’t say a word, and began eating as soon as the food came. I didn’t feel uncomfortable with the silence. Even when we were married, Clyde wasn’t much of a talker. He was too busy hanging out in his own head to let me in.
    “Do you want to know how Trina’s doing?” I asked.
    “Yes, of course.” He looked sheepish, as though I’d caught him in a lie.
    If I tell him the truth, we’ll just argue, I thought. “She’s fine; she’s just fine.” He nodded absentmindedly; he hadn’t been listening. “What’s on your mind? Why did you invite me to lunch?” When he looked at me, his face was troubled. “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
    He stared at me a long time. “Aurelia wants to leave me.”
    “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
    “A lot of stuff happened. She wanted a baby, I didn’t. That was major. But I told her I didn’t want kids when we got together. She hates all the functions and appearances that I have to make because of the job. She says I don’t give her enough of me.”
    “You can’t be in a relationship with someone if you’re chasing dollars and fame twenty-four/seven.”
    “She knew what my life was like when we got together.”
    “Aurelia is your fourth wife. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
    He grew quiet. I knew he was going through the roll call of ex-wives in his mind.
    “Yes, it tells me something.”
    “Have you tried marriage counseling?” Clyde had refused to get help for our marriage, but I hoped he was more open now.
    “I’m not into that,” he said. “I was hoping maybe you could talk to her.”
    “Me?” I said, feeling angry all of a sudden.
    “Aurelia likes you. She respects you. She’d listen to you.”
    “And what am I supposed to be saying?”
    “That I’m a good person. That she should stay.”
    “Clyde—”
    “She and Trina have always gotten along so well. It might be difficult for them to have a relationship if Aurelia and I aren’t together. You know how that goes. I don’t want Trina to have another loss.”
    So many conflicting emotions bombarded me. I felt sadness and a rush of excitement, but mostly I felt angry that once again Clyde was asking me to pick up the pieces. “Will you at least consider therapy?”
    His face darkened. “I told you. I’m not into that.”
    “Your kid sure had to get into it.”
    “That’s because you forced her to go.”
    “And if I hadn’t, do you know where she’d be?”
    “She’d be fine. Probably better off without some shrink putting weird ideas in her mind.”
    “You’re a piece of work, you know that? Trina needs counseling, and she needs medication. And you—”
    “All right. All right. We can talk about that later. Will you just do me this one favor? Please.”
    To end the