He was in a white shirt opened at the collar and a pair of dark blue jeans with his light blue boat shoe loafers and no socks. Even though he was supposedly indoors most of the time, he had what Grandmother Emma called a Palm Beach tan. When she asked him about it, he confessed to going to a tanning salon regularly. On his right wrist, he wore a thick gold bracelet and on his left, his Rolex watch, a watch that had belonged to his father.
There was never a question in my mind that Daddy was one of the handsomest men in the whole city. He had Ian's black eyes and wavy dark brown hair he wore a little too long in the back and sides for Grandmother Emma's liking, but unlike her or even Mama for that matter, he did not care to dress appropriately and look his age. He liked it when people told him that although he was fortv-two, he could easily pass for a man in his late twenties.
"You'd better come in, close the door, and sit, Christopher," Mama told him, and nodded at the small settee across from us.
He smirked, closed the door, looked at the settee, and then with an expression of annoyance, glanced at Mama before sitting. He sat back, his right arm over the back of the settee, his left arm at his side. Both my parents sitting in my Tiny Tot children's furniture looked funny to me. It was rare to have them in my room simultaneously. I couldn't help but smile, which he thought was confusing.
"What is it, already?" he asked.
"Recently. I noticed some dramatic changes in Jordan," Mama began.
Daddy's eyebrows rose and closed toward each other. "Changes?"
"In her body. Changes that have come too soon."
"Like what?"
Mama leaned over and unbuttoned my blouse. Daddy gaped. "As you can see, she's developing breasts."
He sat back, his mouth slightly open. "Is that bad?" he asked. "My God, Christopher."
"Well, I don't know about female development, for God sakes."
"It's not only this," she said, closing my blouse. "She has pubic hair, and now," Mama said,
swallowing back and holding in her tears, "she has had her first period."
"What? You're out of your mind. The kid's not even seven years old. I know that much at least.'
"You're right. It's not normal. That's why I'm taking her to see Dell'Acqua tomorrow," Mama said.
Daddy was quiet. Then he brought his arm off the back of the settee and leaned forward.
"Does my mother know about any of this?" he asked in a loud whisper, as if Grandmother Emma kept her ears to the walls or Nancy had been sent up to do so.
"No, no one knows but us. I'd rather it be kept that way for as long as possible, Christopher."
"Of course," he said, and sat back again. "That's very wise. Well, what does Dr. Dell'Acqua think about all this?" he asked, waving his hand at me as though I were a pile of trouble.
"She wasn't overly concerned about her beginning breast development and pubic hair growth, but when I told her she had experienced menarche--''
"Men what?"
"Her first period. When she heard that, she was convinced Jordan is experiencing what is known as precocious puberty."
"Which means what?"
Mama looked at me, obviously deciding how much more to say in my presence.
"She's becoming a woman too early, too quickly."
"You mean, a kid this young could have a baby!" he exclaimed, raising his voice.
My eyes nearly rolled out of my head. I turned to my mother, anxious to hear her answer.
"Let's not get into any of that just yet, Christopher. Physically, Dr. Dell'Acqua's afraid of her having an accelerated growth spurt that rill cause her bones to stop growing and result in her being a stunted adult."
Daddy grimaced as if he had bit into a rotten apple. "You mean she'll become a dwarf?"