Invisible Life

by E. Lynn Harris

  After a slow start in law school, I managed to finish in the top half of my class and secure a job with one of the top New York firms. I received several offers from all across the country, including one from my father to join his firm.

  I had new friends, a new apartment and a new attitude about life. My life was totally different from the one I had lived down South. I no longer considered myself straight … but was I completely gay?

  If it were not for holidays, birthdays and necessities, like underwear and socks, I would never enter a department store. I would just simply order all my clothes through mail-order catalogues. At least while living in New York, I was not subjected to mall mentality. All the major stores were located on New York’s busy streets. It was Friday evening, and after leaving my office a little early, I stopped by Saks Fifth Avenue to pick up a robe for my best friend, Kyle, before he left for home for the holidays.

  Kyle and I planned to meet as usual, around six-thirty, at the Nickel Bar, to start our Friday night ritual of drinking and chasing the boys of New York City. We would always start at the Nickel Bar, grab a bite to eat, go home to change from our business attire to jeans and then reconvene in the Village or up in Harlem at the Cotton Club if it was gay night.

  After picking out a silk robe for Kyle’s Christmas present, I waited an awfully long time for the salesman to get approval on my credit card. Was I over my limit? I didn’t think so, since I had just sent a large payment.

  Staring straight ahead waiting for the salesman to return with good news and Kyle’s wrapped gift, I suddenly noticed the back of a man’s head across the counter, directly in front of me, and I also noticed a light brown birthmark right above his neck. No, it can’t be, I thought. As the tall, well-built black man reached for the young lady at his side, he turned around and we were face-to-face.

  “Kelvin?”

  “Ray?”

  “How are you doing?” I stammered, obviously in a state of shock.

  “Fine. It’s been a long time,” he said.

  “Yeah, almost six years.” For a moment we both just stood there looking at each other. A layer of sweat started forming on my forehead when suddenly I heard another voice.

  “Kelvin,” the voice said. “Honey, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “Oh,” Kelvin stammered, “I’m sorry. Ray, this is Candi, Candance Wesley, my fiancée. Candance, this is Ray—I mean, Raymond Tyler.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Candance said as her lips parted in a flash of perfect white teeth. “Where do you two know each other from?” she inquired.

  “School,” Kelvin said quickly. “Undergraduate school in Alabama.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Many, many years ago.”

  “I heard you were living in New York,” Kelvin said. “What law firm are you with?” he asked.

  “Clay, Wilson and White. It’s in the 767 building, right around the corner. And where are you these days?”

  “Oh, Candance and I live in Washington, D.C. Candi is in her final year of medical school at Howard University and I’m coaching football at one of the high schools down there.”

  “Oh, a doctor?” I asked as I finally took my eyes off Kelvin and turned my eyes toward Candance.

  “Well, I’m not a doctor yet, but hopefully very soon.” Candance smiled. As shoppers moved around us, I had to stop myself from looking at Kelvin. He appeared even more handsome than I remembered. His brown, cocoa-colored skin now included a thick black mustache that covered the top of his large, exquisite lips.

  All of a sudden so many memories rushed into my mind that I felt more sweat forming, not only on my forehead but now in the palms of my hands. I wanted to loosen my tie to be able to breathe more comfortably. I had so many questions that I wanted to ask, but I just stood there waiting for him to say something.

  “We came up to complete our Christmas shopping and wrap up our wedding plans,” Candance chirped in. “My family is from Mount Vernon, so you’ll definitely have to come to the wedding,” she said.

  “Oh yes,” I replied. “When is the big day?”

  “June twentieth,” she said.

  “June twentieth?” I repeated, almost choking.

  “Ray, are you all right?” Kelvin asked, reaching to grasp me, but abruptly stopping his motion.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “June twentieth is—”

  But before I could finish my sentence, Kelvin jumped in and said, “Isn’t that your birthday, Ray?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “And you’re December twelfth, right?”

  “Yes,” he replied bashfully.

  “What a coincidence!” Candance laughed and said, “Now we will have two reasons to celebrate.”

  “Yes, I guess you’re right,” I said.

  Now I was purposely avoiding Kelvin eyes.

  “Well, come, sweetie,” Candance said. “We have to meet Daddy at seven o’clock. Ray, it was a pleasure meeting you and I look forward to seeing you again real soon. Maybe you can come to D.C. sometime to visit. It’s a shame you guys live this close and don’t see more of each other.”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  I began to study Candance’s face and realized what an attractive young lady she was. Candance was delicate, with auburn hair that was pulled back into a shoulder-length ponytail, nice light brown eyes that were almost identical to Kelvin’s and striking features that complemented her small face and petite figure. Her skin tone was a yellowish brown-waffle color.

  “It’s great seeing you, Ray. You look great,” Kelvin said.

  “Well, I try. It’s great seeing you too; here’s my card. Give me a call real soon so that we can talk about our days at old AU.”

  “I will,” he said nervously, his eyes again avoiding mine. “Merry Christmas and all that stuff,” he stuttered.

  “Yeah, Ray, Merry Christmas,” Candance added. “Come on, Kelvin, we’re running late,” she said.

  “Merry Christmas to you guys and belated Happy Birthday, K.”

  Kelvin suddenly looked at me and for a moment a familiar smile crossed his face. “Yeah, thanks, Ray,” he said as his light brown eyes looked straight through me.

  “K! How cute,” Candance giggled. “I’ll have to remember that, Kelvin.”

  As I watched the two of them walk out of Saks hand in hand, I realized that the store was now packed with people doing their last-minute Christmas shopping. I suddenly became aware of the sounds of the holiday season as they filled the large department store.

  “Mr. Tyler,” the salesman said, “your package is ready.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I said as I headed toward the doors facing Fifth Avenue and my meeting with Kyle.

  As I walked out of the store, I instantly realized that I was running late and would have to catch a taxi, which would be almost impossible on this cold Friday evening. It didn’t matter that I had on my best blue suit, a silk scarf and my black cashmere overcoat. I was still black and a taxi would be difficult to catch in front of Saks, with all the white ladies waiting on taxis too.

  I looked at my watch, and since I still felt a little warm, I decided to walk to the Nickel Bar. As I started uptown, I decided to take the route through Central Park. The lights in the park made it easy to see the heavily clothed joggers, homeless people and matronly society ladies walking their dogs, which wore outfits as fashionable as their owners’.

  Walking through the park aroused thoughts that went back to my senior year in undergrad—the many good times I shared with Kelvin, our plotting ways to spend time together. I also remembered the last evening we shared, the night before my parents came up for graduation. I had given Sela some flimsy excuse about spending time drinking with my frat brothers. She was so busy planning dinner for my family after the ceremonies that it didn’t seem to matter to her what I did or whom I was doing it with. I was leaving the next day for New York and a summer job Pops had found for me.

  My last evening with Kelvin turned out to be
quite unpleasant. He told me he was going to start dating women exclusively. Deep down I was angry, but I told Kelvin I was in agreement; he and I both dated women. Damn, Sela and I had dated since my junior year in high school and Kelvin never interfered with our relationship. The first few weeks I was away, Kelvin and I talked every day. There was a letter or card at least twice a week. He talked about coming to New York on his way home and he seemed really worried that I would meet someone else. He wasn’t worried about another woman but another man.

  When school started, Kelvin stopped writing and returning my phone calls. Sela once casually mentioned that rumor had it that he was dating a blonde Tri Delta, and because Kelvin was so good-looking, all the black girls on campus were furious.

  Though she never questioned me in depth, Sela had always wondered why Kelvin and I were no longer friends. I brushed it off, telling her he was just a dumb jock and I had more important things with law school and all.

  As I walked up Broadway, I stopped to enjoy the lights and the fountain at Lincoln Center. I stuck my hands deep in the pockets of my cashmere overcoat and pulled out a shiny new penny. I dropped it into the fountain and thought back to my unexpected reunion with Kelvin as the penny found a place at the bottom.

  Married, I thought to myself, Kelvin, married? I chuckled out loud at the thought and wondered if his future wife knew what I knew. My trip took me past several of my favorite restaurants, and before I realized it, I was on Seventy-second Street. As I turned the corner, I suddenly felt the brisk winter wind. I quickened my pace toward Columbus Avenue, and moments later I was lined up behind several handsome black men going through the thick mahogany door that led to the Nickel Bar. I smiled to myself and thought, Boy, do I need a drink.

  When I opened the door to the small, dimly lit bar, I immediately spotted Kyle sitting on his regular stool at the end of the bar close to the door. He had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was surrounded by several admirers, who seemed to be hanging on his every word. When Kyle looked up from his drink and saw me coming through the door, he immediately put down his cigarette, motioning me toward him and his audience.

  “Bitch, where have you been?” Kyle quizzed me.

  “Kyle, don’t start with that ‘bitch’ crap,” I ordered.

  “Okay. Answer my question.”

  “You’ll never guess.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Well, not quite, more like a vision from the past.”

  “Who was he?” Kyle asked quickly. “Anybody I know?”

  “Give me a minute to check my coat and catch my breath, please. Order me a drink,” I demanded.

  “Excuse me,” Kyle snapped at the bartender, waving his left hand in the air and twirling around with a single motion on the barstool. “A Stoli on the rocks for my friend and make it quick before I have to read this bitch.”

  “Please, Kyle, not today. I’m in no mood to read you back,” I pleaded.

  Three drinks later, the Stoli had settled and was taking effect. Kyle and I were both laughing out of control at my previous encounter with Kelvin and Candace.

  “Chile, these confused boys give me fever. How long do you think that marriage is going to last before Mr. Kelvin starts sneaking out on Miss What’s Her Name?” he asked.

  “Her name is Candance, Kyle. Anyway, Kelvin was pretty much a ladies’ man back on campus.”

  “Yeah, and so was I,” he snickered. “Are you still in love with this guy?”

  “I don’t really know. He was my first, and to be honest, my heart started to beat faster the moment I saw him today. I mean, it was like the first time I saw him years ago.”

  “Are you going to call him?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m going to leave well enough alone. That was then; this is now. Come on, let’s change the subject. Where are we going tonight?” I asked, purposefully changing the subject.

  “We will pick this conversation up later, my dear,” Kyle said. “Right now I see a gorgeous guy in the corner with big hands and I’m going to give him a Christmas greeting. Watch my stool.”

  Kyle moved toward the back of the packed narrow bar; off to meet his next conquest.

  While Kyle was on his mission, I moved from the corner barstool and walked around the bar to see if I saw any familiar faces. The Nickel Bar was always crowded, but Fridays found the Nickel jammed packed with good-looking and not so good-looking black men in business suits and jeans, all looking relieved that another workweek had ended. I located a spot against the wall that was strategically situated, where I could keep one eye on Kyle and the other on any interesting faces that might catch my eye.

  As I sipped my drink, I eavesdropped on the conversation of two men standing close by. “Miss Thing, I can’t believe you didn’t work that fine man,” the guy standing next to me said to his friend in a high-pitched voice. “He wasn’t my type, Miss Honey. Did you see those hands? Trust me, he’s not the one,” the other giggled. I wondered if these guys talked like that most of the time, and if they did, where did they work?

  The Nickel Bar had not changed since the first time I had come in almost three years before. A real fear came over me the first time I entered. I remember feeling as though I were walking through a dark tunnel into a secret world. The music was loud and aggressive. Beating faster than my heart.

  One of my law school classmates, Peter Davis, had invited me to the Nickel Bar one evening for a drink after one of our study group sessions. Peter failed to mention that the Nickel was a gay bar, and even though I knew New York had several such places, I had no idea that there were all-black gay bars. I was convinced that this was Peter’s way of trying to find out what my deal was without directly asking me. It became obvious, once we arrived, that Peter was a regular at the Nickel. Everyone from the bouncer to the coat-check guy knew him. How Peter could have such an active social life and stay on top of law school was amazing to me. It was on this outing with Peter that I met Kyle. Peter was in the back of the bar talking with a friend when I noticed a very attractive guy. He had nice, short, curly hair. No Jheri curl but naturally curly black hair, called good hair down South. He had a sandy-colored complexion that was void of any acne, razor bumps or hair. His teeth were so perfectly straight that you guessed he had spent years wearing braces or had spent a lot of money for caps.

  Kyle Benton was an original. He had graduated from Princeton University but hated being called an Ivy Leaguer. The first evening we met, Kyle told me that we would be friends for life. When I asked him how he knew that, he simply replied, “I’m psychic.” I laughed so hard that my sides began to hurt. Kyle appeared to be quite comfortable with who he was. A black man and gay. This sometimes made me a little bit uncomfortable. When I asked him how long he had been gay, he laughed, “Chile, I’ve been a sissy since I was in my mother’s womb.”

  Prior to our meeting, I found myself staring at Kyle for about an hour. I could tell that he saw me staring, so I decided to look down into my drink and glance around at other guys in the bar. I caught him looking over at me and even noticed him smiling in my direction. I lifted my half-empty glass to my lips, and casually looked in the direction where he was standing, when I realized he was no longer there. I started toward the back of the bar to find Peter when I felt someone grab the back of my shoulder.

  “So do you have a name?” he asked.

  “Excuse me,” I said, slightly startled.

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  “The QIB,” he said, very seriously.

  “The QIB?”

  “Yes, the QIB.”

  “Who’s the QIB?”

  All of sudden Kyle couldn’t contain his straight face. “The QIB,” he laughed. “You haven’t heard of the Queen’s Information Bureau?”

  By now he was holding his stomach from laughing so hard as I stood there with a dumb look on my fac
e.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but you looked so serious. I couldn’t resist. I’m Kyle Alexander Benton, or KAB, like in taxi.” He reached out his hands to greet mine.

  Now I was smiling too. “Hello, I’m Raymond Tyler,” I said as I extended my hand toward him.

  “Your pleasure, I’m sure. What are you drinking?”

  “White wine.”

  “Oh, how Mary Tyler Moore of you, Mr. Tyler.” Kyle smiled as he motioned for the attention of one of the waiters. “Let me buy you a drink,” he offered.

  “Sure, thank you.”

  A couple of hours later, I felt as if I had known Kyle for years. He was smart, funny and self-assured. He kept asking me to say certain words because he loved hearing the remains of my deep Southern accent. Suddenly we heard the disc jockey announce last call and realized how fast the time had gone.

  “Let’s exchange numbers,” Kyle said.

  “Sure, I’d like that.”

  “I work on Fifty-second and Avenue of the Americas, so we should get together for lunch soon and decide if we are going to be friends or fuck buddies,” Kyle stated very matter-of-factly.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, startled.

  “I’m just playing with you,” he laughed. “Let’s just be friends. Lord knows I’ve had enough one-night stands to last a lifetime.”

  “I’d like to be your friend,” I said as I began to look around the now brightly lit bar for Peter. The bartender was counting money in the cash register and the bouncer was giving us a get-the-fuck-out look. When I found Peter, the three of us headed toward the Seventy-second Street subway stop, laughing like old friends at the night’s events. Once we reached the station, Kyle gave me a big hug and went to the side of the tracks going downtown. Peter and I caught the first express train heading uptown. Once on the train, Peter rambled on and on about who he thought was gay in our law school class. I saw his lips moving but didn’t hear a word.

  “What are you smiling at?” Peter inquired.

  “Who me?”

  “Yes, you.”