by Carl Weber
“Why? What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything. I’m just not ready for this. Not yet anyway.”
Celeste smiled and gave me a gentle, understanding kiss. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jerome
11
“Hey, Jerome, I just wanted to apologize.”
I was at the Waffle House in Danville, drinking a cup of coffee and admiring Ron’s flawless skin, when he put down his fork to address me. He’d just devoured a twelve-ounce steak, three scrambled eggs, hash browns, and six slices of toast in mere minutes. I had an appetite like that, too, when I was younger, but with age came the understanding that if I ate like that now, I’d be twice my size.
Ron had loosened up a little since we left the police station, and I was starting to see glimpses of the old happy-go-lucky Ron, but there was no doubt the past year had taken quite a toll on him. I had convinced him to stay at a hotel near my place in Richmond for the weekend, once we got his car out of impound. My next objective was to convince him that he needed to share that room with me.
“What exactly are you apologizing for?”
“I don’t know. Everything, I guess. I’m not exactly proud of the way things went down last time I saw you. You’ve been nothing but nice to me. I just freaked out. I wasn’t ready for that kind of exposure. I’m still not.”
“Hey, I understand. I wish you could have walked out of the closet instead of being thrown out of it. I never wanted that for you.”
“I wish that day never happened.”
Although the whole incident was Peter’s fault, the two of us were the ones feeling shitty about it. What was the point of that? If we let it keep us down, then Peter had won. I tried to change the subject. “Hey, man. Are you working?”
He frowned. “I was working over at the movie theater, but I doubt I got a job now.”
“Why’s that?”
“The guy I assaulted was my manager.”
“What’d he do? Cheat you out of some hours?” If that were the case, beating the guy up was a pretty extreme reaction, but I was sure Ron was carrying around a lot of pent-up anger ever since he’d had to drop out of school in disgrace.
“No, it wasn’t over hours. It’s complicated.”
Now I was intrigued. Was it possible it was a lover’s quarrel gone into overdrive? I wouldn’t have expected Ron to be dating any guys, at least not yet. The night he punched me in the face and told me he didn’t want to see me anymore, I assumed he would leave the gay lifestyle alone, at least until he sorted out everything. If he was dating men, I definitely wanted to know about it, because it might improve my chances of getting back into bed with him.
“I consider myself a bright guy, and I don’t have nowhere to be, so spill it,” I said.
“Let’s put it this way: Danville’s not like Richmond. It’s a small town. Everybody knows me down here. I used to be a big star. When I came home, they all wanted to know why I wasn’t in school.”
I grimaced, because I could imagine how difficult that must have been for a kid who was far from ready to be out and proud. “What’d you tell them?”
“I just told them that school wasn’t for me. Most of them probably thought I was a Prop Eight student, anyway, so they left me alone. But then word started getting around about the pictures and me being gay. I know people were talking behind my back, because it was driving my mom crazy.
“I was dealing with it the best I could, trying to ignore it, but two days ago, my manager, this flaming dude, comes up to me, right in my face, and asks me if I’m sweet. I’m sorry, but I tried to break his freaking jaw.”
I shook my head. I’d run into a few guys like this in my life, gay men who flounce around like women and expect every other gay man to be down with it. They have no idea how hard they make it for those of us who happen to love men but aren’t trying to throw it in everyone’s faces. “Well, you’re right; you can’t go back to that job. But if I was there, I would have beat the crap out of that guy myself.”
He smiled for the first time.
“So what do you want to do with yourself?”
“I’d love to go back to school, but all I ever wanted to do was play ball. I’d give anything to be back out on that court. I guess that’s the real reason I was so mad at you for so long. I used to think that if I hadn’t met you, I’d still be in school playing ball.”
“And for that, I’m sorry, Ron. I wasn’t trying to—”
“Hold up.” He reached across the table and touched my hand lightly. “I’m not trying to blame this on you anymore. You didn’t force me into anything. All you did was open a door. I was the one who walked through it; but I’m no sissy, Jerome. I’m a man.”
“I know that. No one knows that better than me.”
“But society doesn’t. Society thinks we’re monsters—and so does my momma.” The words rushed from his mouth, and my heart ached for him. I don’t care who you like to sleep with; no one should have to feel rejection from his own mother.
I reasoned, “Society’s changing, and well, no disrespect, but your momma is just plain wrong.”
“Don’t I know it. We live in the same house, and she barely speaks to me. I know she’s embarrassed, but I never thought my momma would turn her back on me. I just feel like running away somewhere where nobody knows me.”
“I feel you on that one.” I’d had the same fantasy during times of trouble. In fact, a few times I’d gotten on a plane and escaped for a while to get my head on straight, though I always returned home to Virginia. “You ever been to Europe?”
“Nope. Always wanted to go to Paris, though.”
“Paris is nice. People are a lot more tolerant over there. Good place to start over. You’d like it.”
“You act like I should go there or something.”
“You should.”
He shot me a dismissive glance. “On what, my looks? I’m unemployed and owe you for bailing me out. I ain’t got no money to be moving to France.”
“You know, if you put your mind to it, you could make it on your looks—but I’m betting on your jump shot.”
“There’s no way I can go back to the game now that everyone knows about me. No one wants to be in the locker room with a gay guy. It’s like they think I’m not there to play the game but to stare at their ugly asses in the shower.”
“I’m not talking about playing ball here.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you playing ball for a European pro team.”
“And how the hell am I supposed to do that? It’s not like I’m playing somewhere now where scouts can come check me out.”
He was taking the pessimistic viewpoint, but the more I talked about this idea, the more I believed it really could work.
“You know,” I told him, “there are some advantages to being gay. We got one hell of a network, and a lot of resources.”
“Like what?” he asked, obviously still doubtful.
“I know some people who can get you on in Europe. They have plenty of openly gay players over there.” Then I took a leap of faith and suggested something I almost didn’t realize I’d been thinking before I said it. “We can both move there. I mean, if that sounds all right to you.”
He stared at me for a long, uncomfortable minute before he spoke. I hoped he was seriously considering my plan, but if he was, he still needed more convincing. “Just pack up and move to Europe. Are you crazy? We can’t do that.”
“Why not? I don’t have anything holding me to this place. I work for myself as a consultant, and I could do most of that over the Internet and by fax. I could lease my house. I have only one thing and that’s…really nothing.” I meant it too. Things were really iffy between Big Poppa and me. After all this time waiting for him to leave his wife and love me completely, I was beginning to realize it was something that might never happen. Going to Europe with Ron would be a chance for me to finally live my life on
my terms.
“Really, you’d give up your life here?”
“Why not? Things aren’t going that well for me here. I’d like a fresh start, too, as long as it’s with you.”
“Jerome, you better not be playing with me.” For the first time that day, I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Look, everything is going to be all right—that is, if you want it to be all right.”
Ron leaned back and released a genuine laugh. “You know, I really missed you.”
“I missed you too. So, what do you think? Is it a plan?”
Ron didn’t answer. He just got out of his seat and picked up his coat. “Let’s get out of here.”
I left a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and we headed for the exit. As we stepped into the parking lot, I took a chance and reached for Ron’s hand. He didn’t exactly grab mine eagerly, but he didn’t push me away either.
“You okay with this?” I asked.
He stopped walking and turned to me. “I don’t know yet. It doesn’t feel comfortable, but I gotta start somewhere, right?”
“Right,” I said hopefully.
“Just let me take it slow, okay? I’m still not sure I want to go advertising this to the world yet.”
“No problem.” I released his hand and patted his shoulder to let him know I meant it. After everything he’d suffered through, I wasn’t about to place any unreasonable demands on him. I would allow him to grow comfortable with his sexuality at his own pace. Unfortunately, someone else had other plans.
“Aw, isn’t that cute. Jerome’s back with his little boy toy Ron. Hey, Ron, you didn’t drop the soap while you were locked up, did you?” He laughed like a hyena.
Every muscle in my body tensed up. How the hell had Peter found us here? As fast as I had been driving to get to the jail earlier, there’s no way he could have followed me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I believe he had been keeping an eye on Ron—and who knows how many other former lovers—on the off chance he needed blackmail material to prevent me from getting back together with any of them. He had somehow learned about the arrest, and for all I knew, he’d been at the jail before I even got there. Don’t ask me how this psycho managed to have a real job with all the time he seemed to spend destroying my love life.
I saw a camera flash as Peter announced, “Hold still. This will look great on the cover of the Danville Register and Bee.”
“Who the hell is that?” Ron asked.
“That’s the son of a bitch who sent our picture to your family and friends last—” I didn’t even finish my sentence before Ron was on top of Peter.
“You’re the motherfucker who ruined my life! I’m gonna kill you,” Ron screamed repeatedly as he threw blow after blow.
Peter was hell with a camera, but he was no match for Ron’s athletic performance. He fell to the ground and covered his head. Ron stopped delivering punches, but he wasn’t finished with Peter quite yet. He spotted the camera lying beside Peter and raised it high in the air.
“Stop it, Ron! Stop! He ain’t worth it,” I shouted, terrified that I was about to witness Peter’s brains being splattered all over the pavement. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed having Peter out of my life, but Ron would have suffered serious consequences. The judge sure as hell wouldn’t have given him no thousand-dollar bail for a murder charge.
It took all my strength to pull Ron off of Peter. “Come on, man. You just got out of jail. He’s not worth it. Let’s get out of here.”
Ron finally came to his senses and lowered the camera to his side. He took one last look at Peter, who was still cowering in the fetal position on the ground, and then Ron spit on him. He threw the camera against the concrete, stomping on it a few times for good measure, until it lay in pieces.
I took his arm and gently led him away toward my car.
Peter wiped blood from his mouth and gathered enough strength to call out, “This isn’t over, Jerome. Not by a long shot! I swear to God I’m gonna get you both if it’s the last thing I do!”
Leon
12
I opened my eyes to the pleasant sight of two large breasts hovering over me. I loved Loraine’s tits and she knew it. They swung, smacking me playfully in the face, and every once in a while, a nipple would slide in front of my hungry lips. I would suck it until the other breast knocked it away. She lowered her chest until my head was the center of a tittie sandwich, which made me laugh. I kissed between her breasts as she squeezed them on either side of my head. I always loved it when Loraine was playful, but after a while, it was becoming uncomfortable.
I lifted my arms to ease her off me, because I was having trouble breathing, but my arms wouldn’t budge, and that’s when I realized they were tied down.
“Baby, please, I can’t breathe,” I managed to say between short breaths, but the more I struggled, the more weight she placed on me. Was she trying to kill me? Why wouldn’t she get up? I struggled for air, but like I said, the more I struggled, the more weight she applied. I thought about trying to twist my way out, but like my arms, I was horrified to find my legs were tied down too. Jesus Christ, my wife was trying to kill me, and it looked like she was going to succeed!
Finally, she took pity on me and sat up. Unfortunately, that was only the beginning of my horror, because when I saw her face, I felt like I was going to pass out. It wasn’t my beloved Loraine who was trying to kill me; it was Aunt Barbara, and she wasn’t showing me any real pity. She was just repositioning her triple-D breasts to make it easier to suffocate me.
“Now you’ll be with me forever, baby,” she said.
As she lowered her breasts down on my face again, I was helpless to do anything except scream, so that was what I did.
“Aunt Barbara, please, please! I don’t want to die!”
“Leon, Leon, honey, wake up! You’re dreaming again.”
Loraine was shaking me when I opened my eyes this time. I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I was to see her face. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. God, it was so real.”
“Was your uncle beating you with a damn strap again?”
“No, no, it was my aunt.” I sat up and wiped my forehead, noticing that the sheets were damp because I had been sweating so profusely.
“Your aunt was beating you?”
“She was trying to kill me, Loraine,” I said, still trying to make sense of the dream. “My aunt Barbara was trying to kill me.” I wasn’t about to tell her how.
From her expression, it was clear that this news confused Loraine. I’d never had a negative thing to say about Aunt Barbara. While my nightmares about my abusive uncle made sense to her, she had no information to help her understand why I would be having bad dreams about my beloved aunt. “Why would she want to kill you? She loved you, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, she loved me all right.”
Loraine picked up on my sarcasm right away. “I thought it was your uncle who beat you. Are you trying to say your aunt was in on it too?”
I didn’t answer her. Instead, I got up and walked into the bathroom. I guess I was hoping that would be enough to make her drop the subject, but it wasn’t. She followed me, pestering me with more questions as I urinated. It had been two weeks since the hypnosis session that uncovered the memories about my first kiss. Since then, I’d been hypnotized two more times and had recalled quite a bit more about my past that had been buried deep in my subconscious. Most of it was very embarrassing, but at least I was starting to get some answers about who and what I really was. I hadn’t shared any of this with Loraine, because I was afraid that the disturbing truths about my past—and the man I had become because of it—might be more than she could handle. It might be the last straw that would finally break up our marriage.
“Are you ever going to talk to me about what happened when the doctor hypnotized you? I’m not stupid, you know. I know you found out more about your aunt and uncle than you’re saying.” Loraine’s voice was ster
n. “How can I help you if I don’t know what is going on?”
As I moved from the toilet to the sink to wash my hands, I held her stare. She kept looking at me, her eyes commanding me to speak about what was in my heart. She wouldn’t break the stare. She waited patiently until I finished washing my hands, and then she blocked my exit from the bathroom.
“Honey, can you please move out of the way?” I lifted my hands up, showing my palms in a noncombative gesture.
“Sure, if you promise to tell me what the hell is going on. The doctor has hypnotized you three times in the past two weeks, and you haven’t told me a thing. I have a fucking right to know, Leon. I’m your wife!”
“Sweetheart, be careful what you ask for. I’ve recently learned that there are some doors you don’t want to open.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle it. I took you for better or for worse, remember?”
That kind of pushed a button for me. Where was that commitment to “for better or for worse” when she thought I was cheating and she kicked me out of the house? To tell you the truth, sometimes it felt like I was the one doing all the work to keep us together. She had allowed herself to be duped by Jerome when he framed me as a cheater, yet I was the one going through this difficult therapy, as if my sexual performance was the only problem we had. What about her problem with trust, which we never really addressed after she asked me to come back home? She apologized to me, but she never considered the idea that maybe she had some issues of her own that caused her to be so distrustful. Well, fine. If she was such a big girl now and wanted to see what “for worse” really meant, then I would tell her what hypnosis had uncovered.
“Okay, Big Sexy, if you wanna know, I’ll tell you. I just hope you don’t go running for the hills once you know the truth.”
This caused her to look a little apprehensive, but I knew Loraine, and she was not one to back down easily. She stepped out of the way to let me out of the bathroom. “I want to know, Leon. You can tell me, whatever it is.”
