by Carl Weber
“I know that. I swear to God, I wouldn’t do anything like that.” I raised my right hand in the air.
“Man, my momma is heartbroken over this shit. I may lose my scholarship and probably any chance I got at the NBA. I damn sure won’t ever be one of the boys again.”
I leaned forward on the bed, trying to get comfortable. My entire upper body ached from the beating I’d just taken. I didn’t even want to think about my face. It was probably bruised beyond recognition.
“Don’t worry about your scholarship. If they yank that, we’ll have every gay activist in the country on campus. As far as the NBA is concerned, just go out there and play ball. The rest will take care of itself.”
He didn’t look convinced. I tried to lighten the mood a little, because I really did care about him, and I hated to see him looking so hurt. “I don’t even wanna think about how much money you can make as the first openly gay professional basketball player. Sissies from all over the world will be rooting for whatever team you play for. Man, you’re gonna be like Jackie Robinson, a true pioneer.”
He made a face as he stood up and took a few steps to distance himself from me. “No, I won’t, because I’m not gay. And even if I was, I damn sure don’t want to be a pioneer.”
Even when he’s out, the boy wants to stay in denial. I resisted the sigh that threatened to escape from my lips.
“Ron, there’s no reason to deny who you are anymore. It’s out. You said it yourself; they’ve got pictures.”
“Fuck those pictures!” He stepped toward me, his anger boiling beneath the surface again. “You set me up, didn’t you? You wanted me outed so you could use me as some type of poster child for gays.”
We were back at square one. I really didn’t want to get hit again. What was it going to take to convince him?
“Look, man, I’m sorry, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Sure you didn’t, Jerome.”
“Ron, I swear to you—”
“Save it, aw-ight?” He gave me the finger as he walked toward the door. Lucky for me—and my already aching body—he looked like he’d run out of steam, so the argument was over. “If anyone asks you about those pictures, they were Photoshopped and you don’t know me. You understand?”
“Yeah, but what do you mean I don’t know you? You just want me to pretend, right? You’re not giving up on us, are you?”
He reached for the doorknob. “There is no us, Jerome. There never was, and if you give two shits about me, you’ll keep it that way. I’m trying to get my life back.”
I nodded as I watched him walk out the door and quite possibly out of my life. I didn’t have the strength or energy to follow him—not that it would have done any good. I’d seen my share of men who’d been outed to the public before they were ready. It was never a pretty picture, and it usually forced them to go even further into denial.
I got up and walked into the bathroom, washing the blood from the small cut on my upper lip. I didn’t look half as bad as I felt, so I put on my shirt and jacket, then headed to the parking garage.
I still wasn’t quite sure what the hell was going on, but deep down, I had a feeling it had something to do with that crazy white boy Peter. The scariest part was that if it was Peter, then he had followed us to that parking lot, and who knows how long he’d been following us before then. I replayed that night in my mind, and I couldn’t recall any time when I saw anything suspicious or felt like we were being followed. What the hell was this guy, some type of ninja?
I was just about to get in my car when my phone rang. I reached down to my holster and checked my caller ID. Damn, now that’s creepy. It was Peter. What the hell did he want?
I clicked the TALK button. “What?” I yelled.
“You look a little bruised up there, sport.”
I felt my stomach do a flip. I climbed in my car in a hurry, looking around the parking garage. He was nowhere in sight.
“Where the fuck are you? And what the fuck do you want from me?”
“I’m close. I’m always going to be close to you.”
I’d seen enough horror flicks to know that this was my cue to get the hell out of there. A dark, deserted parking garage is not the place you want to be when a stalker calls. Feeling paranoid as shit, I pulled out of the parking space and headed straight for the exit, expecting his spooky ass to jump in front of my car at any moment.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“You haven’t figured out what I want yet?” He chuckled. “I want you, and I’m not going to rest until we’re together.”
“You’re insane, Peter. Totally fucking insane. Do you know that?”
“If you say so. I’m sick of arguing my sanity with you. I know I’m sane, and even if I’m not, it’s all because of you.” He laughed like a hyena, and that just made this shit creepier.
When he got his psychotic ass under control, he asked, “So, how’d you like the pictures?”
I punched the steering wheel. Now I had confirmation that he was the one who took the pictures. But why did he have to hurt Ron the way he did? I was pissed. Not only had he fucked up Ron’s situation, he’d also caused me to get my ass beat. I tried to keep my voice calm, because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much chaos he’d created. “I haven’t had a chance to see them.”
“Too bad. There are some really nice shots of you. My favorite one is of you sucking on his dick so good that his eyes look like they’re popping out of his head. I know exactly how he felt. Reminds me of how you made me feel that night at the hotel.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I told you before, Jerome—if I can’t have you, nobody will.”
“But he’s just a kid. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s having a hard enough time dealing with being gay. You wanna fuck with someone, fuck with me.”
He laughed halfheartedly. “I already am, and I’ve just begun. Have a safe ride home. You might wanna get some gas. You’re running a little low.” I glanced down at my gas gauge and almost hit a parked car.
Jesus Christ, this crazy motherfucker’s been in my car.
Loraine
36
It was Christmas Day, my favorite holiday of the year. Unfortunately, this Christmas I woke up bitter, miserable, and alone for the first time in ten years. I finally climbed out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen around two in the afternoon. I fixed myself some breakfast, then sat in the living room, finishing off a box of chocolate turtles as I contemplated whether I should open the pile of presents sitting on the love seat. Usually I was like a kid on Christmas morning, waking Leon up early so we could come down and open gifts. He would have the entire house decorated like a winter wonderland. But this year, I didn’t even put up a tree. I didn’t want to do anything that would remind me of Leon.
Sadly, everything reminded me of him. I was so depressed and bitter about the whole situation that the only thing I wanted to do was eat—something I seemed to be doing constantly. We’d been separated a month, and I’d already gained a good ten or fifteen pounds. My wardrobe was now a quarter of what it used to be, just because I couldn’t fit into most of my clothes.
I opened a few presents, the majority of them from clients and people from my office. The gifts were all nice but nothing I would use or wear. I had no idea who’d invented gift receipts, but I felt like I owed them dinner.
My house phone rang, and I picked it up without looking at the caller ID. I’d changed my number, along with all the house locks and alarm codes the day after I kicked Leon out. It was a good thing, too, because he had been blowing up my cell phone and even came by a few times, professing his love. The last time, I had to call the cops because he wouldn’t leave. Now, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, because it wasn’t like he was trying to knock my door down or break into the house. No, this fool was staging a sit-in. That’s right, a sit-in. He was sitting on the front lawn with one sign that read I LO
VE LORAINE AND ONLY LORAINE! and another one that read I’M NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU TAKE ME BACK.
Under any other circumstances, it might have worked, but I was done. I doubt he thought I’d call the cops, but I sure as hell did. Anyway, I knew it wasn’t him on the phone, because I had given out the new number to only a few select people, and he definitely wasn’t on the list.
“Hello.”
“Merry Christmas!” It was Jerome and his cheerful ass. I loved him, but I could sure as hell do without his Mr. Happy attitude today. Not now, not when I wanted to be miserable.
“Merry Christmas, Jerome,” I replied in a flat tone.
“Loraine, girl, you are the bomb!” God, what was he so damn cheery about?
“Why am I the bomb, Jerome?” I only asked because I knew he wanted me to.
“Because of your Christmas present, why else? They just delivered it, and, girl, I love it! I absolutely love it. And I love you for it. It must have cost you a small fortune to have them deliver it on Christmas Day.”
“I love you too, Jerome.” I couldn’t help it; a smile crept up on my face. Now I understood why he was so happy. I’d completely forgotten about the home-theater system I’d gotten him for Christmas, since I purchased it so long ago. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Hell to the yes!” He sounded so happy. “Did you open mine yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Girl, you better open my presents.” He sounded even more excited about my gifts than he did his. “I gave you two. Open the blue one first.”
I shuffled through what was left of the unopened presents until I found Jerome’s. One was a two-by-two-inch box that I was sure was some type of jewelry. The other was a thin rectangular box about the size of my hand. I had no idea what was inside that one.
“You open it yet?”
“No, I haven’t opened it yet. Give me a minute, okay?” I took my time and unwrapped the first box. “Oh, Jerome, they’re beautiful.” As I suspected, it was jewelry, a pair of beautiful dangling diamond and white gold earrings. Unlike most of the presents I’d received, this was something I would wear for many years. As always, Jerome knew my taste. “Thank you so much.” I was starting to feel a little Christmas cheer.
“Merry Christmas, Raine, but that’s not it yet. That was just the warm-up. Your big gift is in the other box. Go ‘head and take the paper off, but don’t open it until I tell you.”
“Big gift?” I looked down at the present. What in the world could possibly be better than the earrings he’d already given me? Okay, I was starting to get excited. I ripped the paper off the gift, exposing a blue Tiffany’s box. It had to be the diamond bangle I’d been looking at online. “My goodness, Jerome, you’ve gone all out. You know I love stuff from Tiffany’s.”
“Yes, I do. Now, open it.”
I opened the box, but there was no bangle or jewelry of any kind in it. It contained a small envelope, about the size of a credit card. I lifted it up to see if there was anything underneath, but there was nothing. “An envelope?”
“Yup. Confused?”
“Very,” I replied. “What is it, a gift card?”
“Nope. It’s not even from Tiffany’s.”
“Okay, so what exactly is it?”
“Loraine, I spent the better part of a month trying to find this present for you.” As he was talking, I opened the envelope. “You know I usually don’t play matchmaker, but I want you to be happy. In that envelope is a business card from that guy Michael Richards,” he explained at the same time I was pulling out the card and reading it in confused silence.
“It’s time to move on, Loraine. You’re a beautiful woman inside and out, and nobody sees that more than Michael. He wrote his cell number on the back of the card. He went down to Norfolk for the holidays, but he said you can call him anytime. He’s expecting your call.”
“Jerome, I…” Wow. I didn’t know what to say. Jerome had taken friendship to an entirely new level. No one had ever done anything like this for me before. Sure, I’d had people hook me up before I was married. I’d also been on my share of blind dates. But what Jerome had done and the way he presented it showed me just how much he loved me. He knew I was hurting inside; I was lonely, and he was trying to do something about it. I was touched.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I love you, Jerome.”
“I love you too. Merry Christmas.”
I turned the card over, and like he said, there was a number written on the back. Now it was up to me to decide what I would do with it. I can’t say I hadn’t thought about Michael, because that would be a bold-faced lie. He’d been the subject of many conversations between Jerome and me, before and after Leon left. I was more of a skeptic than Jerome. To me, Michael almost seemed too good to be true. I mean, after everything I had been through with Leon, what were the chances of me finding a sweet, honest man who had supposedly loved me since we were kids? There’s no way he could be so perfect.
Jerome, on the other hand, didn’t think so. He saw this as God’s way of giving me a break after all the crap I’d put up with. He encouraged me to find Michael, saying I deserved to be happy. I thought about it for a while, even going so far as to check Facebook to see if he had a page, but I gave up before I’d even typed in his name, because it just made me feel desperate. If it was really meant to be, I wouldn’t have to search him out.
And so, apparently, Jerome had completed the search for me.
“So, you gonna call him?”
“I don’t know. I want to, but I don’t know if I can.”
“What are you talking about? You better call that man. Do you know how much trouble it was tracking him down?”
“I can only imagine, and I appreciate it, but he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know the real me. What he sees is a girl who was nice to him when we were kids. I’m forty-four years old. I’m not the little girl he knew as a child. The girl he’s infatuated with is long gone.”
“Oh, I see what’s going on now. You’re scared to take a chance, aren’t you? Scared you just might fall in love again.”
“Scared would be an understatement. I’m absolutely terrified.”
“It’s okay to be scared. Just don’t let life pass you by because of it. Just give him a call, okay?”
Knowing Jerome as well as I did, I was sure he wouldn’t let up until I agreed to make the call.
“Okay, I’ll call him. But I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“Good. Let me know how it goes,” he said before we ended the call.
Placing the phone on the coffee table in front of me, I studied the business card while I gathered my nerve. This was not easy for me. It had been a long time since I’d had to think about finding a man, and even back when I was single, I’d never been the most confident woman. It’s funny, because people at work saw me as so strong. They weren’t wrong; in my professional life, I rarely suffered with doubt. But for some reason, I’d never felt completely comfortable when it came to dating.
It wasn’t that I had low self-esteem or anything. I wasn’t some stereotypical big girl who hated her body. On the contrary, I was proud of my curves. I don’t know, maybe it was that I was so used to succeeding at everything I did, and with dating, there’s always that chance you’ll be shot down. I wasn’t used to failure, so I avoided anything that opened up the possibility—hence my aversion to the whole singles scene. But the sad reality was that I would soon be entering that scene once again, so I guess there was no time like the present to make that leap.
With a sigh, I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the back of the card.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Michael. It’s … it’s Loraine. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“Loraine, Merry Christmas!” To my relief, he sounded happy to hear from me. “When Jerome asked for my number, I didn’t think you’d actually call.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“Well, I don’t know what changed your min
d, but I’m glad you did.”
Did he really mean that? Was he really that glad to hear from me? If Jerome were here, he would be kicking me for doubting myself, but I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t going to change instantly.
“My sister just said to tell you Merry Christmas and asked when you are coming down to see her.”
“Tell her I said as soon as I get an invitation.”
“Be careful what you ask for.” He laughed. “Listen, Loraine, can I call you back? We’re right in the middle of Christmas dinner.”
“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. Sure, you can call me back.”
“Before I let you go, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure. What?”
“Jerome told me about you and your husband’s split. I’m gonna be down here for a couple of days doing some stuff for the family, but would you like to do something on New Year’s Eve when I get back?”
I didn’t allow doubt to interfere this time. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“All right, then, it’s a date. I’ll give you a call a little later tonight, and we can finalize our plans.”
“I’ll be waiting.” I hung up the phone feeling a whole lot better than I had when I woke up.
Egypt
37
The tension in the room was so thick I felt like I could suffocate. Rashad was an utter wreck, and I wasn’t much better. We’d gotten up to open Christmas presents about an hour ago, and my sister was nowhere to be found. I watched as Rashad checked his wristwatch for the third time in five minutes. He kept glancing up at me with the same annoyed expression, as if this entire thing were my fault. The looks he was giving me were so evil, you would have thought he caught me in bed with another man. But it wasn’t me he should be mad at; it was Isis. She was the one who went MIA, on Christmas of all days.
“What I don’t understand is why the hell she would go anywhere without telling you.”
No, he didn’t just try to throw this at my feet! It was one thing for him to think it, but it was another for him to verbalize those thoughts. I was not about to let him make this about me, when everything I’d ever done was for the benefit of our unborn child and our marriage.
