by Curtis Bunn
“Listen, I don’t care how grown you think you are, you don’t use profanity around me, boy,” Elliott said.
“I ain’t no boy; I’m a man,” Daniel said defiantly.
“Boy, watch how you speak to me. I don’t care what the situation is, you don’t disrespect me.”
“See, you’re ready to beat me up over disrespecting you, just like you want to get back at that guy who hit you. But you have a problem with me doing what I need to do to protect my sister? That’s some bull.”
“I think you’d better leave.”
“What?”
“If you don’t have something to say that makes sense, that shows you were raised properly, then I don’t want to hear it, not today.”
“I don’t even know why I’m here. Ain’t seen you but a few times in over two years anyway.”
“You’re here because you’re supposed to be here. But you have anger that has to be dealt with. And, please, get rid of that gun. Nothing good can come from you having it.”
Daniel sat down in the chair to the right of Elliott’s bed. “How are you on this internship if you’ve been kicked out of school?” his father asked.
“I didn’t tell them and so they don’t know,” he answered.
“What are you going to do about school? You’re going to finish, right?”
“I am, I guess,” Daniel said. “Probably go to Georgia State. I will figure it out.”
Elliott tried to advance the conversation, but his mind was consumed with seeing a scary side of his son he did not know existed. He had seen young men with baby faces in prison that had the nerve of a killer. He also had met inmates, after listening to their stories, who’d made one mistake that had turned their lives into a mess. He was desperate for that to not happen to Daniel. He believed healing Daniel would heal his family.
“So how has Danielle handled you being kicked out of school?” Elliott asked.
“She was very upset,” Daniel admitted. “I didn’t come home, though. I stayed there to be with her. She’s the only reason I didn’t shoot that guy when I really had the chance. I could feel her telling me not to do it.”
“Well, keep that voice in your head,” Elliott said. “Come here, son.”
He extended his hand for Daniel to clutch. His son looked down at it and finally grasped it. “Forget about this guy who hit me,” Elliott said. “It’s not worth it. I’m not a criminal. You’re not a criminal. Whatever role I played in you feeling as you do, I’m sorry. I certainly never wanted this for you. And whatever is broken, we’re going to fix.”
“How we gonna do that, Dad? I appreciate what you’re saying. I do. But we know what divorce does. It breaks up families. Danielle and I used to feel sorry for our friends that had divorced parents. Then it was us, and it was…it was messed up.”
“I know it was tough; that’s why I continually tried to reach you and your sister and wrote you letters and e-mails when I didn’t hear back,” Elliott said. “I thought we could help each other get through it.
“Here’s the thing: It’s not too late,” he added. “Maybe getting my head cracked open was the best thing to happen to us.”
“What? How you figure?” Daniel asked.
“Well, I saw you and Danielle and your mother for two days in a row for the first time in a long time. I talked to all of you like we used to talk. I saw through you all being here that you care. I didn’t know it, but I needed that.”
“Yeah,” Daniel said, looking distracted.
“What’s wrong?” Elliott asked.
“I don’t know how you can let that guy do that to you and let it go,” Daniel wanted to know. “You said you know who he is, right? We should at least give him a beat down.”
“Let me think about it,” Elliott said. He had already made up his mind to not seek retribution. The fear of returning to prison was deterrent enough. He would get the guy’s information from Yvette and share it with the police. But he wanted to keep Daniel engaged, so he hedged on what he would do about Brian.
He hedged on what he was going to do with the other major decisions in his life, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Home Sour Home
Elliott spent an uneventful second night in the hospital; he did not call anyone or have any more visitors. He read and rested after receiving some good news from the doctors: His bruised ribs were already healing, so the pain he endured was likely to subside quicker.
The headaches Elliott suffered finally stopped being a perpetual nuisance. They would come and go, which gave him long periods of relief.
“See what I mean?” he said to the doctor Monday morning. “I feel almost a hundred percent better than I did yesterday. And staying that extra night here did it.”
“Well, I’m glad,” he said. “As long as you’re progressing, I’m happy.”
He had Danielle pick him up and take him home. “You need anything before I go?” she said. She had cooked his dinner—baked salmon, rice pilaf and roasted beets—and gotten him comfortable.
“No, daughter, I’m good. Thank you for you help. As you can see, I’m getting around fine now, so I’ll be all right,” he said. “But I would like to talk to you for a minute.”
She sat on the couch next to Elliott. He said, “I believe getting my head smashed was the best thing for all of us.”
“How can you say that, Daddy? You could have died.”
“But I didn’t, and that’s the point,” he said. “Because I was in the hospital, I got to see you three days in a row now and your mom and Daniel two days straight. I got to spend most of that time with each of you alone, so we got to talk and be together. I’ve missed that. I need it. I really need it. I have been functioning without it, but it’s not the same as having it.”
Danielle nodded her head in agreement. “I’ve missed you, too, Daddy,” she said. “I feel like for the last two years—or whatever it has been—that I have been torn. I communicated with you more than Mommy and Daniel did, but I didn’t get to see you, and that hurt. But that’s my fault. They made me make a choice. And since I saw how hurt Mommy was and how angry Daniel was—and I knew how strong you were—I tried to help them by being loyal to them.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Elliott said. “Daniel said the same thing. I understand. And you said something that I found out yesterday, which is Daniel’s anger issues.”
“He blames a lot of it on you, Daddy,” she said.
“Yes, we talked about it. He also told me that he got kicked out of college. I know you and he are tight like Krazy Glue. But you’ve got to tell me when something like that happens. Don’t you think?”
“I know. I know,” Danielle said in a low voice. “It really ate me up. But he made me promise and Mommy said you would overreact and I don’t think we believed it, but we went with it because it was easy.”
“Did you know he has a gun on him most of the time?”
“No, I didn’t. He told you that?”
“No. He didn’t tell me. He showed me the gun yesterday.”
“At the hospital?”
“Yes. But I’m dealing with it. I’m going to handle it. I had no idea. I had no idea that the divorce would hit him as it did. But like I told him yesterday, it’s not too late.
“But what about you, Danielle? How has all this affected you?”
Usually quick to respond, Danielle did not say anything. She looked away, a sign to Elliott that all was not well.
“Well, it has worn on me, to be honest,” she said. “It’s been three years and I thought for sure we all would have adjusted. But I have tried to help Daniel calm down and Mommy pick her head up. It’s been a lot.
“I remember one day last year or earlier this year—I can’t remember which—when Daniel and I were at dinner at The Pecan restaurant in College Park. It was our birthday. Some girl wanted to take him out, but he wanted to spend it with me. So we get there and you know it’s wonderful, but not that big.
“Everything is fine, until at this tab
le there is a family there—mother and father and two kids—and someone brings a slice of cake over. Well, it was the parents’ wedding anniversary. They seemed so happy. But Daniel got so mad.
“He stopped talking to me. And then when he did start again, he said, ‘See, this pisses me off. That should be us. Instead, it’s you and me here, Mom somewhere and Dad somewhere else. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.’
“I didn’t know what to say. I finally told him, ‘Divorce doesn’t mean we don’t love each other. You know we do.’ And he said, ‘If Dad loved Mom, he wouldn’t have done what he did and he wouldn’t have left us. Period.’ Needless to say, it wasn’t a very good birthday for him—or me.
“Then, maybe two days later, I’m at home with Mommy. We’re doing whatever around the house. Daniel was with us, but he took a phone call and went into his bedroom. I said something to her and she didn’t answer. So I repeated it and got nothing. So, I turned around and she was leaning over on a counter in the kitchen, crying.
“I didn’t know what was going on. I put my arm around her. She said, ‘I’m sorry our family is broken up like this.’ I was like, ‘Mommy, it’s been about two years. Everyone is moving on. We’re fine.’
“But she wasn’t fine. I think Mommy went out on some dates; she really kind of hid that from me. But whoever she went out with wasn’t you. She missed you and the life we had.”
“I’m feeling like the jerk over here now,” Elliott said. “I never got over what we had, but I tried to get over it. I have gone on and lived my life the best way I know how. I had to do something, or else I would have been angry and sad, too.
“But I get it. You have dealt with a lot.”
“Too much, Daddy,” Danielle said. “That’s one of the reasons I even applied to the London School of Economics. I needed to get away and do my own thing, work on me. That might sound selfish, but the same guy Daniel kept fighting is the person who told me, ‘We always have to look out for ourselves.’ He said, ‘That’s not selfish. It’s important.’
“And that’s why Daniel was so mad at him—because I told him Keyon said I should create my own happiness. When I told Daniel I was going to London, he went off. And he blamed Keyon.
“You know how close Daniel and I are. I really don’t know what I’m going to do not being with him all the time. But I’m ready to find out.”
“Oh, boy. This is something else, learning all I have learned in the last few days,” he said.
“I’m not glad you got hurt, Daddy,” she said. “But being in the hospital has helped bring us together again. We’re not together, but we’re all talking, even you and Mommy.”
“I know you have to go, but one more question,” Elliott said to Danielle. “What’s really going on with your mother? I ask because I hardly heard from her, but then she called me one morning asking advice about men.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes, your mom,” Elliott said. “It turned out to be a really nice conversation. Then she texted me that night and we ended up setting up a lunch date that was supposed to happen tomorrow.”
“Mommy is depressed, Daddy. That’s the only thing I can think of. She’s still all into her work. But I don’t see her enjoying life that much. She’s kind of in a rut. And she wants you to help her get out of it.”
“Well, there’s something else I want to share with you, but we’ll do that later,” Elliott said. “I won’t keep you from where you have to go.”
They hugged and Danielle kissed her dad on his face. He melted. “I miss that, girl,” he said, smiling as she headed for the door. “I need more.”
Elliott retreated to his bedroom after taking a dose of medication and gently lay across the bed. His ribs continued to heal, but a headache came on, and he made his place as dark as he could and lay there in quiet. He figured he brought on the discomfort in trying to process all that was going on around his family.
But as he rested, he thought of Tamara for a while, too. Having a twenty-five-year-old seriously interested in him massaged his ego. He enjoyed the fact that he could attract a younger woman’s interest. The other two much younger women he dealt with were more of a passing thing, something to do to see if he could do it.
He saw more in Tamara, and it made him feel youthful and accomplished to have her feel something for him. It was the type of feeling he had hoped for but did not really expect when he decided he would try to recapture the years he missed.
The other young women he met gave him the confidence to continue his old man in the club ways. But Tamara confirmed that he had arrived. She was a catch for any man, and to beat out the much-younger competition was something he did not take lightly.
He smiled to himself that he had so sexually pleased her that she was coming back for more. I put it down, he said to himself.
After dozing off, he discovered a text message from Tamara that read: “See, this is what I’m talking about. Ignoring me. That’s not cool. Call me soon. Or I will be over there.”
He rested his head back on the pillow and thought: She’s bringing too much drama. He wondered how long he could take her insecurity and threats. And he faced the reality that they had little in common. What could he have with her? By the time she was thirty-five, he’d be seventy-one, and surely of a different mindset of chasing a young woman around Atlanta.
His soul-searching went on for another hour or so—until Tamara called.
“Why can’t you call me?” she said when he answered the phone.
“That’s some greeting,” he said. “And hello to you, too.”
“This is not about pleasantries,” Tamara said. “This is about showing me respect. You can screw me when it’s convenient for you. But you can’t do me the common courtesy when I’m looking to check up on you, make sure you’re all right?”
For all Elliott had hoped for in Tamara, that rant gave him serious pause. Everything was about her. He was the one who suffered a serious blow to the head. He was the one in the hospital for two days. He was the one recovering. And yet she made it about her.
He quickly prayed his prayer of peace, and she even interrupted that. “I see you don’t have anything to say to all that,” Tamara interjected. “This is what I’m talking about with men. Whether you’re twenty or sixty, you all are all the same.”
And that was the tipping point for Elliot. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he started. “I have tried to be patient with you, but you think the world revolves around you? I’m over here in pain trying to get settled, and you calling me up with this bullshit. I ain’t got time for it.”
Tamara was taken aback. Elliott had not erupted on her, had not shown any signs of the potential for an explosion, so she was thrown off.
“This is why you don’t have anyone,” she said. “You can’t handle when someone cares about you.”
Elliott laughed, angering Tamara.
“There’s nothing funny,” she said.
“No, actually, it is hilarious that you believe you know me and can tell me about myself,” he said. “All you know is I fucked you good.”
Elliott regretted the words as they flew out of his mouth. “I’m sorry—”
“Why are you sorry?” Tamara said. “You said what you mean. Yeah, you did fuck me good. You fucked me over, that’s what you did. I’m sure you’re happy. I’m sure you go to the senior citizens home, take out your dentures and laugh with the other old farts about your conquest. I’m glad I gave you a good memory before you keel over, you old fart.”
Elliott laughed loudly. “What’s so funny?” she said.
“You,” he admitted. “That was funny as hell. And I deserved it. I see you’re witty when you’re angry.”
Tamara’s fury declined rapidly. “I shouldn’t have said all that,” she said. “I…”
“It’s okay,” Elliott said. “I shouldn’t have cursed at you. But I do think we probably should back up a little.”
“We’re just getting started,” she said.
“I went to the airport today and paid the express rate of three-hundred dollars to get my passport. We have a trip to take, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “We have to talk about that—and everything else. I’m pretty much gonna stay in the house much of the week. Maybe you can come over after work tomorrow.”
“I was supposed to go to a fundraiser at Bar One. I can come over after that, around nine.”
They agreed, and Elliott dozed off to sleep. He dreamed of Tamara coming to visit him. In the dream, she rang the doorbell, and he opened the door to find her in a long, flowing white gown. He opened the door wider and she entered a house that was not his. It was lit with dozens of candles, with wax overflowing.
She walked through the house with Elliott following her, a breeze blowing up her dress. In that moment, he felt attached to her, attracted to her, in love with her.
“Wait, come here,” he said. She stopped and slowly turned around. But she was in darkness and he could not see her face. “Come here,” he repeated.
She walked slowly forward and into the light. When she became visible, he was startled to see Lucy.
Elliott woke up then and wondered what his dream meant. He had not had a dream about Lucy in more than a year, and all of those were confrontational dreams about their breakup.
He was hungry, so he got himself together and ate some of the meal Danielle prepared for him. His home was quiet: no TV, no music, no conversation. He did not have many times like that, and it allowed him to clear his head.
Problem was, he did not know what to do, but after he ate he sat out on the balcony with a glass of sweet tea and was honest with himself. Dr. Nottingham had told him he’d come to a cross-road in his life, and the way to get beyond it would be by being honest.
“I say this knowing that being honest with yourself is among the hardest things to do,” she said. “Our tendency is to justify our behavior. We want to believe what we have done or said or even think is right. We need that. We’re comfortable with that. To be honest, we have to face some discomfort. Who wants to be uncomfortable?
“But when you are ready to be uncomfortable, to speak the truth, then you can clear that crossroads and come out on the other side renewed.”
