by Curtis Bunn
And so, Elliott Thomas decided he needed to be honest with himself before he could be honest with his family. He hoped, when all the discussion was done, he would find the person he should be at this juncture of his life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mirror, Mirror
His life had been something far different from what he imagined when he was twenty. As he sipped his tea and looked out at the Atlanta skyline, Elliott assessed his life as challenging instead of fulfilled.
Less than four hundred men knew what it was to be imprisoned for crimes they did not commit and eventually be exonerated. His world of hopelessness became one of access. The remnants of that dozen years in prison remained in him, though, no matter how far removed he was from it—in time or space.
Moving to Atlanta separated him from where he was wrongly convicted and the passing years made the memories of prison less clear. But whether innocent of the crimes he was convicted or not, Elliott had been an inmate, and with that came trauma that seeped into his soul.
He discussed with Lucy and his therapist and, to a lesser degree, Henry, how it all impacted him. But as transparent as he tried to be, he could not fully convey the pain and suffering and heartache and misery he endured. There were no good days in his life for nearly twelve years. There were days that were better than others, but none of them rewarding.
And as adjusted as he became over the years—completing his degree, serving as somewhat of an ambassador for the Innocence Project, finding the love of his life in Lucy and raising a family—he could not escape his past.
When cancer invaded his prostate, he concluded that his life was destined to be lived in distress. He even questioned God. How can I go to prison for crimes I did not commit, survive that and then get cancer? Why am I being punished this way?
What he learned was that he had a zest for life, and giving up without giving his best was not an option. He beat cancer. And he admitted while sitting on the balcony that beating prison and beating cancer gave him a feeling of invincibility.
Although he survived his divorce, it was devastating. He had beaten prison and beaten cancer and thought he had life made. The divorce, though, was something else for the depth of the disappointment and because it came when he had relaxed and believed only joy was in front of him. And that was the driving force behind living the life he decided he wanted—he needed to distract himself from his pain.
Trying to recapture years gone by seemed to be the sensible way to do it…at that time.
Battered and bruised and alone with his honest thoughts, he regretted so much, starting with not fighting for his marriage. Lucy bullied him into divorce when the decision should have been theirs to make, not hers. But he had an urgent need to support her, to give her what she wanted. He also concluded that he did not want to be married to someone who insisted she did not want to be married to him.
So he chased young women under the guise of catching up on years missed in prison. The reality was that dating younger women was a safe way of not meeting someone who might remind him of Lucy. Elliott admitted that the years after his divorce were full of pain: pain at how the marriage dissolved and pain that it had dissolved.
He and Lucy connected in a spiritual way, a sort of kindred spirits who endured life-altering events when they both were twenty…and came out on the other side scarred, but sane and ready to take on the world.
Many a night he cried with her when she dreamed of being raped or when it became a heavy thought. She could sense any angst in his demeanor and would hug and comfort him before he would express any distress. That’s how connected they were.
Trying to fill the void Lucy left was futile, an attempt by a desperate, disconsolate man to distract himself enough to get over it. It didn’t work.
He forced himself to dismiss ever reconciling, but now there was his life’s only love expressing her desire for him. Elliott could not help but be resistant, though. She took him through hell, refusing to consider not divorcing and limiting her contact with him over the years. He got over being angry with her, but he considered her treatment of him some kind of warped punishment that he did not deserve.
So, while he loved her still, he wondered if he could trust her. He made it through prison, survived cancer and kept his head up after divorce. But to have her lure him back only to shun him again was a prospect that scared him. That’s big, he thought. I admit that I’m scared.
His head began to hurt, and he swore it was about the thoughts running through it and not the concussion. He finished his tea and slid into bed, hoping sleep would alleviate the pain and fear.
It did not work. His head felt okay—and his ribs were better, too—but rejection from Lucy still scared him. He got up and brushed his teeth, and it occurred to him to call on what he felt in prison. He used his fear to become brave. He was so scared of what might happen to him that he became braver than he ever had been to protect himself.
In this case, his bravery led him to call Lucy.
“So how are you feeling?” she asked.
“Not so good.”
“Really? What’s wrong?”
“Physically, I feel fine. But with you, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we need to talk. But not over the phone. We were supposed to have lunch tomorrow. We should have lunch tomorrow.”
“But your head is wrapped up; you want to go somewhere like that?”
“You can come here or I can come to you.”
They decided on Lucy coming to Elliot. “You shouldn’t be driving or doing much at all,” she said.
They hung up, agreeing to see each other the next day, which seemed like a long time for Elliott since he was stuck in the house. He could not go for his daily walk, could not go to Sutra, a club on Crescent Avenue that was popular on Tuesday nights.
The day picked up when Henry came by for a visit. Elliott was glad he did, for in his quest to get to the other side of the crossroads, resolving his feelings about his friend’s sexuality became a priority.
Henry brought lunch with him from Mango’s Caribbean Restaurant: curry chicken, rice and peas, cabbage and plantains. They sat at his dining room table and chatted about sports. When they were done, Elliott elevated the conversation.
“So, who was this you brought with you to the hospital the other day?”
“Why?”
“Why? Because my son asked me about him. It raised some questions in him that he presented to me.”
“Questions like what?”
“Questions like, ‘Why is Mr. Henry hanging out with a guy who is obviously gay?’ Not exactly like that, but something like that.”
“Look, I don’t have to get your approval for who I spend my time with, Elliott. But for your information, that was a friend and business associate, Harold. You met him before.”
“Yeah, I did. And I recall saying to you that he was suspect. I also recall you blowing it off.”
“That was then, this is now, Elliott,” Henry said. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is my son now questions your sexuality because no straight man would hang out with a gay man,” he answered. “So, since he questions your sexuality, that means he questions mine. And I can’t have that.”
“I can’t believe we’re back at this,” Henry said. “You can tell your son that I’m gay. That’s fine. Or I can tell him. My point is, I don’t care if he knows. Now, as far as him associating you with being gay because I’m gay, that’s something you have to address.
“Look, I’m not trying to be flippant or insensitive. And I definitely don’t want to get into another debate with you about this. Either you’re my friend or you’re not. I would understand if you said you couldn’t handle the association. I wouldn’t like it and I would be hurt by it. But I would get it. You would be like every other guy who was my friend but now isn’t. You’d be too weak to stand by friendship over perception.”
“Dude, you’re here, ar
en’t you?” Elliott said. “If I was weak and didn’t value your friendship, you wouldn’t be in my house. But if we’re gonna be straight up, let’s be straight up. Maybe it’s not meant for me to understand, but I don’t get the whole gay thing. Two men having sex—I hope I can say this to you because we’re friends—but two men having sex just ain’t right. It ain’t right, Henry. It says so in The Bible and it says so on the street.”
“I can’t and won’t try to justify anything to you,” Henry said. “You’re back to judging me when you have no room to be judgmental. Sex with girls your daughter’s age…something seems really wrong with that to me.”
“I won’t try to say that there’s nothing wrong with that. When you say it out loud, it doesn’t sound so good,” Elliott said. “But they were adults, consenting adults. And it’s not a sin.”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to call on The Bible as moral high ground,” Henry said. “I have to deal with my Maker at that time and He will judge me. Not you. Until then, though, you let me live my life and you live yours.”
Elliott wanted to end the talk, but needed to be clear about something. “This isn’t easy for me. Henry, I’m not worried about people’s assumptions.”
Henry gave him a side-eye look.
“Okay, well, I’m not worried anymore,” Elliott said. “Either I’m in or I’m out. And I’m in. But I can’t promise it will always be comfortable. This conversation isn’t comfortable. But to be honest with myself, I have to go to some uncomfortable places to eventually get comfortable.”
Henry nodded his head.
Then Elliott added, “But I don’t know if I’ll ever get comfortable with this.” He smiled at Henry and Henry smiled back.
“Yeah, I bet you can’t get comfortable with it since you’re probably fighting your own sexuality demons,” Henry said. “You were in prison for twelve years. I’m sure someone got to you.”
“It’s time for you to leave, talking that crazy shit,” Elliott said, laughing.
The men exchanged handshakes and a delicate hug to protect Elliott’s ribs. “Come here, let me squeeze your butt. I bet it’s tight,” Henry said, laughing as he ran toward the door.
“You better get out of here,” Elliott yelled. He and Henry had a tough conversation and were able to joke about it in the end. He hoped the other conversations he had would end the same way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Age Is More Than A Number
Elliott rested after Henry left and tried to figure out what he was going to say to Tamara. He was torn. Ending the relationship would likely result in ending the friendship, too.
She called around nine-thirty, saying she was on her way. By the time she arrived, near ten, Elliott had steadied his mind on how to approach her. But Tamara showed up borderline drunk and definitely tipsy.
“I hate to see you like this,” she said. “I’m glad you’re up and moving better, but I’m sure you’re still hurting.”
Elliott sat down gingerly on the couch and elevated his feet on an ottoman. “I’m doing better. What’s up with you?”
“I’m good. I wish you were with me tonight.”
“Girl, if we were out at an event like that, people would think I’m your father. We don’t look like the average couple.”
“So what? You living for them or for yourself?”
Elliott wanted to respond, but Tamara continued. “Look, look at this. How cute am I?”
It was her passport. “So where we going? You said you’d tell me once I got my passport. Well, as you can see, I didn’t waste any time.”
“No, you didn’t,” Elliott said. “That’s good that you handled that.”
“So, where we going?”
“I don’t know,” Elliott said. “I hadn’t bought any tickets. I wanted you to have your passport and then we could decide. But…”
“But what?” Tamara said. “But your ex-wife, Lucy, wants you back?”
Elliott was surprised by that remark. “She wants you back, right?” she went on.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because she told me,” Tamara said.
Elliott was really surprised and only halfway believed her. “What are you talking about?”
“I met her in the bathroom at the hospital one night. She didn’t know who I was and we started talking. She told me she was in love with you and you were in love with her. At least that’s what she hoped.”
He still was not sure if she was telling the truth. “You don’t believe me, do you?” she said. “Ask her if she met a woman in the bathroom that night. She said she had just left your room.
“But I didn’t know it was your ex-wife until the next day, when I came up to your room and you told me to leave. I ran into her in the hallway. We both knew who each other was then.”
Elliott did not know what to think then. But the timeline of when he saw Lucy and when he saw Tamara jibed with how she said things unfolded.
“Your ex is a good-looking woman,” Tamara said. “She’s not me, but for her age, she looks good… So, what did you tell her when she told you how she felt?”
“Tamara, I can’t—no, I won’t—get into my conversation with Lucy,” he said.
“Why not?” she said, raising her voice. “I’m tired of you playing games. You’re damn near a senior citizen and you’re playing games with me. I ain’t having it.”
“You need to calm down; what are you upset about?” Elliott said. “I’m not telling her about my conversations with you and vice versa. So you can get all upset if you want, but that’s it.”
“Look, Elliott, I have to tell you; I’m in love with you,” she said.
“What? Come on, Tamara,” he said.
“So you’re dismissing my feelings like that? I’m serious. I feel like we can be good together.”
“I’m not dismissing your feelings because you don’t have any for me,” he said. “My ego told me you did. You want me to be honest and that’s what I have to be with you. I like young women, or I convinced myself that I do. So I met you and pursued you because you were the right age for what I was into at that point in my life.”
“So now you’re not into me anymore, just like that?” she asked. “Your wife comes crawling back and you’re not into me anymore? That’s fucked up.”
“What I’m saying is that I was never into you,” Elliott confessed. “That doesn’t mean I never liked you because I did. I do. I would never have spent any time with you or even have you at my house if I didn’t. But I wasn’t into you. I was into distracting myself so I wouldn’t think about my ex-wife.
“And you have to be honest, too. You only claimed you had feelings for me only after knowing Lucy said she loved me.”
“Don’t act like I can’t identify my own feelings,” she said. “I wouldn’t have slept with you if I didn’t have feelings for you.”
“Sleeping together was a mistake,” he said. “Look at me; I’m sixty-one years old. I’m old enough to be your father and damn near your grandfather. We’re not supposed to be together.
“If you saw a couple with our age difference together, you’d think something was wrong with her. I don’t want people to think that about you.”
“You know what I’d think?” Tamara asked. “I’d think that old dude must be putting it down. He either has some money or he was tapping that ass right.”
“So why would I think that you think differently about me?”
“You don’t have to. You obviously have money to be living here. But I never asked about your money; I have my own. But you surely did tap that ass right. I’m not even gonna front. That’s enough reason to be with your old ass right now.”
“And when you turn thirty-five and I’m seventy-one, then what?”
“We’ll worry about that at that time. Let me tell you something. You don’t understand how terrible it is out here for women. That’s probably why your ex-wife wants you back. She’s saying, ‘Fuck what he did to end the marriage.
It’s better to have someone I know and love cheat on me than someone I don’t know and don’t love who will probably cheat, too.’ ”
“Look, I shared a little about my life with you,” Elliott said. “You know about what I went through. I missed my twenties. So having relationships with young women was my way of trying to live a part of my life that I missed. That’s what it boils down to. If I wasn’t doing that, we would never be here right now. That doesn’t take away from really liking you and enjoying our time together. But we can’t have a relationship. This is where it should end.”
“How in the hell is a sixty-one-year-old man gonna dump a twenty-five-year-old woman?” Tamara said. “I could see if I was fat and ugly or dumb and crazy. But I’m none of that. Guys are after me all day every day, and the one man I want to be with doesn’t want to be with me? This is crazy.”
“I don’t know what to say beyond what I told you,” Elliott said. “I’m still in love with my ex-wife.”
“Were you in love with her those times we had sex?” she asked.
“Yes,” Elliott said.
“Don’t you want me now?” Tamara slid closer to him on the couch and reached for his crotch. “Let me have some more of that.”
Elliott wanted to push her away, but he was tentative because of his injured ribs. “Cut it out, Tamara.”
“I will. But let me suck you off first.”
The man in Elliott gave that a consideration for a quick second. And he admitted it. “That sounds good and I probably need that, Tamara. But no. Probably, you should go now.”
She moved forward instead of toward the door…until the doorbell rang. “Who’s that?”
“I have no idea,” Elliott said. “I don’t get how people come up here without my knowledge. This is the second time in a week.”
“Want me to answer it?” she asked.
“Hell, no. I got it,” he said, pulling himself off the couch.
“Who is it?” he yelled with attitude.
