27 Revelations

by Harlow Hayes

  “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  “We are going to my place. I am going to teach you how to cook,” he said as he gathered the rest of his things.

  “Cook?”

  “Yes, cook. No, wait, cooking might be a stretch for you. Let’s just say I’m going to teach you how not to burn ground beef. Is that okay with you?” he teased.

  If anyone else had said it I would have been insulted, but Niko had a way of saying rude things in a nice way. I reached for my phone to check the time. I had several text messages, most from Frankie, but I could get back with him later. I sent Melanie a text just to let her know that I was going to Niko’s. For some strange cosmic reason, I trusted him, he was the first man in my life that I felt like I could really trust, but you could never be too careful. He was practically a stranger, regardless of the feelings that I had been developing for him.

  No chances, I thought before I sent the text. Niko started walking towards the rental shed and I sent the text.

  “Wait for me,” I said, grabbing my bags. I didn’t feel like a woman, but I felt like a girl not yet tainted by the world. There was endless potential here for life. I could feel it, and it motivated me.

  * * *

  I walked into Niko’s condo and felt an overwhelming sense of comfort. It felt like home. It wasn’t a large space, but it wasn’t too small, either. The kitchen was the most gorgeous part of the space, with warm-colored granite countertops and beautiful, deep wood-colored cabinets. It was well equipped and in order—a professional’s kitchen. Pillows decorated the living room couches, and the dining area had a beautifully crafted wood table with a vase of flowers sitting on it. The apartment was masculine, but you could tell that it had a woman’s touch. It was the home of an established man, one who was successful in his business endeavors but wasn’t defined by them.

  “Your home is beautiful,” I said, setting my bag on the couch.

  “Thanks, but I can’t take the credit for it. Ashley did most of it.” Niko went into the kitchen and washed his hands before he began pulling things out of the fridge.

  “So what are we making?” I asked, leaning on the opposite side of the large island facing him.

  “Tacos. How Not to Burn Ground Beef 101.” Niko grabbed some ground beef out of the fridge and set it on the counter. “You’re not exaggerating, right? You seriously burn ground beef?”

  “Sad, but true,” I said. “But that’s why we’re here. To make it right, to correct it. But first I need to go to use your restroom.”

  “Of course, down the hall and to the left.”

  I scurried down the hall with speed. I had been holding it for a while, but as I passed Niko’s bedroom I could see that it was just as neat and in order as the living room. His bathroom was pristine and smelled of cool waters or some other amazing man smell. My heart fluttered. I wanted so much for him to be feeling the same thing. I had been so numb for so long, I almost didn’t recognize my own heart, my own desires and wishes. Being dazed for so long, frozen in my own anguish, I had done more damage to me than I ever thought I could. I thought it was from the rape, but it wasn’t.

  The truth is that the rape only managed to worsen my temperament, but it wasn’t the reason for it. The reasons had been there for a long time, festering, eating away at me slowly. I had gone through most of my life concealing scars as bruises, but bruises heal, unable to be seen or detected. A scar however, sticks. And no matter how I tried to conceal them, my scars—and the truth they carried—remained. My life was closing in on me, catching up to me like the law catches up to an outlaw. I was cornered and the only way out was to admit that I had given my scars asylum, a place to call home, and they fed off of my heartbreak, disappointment, and fear. But mostly they fed off of my loneliness.

  I washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom, back towards the kitchen. As I walked I looked at the array of pictures that Niko had hanging in the hallway. It was more like a collage that extended the entire height of the wall and took up three-fourths of its width. There were pictures of what appeared to be a young Niko in his early twenties, some maybe as a teenager. There were several with an older woman who I assumed to be his mother and several others that showed beautiful landscapes.

  The wall continued filling me in on the life of this man. A life that seemed to be full of happiness, friendship, and love. All of the things that my life was so desperately lacking and that I desired beyond all reason. My best reasoning was that I didn’t have those things because I didn’t understand them, or better yet, I didn’t understand how to attain them. My father had always been critical, and my brothers were so far away, starting their own lives. My mother, whom I loved deeply, sided with my father all the time, and Frankie… Well, he was Frankie, so where was it? Where was love? I guess I had it because I guess they gave it in their own way, but it wasn’t the kind I wanted. Love contingent upon conditions or circumstances wasn’t love—it was the ultimate illusion.

  “Is this your family?” I yelled down the hall.

  I wasn’t sure if Niko heard me or not because I could hear the water running.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Are these people your family? In the hall, on your wall?”

  “Yeah, some friends too,” he yelled back.

  When I looked at the bottom half, I saw Niko in a suit and men in suits surrounding him. Groomsmen, I thought. I had found his wedding photos. I skimmed through fast in the hopes of finding Ashley. I wanted to know what she looked like, the woman I had imagined. Then I found Ashley.

  There was Niko in his dark blue suit, standing at the altar, and with him was not the beautiful woman I had imaged, but a man. A tall, young, thin-framed, blonde-haired man. My knees buckled. I wasn’t sure I was seeing it correctly; this had to be a mistake. I looked at the surrounding pictures and there they were again, together, kissing. I stooped down and buried my head between my knees. The room was spinning. I felt light-headed. Niko was gay. I had never felt dumber in my life. This didn’t make sense. Niko was a man’s man, there was nothing gay about him.

  Fuck, I thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How could I have been so stupid? So naïve. My feelings for him had developed out of desperation, and desperation fucked me again like it tends to do time and time again. I missed all the signs. I misinterpreted his intentions and I made myself the fool. Confusion came over my mind like a tsunami.

  “What are you doing over there?” Niko called out.

  I stood up to my feet.

  “Nothing, just looking at the pictures… Is this Ashley? Your husband?” I heard the word husband come out of my mouth and it was like a knife stabbing me in the ear.

  Niko came down the hallway to where I stood frozen.

  “Yes, that’s Ashley.”

  “He was handsome,” I said as I choked on my words.

  “Yeah, he was, and kind, too. Very kind.”

  I could see the sadness in his eyes.

  “Well, how about those tacos?” I said. Then I walked back towards the kitchen.

  I was pissed at myself for falling victim to my own illusions. I had been delusional, and now I was going to have to pay for it.

  Chapter 19

  I tasted bile at the back of my throat. Niko was gay. My mother would have questioned me for not catching it sooner but my father would have had me committed. I remember being in church as a child, watching my father preach and listening to the congregation talk about sinners, and on that list there were always thieves, rapists, murders, fornicators, and homosexuals. So much hate speech spewed out at me over the years had etched in me an intolerance towards such things. I drew the line at thieving, murder, and rape, but fornicator I was, and I couldn’t decipher how I felt about homosexuals. I knew many gay people and had never had a problem until now. Until I wanted a man I couldn’t have.

  I believed that it was something that I had gotten over, like I did with the fornicate-and-burn-in-hell ideology, but it took me a little over a year after I st
arted having sex to have my first orgasm and a little longer than that to stop reading my Bible afterward, because I felt bad. Maybe I hadn’t gotten over it. Maybe those negative feelings were still there. Maybe him being gay really wasn’t the problem. I felt duped, and maybe that was the source of my frustration. Everything said in group that day had been nothing but static. Niko had sent me a few texts but I only responded so as not to be rude. I wasn’t interested in chatting it up. I wanted to figure out my feelings and I was happy when Dr. Moore started wrapping things up.

  “Is there anything else anyone would like to add?” she asked.

  Silenced ensued, but only for a moment.

  “I do.” I cleared my throat. “Why is it that we are the ones that got screwed? We go on about our daily lives, minding our own business, and then bam. Why are we the ones constantly being played? Manipulated by the people around us? Every time I turn around there is some trick, some deception, orchestrated all by the people we thought we could trust. What are you supposed to do after that? When people constantly fail you, use you, what am I supposed to do? What makes you want to wake up and face the day when you know that the odds are against you? God, where is the happiness? Disappointment seems to be the only constant because people will always let you down, whether they intend to or not.

  “People hope to be good, they believe that they are good, but that’s the biggest lie that we tell ourselves, just to get through the day. That’s why we bury ourselves behind unrealistic bullshit and redemption through religion, but truth is, we can’t handle life. You know why? Because even with religion the world is still a terrible place, and people with it or without it still do terrible things. They are caught up in their own misbeliefs, teaching and preaching about something they don’t even understand themselves, lacking the introspection necessary to see otherwise. We are all terrible, our lives our terrible, we are small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The world sucks and we are the unfortunate victims of its suckiness.”

  I only heard breathing—Zoey trying to breathe through a stuffed nose. Everyone looked at me, faces perplexed. It was the most that I had said, ever. I didn’t know what I was rambling about, but I knew that it felt good to say it. It was poison that my body needed to expel.

  I snuck out of the side door to make sure that there was no chance that I’d run into Niko. I was frazzled and I didn’t want him to see me like that. I sat on the train and my mind wandered. I sat silent, then felt my phone vibrate in my lap. I was nervous to look at the screen but I calmed down when I saw that it was only Frankie.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “On the train, why?”

  “I was trying all day yesterday to get ahold of you.”

  “Shit. Yeah, I meant to call you back but I completely forgot,” I said, running my fingers through my hair.

  “What were you doing?” he asked.

  “God! I was with Niko!” I snapped.

  “Don’t get out the box with me,” Frankie snapped back. “I was just wanting to make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean to disturb you and your new boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, trying not to sound passionate in my response.

  “Well, you’re sure acting like it,” he said.

  “Well, he’s not, so let it go.” I could hear the irritation in my voice so I tried to dial it back, but it was no use.

  “What’s wrong with you? I thought you liked the guy?” he said.

  “I did, but…”

  “But what?”

  I paused.

  “But what?” Frankie asked.

  “He’s gay,” I said.

  “What?”

  “He’s gay, Frankie. Homosexual, queer.”

  I said it louder than I intended, attracting the attention of everyone else on the train.

  There was silence, then Frankie erupted into laughter.

  “Frankie, this is not funny,” I said.

  He kept laughing.

  “Frankie.” He kept going.

  I hung up the phone. The last thing I needed was him laughing at me. The phone rang again and I picked it up.

  “Hey, I didn’t appreciate that,” Frankie’s voice came in loud and clear.

  “Well, I don’t appreciate you laughing at some shit that’s not even funny,” I said.

  Frankie laughed again.

  “Man, lighten up, Mara, it’s not like you were in love with the guy. Just poor judgment on your part. Plus, I told you he was gay.” Frankie began laughing again.

  “Fuck you, Frankie. Don’t call me back. I’ll call you if I want to be bothered.” I hung up the phone, turned it off, and sat there in silence the rest of the ride home.

  * * *

  There was too much chatter happening at our apartment. Kate talked about exams. Melanie bragged about Charlie asking her out. Rosalina talked about crazy stuff at the hospital, and I just sat there, pretending that I was doing something on my computer.

  It’s not like you’re in love with the guy.

  It played over and over in my head. I didn’t think that I was in love. I felt that if I had to ask myself then it was obvious that I wasn’t, but if it wasn’t love, then what was I feeling? I tried to keep what I knew to myself but I couldn’t do it anymore and the words spilled out of my mouth.

  “Niko’s gay.”

  The room fell quiet.

  “Excuse me?” Melanie asked.

  “Niko. Is. Gay,” I said.

  Rosalina shook her head in disbelief. “What are you saying?” Rosalina asked.

  “She’s saying that Niko is gay,” Kate said, then she turned to me. “How do you know that?”

  “Well, me seeing him make out with a man at the altar was a dead giveaway,” I said, setting my laptop on the ottoman.

  “What? Where did you see this?” Kate asked.

  “At his apartment. Him. Altar. Husband,” I said.

  “Damn,” Melanie said.

  “Yes, damn! And he’s been calling trying to hang out again and I don’t know what to do!”

  Melanie spoke. “Well, maybe he’s not gay. Maybe he’s bisexual or something.”

  “Yeah, obviously he’s something,” Kate said.

  “Yeah, gay!” Rosalina said. “What do you mean what are you supposed to do? You stop hanging with the guy. Gay is gay.”

  “Yeah, I’d have to second that,” Kate said. “Maybe in that realm there is a difference, but in the straight realm of things you can’t be partially gay. It’s either all or nothing. It’s the same with race. I mean, no one is going around calling Barack Obama the first biracial president of the United States. He’s black. So bisexual doesn’t exist, you’re gay. And Mara, you can’t do anything with a gay man.”

  “Oh my God, you sound so stupid right now. There is a big difference between bisexual and gay,” Melanie said.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, he’s been with a man. Is that something you want to deal with?” Rosalina asked. “I’m sorry, but that would just turn me off. There is something about it that… how do I say this? Emasculates a man.”

  I had said so little and they all had already given their opinions, which wasn’t good. I wanted to be sick. I was embarrassed that I’d said anything in the first place.

  “Yeah, Mara, I don’t think you want to deal with that. I mean, really, the guy has had a dick in his mouth,” Kate said.

  “And like you haven’t,” Melanie said.

  Kate’s face turned red and a scowl took over. “Well, I’m sure I’ve had less in mine than have been in yours,” Kate barked.

  I leaned over on the sectional and buried my face in a pillow. What was I going to do? What did I want?

  Chapter 20

  I was in Dr. Bradley’s for our biweekly meeting and I was sure that I was going to receive a positive report. I had been back for weeks and was keeping up with my probation and clinical hours. I sat in the same chair that I had sat in several weeks earlier when she laid out the provisions
for me to keep my position in the program. She wasn’t cheerful this particular day, and the energy she let off told me something was wrong. She laced her fingers together, set them on her desk, and leaned in to speak.

  “Mara, there has been a complaint brought against you that I would like to address.”

  I felt like I had swallowed a bomb. I had been working so hard with my clients, and Dr. Abbley said that I was doing an excellent job.

  “Now, Mara, I don’t want you to worry too much. You have been doing an excellent job at your placement and with your probation, so you are in good shape. But this complaint, well, I don’t believe that it has solid grounds. A student stated that you threatened her at the potluck in the bathroom.”

  “Dr. Bradley, I didn’t,” I said.

  She placed her hands up to stop me from talking.

  “Mara, I don’t believe that you did anything. I saw you go into the bathroom, but I also saw her watch you go and follow you in there. Now, I told her that I would talk to you and get down to the bottom of it, but I would advise you to stay away from her. Avoid her as much as you can. You have been doing well, but I do believe that her goal is to have you eliminated from the program for what happened, so tread lightly.”

  I thanked God for Dr. Bradley’s good eyes. I walked out of her office with steam blowing out of my ears. I hadn’t meant to do what I did, but if I saw Erin again, I would mean it this time. I never wanted to see her ugly face again. She looked like a homeless tomato, a rotten one. I needed to talk someone. I had heard many lies in my time but this was the biggest. I picked up the phone and tried to call Frankie, but he didn’t answer, so I hopped on a train and headed to his apartment.

  * * *

  I let myself in with my key and slipped my shoes off at the door. I walked into the kitchen to get myself something to drink and the cold air from the fridge tickled my skin. It was quiet, but only for a moment, then I heard it. A moan. A sex moan. I set my drink on the countertop. Then I heard it again. When Frankie gave me his key, he told me that I could walk in on anything, and I accepted that since we weren’t together, but there are many times I wished I hadn’t. It was too awkward.