Leland was standing in front of his apartment building when my cab arrived. He looked like he hadn’t gotten much rest. Although he looked nervous around the eyes, his face lit when I got out of the cab.
“So what’s for breakfast?” I asked. “Did you miss me a little?” I teased. “I sure missed my baby-boy!” I meant it too. I was never so glad to see someone in all my life. Leland was my rock, confidant, and soul support. I could honestly say that Leland had always been there for me—through thick and thin. He was the standard for sensitivity, tenderness, intelligence, friendship, and honesty by which I measured his heterosexual counterparts. I felt a little guilty for putting him in this anxious state, but I was so very glad to be with him now. My best friend hugged me so hard, I could hardly breathe. I guess he was glad to see me too.
I was starved, but Leland refused to feed me until I at least began to tell him what had happened. I told him the story—the whole story—over a plate of bacon and eggs. When I got to the last part, I started laughing again, uncontrollably. Leland didn’t laugh at all, but sat there across the kitchen table looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Leland, lighten up!” I tried to stop laughing. “I’m okay, really.” But Leland’s somber face didn’t change one iota. “Look at me. I’m not hurt. I’m not crushed. In fact, I’m feeling damned lucky. I wasn’t in love. But I tell you, he had me fooled right up to that very moment. If I hadn’t walked in when I did, who knows what would have happened to me down the line? I guess he had you fooled too. I guess your gaydar isn’t working like it used to. I can’t believe you didn’t know.”
“But I did know,” Leland said softly. “I knew.”
It took a few seconds for that to register in my mind. Did he just say he knew? No, he couldn’t have said he knew.
“You knew what? You mean you suspected John might be bisexual? Is that what you mean?”
“No. I knew.” All of a sudden this wasn’t funny.
“What do you mean, you knew? And if so, why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known?” I was so mad, I didn’t know what to do. A part of me just wanted to reach across the table and slap his guilt-ridden face as hard as I could. “How long have you known that the man I was sleeping with—about to fall in love with—was bisexual. A week? A month? Leland, I thought you were my friend. Tell me when in the hell were you planning to tell me? I don’t believe this shit!”
“Yolanda. Please. Listen to me. I couldn’t tell you. I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn’t.”
“Why, Leland? I can’t wait to hear why you couldn’t tell your so-called best friend that her very life could be in danger. We’ve talked about this. Why couldn’t you bring yourself to tell me such an important thing? Please! Tell me!”
“Yolanda! Calm down! I didn’t know at first. I promise. I just found out, but I found out from a patient who’d had relations with John, or Basil as he called him. He told me during one of his sessions. You know I can’t divulge what a patient tells me. It was a matter of ethics, Yolanda. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I understand all right. I understand that your fucked-up sense of ethics is more important to you than my safety. Your damn ethics weren’t so important when you were discussing Mr. Light-skinned with the group. Have you told the group about dumb-ass Yolanda with the swinging-dick boyfriend? And I guess it’s more important to you than our friendship! I don’t believe this. I trusted you. I thought you had my back all this time, but I guess you were too busy covering your own ass to think about me. No wonder you were so worried. And here I am thinking you were worried about me. Was it my well-being or your guilt that kept you up all night? Well, fuck you, Dr. Leland Thompson—now and forever.” I was so mad, I said a few things I knew I’d regret later, but I was literally seeing red. I steamed down the hallway and out the door before Leland could respond.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, in two different cities, I was slamming the door on some man who had fucked me over.
Chapter 27
It was early Sunday morning, and I was lonely. Uncle Doc had been gone for almost an hour, and my body was dry from the relaxing bath I had taken. I put on my terry-cloth robe, and from my bedroom window I gazed up at the layers of puffy white clouds, so peaceful and beautiful. I went into the kitchen and poured a glass of brandy and moved to my den. I started to put on some Billie Holiday, but instead I slipped in Chantay Savage’s version of “I Will Survive,” my anthem for a couple of decades. After the brandy numbed my tongue, and the music had begun to soothe my soul, I decided to write in my journal.
Right now I don’t know if things can get any worse. First Yolanda hit the roof because I didn’t tell her about her dream boy. My dread was justified. I’m shocked at her response. I could see her being a little upset at first, but I thought she would understand. I’m hoping she’ll get over this real soon. I already miss her, but I’ve got to stand my ground. I did what I had to do. I spent days rationalizing what was right. Was I a friend first, or should my loyalty be directed at my profession?
I spent Saturday night with Uncle Doc at a party he was giving with some of his friends. After Yolanda left, I called him and told him what happened. He told me I didn’t need to be sitting at home feeling sorry for myself Usually when he invites me to parties with his buddies, I find a way out. But I needed to talk and just be with my uncle, and hope that his humor and warmth would help ease some of my loneliness. He assured me this was going to be a hot party, with people my age. He was right, his friend’s lover was just turning thirty and he had invited a lot of his friends.
The party was packed, I mean it was wall-to-wall men. It had been so long since I been out that I’d forgotten how many good-looking Black gay men called Chicago home. After helping Uncle Doc bring in some of the food he had cooked, I found a spot against a wall unit and allowed my eyes to tour the room. The music was good, and the drinks were flowing. Almost every five minutes, Uncle Doc was coming over and introducing me to one of his friends. All his age. I spotted an empty chair and I rushed to grab it, when I noticed this really fine-looking man, in a dark suit, white shirt, and red tie, walk into the room. It felt like everyone in the room stopped to notice the new guest, including Uncle Doc. He wasn’t drop-dead Hollywood handsome, but he had strong Black features, an assertive chin, and a broad nose.
The stranger looked around the room and then I saw him hug one of the guests. Damn, I thought, he’s taken. When was this party going to end? I decided sitting in the chair might appear antisocial, so I got up and reclaimed my spot against the wall as if that said more about my social skills. When I looked across the room, I saw him again. I couldn’t help but notice the careful trim of his beard and hair. When our eyes met, his thick lips stretched into a sexy smile. I turned around to make sure he was smiling at me, and when I realized that he was, I felt my face getting warm and I lowered my head in embarrassment. A few seconds later I looked up again, and he was still smiling. He took a sip from his drink and licked his lips so sensually that I wanted to run across the room and kiss him.
I kept looking, and smiling, praying that he would make a move to my side of the room. But he didn’t, so I decided if I was going to meet this man, then it was going to be up to me. In my head I started to think of what I would say. I was thinking of saying, I couldn’t help but notice you looking at me, I’m Dr. Leland Thompson. Naw, Doctor sounded too damn pretentious. I could ask him if he lived in Chicago and if so how long. I would simply go over and say, hello, I’m Leland, and you are? I set my drink on a speaker, and just as I was making my move toward his corner of the room, I saw him talking to a guy and decided this love connection wasn’t going to happen. I picked my drink back up and noticed that even though he was still otherwise engaged, he smiled at me again and this time he winked at me. Well, that was it—I was going to meet this man. I would simply ignore his admirer. That’s when the screaming started.
“All you mutherfuckers have got to go. Git you
r asses out. I mean, git out now before I get my mutherfuckin’ gun and start shooting up some asses.”
All of a sudden people were grabbing coats and dashing like a pack of bulls had entered the room. People were pushing each other trying to get to the door like the place was on fire. I was looking to see what direction the stranger was going, when I saw Uncle Doc. He grabbed me and said, “Git your jacket. This crazy bitch ain’t playing. Matter fact—leave your coat, I’ll git it for you later. Let’s git the hell out of this camp!”
When I asked Uncle Doc what was happening, he told me to wait until we got outside. On the way home Uncle Doc told me his friend had found his younger lover receiving a birthday present, buck naked, from a former lover. I guess John wasn’t the only one caught with his pants down! I asked Uncle Doc if he knew the handsome stranger, but he didn’t recall seeing him, commenting that with all the men at the party, it was hard trying to decide which way to look. He did promise he’d ask his crazy friend once he cooled down. Adding he was really a nice person until he got some liquor in him. During the ride home all I could think about was the handsome stranger and how every time I think about giving love another try, the unexpected happens. Again I was facing another winter alone.
My mind raced from John to Leland to Riley. My head was spinning as I jumped from my bed. I pulled my Celine Dion CD out of the player and turned my radio to V-103, where Luther Vandross and Cheryl Lynn were singing “If This World Were Mine.” I located my journal and crawled back into my bed. I suddenly hated songs that triggered memories. Celine reminded me of Riley, who had turned me on to the French Canadian singer, and Luther and Cheryl brought up thoughts of Leland and the group. Right now I don’t know if I will ever add anything to that journal, so I thanked God I still had my own.
Men are dogs. Let me clarify that: All men are dogs. I don’t care whether they’re straight, gay, young, old, friends, or lovers. They’re all a bunch of insensitive, selfish, heartless, unevolved idiots.
When will I learn to stop trusting them with my feelings? What’s wrong with me? I’m getting much too old for this.
I mean, John, that’s one thing. I can deal with his ass. I still think it was funny catching where he couldn’t lie. How else do you explain a naked man bent over on your sofa table, and him being so close, I couldn’t tell where their bodies separated.
But Leland? No way. I didn’t think I had to pay attention. I just can’t believe he’d do me like this. Not my best-buddy-in-the-whole-world Leland. Not I-love-me-some-Yolanda Leland. Not Dr. I’ve-always-got-your-back Leland. I mean, I’ve told him everything. Everything about me. No one knows me like he does with the exception of Sybil. But Sybil’s family. I thought Leland was too. I’ve never had a closer, dearer male friend—or so I thought.
How could he possibly know and not tell me about John? How could he hurt me like this? I just couldn’t have been that wrong about him. It just doesn’t make sense. He says it was a question of ethics. Screw ethics! What about friendship? What about love and trust? Like one of my favorite lines from Dreamgirls, what about what’s best for me?
How could he put his damn job ahead of my well-being? What if I hadn’t found out the truth about John until it was too late? Would Leland have said something if I’d married John? What if I’d gotten some disease—AIDS even? Sisters are still among the fastest-growing groups of HIV infection. Then what happens to his precious ethics. He’d be crying over my grave, convinced that he’d done the right and ethical thing. I’d be dead and he’d be right.
Well, he can just go find someone else’s shoulder to cry on from now on. Someone else to be his family and social life rolled into one. What’s he gonna say to Uncle Doc about betraying his best friend? I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Maybe he can call Riley at three o’clock in the morning when he’s missing Donald. Maybe he and Dwight can go to the theater and hang out at Miss Thing’s together. In fact, maybe old Dwight can teach him a thing or two about loyalty. Someone should.
The group! I forgot about the group. How could I possibly face them after this? Dwight’s probably loving this. I think they might offer support on the surface about John, but I don’t think I could stand to even be in the same room with Leland again. No, I’m not giving up the group. Let Leland give it up. It would serve him right. He doesn’t need the group anyway, he has his ethics to keep him warm.
He doesn’t deserve me. I hope he’s feeling bad, just like he’s made me feel. I’m not sorry for things I said to him. I hope my words hurt him to his heart. I hope he realizes he’s lost the best friend he’ll ever have in this world.
My God, listen to me! Okay, girlfriend, breathe, baby, breathe. Have I lost my ever-loving mind? I’m sitting here wishing someone I love is in horrible pain. Get a grip, girl. Leland didn’t tell me go and have constant mattress gymnastics with John. I chose to sleep with him. I really can’t even blame him for nothing but being a liar. What did Dwight once say, “Why do women fall so easy for liars?”
I guess I need to admit to myself and Leland that maybe I was wrong I guess Leland will have a whole lot to talk about when we’re speaking again. But right now I need some quiet time. I don’t really feel like making up with Leland, or Riley for that matter. I had to tell the child she couldn’t sing, at least not for me. I love them both, but maybe we all need some space. We’ve got the rest of our lives to continue our friendship.
Chapter 28
Sunday morning came in cool, foggy, and cloudy. It looked like it was going to rain. I was still madder at Leland than I was at John. I hoped Leland would come to the group meeting so I could give it to him one more time. If he even looked like he was going to twist his mouth around an apology, I would let him have it. Then we could move on. As mad as I was at Leland, as hurt and betrayed as I felt, I still loved him.
Before I left my bed, I decided to call Sybil, but I got her answering machine. Knowing my sister, she was in the front row at church with her children. Maybe that’s where I needed to be, at God’s house, praying for some direction. But I didn’t want Trinity United Methodist to crumble when I walked in. It had been that long.
I had to admit that I was a little ashamed at my own behavior. Not for the things I’d said to Leland, but for some of the things I was thinking about saying, like: You and John are just alike and he’s a pretty good lay, so maybe you want his number so you two can hook up and lay in bed laughing about how you both duped Yolanda. But I was wrong to even think those things. Leland was and always would be my friend. We loved each other and I knew he was probably beating himself up enough for the both of us. I guess we could both use a little forgiveness. I needed to seek some forgiveness from Riley also. Who was I to throw water on her dreams? This meeting was going to be like an old school pledge meeting. A colored version of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Let the cussing and ass-kicking begin!
By the time I was ready to leave for the group meeting, my answering machine was full. John, John, and more John. Pitiful! Brother, please, I thought. Call Monty. Let it go—I have.
It was Dwight’s month to host the meeting, and since his place was so small, he had made reservations for a private room at The Retreat, a quaint Black-owned restaurant on East 111th. It was popular with the after-church brunch crowd. The restaurant was located in a renovated Victorian house with a beautiful cherry-wood staircase, carved fireplace, private dining rooms, and cozy booths. The food was great, with everything from catfish teasers to crawfish étouffé.
I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised when no one but Dwight and I showed up. Considering what had transpired between me and Leland the day before, as well as Riley, well, it would have to be strained at the very least. I had a lot on my mind and Dwight was a blessing in disguise: a neutral corner, a much-needed retreat from issues and people I didn’t want to confront just then.
“I didn’t think anybody was going to show up,” Dwight said as he greeted me with a slight hug and a kiss on the cheek.
<
br /> “Did you speak with Leland or Riley?” I asked. I wondered what side Dwight would be lining up on.
“I called them to give them the address, but I didn’t speak with either of them. I talked to Leland’s machine and Riley’s maid.”
“I started not to come myself,” I said. Dwight sat across from me in the cozy booth. Something was different today. He had dressed up for a change and looked really handsome. Maybe that was it. He wore a black shirt buttoned to the collar, a plaid brown and black sport coat, and black slacks. He sure looked good in black. But that wasn’t it. Has he always had those long, thick lashes? I thought. I couldn’t remember noticing them before. No, it wasn’t his lashes and it wasn’t the way the black shirt hugged his muscular frame when he removed his jacket. In fact, it wasn’t physical at all. What I sensed was more emotional, and there was a warm flicker of light that seemed to dance in his eyes now. He just seemed more relaxed, more at peace. Maybe it was just me. This was exactly the kind of person I needed to be with right now. But maybe I was projecting my need onto the same old Dwight.
But he was giving me eye contact today. Dwight never looked me directly in the eye. He always lowered his lids just a bit—not shyly, just uncomfortably. Not today though.
“Why weren’t you going to come?” he asked. “Does it have something to do with Leland and Riley not being here?”
“May I make a long story short and cut to the chase?” I asked directly.
“Okay by me.” Dwight put down his menu and leaned back in the booth.
If This World Were Mine Page 23
