by Curtis Bunn
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to him; except making sure he has a great time,” Solomon said. “You have my cell number; you can call me at any time to check on him. I’ll put him on the phone.
“It’ll be a great experience for him. And I think I can arrange for him to meet Kobe Bryant.”
Again, Solomon pushed a button with Michele. Kobe Bryant was her son’s favorite player. Shoot, he was Michele’s favorite player. She thought: How could I deny my child a chance like that?
“Solomon, I don’t want to have to kill you. You know that’s my baby. He—”
“I understand, I understand,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m not ready to die, so I’ll make sure he’s good. I promise. It’ll be fine.”
“He’s going to be so excited.”
He gave her the details and she gave him directions to her house to pick up Gerald. In the three days before the game, Solomon did not contact Michele. He did not contact anyone—well, any women, anyway.
“I need to have my head clear,” he told Ray. “Dealing with women never gives clarity. They only cloud a situation.”
“Well, that’s true,” Ray said, and they laughed. “You’re really serious about this woman. That’s good. You need to settle down— although I’d have to see it to believe it.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Solomon said. “But people change, things change. I can change…I think. It’s about being motivated.”
When game day came, Solomon called Michele to tell her he would pick up her son at 5:30. “Why so early? The game isn’t until 7:30, right?”
“I want him to have the full experience. If we get there early enough, we can eat dinner, get down on the floor so he can meet some players and get comfortable. I hate getting to anything late. That’s a black folk affliction that I don’t participate in.”
Michele could not hold back her smile. She agreed with Solomon on that issue. It reminded her of one of their first dinner dates. She was late, unable to decide on an outfit or jewelry or a purse. Finally, when she arrived at Marvin’s at 14th and U Streets, Solomon was on his second cocktail.
“You look great,” he said to her when she arrived. “I see why you’re a half-hour late.” He smiled and her anxiety was eased. But she knew then that he took timeliness as a serious matter.
So she was hardly surprised when her doorbell rang at 5:29 p.m. “Can I get it, Mommy?” Solomon could hear young Gerald bellow through the door. “Can I get it?”
“Ask who it is first!” his mother yelled back. “You know the rules!”
Solomon smiled. He felt the mother-son connection through the door. They were tight. They doted on each other.
“Hi, Coach Money,” little Gerald said when he opened the door. He wore a Kobe Bryant jersey and a wide smile.
“Gerald, good to see you, buddy,” Solomon said. “You look good. You ready to go?”
Just then, Michele emerged from the kitchen. She did not make eye contact with Solomon. Instead, she went straight to her son.
“Okay, listen to me, honey,” she said while bending over and straightening Gerald’s clothes. It was nervous energy—nervous about sending her child with Solomon and nervous about being in the same room with him.
“You do what Solomon—uh, Coach Money—says, okay? No running off.”
“Okay, Mom. Okay.”
“Hi, Michele,” Solomon said.
“Hi,” she responded without looking up.
Solomon smiled. “Okay, then. You ready, Money?” he said to Gerald.
Michele looked up at Solomon. “Why did you call him that?”
“Oh, well, he reminds me of myself when I was a kid. And this older guy used to call me that.”
Michele gazed at him. There were a few awkward seconds of silence, with Gerald looking up at both of the adults. Finally, Solomon said, “Well, I guess we’re going to head to the game.”
Gerald headed for the door. “Ah, wait a minute, young man. Don’t I get a hug?” Michele asked.
He ran back and hugged her, and tried to pull away. But she hugged him tighter, longer. “Mom, we have to go,” he said.
“Okay…Solomon—”
“I know, Michele. We’ll be fine and he’ll be great,” he said. “I’ll call you when we’re on our way back.”
“Call me when you get there. Please.”
Solomon left without answering. He and Gerald made their way to Philips Arena. When they got there, he gave the kid the tickets.
“I’m giving you the responsibility of taking care of these,” he said. “You lose them and we have to go home.”
“I won’t lose them,” Gerald said.
And he didn’t. He was proud to be given such an important job. Their seats were in the club section of the arena, where there were several restaurants to choose from for a pregame meal. There was still an hour before tipoff, so they ate turkey sandwiches, fries and milkshakes.
“What are your grades like in school?” Solomon said.
“All A’s,” Gerald said eagerly, “and one B.”
Solomon extended a clenched fist and Gerald put up his tiny fist and tapped Solomon’s.
“I got the same grades when I was your age, too,” he said. “And you know what? Once you get all A’s, you can’t get anything else.”
“I’m not getting anything but A’s,” Gerald said.
“Okay, if you do, I’ll make sure to get you a present. You get all A’s, I’ll take care of you. Cool?”
Gerald smiled. “Cool.”
They got up from the table and headed for their seats, which were seven rows up from the floor, across from the Los Angeles Lakers’ bench. There were still 45 minutes before tip off, and Solomon took Gerald as far down as they could get, which was right to the floor.
Just as they got there, Kobe Bryant emerged from the tunnel across the court. “Check this out,” Solomon said to Gerald, pointing toward Kobe.
Gerald froze. He stared at the NBA superstar, uncertain of what to do or say. “You all right?” Solomon asked.
He didn’t answer. Suddenly, a pass to Kobe went over his head, toward where Solomon or Gerald stood. Kobe turned to retrieve the ball, which had rolled under a chair right in front of Gerald.
“Get it,” Solomon told him. Without looking up, Gerald squatted and squirmed underneath the chairs and picked up the ball. When he stood up, Kobe Bryant was standing over him, looking down, smiling.
“Hey, young fella,” Kobe said.
Solomon pulled out his camera from his pocket. “Let’s get a quick photo?” he said to Kobe.
“Let’s do it,” the player said. He turned around the stunned kid, put his arm around him and Solomon snapped the photo.
Kobe shook Gerald’s hand and then he was gone.
“Oh my God,” Gerald finally said. “I met Kobe Bryant. I can’t believe it. I have to call my mom.”
“Let’s go to our seats and you can call her,” Solomon said. He was happy for the kid and relieved; meeting and taking a photo with Kobe Bryant was bigger and better than watching any game.
“Mommy, guess what?” he said into the phone. “Guess…I met Kobe Bryant.”
Solomon watched the kid’s smile light up the arena. He was happy and proud that Gerald was happy, and it had to mean something for him in Michele’s eyes, too. Still, in that moment, it was more important for Gerald to have a great experience than anything else. If Michele eased up on him, fine. But it was no longer about getting to her through Gerald.
He looked down at the boy as they departed the arena. “How was that?”
Gerald looked up at him with those bright, innocent eyes for a few seconds. “Awesome, Coach Money,” he said, finally.
Solomon gave the kid the responsibility of finding the car in the crowded parking lot. “You sure it’s this way?”
“It’s over here. I remember,” Gerald said.
And he was right. “You’re good,” Solomon said. “That’s why I call you ‘Money.’”
In th
e car, Solomon called Michele to tell her they were en route to her house. “I saw that the Lakers won.” Her voice was pleasant; there was not a trace of discord. “How is he?”
“Great,” Solomon said. “Happy. He’s a great kid. I know you’re proud. We had a great time.”
When they arrived at Michele’s house, she opened the door before Gerald could ring the doorbell. They hugged. “You had fun, huh?” she said.
Her son nodded his head. His grin said it all.
“Thanks for letting me take him,” Solomon said as he hugged Gerald goodnight. “Remember what I told you about school, okay? I’ll see you later.
“Michele, as promised, he’s back in one piece—and happy.”
“He is.” She paused and they stared at each other. Solomon detected a tear in her eye. “Thank you, Solomon.”
He nodded his head.
“And thank you for letting him go with me,” he said. “I enjoyed him.”
He turned then and walked toward the car in her driveway. But he did not hear the door shut, meaning she was watching him walk away, meaning he had struck a chord.
When Solomon reached his car, he turned back toward the house. Michele was smiling.
“He had a good time, didn’t he?” she said.
Solomon looked at her without answering.
“Thank you,” she said again.
CHAPTER 9
THE BOOK OF REVELATIONS
The ride home for Solomon was great. He enjoyed little Gerald and Michele was pleasant to him. It could not have gone any better. As was his way, he quickly shifted to the next move.
There was a fine line between being smart and being pushy. Solomon, as a marketing executive, understood the value of riding the momentum of a strong wave. And he recognized the value of planning ahead.
So, on the way home from the game, he gave Gerald an envelope. “Money, I want you to give this to your mom before you go to bed,” he said. “You’re going to remember to do that?”
“What is it?” Gerald asked.
“It’s a gift for your mom for letting me take you to the game. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Okay, Coach Money,” he said, sticking the envelope in his pocket. “I won’t forget.”
It took Solomon about fifteen minutes to get home, and he figured that if Gerald did as planned, he had another fifteen minutes or so until Michele called to thank him for the present.
So, instead of taking a shower, he kicked off his shoes, made himself a margarita and got comfortable on the couch in anticipation of a call from Michele. After several minutes, he dozed off and woke up around midnight.
He looked at the time on the flat-screen television and was surprised his phone had not awakened him. He guessed that Gerald had forgotten to deliver his gift to Michele.
And just before he could ponder for long what to do, his cell phone chimed, indicating he had a text message. It was from Michele.
She had put Gerald to bed, tucked him in and said his prayers with him when he remembered what Solomon told him.
“Mommy,” he said, as Michele was leaving his room, “I have something to give to you.”
“You can give it to me in the morning, Gerald. It’s time to go to sleep.”
“But I’m supposed to give it to you now. I told Coach Money I wouldn’t forget.”
“Coach Money?”
“Yes, it’s in my pants.” Gerald got out of the bed and picked up his pants off the chair near his closet.
He handed the envelope over to her. “Here it is, Mommy.”
Michele took it. “Okay, now it’s time to get some sleep. Let’s get you back in bed.”
He jumped in and gave his mom another hug and kiss. Michele turned off the light in his room and took a seat at the bar outside her kitchen. She looked at the envelope, unable to figure what Solomon could have left for her. It must be a note, she thought.
There was no letter opener handy, so she grabbed a knife and used it to neatly but swiftly cut it open.
She unfolded the paper and received quite a surprise: a gift certificate from Thrill Planet in Marietta for a complimentary skydive. She could not suppress a smile from creasing her face.
Skydiving was one of her favorite activities. She had introduced Solomon to that adventure. But Michele had not “jumped” in years; the economic downturn impacted her catering business and she just could not pull herself to doing something she enjoyed over providing for Gerald.
She called Sonya. “Girl, guess what Solomon did? After he took Gerald to the Hawks game—”
“Wait,” her cousin interrupted. “You let Solomon take Gerald to a game? When did this miracle happen?”
“Tonight. He asked me and I thought about it and let him go. He was so excited. And he had a great time, too. So, it worked out.
“But anyway, Solomon gave Gerald a gift to give to me.”
“Really? What?”
“A gift certificate to skydive. Can you believe that?”
“Oh my goodness,” Sonya said. “Weren’t you talking about that the other day, that you wish you could afford to jump?”
“That’s what I’m saying: This is right on time. How could he know this is what I needed? Wait a minute—did you tell him?”
“What? No,” Sonya said. “How could I tell him? I don’t know how to reach him.”
“Facebook; you love Facebook,” Michele said.
“Girl, I don’t even know if he’s on Facebook. And if I did, knowing how you feel, you think I would contact him? And how do YOU know he has a Facebook account?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Anyway, the point is, he gave me this gift. Now what do I do?”
“I know your mother and your daddy, so I know they taught you to say, ‘thank you,’” Sonya said. “It’s not that complicated.”
“No, it is complicated because of who it came from, cousin,” Michele said. “He took my son to the game and now he’s giving me gifts. He’s trying to lure me back to him.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Sonya paused. “Listen, I’m not saying what he did wasn’t wrong. But I do remember that you were happy with him. Now, all these years later, a lot has happened and here he is. So, do you ever forgive him for what happened—what, eight years ago?—or do you at least give the man a shot and see what’s up?
“We talk every day, which means you don’t have a lot to do. Here’s a man you loved who’s back in your life. And you know there’s another very serious reason you should find out what the deal is. Don’t do anything rash. Take your time and feel your way through it. Listen, he’s here in Atlanta. He has his choice of many women; that’s how it is here. He’s trying to get with you. Shouldn’t that mean something?”
Michele considered all her cousin had to say. “Everything you say is right,” she said after a moment of contemplation. “But here’s the thing: You’ve got to have trust. There’s no way around that. He’s working from a negative number—he’s behind zero. So, it’s hard knowing that he disappeared for eight years, Sonya. That’s hard to get past.”
“I’m sure it is. I can’t imagine what it was like,” she said. “But how about this: Just do the right thing and thank the man for the gift. You know you’re not returning it because you love to sky-dive. So thank him. And just have an open mind. If he gets to be too much, tell him. But I’m not like most people. I believe people can change. Make that, people can grow up. If you are one way all your life, you might not be able to change. But if you were immature in some way, time allows you a chance to grow up. Maybe Solomon has grown up, realizes his mistake with you and wants to show you he’s different. Isn’t there a chance that could be it?”
“Anything’s possible,” Michele answered. “And I don’t want to sound so pessimistic. But that’s the best way for me to protect myself…I will call him—no, it’s too late to call now. I’ll text him and see if he’s still up. I’ll let you know what happened.”
“You’d better,” Sonya said. “B
ye.”
Michele hung up her home phone and picked up her cell. She texted Solomon: “Thank you for the gift. But why?”
Solomon responded: “Can I call you to explain?”
Instead of responding, Michele called Solomon. “Why waste another text when I could just call you?” she said when he answered.
“What are you doing up this late?” he said. “I thought my man forgot to give you the envelope.”
“Almost,” she said. “But he was so proud to do what you asked him to do. He told me that you let him hold the tickets and find the car in the parking lot. I really appreciate that. He likes when you give him responsibilities.”
“I’m not just saying this, but that kid is a great kid. I see so much in him. I’m proud of him, so I know you are.”
“I am. He’s my heart.”
“I can tell,” Solomon said. “But listen, I’m really grateful that you’re talking to me right now. I am. I got you the skydive certificate because I remember how much you loved it. And I’m sure you still do.
“So, for letting me take your son to the game, I wanted to give you something I knew you’d like… And, to be honest, I wanted you to know I remember and that I’m thoughtful—and that I’m sorry.”
Michele was stuck. She didn’t want to take too long to respond; it would give the impression of uncertainty. But she didn’t want to answer so quickly, either; it would give the impression of surrender. She was somewhere in between, and that wasn’t easy to convey.
After several seconds, she spoke. “Solomon, it’s hard for me to not be straight up with you—and that’s what I expect from you. Can I expect the truth, no matter what the answer to the question is?”
“Yes,” Solomon said. He wasn’t happy about having to answer that question, but he realized that he created doubt in Michele.
“Well, I actually want to trust you. I do,” she said. “But I can’t afford to get hurt. That’s a part of life, but I can’t set myself up for it. I loved you and you walked away from me. How could you do that?”
As smart as Solomon was and as much as he wanted to have a real conversation with Michele, he was not ready for that question. And, really, no amount of preparation could have made him ready. So, he dug down deep and gave her his truth.
