by Tiana Laveen
“Oh Lord Jesus… Lord Jesus!”
“Sugar, the hardest part is over, so please calm down.”
“What’d he look like, Emerald? What did this other man look like?”
“Huh? What does it matter what he looked like?”
“Please! Just tell me.”
“Sugar, you didn’t know him. It’s not like a description would help you identify him in a lineup!” Emerald’s nerves were now completely shot; she contemplated hanging up, but she’d come too far to abandon ship.
“Tell me what he looked like!”
On a sigh, Emerald humored the woman. “It was so long ago… He was medium height, like 5’9 or so, I believe. Slender… dark brown… I remember he had real high cheekbones… He was nice looking.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“You know what…”
“Sugar, Jesus! This was over twenty years ago. I have no recollection what was going on below the waist. All I can say is a naked man was standin’ in my hallway, coming out of my father’s bedroom—and what does all of that matter anyway?”
“I want to know if my brother was throwin’ or catchin’!”
Emerald sat there for what felt like the longest, silently asking God why He’d put Sugar in her life…
“And how would me recalling his private parts let you know that, Sugar?!”
“ ’Cause if it was big, then I know my brother wouldn’t let that man run up in him like some brute that—”
“All right! That’s enough! Can I finish, please?”
A pause. “Yes.” She heard the woman sniff, as if she were fighting back tears.
“Thank you! So as I was saying, our eyes locked, me and this stranger’s. He quickly went back inside my father’s bedroom. I heard muffled talking. He then came back out with a towel wrapped around his waist, gave me a polite smile and headed to the restroom, closing and locking the door behind him. In my mind, I still didn’t understand what was going on. Wait, let me rephrase that. I did know what was going on, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. Too much was happening, too soon. I think I was in a state of shock.
“Daddy came out a few seconds later. It’s like he knew I hadn’t left. I was frozen. Guess he’d waited to see if he’d hear my footsteps, the front door close or whatever, but obviously, he didn’t. The bedroom door opened once again and there he stood with his robe and house shoes on. I wondered more what was going on in his head, than focus on the confusion that swam in my own. Sugar, he said nothing to me for at least a minute or two. He could barely look at me and when he finally did, well, he looked… ashamed. Embarrassed.”
“So help you God… so help you God!” Sugar blurted.
Emerald ignored her aunt’s outburst. “I broke the silence. I told him I was leaving for the night. He nodded and told me he’d talk to me in the morning.”
“That’s it? That’s all you two said?!”
“What else was I supposed to say, Sugar? I told you I was in a state of shock and quite honestly, I think he was, too.”
“What do you mean he was in a state of shock? You saw my brother screwin’ another man and all you two can say is, ‘See ya in the morning?’ I’m calling bullshit on this entire story, Emerald!”
“I didn’t see my father screwing anyone, Sugar! What I saw was an intimate encounter, or evidence of one. I had never seen my father kiss another man, not even hold hands. He was very discreet. It wasn’t like with Nikki. I’d never suspected my father was gay and besides, he thought I was gone, and didn’t expect to see me until the next day.”
Sugar breathed hard and heavy, as if she’d just run around her house three times as fast as her fat little feet could take her.
“The rest of that night is a blur, but I do know I barely got a wink of sleep. I didn’t tell my friend about what happened; I just tried to pretend I didn’t see it, but she asked me several times if I was all right. I lied and said I was just tired. The next morning, I went back home. I stood outside that front door, wishing it had all been some sort of dream. But he must’ve known I was there because he opened the door and had me sit down in the living room. I remember he was dressed real nice, like he was going to church. A white pressed shirt… dark brown slacks. His black, processed hair looked perfectly coiffed, not a wave out of place. He looked so handsome, but that light was missing from his eyes. He confessed to me the man I’d seen was in fact his lover.”
“Mmmmmm! Lord, Lord, Lord! Man shall not lie with man! May God have mercy on James’s soul! I rebuke—”
“Sugar!”
“What?”
“This is the last warning. You got one more time to say anybody is going to hell during this conversation. One. More. Time!”
“I didn’t say he was going to Hell.”
“You implied it! May God have mercy on your soul for gossiping. What about all those grapes you used to eat that had fallen on the ground?”
“Huh? Eatin’ grapes ain’t no sin!”
“Yes it is if they’ve fallen on the ground. Leviticus 19:10. That’s one of your favorite childhood memories. And what about Uncle Kirby cutting his beard, huh? Now we’ve already been through all of this, Sugar.”
“That’s all old testament stuff, before the Lord came and washed our sins away.”
“And so is the passage about homosexuality! It was all in the old testament, so who are we to sit here and say what stays and what goes? I’m not trying to have a Bible lesson with you right now, Sugar. You know the Bible far better than I do, so tell me if I’m lying! Pull out your good book and tell me!”
She was met with silence.
“Great, now that that’s settled, let me finish without any more of your judgments, please. Daddy told me he knew he’d been gay since he was a little boy, and that’s why he was never really interested in girls, not in a sexual way. He said he found them pretty, but it never went beyond that. It was a big struggle for him; he didn’t know what to do. He told me he used to pray the gay away. That he would sit in that hot church as a little boy on the first pew with you and your parents, and pray that God would take it away from him… but God never did.
“He told me he tried so many times to just ignore it. He even convinced himself for a short time that it was just a phase, Sugar. During that time, he forced himself to try and talk to women romantically, but it always ended badly because his heart wasn’t in it. As Daddy was so nice, polite, and good looking, women were always trying to be with him, just like you said, but it didn’t matter who it was, it just never seemed to work out. He said everything about it would be awkward. Nothing felt right.
“He tried to remain true to himself without hurting his family, but he soon realized that was impossible. He explained to me how close he and your mother were, and he was convinced it would kill her if she knew the truth. All those years you all kept saying how someone like Daddy should’ve been dating, should have been married… but no one knew why he didn’t have a woman for so long. He didn’t fit into people’s boxes, our limited ideas of what a gay man looks like and acts like. He hadn’t played with dolls, didn’t switch his hips, his wrists weren’t limp… he didn’t dress in drag in secret or bat his lashes. He wasn’t a walking stereotype, so it went over so many people’s heads, and at the time, he was thankful for that.”
“I just don’t understand…” Sugar started sobbing—loud, harsh cries to the heavens. “Why’d he listen to me and get with Celine, then? Why not just be a bachelor?”
“He married my mama, and he wanted to. He really did love her, Sugar. Daddy told me she was the only woman he loved ‘in that way.’ He felt she was one of the prettiest women he’d ever seen. He liked her personality, too… said she was funny. He said he saw things in her other people didn’t, things my mother kept secret, like her fears. He admitted he’d forced it at first, but then, the romantic chemistry became natural.
“He convinced himself he’d somehow been cured of his attraction to men, that she had some
magic power, but he soon realized that wasn’t true at all.” Emerald paused, and held her breath. She could feel her father’s pain right at that moment, the empathic part of her had some how dialed in, and she trembled with sadness but pushed herself to complete the story. “Mama was just a woman, not a God, and after a while, their marriage began to suffer. He asked her for a baby, but my mother was hesitant to have a second child. It got to the point where they’d have arguments about it, but then, she finally gave in, and soon after, I was born. Later, she became pregnant again with my little sister. This pregnancy wasn’t planned, but he was just as happy. Mama… not so much.
“He never knew why she didn’t want any more children after she’d had Willie. She didn’t give much of a reason, no matter how he pressed her for one. But he suspected she’d somehow found out about his true orientation. Maybe she caught him staring at someone; maybe she discovered his magazines. They weren’t pornographic, just regular men’s magazines—fashion, articles, things like that. But Daddy didn’t wear suits and ties very often, so why did he have them? Maybe Mama wasn’t as dumb as you tried to make her out to be and she put two and two together. Daddy said she’d told him in an argument one time that he wanted us more than he wanted her, ’cause he knew it would be his only chance. Sugar, Daddy wanted to be a father so bad, and he admitted to me she’d been right to say that. He explained how he’d seen her as the one to have his children, ’cause he knew if they didn’t work out, he’d never have the opportunity again. He had no intention of ever telling anyone about his attraction to men, so this was it. He wanted a child of his own before it was too late. Willie was like his own son, but if the marriage ended, he believed she’d take him with her. He knew deep down the marriage wouldn’t last, but he just prayed that he was wrong, and it would. He admitted he was being selfish, so this time when his prayers weren’t answered, he tried to understand.”
“I think… I need to sit down.”
Emerald gave the old woman a moment to catch her breath, but she was determined to tell her just what she’d told Nikki, to make it all transparent and bring it out in the open.
“My mother, as you’ve told me many times, banked on her looks. She knew she was pretty, and though she wasn’t arrogant, she understood it was her ticket to getting what she needed. She loved your brother, Sugar. I believe that with all my heart. But sometimes, love just isn’t enough. Mama had other problems, too. She’d been through some things that messed her head up and everyone suffered for it. It must’ve been a mighty ego blow for her to be with such a nice man who really didn’t care about all of that glam, or perhaps she believed she could never please him, ’cause she just wasn’t his cup of tea.
“Daddy admitted to me long after all of this hit the fan, when I was a bit older, that they barely touched one another after a while. I was talking to him about me and Andre, told him we’d be getting divorced. Daddy made me laugh while I was crying. Told me everything would be all right. I remember we were in his garage and he was working on some bike. I sat there in a pair of blue denim capris, my hair pulled back and my eyes all puffy with tears.
“He shared a bit more about him and Mama—private things, little jewels as a gift to me during my time of need. He said she’d known something was wrong, and he was tired of pretending. She’d never come on out and accused him of being gay, but he was convinced she knew. Do you know what my mother told me about him on her death bed?”
“No. What did she say?”
“When I went to see her after she’d gotten in touch with me, she held my hand, apologized for leaving, and said, ‘Emerald, your father was a good man, but sometimes a woman can’t meet all of her man’s needs. I gave him what he wanted, and he gave me what I needed at the time… and that was that.’ She said nothing more, nothing less about him. I knew what she meant, and she could see in my eyes that I knew it, too. Mama knew… That’s why even though I hated her for leaving me, Willie, and Bea, I can pity her, Sugar.
“I understood a bit better and that’s why it baffled you that I’d paid for Mama’s funeral with no argument. I listened to her and didn’t drag her name in the mud. She’d protected Daddy all those years, didn’t speak an ill word about him, but she had to get away. It was a different day ’nd time. Mama was a little messed up in the head, but not even you can tell me you’d be okay after something like that. Sugar, it’s like this…calling a glass of piss ‘lemonade’, just to make it easier going down, don’t make it any simpler to swallow. Some tastes in life are bitter, some are sweet, and sometimes we just don’t have a choice in what we’re served to eat and drink. The hand we’re dealt isn’t always fair, but we play it the best we can, day by day…”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A Million Diamond Smile
Peter Jones kept a sizeable diamond ring in the bedroom closet…
Sloan sat in his living room, enjoying his evening coffee, laced with a tiny shot of vodka. Emerald would be over at any moment; they had plans to go to the theater and enjoy a play. His thoughts drove themselves over a cliff and committed contemplation of suicide as he reflected about the strange events of the last forty-eight hours. He’d discovered the ring while smashing his bedroom closet to bits, making it what his daughter called, ‘contempor-ready.’ He’d knocked out a wall with his bare fists and a sledgehammer, felt compelled to do so for some reason, as if opening a portal to bigger and better things.
He gave himself the excuse that he wanted to create a large walk-in, one big enough to be a room within itself. He then stumbled upon the little dark red box, which he’d almost missed among the debris, dust, and flakes of falling paint. The box was the color of old blood, a deep red easily mistaken as black, if not under a source of direct light. When he popped it open, he found a large, sparkling oval shaped diamond set in gold, along with a wedding band of equal beauty. Here lay another piece of the missing puzzle.
Sloan wondered why Peter hadn’t kept it in the office, along with all of his other clues and trinkets. He promised himself he’d figure that out; at this point, anything was possible. He swiped a napkin over his face before taking the final sip of his coffee, then placed the cinnamon brown mug down upon a slightly lopsided wooden coaster he’d had since his college days.
The doorbell rang. He sprung to his feet and marched towards it, pep in his step. Emerald’s frosted image showed beyond the door’s glass frame and sidelights.
The transom matched the intricate carvings, causing anyone standing beyond the threshold to look as if they’d been scribbled upon with the prettiest of smoky white swirls and calligraphy. He twisted the silver knob and opened the door. She stood wearing a Kelly green V-neck sweater and hip-hugging jeans, and her simple yet seductive attire filled him with warmth. Her snow-white winter coat was unbuttoned, allowing him full view. She’d tucked her hair behind one ear, exposing her thin silver streak.
“Get in here.”
When he scooped her up in his arms, she squealed and wrapped her warm thighs around his waist. He slammed the door and marched away with her glued around his form as if they were one and the same. Gripping her chin, he brought her mouth to his and kissed her, sucking and pulling at her lower lip. He started to carry her toward the stairs, but then stopped. A strange energy came over him, carnivorous, hungry…a wish to devour every ounce of her, taste her sweetness and make her cry out with pleasure. On a spin, he carted her off to his office, pushing the heavy doors open with a glide of his shoulder. She ran her hands roughly through the strands of his hair, tousling his locks as he plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth.
He slapped the ceiling light on; the room lit up in tones of warm yellow. With one swipe, he cleared his desk from all clutter. A flutter of papers fell to the ground like enlarged snowflakes.
Wasting no time, he grabbed at his shirt, ripping it open, and tossed it aside as if it were rubbish. Emerald’s eyes glazed and widened and her full, luscious lips parted on a scream when he knocked her knees apart and cupped her pu
ssy with a firm grip…
Something mischievous danced in his eyes…
The serene green no longer reminded her of Irish moss and ivy growing alongside a Dublin castle. Sloan’s eyes had turned dark and sinister, as though a stranger stood before her. His thin chain glistened against the hair on his chest, and his manly scent mixed with his cologne, creating the aroma that always sent her into a state of weakness. Her pussy clamped at his touch. Her underwear became a mess in an instant, the panties filling up with her feminine liquor that seeped out like water through a cracked dam. Sloan slid his thumb against his groin, back and forth, like a metronome. An involuntary arch of her lower back made his face crack with a sinful grin, as if he could see her clit swelling beneath the dark denim and white cotton boy shorts.
“Take your clothes off.”
“Are you sure you want to do this in here? I mean—”
His brows bunched, an expression of anger replacing desire as he reached for her jeans and yanked them down. The flesh of her thighs stung from the force of his movements. He tossed the garment across the room and did the same with her panties, but not before bringing them to his nose and taking a hearty inhale. She watched in shock as his eyes closed, then fluttered. Sitting up on her elbows, she inched away, but he seemed to become supersonic—suddenly lunging forward, he wrapped his free hand around her neck, while he enjoyed the aroma of her underclothes.
