by M. T. Pope
“Yeah, whateva, gurl.” She sucked her teeth. “Just put a word in for a sister, okay.”
“Sure thing.”
That was a promise I wasn’t going to keep. She was so out of luck.
Truth was, I thought Alex was gay myself. I had no solid proof, but frankly, it was his life, not mine. Regardless, I loved him. He was my brother.
Chapter 4
Mona
Bumpy Night
October 28th, 2018, 11:13 P.M.
I tossed and turned in the bed all night, trying to get me some rest, but it just wasn’t happening. I heard Shawn come in at about eleven o’clock, but he had not come to bed yet. His behavior had become more and more erratic lately, and I was becoming suspicious. In fact, we were just getting back to being intimate again. It took us both a while to get comfortable with each other after all that went down in our lives about ten years ago.
The children were clueless that the one they were calling Dad wasn’t really their father. There were days when I just wanted to sit them down and tell them the truth, but I chickened out every time with excuses that only appeased me. How could I tell my children that their father was a bisexual maniac that I cheated on their “father” with?
Shawn was of no help; he was still having nightmares about his molestation that he still didn’t want to talk about. I didn’t push him, out of love, but sometimes I wanted to shake him out of the funk that he got into that made him cut everybody off emotionally.
I sat up in bed and contemplated the task before me. I got up and walked sluggishly to the bathroom to sprinkle my face with some water to help wake me up fully. I looked in the mirror and surveyed the worry lines around my eyes. I had small, puffy bags under my eyes that also showed my restlessness.
The past couple of years had been rocky, but we survived. The cheating, lies, and homosexuality had taken their toll on Shawn and me, but we survived. The hours and hours of counseling both together and separately had helped us pull the bootstraps up, as they say, in our lives.
I pulled out some of that L’Oréal eye cream from off my vanity and smoothed it on my face, like I had been doing more and more lately. They say black don’t crack, but I was an exception to the rule. I attributed it all to stress, though. Shawn was on track to recovery and healing, but I kept worrying about some of our secrets coming back to haunt us.
I walked downstairs and saw Shawn sitting in the living room with the television on the Golf Channel. Shawn wasn’t particularly into sports, so I knew he wasn’t watching it. He was in one of his moods again. His shit was almost as annoying as my PMS was. I didn’t know what to expect.
I walked around the sofa and I noticed he was crying. I sat down and started rubbing his back, trying to comfort him.
“Baby, why is this shit happening to me? All I want is a normal life with my wife and kids.” He laid his head on my shoulders as I wiped the tears that flowed from his eyes.
I knew and didn’t know what he was getting at. I tried my best to sympathize with my husband, but sometimes I just didn’t get him. To top it off, my shit was constantly staring me in my face as well. Literally.
I refocused my attention back toward Shawn and his issues. He was in therapy for the last nine years for this molestation drama. It seemed like he was making headway, or so I thought.
“I am fucked up,” he said, exhaling his frustration.
I continued to console him, knowing he needed my full attention.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I messed up tonight.”
“Huh?” I moved away from him slightly with a look of fear. I wasn’t ready for him to tell me what I already feared and knew.
“I got drunk tonight.” Shawn hung his head low.
I breathed a small sigh of relief. I just knew he was going to say he slept with a man tonight. “It’s all right, baby.” I cradled him in my arms, like he needed at this moment.
Don’t get me wrong. I was upset about the drinking. It just wasn’t extreme enough for me to blow up over.
Besides, my ass should be on somebody’s park bench with a forty-ounce and some weed, because I had my own demons to wrestle with. Each time I looked at my children and saw that monster James in every one of them, I wanted to sedate myself.
“Come on upstairs,” I said as I helped him up and escorted him to our bathroom to get him in the shower.
I ran him some bathwater and bathed him like he used to do the kids when they were young. He continued to be apologetic as I helped him out of the tub and dried him off. I helped him to the bedroom and dressed him in his pajamas.
He slept like a baby as soon as his head hit the pillow. I looked at him as he slept, and wondered what he was dreaming about at that moment.
I got up again and went to check on the kids. I first went to check on the baby of the family, Diana. I peeped in on her. She was a sound sleeper, so I walked in and kissed her on her cheek. I looked at her as she was entangled in her sheets. She was a wild sleeper.
“Just like your fath”—I couldn’t even say it, and it hurt even worse to think about it.
A single tear slid down my face as I made my exit to visit Ashley in the next room. I pulled myself together and just peeked in her room, because I know how teens like their privacy. She was sound asleep with earphones in her ears. She was probably listening to her iPod. She was becoming very musically inclined and sang in the choir at the church we now attended on a regular basis.
I then made my way downstairs to the basement where Alex slept. He was becoming such a little man. He’d begged Shawn and I to move him into the basement so that he could “get his world together,” as he said.
I crept down the stairs and noticed him sitting at his computer. “What are you still doing up?” I rubbed his wavy hair.
He gently pushed my hands away. “Mom, you messin’ up my waves,” he said with a smile on his face.
I had to admit, he was easy on the eyes. “It’s time to go to bed,” I said in a stern voice. He was on that Facebook all the time, chatting with his friends.
“All right, Ma, as soon as I check this last message,” he said as he gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I turned around and made my way to the kitchen to fix some warm milk to help me get some sleep. My grandma used to give me this remedy every time I was having a restless night. For some odd reason, I had a feeling that something was about to happen. I just didn’t know what.
Chapter 5
Shawn
Keeping Tabs
October 29th, 2018, 9:33 A.M.
I woke up the next morning tired and depressed like never before. I didn’t have the energy to even get out of bed. I just lay there and stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes.
Finally, I dragged myself to the bathroom and relieved my bowels. I sat on the toilet bowl and wondered how I was going to tell Mona that both my drinking and homosexual demons were calling me again. She may be able to take another round of my drinking binges, but definitely not the sleeping with men. I don’t think I could make it through another round of either myself.
After all that James put us through, I just couldn’t fathom the outcome this go-around. I often still thought about my sexual sessions with him. I couldn’t seem to get him off my mind, now that I knew his sentence in jail was about to be over.
Being in the legal field wields its benefits, so I had checked on James’ jail status every so often, just to keep tabs on him, I think. Or maybe I wanted to see him as soon as he got out.
“Fuck!” I slapped myself upside my head, trying to jar the memories from my mind.
I walked down to the kitchen and I saw Mona sitting at the table. “Hey, babe,” I said as I walked over to give her a kiss.
She got up and hugged me and squeezed me tightly. I could feel the love that now was rekindled between us.
“How are you feeling this morning?” she said as she slightly released me, looking into my eyes.
I looked at her intently and mustered up a, “Great.” It was
partially true. I was feeling great. Great stress, that is. But I couldn’t let her know. She had her own shit to deal with.
“I have decided to do something that my therapist has been pushing me to do.”
“What is that?”
“I’ve decided to go visit my father and get some closure. I’ve been putting this off for a long time. I need to man up and do this.” Just hearing it coming from my own mouth made it feel so real. I just didn’t know if I could go through with it.
Mona hugged me again. “Baby, you want me to go with you?” she said, love and concern in her voice. She looked like she was back in love with me again.
“Nah, babe. I have to do this on my own. My therapist said that it’s best.” I lied about the last part. I didn’t want Mona there just in case I broke down, or broke him down, for that matter. I knew that this visit could go smooth, or it could go south for the winter. I couldn’t get Mona caught up in any of my shit again.
I got dressed, made my way to my car and headed toward my destination.
I had finally mended my relationship with my mom about five years back. I was so relieved because I needed her in my life regardless of what happened in the past, in both my life and her life.
Anyways, Mom had said my father had been sending her letters, apologizing for hurting her so. She gave me a letter, which she said was for me. I took the letter with no intentions of reading it, but I did. His sorry ass tried to say his father did the same thing to him, so that’s why he did what he did to me.
That shit didn’t sit right with me, so I talked to my therapist, and she told me that it was true indeed. She said that a lot of things parents are exposed to and go unresolved with can be passed down to their offspring. Generational curses, she called it. She went on to say that these curses can be broken if the person seeks help with a therapist, a counselor, or a spiritual leader.
To say I was shocked was an understatement. That shit meant one of my grandparents was dealing with this shit too. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell me that one of “my children” might have to deal with this. I prayed to God that it wouldn’t, because I didn’t think I could handle my son going through the same things.
My father gave me his address and said, if I could ever forgive him, that we could reconcile in person. At first I was like, The hell with that shit. That was five years ago, and it took me all this time to get up the courage to seal the deal.
I pulled up to the address he had given me and prepared myself mentally to make amends with him.
Chapter 6
James
Home, Sweet Home
October 28th, 2018, 2:12 P.M.
We pulled up after about an hour of driving and made our way into the retirement building. I was totally disgusted by my temporary home. Ah, hell, nah! This shit ain’t even gon’ work.
Most of the old heads in this place looked like they were well past their expiration dates. Somebody needed to nuke this muthafucka and put these wrinkled-ass people outta their misery.
I damn near rushed to the elevator, almost forgetting that Carl’s black ass was trailing after me. “Hurry up, man. Damn.” I wanted to scream, but I was afraid I might kill one of these senile bags of skin and bones by raising my voice. I pushed the elevator button several times, trying to hurry it, but it too was taking its time, just like its tenants. I was starting to get light-headed from the fumes of Bengay, alcohol (non-medicinal) and just plain old funk mixed together from these rusty-ass people.
When the elevator came, Carl scurried his way in with me. His ass had some nerve to stop and converse with his friends.
I knew my stay here wouldn’t be long. My ass is outta here as soon as I find me a new spot. ASAP.
Carl opened the door to his bachelor pad and my mouth hit the floor. This bastard was a fucking slob. Shit was everywhere—beer bottles, TV dinner boxes, and just plain filth. It looked like his ass hadn’t cleaned up since he been here. His dishes were piled up so high, you couldn’t see the sink. And the carpet was filthy as well with stains that had grown fungus.
I stepped over beer cans and bottles of alcohol as I looked for a clean spot to set my stuff down. Man, that shit seemed almost impossible to do because just about everything was filthy.
“Make yourself at home, baby.” He smiled like his ass had Martha Stewart decorate his shitty-ass house.
A mouse—no, make that a rat—scurried across the top of the sofa, dodging shit like it was in a maze. The muthafucka paused and looked at me like, “This shit don’t make no sense. Even I don’t live like this.”
My sympathy was with his ass because I was breaking camp with the quickness as soon as I could.
“Ah, okay, baby.” I walked past Carl toward what looked like a bedroom. Before I made it to the bedroom, I peeked into the bathroom to see its present state. “Maybe he just let the living room go,” I said to myself.
No such luck. I held my hand over my mouth and nose as I noticed the stain around the tub and the toilet. Both looked deplorable. The tub was almost completely brown, and the toilet had shit floating in it, literally, with a stench that almost made me wanna go back to prison and throw away the keys.
I knew my ass wasn’t squatting on anything in there. I didn’t want no shit crawling up my ass, except what was invited. I closed the door to the bathroom. Someone should tape this dump off with some crime scene tape, because his ass should be locked up for living like this.
To my surprise, the bedroom was in good shape, almost the complete opposite from the other parts of the house. Carl had a nice queen-sized bed with a comforter set that looked like it was from Ikea or someplace like that. It wasn’t top of the line, but it was good enough for the time being. He had a pretty decent bedroom suite as well with cherry wood dressers and nightstands, and a forty-two-inch plasma television attached to the wall.
I hesitantly sat my stuff on the floor and made myself as comfortable as possible. I didn’t want any “tag-alongs” like mice or roaches trying to set up camp in my shit when I made my exit.
I looked around and noticed he still had pictures of his wife, Shawn, Mona, and even some of his “grandkids.” I picked up the one of Shawn and noticed how distinguished he looked in his tailored suit posted up against one of his cars with the children gathered around him. I gazed at the photo and noticed that the children did resemble me in some of their facial features and eye color, among other things.
I wondered what it would be like to have a family like that one, and come home to a wife that made a home for me.
Fuck that shit! I didn’t need no family, and especially some bitch dictating to me my whereabouts.
Carl came in the room and startled me, so I placed the picture back on the dresser and pretended to care about his needs. I gave him his usual spanking, and he nutted and passed the hell out. Typical male.
Chapter 7
Shawn
Long Time No See
October 29th, 2018, 4:15 P.M.
I walked toward the retirement home my father was staying at in the west side of Baltimore City, formally called Lexington Terrace Projects, but now it was a homeowner’s haven. It was an okay neighborhood with some crime here and there. I walked into the building with butterflies in my stomach and sweaty palms. I was hoping it wouldn’t take too long. I just wanted to get in, forgive and forget, and get out before I lost my cool.
I checked in at the front desk and made my way up to the apartment, walking up the stairs to the sixth floor. I was prolonging this as long as I could. I paused in front of his door and gave myself one last pep talk before I knocked. Shawn, you can do this. Just let him know how you feel and get this shit off your chest. If things get rough and he comes off at you wrong, just walk out. Don’t do anything to him. He’s not worth it. Remember the three R’s—Relax, relate, release.
I knocked on the door and waited patiently for it to be answered. The door opened, and before me stood the man who wreaked havoc in my life, James Parks. He tried to r
uin my family, and brought out the worst in me. I couldn’t believe this muthafucka was standing here before my eyes.
“Hey, boo,” he said with a smug smile. “Long time no see, Shawn.”
My mind instantly flashed back to the cookout and all the shit he took me through ten years ago. My flesh wanted to kill him right there on the spot, but I couldn’t move. I stood there like a deer caught in some headlights as my blood boiled rage and my heart fought back with lust and passion. How could the two exist at such a moment as this heartless monster stood before me? How could I still be attracted to this…this…beautiful man that had aged, but yet was still handsome and toned just so right?
I was shaken back to my present state by my father coming to the door.
“Hey, son,” he said with a smile as he put his hands around James’ waist.
The sight of it threw me. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“He’s here because you weren’t.”
What? Was he really saying it was my fault that my mom put him out? He molested me, and now he is shacking up with the homewrecker, and it’s my fault. I couldn’t believe my ears. He was blaming me. I was the victim here, not him. Me.
I turned and walked away, just like I’d promised myself if anything popped off.
Fuck that shit! I turned around and went for blood. I ran and tackled my father and sucker-punched him, knocking him to the floor. “You grimy bastard! How could you do this to your family? The only ones who really cared for you.” I spat on him and walked away.
Then I turned around and charged him one last time and kicked him in his ribs and walked away, shaking my head in disgust. “I wish you were dead!” It seemed like the word dead bounced off the wall and repeated itself a couple of times.
“Shawn, I’m coming to see my kids soon,” I heard James yell as I stood at the elevator.
“Over my dead body, muthafucka!” I yelled back, pushing the elevator button constantly. “This muthafuckin’ elevator needs to hurry up before I catch a case,” I mumbled to myself.
