“Like Jesse.”
Mama Cecelia held her son’s hand. “Learn from dem. Dat’s all we can do.”
“I wasn’t so easy after papa died,” Antonio admitted. “When Jesse was taken from me, I was completely lost. I had to leave. I hope you didn’t feel abandoned.”
“Ya were still running when ya left fo’ da Big Apple. It was as if ya were trying t’ shed ya history. Ya lost most of ya accent n’ changed in so many otta’ ways.”
“Please don’t take it personally, ma. I was hoping to make the memories fade so living without Jesse could be tolerable.”
“I knew ya’d come ‘round wid time.”
“I’ve done a lot of growing up since then.”
“Ya surely have. What made ya decide t’ show Danny da trophies ya make me keep hidden?”
“I was trying to teach him something about life. I think he was teaching me.”
“Da young have a way of doin’ dat.”
“At Jesse’s funeral, the preacher gave a sermon about grace. Ironically, he was the same preacher who told us our love was a sin. If I learned one thing, it’s never to hide in shame of who I am. Jesse was the bravest and most compassionate person I ever had the privilege to know. He made me a man, and he is present in everything I do. He guides my love and reminds me of the power of generosity. His illness taught me what’s important in life. Having a death sentence rips out all the bullshit we get wrapped up in.”
Mama Cecelia listened to the tremble in her son’s voice. It spoke louder than his impassioned words. “It’s been a while since ya visited da gravesite. I’d like ya t’ come wid me. We’ll bring fresh flowers fo’ ya papa n’ Jesse.”
“It’s over an hour away. You have a house full of company.”
“I was speaking ‘bout tomorra’. We’ll visit ya maw-maw and stay at her place fo’ da night. She misses ya and it’s too hard fo’ her t’ travel. I’m ‘fraid bringin’ all ya men will be too much. Please. How many mo’ opportunities will we have?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. I think it’ll be good fo’ da both of us.”
“Okay, mama. We’ll do it.”
*****
Early the next morning, Mama Cecelia was frying a fresh batch of beignets. Little Nicky was stretched up on his hind legs begging for sugary treat. Mama Cecelia bent over with another tasty morsel of deep-fried pastry. “Sit purdy,” she ordered. Nicky barked and did as he was told. Mama Cecelia laughed. “Dis lil’ one seems t’ have a sweet tooth same as his owner.”
Antonio watched fondly with a cup of regular coffee as his mother spoiled another of the family’s pets. Mama Cecelia wiped her hands on her apron and brought a plate of pastries to the table. Taking a seat across from her boy, she asked, “What’s gnawing at ya, son?” She stared at him steadily. “Ya carrying a lot of extra weight des days. I can practically see it on da slump of ya shoulders.”
Antonio lifted his hand meaning to brush off her concern. “Oh, you know, life. It can wear on you.”
“Unload some of dat, chile, before it brings ya down.”
Her practicality cut through to the heart of things. But Antonio wasn’t certain if he wanted to burden her all his troubles.
“Is it Ricky n’ dat business wid da ex-boyfriend of his?”
“That is worrisome. Not to mention difficult when all you can do is wait and see what happens with court.”
“We can’t control what happens in da future anymo’ den we can change da past.”
“Actually, it’s the past that has all of us most unnerved at the moment.”
“Oh?”
Antonio’s resolve to shield his mother was weakened by her imploring eyes. “It’s Danny. He’s been abused, mama.”
“I’m so sorry t’ hear dat. ‘Though I can’t say as I’m all dat surprised.”
“No, none of us are shocked, it just...It’s the type of abuse.”
Mama Cecelia’s heart sank. “Oh dat po’ lambkin.”
“He’s been reliving some bad memories recently and he’s being tormented with more vivid nightmares. I wish he would open up more about them.”
“‘Member when ya father died? Ya went through a phase of horrible nightmares. Ya couldn’t talk about it at all back den. Ya’d wake up screaming, n’ I’d have t’ piece together what it was about by da t’ings ya’d yell out from ya sleep.”
“I remember. I’d wake up petrified of ferocious fire breathing monsters. That must have been such a trying time for you.”
Mama Cecelia reached across the table and put her hands over her son’s. “It was fo’ da both of us, but we survived. Ya dreams went on fo’ years and eventually dey faded. Now it’s not so raw n’ ya can talk ‘bout dem.”
“Danny’s situation is a little different, mama. His nightmares are mingled with actual memories of things that happened to him. And, his monster is real. In fact, the bastard is alive and well.”
Mama Cecelia tightened her grip around Antonio’s hands. She saw her sad face reflected in his eyes. “Give him time,” she repeated.
“It’s so hard. Sometimes it seems he’s not with us at all.”
“Ya can’t rush it. It’s a process. In da meantime, ya betta take care of y’self so ya can be strong fo’ him.”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“I have no doubt ‘bout dat.”
“It seems like he takes three steps back with every step forward. One minute I’m talking to this young man who is wise beyond his years. The next, I swear I’m talking to a ten-year-old.”
“He needs roots.”
“Roots?”
“One needs roots in orda’ t’ grow strong n’ straight. Dat’s why he needs y’all–to he’p him develop roots.”
“I like the way you put that.”
“How have ya’ll been dealing wid it?”
“It’s been a challenge. It’s difficult to stomach the thought of what he’s been through. It doesn’t help that Danny is doing everything he can not to deal with it. As soon as one of us gets too close, he pushes away.”
“He’s young n’ fragile, yet. Don’t forget, ya still working on ya own childhood issues. In some way or ‘nother, we all are. Stick wid it. Danny came t’ ya fo’ a reason.”
“How do we know if we’re helping?”
“Dere ain’t any perfect solutions, just good intentions. Keep ya heart in da right place, n’ have faith.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Dat’s my good boy. Da otta’ t’ing t’ consider is professional he’p.”
“We did. He’s in therapy again. One thing we’ve been hesitant to approach with Danny is the option of medication. His therapist prescribed an antidepressant he could take. His anxiety level has been getting very high. New places and people stress him out. We brought the prescription in case he starts to freak out.”
Danny came into the kitchen at the tail end of the conversation. He ran. There was no thought behind it; he just ran. While his heart was pumping, deep shame rose up to the surface threatening to swallow him whole. His nerve endings were on fire. He was super alert to the sensations of his body: the tension of his calf muscles, the tightness in his chest, the ache in his throat, the burning in his ears, the acceleration of his heart beating against his ribs. He was a machine getting ready to implode.
“Danny!” Antonio swirled around glimpsing the teen’s shadow fleeing by. “Excuse me, mama.”
Danny scurried into a small room located in the back of the house. It was painted a muted yellow with macramé wall hangings and glass sun catchers on the windowsills. In the center was a large sewing machine. Aligning the walls were bins filled with fabric. It was Mama Cecelia’s sewing room. Danny slid between the corner of the wall and the side of a large chest that held family photos. He touched the lid as if it held answers. Underneath he found a misplaced sewing needle. He reached for it and clutched it in his hand, feeling it poke the tip of his thumb. Slowly, he opened his hand to stare a
t the sharp needlepoint.
The pin seemed to shine in the light. Danny ran the sharp edge along the faded scratches on his arm. Then he pressed it to his skin making small indents. This time, he didn’t feel anything. He pressed it again, waiting for it to draw blood. Tiny red droplets popped up and dripped down his arm. With morbid curiosity he watched as if he was seeing an inanimate object bleed. In the back of his mind he could hear Mitch chastising him to put the pin down. He couldn’t. The pain pounding against his ribs slithered down between his legs. His skin began to crawl. As it intensified, he poked his arm again, digging deeper until it released a flood of endorphins. It temporarily masked the hurt by combating it with competing sensations.
“What are you doing, sweetheart? Give Daddy the pin.”
Danny gazed up through a haze of confusion. Frightened by the encroaching shadow, he dropped the pin and curled inward.
After retrieving it and placing it securely in a bin, Antonio cautiously approached his young lover huddled in the corner.
“Antonio, no,” Danny pleaded when his lover’s large hand extended down toward him.
Antonio retreated with a step back.
“I’m crazy, Antonio, I’m fuckin’ crazy!” came a muffled cry from inside the turtled shell.
“No, honey.”
“I am! You don’t know!”
“Shhh, you’re not crazy.” Antonio squatted down to be at Danny’s level. With a safe distance between them, he slowly extended his arms.
Danny shook his head no, shutting his eyes tight.
In a firm but caring voice Antonio said, “Listen to me, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready I want you to come to me.”
Danny’s body trembled. He curled in tighter.
Antonio could see him going into a bad place. He used a sterner, more commanding voice. “Danny, look at me. Look at my face.” He waited for Danny’s vacant eyes to peer up out of respect. “Listen to my voice. It’s Antonio, you’re partner, the man you chose to be with. The man you chose to love. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
It took every fiber of his strength for Danny to uncurl himself, and acknowledge Antonio’s words.
Antonio wiggled his fingers that were reaching out. “My arms are aching for my boy.”
A shudder went through Danny. It changed the course of his downward spiral.
“Breathe, sweetheart. Come on, you can do it. Please. I need you.”
Danny bit his lip, the sensation of falling ceased. The whirling noise in his head quieted. Instinctually, he began crawling toward Antonio. The closer he got, the clearer his vision became. Antonio waited until Danny was securely between his arms before pulling him in. As Danny fell against his chest, Antonio held him tight. “I got you, baby. I got you.”
Danny shivered. “I’m cold.” He sheepishly climbed onto Antonio knees and sat on his lap. “Antonio,” he whispered. “I think there is something seriously wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I think I’m going insane.”
“You’re perfectly sane.”
“Then why’d you tell Mama C that I need meds cos I’m a freak?”
“I didn’t call you a freak.”
“You said I freak out. And I do!”
“I said in case you did. Regardless, it was a poor choice of words. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter what you call it.”
“It’s a normal reaction to what’s happened to you.”
“I don’t care! I’m still not taking those crazy pills.”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“Why’d ya hafta tell her?”
“Sorry, babe. You’re starting to deal with some pretty heavy stuff. It’s not easy for any of us. It helps to have my mother to talk to. I still need her. I didn’t mean for it to embarrass you.”
“It did! This is so hard. I don’t want Mama C to think I’m defective. I need her, too.”
“She would never think that, and nobody is going anywhere. Besides, why add the extra strain of keeping it from her? My mother can be very supportive at times like this.”
“Supportive with what? Helping you to realize I need to be in an insane asylum?”
“Danny, stop that nonsense! The sooner you’re willing to open up about what’s going on, the sooner you’ll realize that there are people here who are on your side. It’s especially important now while the flashbacks have been getting more frequent and intense.”
“Timing sucks.”
“Timing’s perfect. You’re in a safe place.”
As Antonio continued to repeat calming words, Danny brought his thumb close to his mouth, biting around the sides and licking the tip.
“You do what you need to do, baby. I’m not going anywhere. Take all the time you need.”
Antonio adjusted his position to get more comfortable. Leaning against the wall he settled in for what he suspected would be a long wait.
Danny’s small hand gripped tightly to the back of Antonio’s shirt. His other hand reached around his neck to the face resting against his Daddy’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and sucked in his thumb as he concentrated on the rhythm of Antonio’s heartbeat–the rise and fall of his chest. It felt good.
Twenty minutes later, Antonio rocked forward to alleviate a cramped muscle.
Danny’s eyes popped open.
“How you doin’, babe?”
With a shrug, Danny slipped his thumb out of his mouth. “TJ and Ricky aren’t here are they?”
“I haven’t seen them. I imagine they’re upstairs sleeping in.”
“Oh.” Danny shifted on Antonio’s lap.
“You needn’t worry about that. They won’t judge you.”
“Where’s Mitch? I don’t want him to know.”
Antonio picked up Danny’s wrist, extending his forearm to inspect the damage. “I can’t keep something as important as you hurting yourself from him. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be safe.”
Danny stared down at the abrasions Antonio was referring to.
“No, I mean, don’t tell him I was sucking my thumb. I don’t want him to know I do that.”
Antonio chuckled inwardly, and kissed the top of Danny’s head. “Whaddya say we get up? I think it’s time we attend to those cuts. I don’t want your skin to get infected.”
They both took the time to stretch their legs before Antonio led Danny to the first floor bathroom.
“By the way,” Antonio asked as he turned on the faucet, “what were you doing up so early?”
“I didn’t see you in bed with Mitch. I was afraid you’d gone already with your mom.”
“I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”
“Oh. Why do you hafta stay over?”
“My mama asked if I’d visit my grandmother. I don’t get to spend much time with her.”
“Why can’t you come back tonight?”
“I suppose we could come back earlier if you need us to.”
“Nah, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. Only, I’m not used to you not being home. TJ and Ricky are going out, too.”
“It’ll be good quality time for you and Mitch.”
“Yeah. Least he can’t run off to the gym,” Danny smirked.
“Are you talking about me?”
Spooked by Mitch’s voice, Danny whipped his arm out of Antonio’s hand.
“Morning, Mitch. Did you see the beignets my mother made?”
“See them? I could smell them from upstairs. What do you think drove me out of bed?”
The two men kissed over Danny’s head. After the quick greeting, Mitch asked, “What’s going on in here?”
Antonio gently picked Danny’s arm back up, lifting it for Mitch to see. “He’s had a bit of an acci…He’s been poking at himself.”
Mitch took the slender arm from Antonio to get a better look. “This is the same place I found those other scratch
es.”
Danny squirmed under the inspection.
“Danny? Why are you doing this?”
“I dunno,” Danny shrugged.
“Well, you must have some idea.”
“It helps me to focus when I start to disappear.”
Although the words came out soft and wispy, the men clearly heard it. If Danny were brave enough to lift his head, he would have seen the heartache in their faces.
Mitch cleared his throat. “I’ll clean it up, Antonio. Why don’t you get ready for your trip? Your mother is eager to go.”
Antonio forced a smile “Yes sir, Daddy,” he said with a wink. “That is, if I have permission from Danny,” he added with a pat to his boy’s bottom.
“Yeah, you can go. I’ll stay here and keep Mitch out of trouble.”
“That’s my good boy.” Antonio kissed Danny and left the bathroom with a lingering squeeze to Mitch’s shoulder.
Mitch searched the cabinet for antibiotic cream. When he found something suitable he applied it to the pink prick marks. “I’ll assume you lied to me about the other scratches?”
“I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want you to worry. They’re just superficial scratches.”
Mitch decided it was best to let the matter drop for the time being. “Let’s take a look at your other arm. It should be about healed by now.” He peeled back the Velcro of the brace. “How’s the swelling?”
“Gone,” Danny answered.
Mitch turned the arm, relieved to see there were no marks on it. “Good. How’s it feel?”
Danny flexed it. “It feels fine.”
Mitch wiggled Danny’s fingers and pressed on his knuckles. “All better?”
“Yep.”
“Excellent. We’ll keep an eye on the swelling, but I think it’s good to go.”
“I’m hungry, Mitch. Can we get something to eat?”
“Sure, babe. Let’s not let warm pastries go to waste.”
*****
Fortified with the Jambalaya and banana pudding that Mama Cecelia fixed for the boys, TJ and Ricky began hustling to get ready. By late afternoon, Marcus was beeping from the driveway to rush them along.
“I feel bad leaving him behind, too,” TJ said, as he helped Ricky get his saxophone into the truck. “But how many opportunities are we going to have to cut loose without the Daddy bears breathing down our necks?”
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