Second Thoughts

by Kristofer Clarke

  I waited until Chance had his third cut of pork between his teeth before I started to interrogate him.

  “You know, you can start talking any minute now.”

  “Damn, Patrick,” he snarled. “I didn’t come here to sit and watch you chew pork like the teeth in your mouth doesn’t belong to you. If you want to keep whatever is going on to yourself, sitting over there as if you and I are on a damn dinner date, you can sit here by your damn self. Don’t waste my motherfucking time, Chance.”

  I dropped my fork on my plate and stared into him like he had lost all of the good sense he had been born with.

  “Yo!” Chance said, surprised at my reaction. “You’ve been jumping on me since you got here. Are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you? Something tells me all this attitude you’re giving me isn’t just about me asking you to come out here. In fact, I KNOW this is not just about me.”

  He sat back in his chair and looked at me with questioning eyes.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Chance.”

  “Oh, I don’t?” he paused, gathering his words.

  He glared at me, waiting for a confession he wouldn’t get. He poured a glass of wine, as if a taste would make this conversation any easier.

  “I know Dad is being released tomorrow.”

  “He’s the last thing on my mind.”

  “He may be the last thing on your mind, but he’s still on it.”

  Chance waited for me to interject, but I maintained my silence.

  “Damn it, Patrick. You don’t have to play big brother all the time, man. And don’t think I don’t know you and Mom have been protecting me from whatever Dad did. What I want to know is why?”

  “We’re not protecting you from what he did.”

  “What then, Patrick?”

  He looked into me with those penetrating eyes, and everywhere my eyes went, his followed. Chance was forcing me to have a discussion that I wasn’t prepared to have with him. Omar’s crime wasn’t going to roll off my tongue like it did when I was talking to Jacoby. Yeah, Chance was no longer my ten-year-old brother, but he was still my little brother, and even at twenty-four, what he thinks about me still mattered. The tears were starting to sting my eyes, and I struggled to hold them back. Chance had never seen my tears, and if I could help it, tonight wasn’t going to be the first.

  “It’s just not that easy to explain.”

  I gazed downward to avoid looking at him.

  He ignored my response and kept probing.

  “If you aren’t protecting me from what he did, what are you protecting me from? Whatever he did, I see it’s eating you inside, man.”

  “We’re protecting you from him.”

  “What are you talking about, Patrick? Why do you feel like you have to protect me from our own father?”

  “I love the way you keep claiming him?” I said sarcastically.

  “Hell, man. You haven’t given me a reason not to.”

  He noisily dropped the fork on his plate causing some eyes to wander in our direction.

  “Fine. You wanna know what that son-of-a-bitch did?”

  I don’t know where the concern for what Chance would think about me went. I guess my money and time spent on Dr. Kendrick’s couch was worth it. I knew once the words fell from my mouth, there was no way to take them back.

  “Yes,” Chance said emphatically.

  “This man you keep claiming as your father, your dad, raped me,” I whispered.

  Chance looked at me in disbelief. His eyes had a sudden coldness. He stared without blinking as his eyes slowly became wet. I watched a single tear roll down the contour of his long face and fell on the back of his hand. I’m not sure if his silence and tears meant he felt sorry for me or that I was the reason he had spent the last ten years without a father.

  Chapter 12

  DaMarcus…

  Know Thy Enemy

  Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. I’ve always kept my friends close, but Taylor had no idea how close to her she had just brought me. She had made me her biggest enemy by spilling her guts to Belinda. Her loyalty should have been to me─that’s how we had planned it─not to the wife of the man she had been letting between her legs, with no regards to the ring on my left hand, ring finger. She’d cost me my marriage, and now she had given me just what I needed to make her pay for wanting to right her wrong. How soon she forgot. For every confidence, there is someone willing to betray it. Taylor’s search for her betrayer had just come to an end.

  I woke Tuesday morning with one thing on my mind: getting even. Training camp was still a little more than three weeks away. Like I had done every July since I started my company, I was taking time off to get ready for the upcoming football season. With talented young receivers coming from SEC schools like Alabama, LSU, and Auburn ready take your position the first time you falter, it was my priority to stay ahead of my competition, and I knew my competition was going to be stiff. I had already gone on my early morning run, and had planned on hitting the gym that afternoon for a hard workout with my off-season trainer Braxton.

  I stood in the living room looking out the window down at the crowd of pedestrians making their way from the metro station to the Starbucks across the street and eventually to work. I had turned on the television and had it tuned to the Today Show. I still held the remote, tossing it low in my hand as I pondered how I was going to use what Taylor told me against her. Unbeknownst to her, she had chosen the wrong person to share her secret with. I removed my cell phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and began surfing the Internet trying to locate the phone number to where Vanessa worked, information Taylor had given to me when we talked during one of our secret getaways.

  “Good morning, Cancer Treatment Center of America, Madison speaking. How may I assist you?”

  I knew this was wrong on so many levels, but what the hell. I was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures, and this measure did not fall short of desperation.

  “Good morning. How are you on this fine day?”

  I needed to turn on my charm. You know what they say: a little bit of charm goes a long way.

  “I need to make an appointment to see Dr. Vanessa…” I paused.

  I wasn’t sure if she was going by Dr. Vanessa Duncan, or if she was using her married name, which I also didn’t know.

  “Sir, are you there?”

  “Yes. Yes I am. I’m really not so good with names, and I really don’t want to butcher hers,” I lied.

  I could never forget a name or a face, except that in this case, I didn’t know either.

  “I know how sensitive some people are with their names.”

  “I don’t see how you can butcher a name as simple as Aldridge,” she said with attitude.

  “Dr. Vanessa Aldridge,” I repeated, writing her name on a notepad on the round tea table.

  I sat in a round beige chaise lounge enjoying the view of the Anacostia River from the fifteenth floor of the new high-rise. Thanks to Taylor, I now called this 850 sq. ft. condo in the southeast section of the District home. In the past years, this area that once housed bars and nightclubs for lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and transgender now had many new residential and commercial projects, including the new U.S. Department of Transportation building, and there were many still to be completed. New homes now sat on what were once empty lots, and even replaced homes once occupied by people who were willing to cash in on their investment.

  I lived a few blocks behind the Navy Yard Metro station on M Street and the Nationals Park, the new home of the Washington Nationals professional baseball team. This was my bachelor’s pad although much of my bachelor days had been spent trying to get Belinda back. It was space I still couldn’t get used to.

  “Dr. Aldridge can see you next Thursday at 12:15, unless you were looking to see her sooner.”

  “Huh?”

  I was already outlining my plan in my head, and although I didn’t ha
ve all the parts figured out just yet, I was trying to be one step ahead of myself.

  “Do you have an earlier date?”

  “How about next Tuesday at 1:30? Does that fit into your schedule?”

  “Perfectly,” I responded, still trying to maintain my charm.

  This was going to be easier than I thought.

  In her silence, I could hear her fingers racing across the keyboard.

  “And for whom is this appointment being made?” she finally asked.

  “Me,” I responded quickly.

  She laughed. “Does ‘me’ have a name?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, searching for an alias. “Uh, Renaldo Wallace,” I said after hesitating.

  “Renaldo Wallace,” she repeated, and I could hear her fingertips loudly tapping the computer keys again.

  She typed with a purpose. She repeated the appointment date and time for Mr. Wallace. I jotted it down next to Dr. Vanessa Aldridge’s name, which I had written earlier. I couldn’t wait to meet Dr. Aldridge. I had quite a surprise for her, and although I hated to be the bearer of bad news, when I thought about what it could do to Taylor, this was news I was more than willing to share. It surprised me that I was stooping to this level. I’m not sure what it would do to the relationship Taylor and Vanessa shared, but I had my fingers crossed, hoping for the worst.

  When I hung up the phone, I leaned back in the chair with my head tilted, staring into the ceiling, smiling inside and out. I needed to get in contact so I could speak to Dr. Aldridge directly. I needed a way to get her phone number. Surely, the center wasn’t going to give it to me, and I didn’t want to raise any suspicions by contacting Taylor and asking for it. Then I remembered an old friend who owed me a favor. What better time than now to cash in? If anyone could get me the information I needed, he was definitely the reliable source I needed.

  • • • • •

  It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to him, and I didn’t know if the number I had was still valid. Still, I took a chance and dialed. Time was clicking closer to noon. I still hadn’t showered or eaten since my morning run and I had a little over two hours before I would meet with Braxton. None of that mattered. I pressed the phone icon on the cell phone, and began pressing the numbers that spelled out his first name. When his name appeared across the top of the screen, I selected it and waited, becoming increasingly nervous after each ring.

  “Yeah, this is Patrick,” he answered.

  “How’s it going, man? It’s been a while.”

  “I know. I wanted to call you after that loss to Green Bay, but, you know, got tied up with a few things.”

  “No worries, man,” I assured him. “Gotta focus on the upcoming season, right?” I didn’t wait for him to agree. “Listen, Patrick. I need you to do something for me.”

  “What, you ready to cash in?”

  “Not the term I would have used, but you can say that. I need help with a situation, and I know you can get me what I want.”

  Patrick was right. I was calling to cash in. It wasn’t like I was going to blackmail him if he said he couldn’t or wouldn’t help me. I never said he owed me for keeping what I knew to myself. He’s always acted as if he did.

  I had walked in on Patrick getting his rocks off with Jacoby Means, a highly recruited quarterback who was also visiting the Georgia Tech campus. I had left a frat party early and didn’t expect anyone to be at the dorm when I got back. Patrick and Jacoby were supposed to have met up with us later that night, but I guess they had other things in mind. I can give Jacoby his props ‘cause he was a handsome guy, but that shit I didn’t expect. When he saw me, Patrick froze in the middle of his back and forth motion, both hands still holding on to Jacoby’s waist. I closed the door and began making my way back down the long hallway. Before I could make it through the door and back down the steps, Patrick was running down the hall with his towel wrapped around himself, yelling my name. Although I wanted to just get away, I stopped. I knew he was embarrassed. Hell, I was embarrassed for him.

  I listened as he tried nervously to explain what I had walked in on. Of course, he started with an attempted convincing argument that he “wasn’t gay,” to which I quickly responded that it wasn’t my business or my concern. In his voice, you could tell he feared the secret he’d been holding in for so long had just been revealed. I went back into the dorm room like Patrick asked so he could explain. Though I assured him he owed me no explanation, he felt it was something he had to do. Jacoby sat in the chair in the corner of the room and, at all cost, avoided eye contact with me. What they were doing or had done was none of my business. Before the night was over and his roommate was back in the room, I had promised both Patrick and Jacoby I would keep what I had witnessed that night on the hush. As far as I know, me, Patrick, and Jacoby are still the only three who knows what went down in that room that night.

  “So what is this situation you need me to help you with?” Patrick asked, apparently ready and willing to do whatever I was calling to ask him.

  “I need a cell phone number for a Dr. Vanessa Aldridge.”

  I gave Patrick all the information I thought he might need to aid him in his search.

  “Can you do that for me?”

  “I’m taking notes now. How soon do you need this?’

  “ASAP,” I quickly answered.

  “Aiight. I’m flying back to Atlanta later. How about tomorrow?”

  “Sounds like you work fast. You can reach me at this number when you have the information. Cool?”

  “I got you, man. I see you have a D.C. number. When you heading back to Atl.?”

  “Training camp starts in a couple weeks. I’m here till then.”

  “Aiight. So if I get back here before you leave, let’s hook up.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll talk.”

  “No doubt.”

  I sat up with a mission-accomplished expression on my face. Now I just had to sit back and let Patrick work his magic.

  Chapter 13

  Patrick…

  Tell Me Something

  I like air travel in the summertime. I didn’t have to deal with delays caused by deicing planes or clearing the runway of a few inches of snow. It felt better not having to sit in a plane on a tarmac waiting for a storm that was taking longer that it was predicted to pass through the area. Today, I didn’t have to wait until some summer storm passed through the area either. I experienced every one of those delays before.

  It had been another beautiful July day, as far as the weather was concerned. A sea of perfect blue stretched across the sunlit sky. The clouds were very few and very far apart, and looked cotton-ball white. I called Chance several times since our conversation last night, but the only voice I heard was the one he prerecorded on his voicemail. In two of the messages I left, I asked him to return my call, but the only call I had received so far was from my old buddy DaMarcus. I included my flight information in one of those messages. I wanted to see Chance before I left. What I told him yesterday was fragmented, and I wanted the opportunity to tell him the missing pieces. During dinner, I had seen both sadness and disappointment in my younger brother’s eyes. Because of Omar’s conviction, and me, Chance had become a man and his father had nothing to do with it. Because of his father, the brother he thought he knew well had kept a secret from him when he thought we’d shared everything.

  I had called and changed my flight to Atlanta instead of going to see Devaan. I needed to talk to Dr. Kendrick. Everything was happening sooner and faster than I was ready for them to. After hearing from Dexter that Devaan had already found out about my previous relationships with him and Jacoby, I decided to purposely avoid her. It did bother me that she had kept this information to herself, and I wondered if she was plotting the perfect revelation. Chance now knew the secret my mother and I had managed to keep from him for so long, and Omar, as far I knew, was now a free man. Dr. Kendrick was squeezing me in between lunch and a client at 1:30 on Wednesday. In fact, she was cu
tting her lunchtime short. Since I still hadn’t heard from Chance, I had decided to give up. He knew how to reach me, after he had had enough time to make sense of everything.

  I stood in front of the television, channel surfing. I’d settled on CNN as they streamed live videos from the courtroom, teasing for minutes that the verdict for Casey Anthony was coming up soon. Soon was already taking a long time. I walked back and forth, retrieving my toiletries from the bathroom and placing them in my bag that rested on the bed. I kept my ears open.

  “As to the charge of first degree murder, verdict as to count one, we the jury find the defendant not guilty, so say we all…..”

  I sat on the edge of the couch. My eyes had a difficult time believing what I was seeing. My ears had an equally difficult time believing what they were hearing.

  “…not guilty…not guilty,” the clerk continued, reading each charge and its verdict.

  I’d watched this trial closely─probably because it involved the death of an innocent child─but I hadn’t drawn my own conclusion. The trial of Casey Anthony had come to a surprising end. She stood listening to her fate, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes batted to fight back tears. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply, and I could only imagine how fast her heart was pounding under her pink ruffled button-down shirt.

  “Are you fucking serious?” I said out loud, as if I hadn’t been watching this outcome by myself, or if those on the television could hear me.

  I needed to call someone. Someone had to be as surprised as I was. I looked around for my cell phone and found it buried between the cushions. I had thrown it there after talking with DaMarcus. I had been waiting for this verdict, much like everyone else. I dialed her number and waited ring after ring for her to answer.

  “Hey Patrick. How’ve you been?” Colleen answered in her usual pleasant voice.

  “Are you sitting down?”

  “Do I need to?”

  “She’s been acquitted,” I said, expecting my mother to know exactly whom I was talking about.