Love, Lies and Basketball
A Novel
Rita Rashad
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Rita Rashad
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Books by the Author
Love at Half-Court
Love, Lies and Basketball
Inkwell Diaries and Press
P.O. Box 4817, Capitol Heights, MD 20791-4817
Artwork: Muriel Braxton
If you would like more information about the artwork of Muriel Braxton, please go to http://www.mbraxton.mosaicglobe.com
This book is dedicated
to those who inspire my
Artistry, expressions and muse
END OF THE ROAD
Although we've come to the end of the road
Still, I can't let go
It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you
My Dearest Simone:
I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your company today. It was exactly what I needed. At this moment, I’m filled with mixed emotions--grateful that you’re a part of my life, yet saddened to be apart from you.
Simone, I won’t take up too much of your time, so I’ll make this email short and sweet. As you know, our lives have been a living nightmare. So much has happened between us that, if I hadn’t lived it, I would think I was reading a horror story. I still can’t believe it’s been almost two years since our break-up. Still for me, the pain continues to persist inside.
It’s not only that I’ve lost your love, but I’ve also lost my best friend--my soul mate; and for that reason, I can honestly say, I’ve missed you so very much. Do you remember the first time we met, Simone? It was on the basketball court. I call it love at half-court because it was love penetrating my heart--not the hard foul.
Simone the last two years have been the worst days of my life, especially on days I’m exhausted from a long road game. Do you have any idea of what it’s like to wake up and not have you next to me? I brush the pillow, pretending to touch your hair. I rub my hand against the empty space you once lay. I stare at the ceiling, only to see imaginary patterns of your face. And in the mornings when I wake up to prepare for whatever plan God has in store for me, I ask why? Except, we know the reasons why. I’m reminded everyday when my emails are ignored; my phone calls go unanswered, or when you refuse to come to the front door. Simone, it’s obvious that no matter what I say or do I can never erase the pain I’ve caused you; yet, it is with my deepest love I ask, once more, for you to fight! Fight for our love! It’s what I will do, and it’s what I’ll continue to do until God snatches all the living air inside of me, which brings me to this point.
Next Thursday, after my visit with my old high school coach, will you sit and talk with me? Will you be home? Will you open the door for me? Is seven o’clock okay? I pray for your answer. I’ll wait for an email or maybe a phone call. I pray for us to be together, a family again. It’s what I’ve wanted for so long. I hope it’s what you want too.
If not, then I will always look at our relationship as a treasured ingredient once sprinkled upon my life. And for that, I’ll always thank God for you. I’ll always thank God for us.
With infinite love, Kendra
While I hesitated to hit the send button a cool September breeze summoned itself through the slightly opened window, moving up my back and spreading chill bumps along my neck as either a warning sign or a pat on the back. Either way, I paid no attention to the air’s unlikely hint, reread my message, and clicked the send button in hopes that it was not my last chance for forgiveness. Once I released the button, I sat up in my chair and reflected on the day our lives disintegrated and wondered, how in the hell I let it happen.
1. KENDRA
“Forecasters predict heavy snow falls by morning along the east coast from Boston to Washington, D.C. Snow accumulations from three to five feet are expected by Christmas Day. Stay tuned for more updates.”
The snow fell in front of my Pathfinder’s high-beam lights at a swift deliberate pace; again, reminding me I needed to get to a hotel and do it quickly. It was a situation I’d found myself in time after time as I’d allowed my ego to ignore life’s subtle warning signs. However, on this day, the message was loud and clear. Not only did Mother Nature throw a monkey wrench in my plans to leave Philly, I undeniably was devastated by the news that the American Basketball League was no more:
“I’m sorry Kendra, but practice has been canceled as well as our game tomorrow night.”
“What?” I said in shock. “Coach, what are you talking about? This is a joke…right?”
“I’ve just received word from management that all ABL games have been canceled. The league is no longer in operation. The league has decided to fold,” coach said with deep regret.
The shock and anger from the league’s demise led to my hastiness to leave Philly. I’d hurriedly gathered my basketball things, packed my personal belongings and said goodbye to my roommate. My attempt to put the whole ABL fiasco behind me, but in doing so, clouded my judgment. All that was on my mind was simple: leave Philly and get home to the two most important people in my life-–Simone and our 18-month-old daughter, Sanaa. Yet, despite my efforts, even that appears hopeless.
The Holiday Inn off interstate 95 looked like a well-deserved oasis. Like many of the travelers whose plans were diverted by the snow, I drove into the packed parking lot to seek refuge. My only hope, it wasn’t too late to get a room and a good night’s sleep before the drive home in the morning.
“I’m sorry, the hotel is full, and we have no vacancies.”
They were exactly the words I didn’t want to hear--the hotel clerk’s rendition of “sorry, we have no vacancies.” Now it looks as though today would become one of the worst days of my life--no hotel room, no basketball and no way to see my family.
After I’d received the bad news, I walked over to the hotel’s small lounge and sat in an empty chair by the fireplace. Nearby were a few people who’d congregated over drinks and appetizers while nestled in conversation--mostly about the weather. And although, I’d contemplated giving Simone a call, my pounding headache strongly suggested I make the call in the morning.
As I sat in the chair, wishing away my headache, I thought this was a good time to regroup, get a bite to eat and take my chances on the next set of hotels along 95. So, I motioned over to the bubbly, heavy-set waitress to place my order. One could tell she was in the Christmas spirit. She wore blue polyester pants and a red sweatshirt imprinted with a reindeer that had a big red nose--I assumed it was Rudolph. She also wore a Santa’s hat and a wide grin as she greeted me.
“Hello, Merry Christmas! What can I get for you?”
Just for a split second, I thought to say, “Bah, Humbug! What’s so merry about today?” Nevertheless, it didn’t make any sense to take my frustrations out on Santa Claus’s mother. “Can I get a hot cup of tea?” I asked. “And do you have any chicken salad?”
“I’m sorry sweetie, we only have tuna”.
Not a surprise, especially with the day I’ve had. “Alright,” I sighed. “I’ll have two tuna sandwiches on wheat toast with that tea?
“You sure can.”
“What kind of desserts do you have?”
“We have apple pie, lemon meringue, pumpkin and chocolate cake.”
“I’ll take a slice of the lemon meringue pie.”
“Okay, be right back with your order.”
“Excuse me, waitress!” the sultry voice resonated from across the room. “Can I place an order?”
Right away, I looked, rolled my eyes and fumed at the person slowing my order. But damn was the only word escaping my lips. Sitting across from me, was a bronze Nia Long look-alike placing her food order. She wore black-denims, a black cashmere sweater, leopard boots and short black hair. And she was the real reason my order wasn’t getting through fast enough.
I continued to watch as the attractive woman finished her order with the bubbly heavy-set waitress. However, my stare must’ve been long and lustful because the woman gave me a wink. Hurriedly, I focused on the coffee table filled with Good Housekeeping, People Magazine, Red Book and Time Magazine to avoid any more eye contact; but by then, it was too late.
“Hello, I don’t mean to bug you, but aren’t you Kendra Michael, the basketball player?”
Impishly, I looked up from the Time Magazine I was pretending to read. “Um, yes,” I said, extending my hand to shake hers. Our hands parted and the beautiful bronze woman seductively wiggled herself into the leather chair next to me.
“Oh my god, I thought that was you!” she said, excitedly. “I saw you play the other night against Long Beach.”
I smiled.
“It was my first ABL game,” she continued. “I thought you kicked some booty!”
“Thank you.”
I should’ve excused myself from the conversation at this point, but my curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to know more about the personable eye-candy sitting in front of me, so I asked, “What’s your name?”
Looking embarrassed, the eye-candy finally gave up her name. “I’m sorry, how rude of me; my name is Shelby, Shelby Jackson.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Shelby,” I nodded. “So you like basketball?”
“I love basketball. I grew up as a Sixers’ fan.”
“You’re from D.C.?”
“I am.”
“What area?”
“I live in Southwest, D.C., but my parents live in Southeast, off of Benning Road.”
“What brings you back to Philly?” I asked.
“I was visiting some old friends for the holidays, got a lil bored, missed my apartment and thought to make the early trip back home, but I wasn’t counting on this crazy weather.”
“That makes two of us.”
“So Kendra, why are you out in this mess?”
“I’m on my way to Maryland.”
“You’re kidding! I didn’t know you were from back home, how nice!
I sat, watched and listened as Shelby revealed more insights into her life; I admit that the Nia Long impersonator intrigued me, and there was no way I could excuse myself--at least for now.
“Ok, ladies, here is your food.” The waitress finally returned with my food, which included Shelby’s order. “Will you be dining together?”
“Absolutely!” Shelby said with a wide grin.
The waitress proceeded to spread our food over the coffee table-filled magazines. I was starving, so I hurriedly grabbed my tuna-fish sandwich. Shelby grabbed her food, two hotdogs with French fries, and then we managed to get into more conversation.
“Tell me, Kendra, why are you stuck in this hotel tonight?”
“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I was supposed to be preparing for tomorrow night’s game, but earlier in the day, we’d received the unpleasant news that the league had folded.”
“Folded?!”
“Yes, in short, there is no more ABL.”
Shelby looked stunned by the news. “Are you serious?” she asked, her voice switching from sultry to high-pitched.
“I’m dead serious,” I reiterated. “We were all upset. So I left.”
“Did you have any idea the ABL was gonna fold?”
“Not really. I mean, management had asked the players to take a pay cut. We balked at it, the games continued on, but I guess it was a lot more serious than we’d thought.”
“That is so messed up; I don’t know what else to say.”
“Yes, and I’m not happy.”
“Do you have any plans?”
“To be honest, Shelby I don’t. I’ll have to talk to my agent and see what’s next.”
Twenty minutes later, Shelby and I had finished the rest of our food. She was nice enough to pick up the bill; although, I’d told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. I glanced at my watch, I saw that it was getting late, and I needed to make a decision: stay and make the chair my new home for tonight or drive up the road and find the next hotel.
“Shelby, I’m going to have to leave. It’s getting kind of late, and I need to find a hotel room.”
“What, you don’t have a room?!”
“Unfortunately, I don’t. The hotel’s rooms are filled to the max; and if I remember correctly, there are a few more hotels, a mile or two away.”
“Kendra, this weather is nothing to play with!”
“I know, but I’m sure I’ll find something.”
“Kendra, come on, you can’t go out there. The snow is coming down hard, the roads are a crazy mess and it’s not safe for you to be driving.”
“Thanks, Shelby, for your concern, but I’ll be alright.” I slightly smiled in an attempt to convince her and myself that I was doing the right thing.
“Kendra, why don’t you stay in my room with me?” she offered. “I have a king-sized bed. You can take a hot shower, get some rest and take the trip in the morning. It doesn’t make sense for you to be out in this storm tonight.”
“Thanks Shelby for the offer, but I really don’t want to burden you with my problems.”
“Are you kiddin’? Please, it would be awesome to have you stay with me.”
Shelby watched and waited for me to give a final answer, and I didn’t disappoint her. “Okay, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Fantastic!” Shelby clapped in excitement. “Now let me show you to my room--I mean our room,” she grinned.
Way, way, back in my mind, I knew it wasn’t right to go with Shelby, a part of me wanted to say no. But as usual, I chose to ignore the subtle warning signs.
2. SIMONE
The ringing of the house phone startled me as I was immersed in E. Lynn Harris’s novel, Just As I Am. It was this month’s book club selection, picked by a member of my book club, Women of Word. I figured it was a wrong number because everyone in our circle, including Kendra knew not to call after 10 p.m.; it was our way of not disturbing Sanaa while she slept.
“Hello.”
“Simone! Daddy is in the hospital, you gotta get here fast!” It was my sister, Erica, sounding panicky.
“Erica, what are you talking about?” I asked nervously, standing up from my favorite sleep chair. “What’s wrong with Daddy?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know! I was asleep when I heard Mommy yelling for me! I went to see what was going on, and I saw Daddy on the carpet being resuscitated by the paramedics!”
“What! Where’s Mother?”
“She’s inside the waiting area!” Erica sobbed.
“Did she say anything?”
“Only a few days ago, Daddy complained he wasn’t feeling good, but refused to go to the doctor!”
“Oh my God, Erica, which hospital is he in?!”
“We’re at Physicians Memorial Hospital. Simone, please hurry. It doesn’t look good!”
“Ok, I’m on my way!” I shouted with worry. “I need to get someone to look after Sanaa!”
Panic began to swallow my body after Erica’s call; I didn’t want to imagine the worse, but the sound of Erica’s voice told me something different. I immediately searched for my cell phone to see who I could call on such short notice; Kendra’s parent came to mind.
It was short notice, but Mom and Dad D arrived in no time. I hugged and thanked them. Then, I was off for the almost one-and-half-hour drive to La Plata, Maryland. While on my way, I called Kendra; however, her voicemail picked up. Instinctively, I chose not to leave such awful news.
Although, the heavy snowstorm refused to let go of the city from its grip, I was equally more determined to get to my dad. I’d prayed that by the time I arrive at the hospital, he’d be awake with a huge smile on his face. “Please, God, whatever you do, don’t take my dad away! Please don’t take him away from his granddaughter!”
I recalled the first time my dad saw Sanaa. She was only three months old. One day, he’d surprised us with a pink, stuffed bear in one hand, and in the other, two dozen roses. He’d finally had enough of Mother’s foolishness and ignored her wishes to have nothing to do with Sanaa or me. I cried as he’d kept his word to visit despite the many arguments between Mother and me. Our relationship grew stronger, and it was the start of his relationship with Sanaa too.
I attempted to reach Kendra on her cell phone again--still, no luck. This time, I called her roommate in Philly.
“Hello,” the gruff voice answered on the other end.
“Lacy. It’s Simone. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you. How are you?”
“Hey, Simone, I’m okay…considering.”
“Considering?” I asked with curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
“The league folded today.”
“What do you mean the league folded?”
“The owners closed shop, there is no more ABL.”
“I’m confused. I thought there was game tomorrow night.”
“So did we, but coach called, gave us the bad news and that was it.”
“Where’s Kendra? Is she there?”
“No, Simone. Kendra, like the rest of us, was upset. She rolled out and said she was going home.”
“She left in this storm?” I asked alarmed. “When did she leave?”
“I’m not sure. It may have been sometime after five o’clock. She got angry, packed her things and left. I tried talking her out of leaving, but you know how stubborn she is.”
“Don’t I know it, but I still don’t understand why she hasn’t called me.”
“You mean you haven’t talked to her yet?”
“No, I haven’t and now I’m worried, she should’ve called me by now.”
“Maybe she didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”
“Goodness--Lacy, if she calls, tell her that I’m looking for her, okay?”
“I will Simone.”
“Lacy, I’m sorry about the league, keep the faith.”
“Thanks, later!”
After hanging up from Lacy, my thoughts immediately switched back to my dad, and then back to Kendra. Where could she be? Why hasn’t she called? Why didn’t she tell me about the league folding? Between Kendra’s disappearing act and my dad’s mystery illness, the stress was too much to handle.
I attempted to call Kendra again on her cell phone--still no answer. This time, I left her a message.
“Kendra, boo, it’s me. Where are you? I need to talk to you, call me as soon as you get this message! It’s an emergency, as my dad was rushed to the hospital. I’m on my way to La Plata now! Please, baby, call me as soon as you can. Love you!”
More than an hour later, I’d finally arrived at the hospital. After the woman at the “Information Desk” pointed me in the direction of the waiting room, I was able to spot Erica and Caleb in the jam-packed room.
“Erica!”
“Simone!” we rushed into each other’s arms.
“How’s Daddy? “Where’s Mother?”
“We still haven’t heard from the doctor, and Mommy stepped away to use the restroom.”
I reached over to my three-year-old nephew, who had tightly wrapped himself around his mom’s leg.
“Hi, Caleb, give Auntie a hug?” I egged him.
“Go give Auntie a hug,” Erica nudged.
Although it took a moment, Caleb’s tiny legs carried him over, and he gave me a hug.
“Umm, it’s so good to see my man. How are you?”
I stared into Caleb’s puppy-dog eyes and planted a warm kiss on his cheeks. My kiss didn’t faze him as he quickly waddled back to his mom’s leg.
“Simone!”
I knew the Tina Turner-like voice was my mother. With a slow deliberate pace, her chin held high and a Gucci bag that dangled from her arm, Mother looked and walked as if she had everything under control. Even Mother’s outfit was deliberate, as her body was sheltered by a rabbit-fur jacket, matched by a rabbit-fur hat, blue-denims, a navy-blue turtleneck sweater and a pair of dark sunglasses.
“Mother!” I ran to her. “How’s Daddy? What did the doctors say?”
“Calm down, calm down, everything is fine,” she said defiantly. “Your dad is in the emergency room. The doctors are not sure what’s going on, they’re running tests now.”
“Was Daddy sick or something? What happened?”
“Simone, I really don’t know.”
“Did anyone call Lewis?”
Erica volunteered, “Yes, Lewis and Kellie are booking a private jet from California. However, with the bad weather, we’re not sure when they’ll get here. All the local airports are closed.”
I sat next to Mother in the waiting room, praying and hoping that my dad would pull through from this mysterious illness. While we waited, I looked at the sea of people in the room, most with blank stares and uncertainties on their faces. Three days before Christmas, and not a single person looked as if they were ready to celebrate. We waited what seemed like hours before the doctor delivered the fate of my dad.
“Mrs. Lloyd, I’m Dr. Lightfoot,” he paused. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your husband has slipped into a coma.”
“A coma!” we screamed in discord.
“We’ve already called in our top neurologist. We’re running more tests. It’s critical to get to the bottom of this. Mrs. Lloyd, I know this is a tough time for you and your family, but can you answer some questions for me?”
“Yes sure, how can I help?” Mother asked her once sturdy voice cracking.
“Can you describe any kind of symptoms or behavior changes by your husband before tonight? Think hard. It’s extremely important we know all the facts.”
“I don’t know. The only thing that comes to mind is two days ago, he’d said, he wasn’t feeling good. I can’t think of anything else.” Mother revealed. “But it wasn’t a surprise because he’s been that way for years. He never talked about his illnesses. He just swept them under the rug.”
“Two days ago?” Dr. Lightfoot reiterated.
“Yes,” Mother confirmed again.
Dr. Lightfoot turned to Erica and me. “How about you ladies?”
“No, nothin’,” Erica said.
“I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks,” I pointed out.
“What about any head trauma? Did he fall, hit his head or anything.”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Mother offered up.
Suddenly out of nowhere, my nephew parted his tiny lips, “Granddad fall.”
“What! Caleb, you saw Granddad fall?” Erica asked.
Caleb, dressed in his snoopy pajama shirt, shook his head yes. His puppy-dog eyes stared at the floor, while his tiny brown fingers stayed wrapped around his mother’s leg. Dr. Lightfoot, who was just as surprised, knelt down by Caleb’s side.
“Hi Caleb, I’m Dr. Lightfoot, how are you?” Dr. Lightfoot asked and began to play peek-a-boo with Caleb, who’d retreated behind his mother’s legs once again. “Now, tell me, Caleb, did you see your granddad fall?” Caleb nodded with another yes. “Was he in the house?” Caleb nodded no. “Was he outside?” Caleb nodded yes. “Was he standing on something?” Caleb nodded yes again. “Thank you Caleb, you are such a smart little boy. You’ve been a big help.” Dr. Lightfoot turned to my mother, “Mrs. Lloyd was your husband doing any work outside of the house?”
“Let me see,” she tried to recall. “A few days ago when Erica and I left to go Christmas shopping, he said something about hanging Christmas lights.”
“That’s right, Mommy,” Erica interrupted. “We left Caleb with Daddy to baby-sit, by the time we got back, Daddy was sitting in his chair with Caleb on his lap. He didn’t say anything about a fall.”
“If it was a fall, Mr. Lloyd may have suffered a head trauma. Sometimes, in cases like this, there is no immediate swelling of the brain. A coma can develop slowly over time and in Mr. Lloyd’s case, a few days.”
We listened intensely while Dr. Lightfoot explained my dad’s prognosis. On the surface, it didn’t sound good.
“Dr. Lightfoot, code blue! Dr. Lightfoot, code blue! Room 33! Room 33!” A voice boomed through the speaker.
“Mrs. Lloyd, it’s your husband! I have to go!”
“Oh, no!” I screamed.
The panic in Dr. Lightfoot’s voice sent chills through my body and worry on my face. Hastily, I grabbed Erica and Mother. Erica said an immediate prayer, while Caleb continued to clutch her leg. Quietly, I hummed my favorite hymn, often sung at my church, Unity. Again hoping and praying that my dad would pull through his ordeal. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Lightfoot reappeared.
“Mrs. Lloyd, I’m sorry, but it was futile; your husband suffered a severe brain hemorrhage, and we couldn’t stop the bleeding.”
“No! No!” Mother screamed, falling into Dr. Lightfoot’s arms.
“No!” Erica yelled.
“Please, no! Not my dad, not my dad!” I cried uncontrollably.
Dr. Lightfoot took my mother by the arm, and whispered, “If you would like to see him, Mrs. Lloyd, you can.”
She shook her head yes, and Dr. Lightfoot led her--with me not too far behind--into the room where my dad lay. Erica chose to stay behind in the waiting room with Caleb.
Slowly, we entered the cold steely room where my dad’s body awaited us, plastic gloves and bloody gauze greeted us as they were scattered all over the floor. While I gazed at my dad’s still body, a partial breathing tube dangled from his mouth, evidence of the hospital’s last effort to keep him alive. I leaned over to kiss his forehead and said a final goodbye. I watched Mother move to his side, extending her arm over his bare chest and planting a kiss on his lips.
Quietly, I excused myself from the room and left my mother to grieve over the man she’d spent a life with--40 years to be exact. I reached for my cell phone to call Kendra with the awful news—it was her voicemail once again. Right now, all I can think about is Kendra by my side and holding me in her arms. If only I could speak to her. If only she was here with me.
“Kendra, baby where are you? I need you now, more than ever.”
3. Pete
“Ben pick up! What the hell is wrong with you?” I screamed at the phone as if it were Ben.
After several attempts to reach Ben on his cell phone, I slammed the phone down and began my pace back and forth across the Oriental rug that partially covered the wood-finished floors. I gazed at a photo of Ben and I sitting over the fireplace, both profiling in Hawaiian shirts, holding our favorite drink, “Sex on the Beach.” We’d celebrated our third anniversary in Maui, one of the many trips we took each year to rejoice in our devotion. But lately, the Takoma Park home we’d shared, once filled with laughter, wet kisses and passionate lovemaking--also affectionately called “the castle of love”--had become more like the “dungeon of hell.”
It was after 9 p.m. and still, Ben had not returned any of my calls. The weatherman reported the snowstorm on the East Coast showed no signs of letting up. And I was worried that Ben may’ve become stuck; although, I’m sure he wouldn’t have appreciated the thoughtfulness. For weeks, the arguments between Ben and I began to pull us further and further apart. I’ve tried to avoid thinking about the worse--he’s with another man or woman. However, the last time he’d cheated and it would never happen again. I wanted badly to trust him. He’d said it was the only time he’d ever done anything like that. Why, I asked him? He didn’t know why; only that he loved me more than life itself. But I found it to be a poor-ass excuse!
The phone rang. I prayed it was Ben.
“Hello!”
“I’m not coming home tonight!” the voice insisted.
“It’s nice to hear from you too.”
“I gotta go.”
“Ben, wait a minute! What is going on?” I asked perturbed by his rudeness. “Why aren’t you coming home?”
“Look, Pete, I’m going through some things right now, and the last thing I need is to hear your yapping mouth!”
“Ben, why are you talking to me that way? Let’s talk! Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”
“Pete, I’m not some child! I told you, I needed time to myself!”
“Why can’t we talk about this? I love you. Please tell me what it is or who it is?”
“See, there you go jumping to conclusions, again. How many times do I have to tell you? I made a mistake! I’ve apologized every which way, but somehow you always find a way to pull up the past, throw it in my face like a lil bitch!” Ben sounded like a complete asshole. “But just so you know, I’m at my mom’s place.”
“You’re in Richmond?”
“Pete, I just told you where I was, didn’t I?” Ben continued with an attitude. “Look, I’m out Pete! Don’t call me, I’ll call you!”
“Wait, Ben, don’t hang-up!” I screamed and sobbed like a lost child. “We need to talk about our problems!”
“No, you’re the one with the problem. I’m out!”
Ben’s abrupt hang up only added more to my insecurities, reminding me of my last relationship, before Ben and I met. His name was Damon, my first real love, and like Ben, he cheated too. In the end, it’s what cost Damon his life.
“God, what’s wrong with me? Every time I bring a man into my life, I always find a way to fuck things up! What are you trying to tell me? Don’t I deserve happiness too?”
My self-wallowing lasted about five minutes before I’d made up my mind to bring Ben home-–to our home--despite his stubbornness. Hastily, I went to the hall closet and grabbed my navy-blue ski jacket, and from the bedroom closet, I pulled out my black pair of Doc Martens and a black knit cap for the long wintry trip to Richmond. I was determined that we would make our relationship work, even if he’d given up hope.
It was over an hour into my drive before I’d noticed the dead air in my car. I had no Christmas music, radio or weather report, only the presence of my swimming pool eyes—again red and watery. But it was the struggle between my windshield wipers and the dense snow, which I reluctantly concluded, it was better to go home and leave Ben’s unappreciative ass at his mother’s house. Sadly, it would be the first time, Ben and I would spend Christmas apart.
The drive towards home was useless against the snow. About ten-minutes into the drive, I’d given up, pulling into the parking lot of a dimly lit, no-name motel. I walked inside the motel’s small country-style lobby, stumping my feet on the indoor mat to clear away the unwanted snow hugging my favorite Doc Martens.
“Can I get a room, please?”
The redheaded male clerk nodded, grabbing a set of keys. I gave the clerk my American Express credit card and waited for it to be processed. As I waited for my receipt, the lobby bell rang, simultaneously as the door opened, an indication to the clerk that another poor soul was seeking shelter from tonight’s dreadful weather. From the corner of my eyes, I’d concluded the stranger wasn’t dressed properly, as his black-leather dress shoes gave him away.
“Here you go Sir, Room 24.”
As I grabbed the keys, my credit card and receipt, the poor soul who’d just come in for shelter called my name.
“Pete?” the voice asked curiously.
I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but standing before me was Enrique, Kendra’s number one homophobic brother.
“Enrique. Man, it’s good to see you!” I said, extending my gloved hand to shake his bared hand.
“Same here, I wasn’t expecting to see anybody I know out here,” he said, hardly looking at me.
Since, the day, Enrique found out I was gay, he purposely kept his distance; at times, only making small talk. Yet, despite his homophobia, I always managed a smile, a firm handshake and a twinge of nervousness. However, there was one thing I had to admit--Enrique was a good-looking man, along with the rest of Kendra’s brothers. With his nicely kept dreadlocks, smooth brown skin, brown eyes and six-foot-five-inch frame, I would say Enrique undoubtedly had the right goods, although, his stares were menacing.
I remember this one situation: I was at his mom’s house for a family barbeque. Kendra and I were shooting the breeze with Elizondo--Enrique’s twin brother. As I looked around admiring the festivities, off in the distance, I saw Enrique giving off a gritty stare. It was such an uncomfortable feeling; I immediately excused myself, making sure I got the hell out of Dodge. To this day, he continues to do it; especially, if he thinks I’m not looking.
“Well, I was on my way to Richmond, but I’d changed my mind and was hoping to get home. But as you can see, the snow had other plans. What about you?”
“I was attending an IT conference in Charlotte, North Carolina. I was hoping to beat the snow too,” he said, while giving the redheaded clerk his credit card. “So, what’s in Richmond?”
I hesitated to tell Enrique my reason for driving to Richmond, but I’d decided that I’d not be bullied this time. “I was going to meet Ben, my partner,” I waited for his response.
Before he could answer, the redheaded clerk interrupted,
“Here’s your credit card, receipt and key, Sir. You’re in Room 26.”
“Thanks.”
I watched Enrique politely thank the clerk; eventually, we made tracks to the front doors of our rooms. He never asked any more questions about Richmond.
“Pete, what time are you heading out tomorrow?”
“As soon as possible,” I said, while juggling with the key to the doorknob.
“Will you do me a favor? Will you wake me up before leaving out?”
“No problem. See you in the morning.”
Enrique and I had made our way inside our rooms. But, I still couldn’t help but think about my encounter with him. Some times, I wondered if his stares were total disdain for me or something else. Either way, I’ll continue to keep his ass at arms-length. I contemplated whether to call Ben, but was disappointed I’d left my cell phone at home. Nor did I bother with the hotel’s phone. It was after midnight, and I’m sure, Ben wouldn’t appreciate the call, especially at this time of night.
I sat awake in the motel’s full-sized bed. I’d stripped down to my briefs and grabbed the remote control to watch some ESPN, but was disappointed that the motel only offered basic cable. I continued to flip through the channels thinking that maybe I’ll find something to hold my attention.
On was an old Elvis Presley movie, Frankie and Johnnie, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, a commercial promoting Keanu Reeves’ upcoming spring movie--The Matrix--and finally, there was Eddie Murphy’s Beverly Hills Cop, which I’d seen several times before, but decided to watch it anyway. Once I’d settled in, I was finally able to relax and take my mind off Ben. As always, television was a way to calm my nerves and clear my head.
Just after I’d dosed off, I heard a knock at the door. I looked at the clock on the stand--it was 1:25 in the morning. With precaution, I peeked through the motel’s curtain and saw Enrique standing at the front door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Enrique whispered.
Still, with a bit of caution, I opened the door to the motel room.
“Enrique what do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
Although I wasn’t happy with Enrique’s request to come into my room, I noticed his body language gave way to something serious, almost troubling.
After he’d stepped inside, I asked, “Enrique is everything okay?”
“Pete, I’m going to ask you straight to your face,” he said, purposely ignoring my question and pacing the room with his hands resting inside his coat pocket.
“What?”
Enrique’s behavior made me uneasy again, so I began to walk towards the chair near my bed.
“Don’t move, Pete! I gotta talk to you!”
“Enrique, I’m listening,” I calmly said.
I didn’t know what Enrique had on his mind, so I did exactly what he asked--I didn’t move, nor did I say another word. His walk towards me was deliberate, his eyes were intense, reminisces of the gritty stares he’d sometimes send my way. Enrique said nothing else. His wool coat fell to the hotel’s carpet. His well muscular chest was exposed and covered with silky black hairs. Next, he kicked off his black dress shoes, followed by the removal of his dress pants and the most erect penis that I’ve ever come face to face with (literally) in all my years as a gay man.
“Now do what you do best!” he commanded, motioning me towards his large manhood.
“Enrique, this is not a good idea. You’re married, and I have a man in my life,” I pleaded.
“Did I ask you to say anything?” his voice boisterous.
“No!” I shook my head.
“Then, do it!”
“But Enrique….” But before I could get the last word out, Enrique’s fist went upside my temple. His fist caused me to fall back onto the bed and grab the side of my head.
“Pete! Do I need to tell you again?” Enrique menaced, while he leaned over me.
“Okay. Okay,” I whimpered.
Upon gathering myself, I knelt on my knees and gave Enrique the best blowjob he ever had. I sensed his enjoyment as he grabbed the back of my head and began to direct my movements. Enrique’s penis moved in and out of my mouth like the thrust of a boxer hitting a punching bag. And although, I was still dazed from his punch, I still managed to keep my composure.
“Stand up, pull your shorts off!”
I knew what was next, so I pulled off my briefs and repositioned myself back onto the bed.
“You’ve had an aids test, right?” Enrique stared as he hovered over me. I nodded, yes.
“And you’re cool, right?” I nodded yes again.
Seconds later, he was inside of me, at first thrusting slowly, but then thrusting back and forth like a mad man. I wanted so bad to fight back and throw Enrique off me, but I couldn’t--I was afraid—afraid, he might kill me--literally. In between my muffled moans and his grunts, I opened my eyes; Enrique’s eyes stayed closed as he had a slight smile on his face. Many questions suddenly ran through my head as Enrique’s manhood engulfed me like an out-of-control fire. I had to ask myself, was I Enrique’s fantasy? Was he gay? Was he bi-sexual? Was this his first time? Or was he another brother on the down low--brothers who enjoyed sex with other men, but do not consider themselves to be gay. However, the more I thought about it, the answers were always in front of me. Enrique’s cold awkward stares made sense; they were not from disgust as I’d thought, but a plot to find some way to get next to me.
“You’re okay,” Enrique mumbled with the glare of the television penetrating his brown eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered, still dazed and confused.
“Pete, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. Believe me, I’ll make it up to you, you’ll see.”
I didn’t know what Enrique meant by that, I guess only he knew. As the thrusting slowed, he kissed me--often long and almost endearing. After the ninth kiss, I could tell he genuinely felt remorseful, and it was at that moment, I forgave him and allowed him to finish his fantasy.
4. Kendra
I’d returned from my truck with duffle bag in tow, anxious to get a decent night’s sleep before I made the trip home to Maryland. Shelby’s offer to let me spend the night in her room was gracious at best; except, somehow I still felt a twinge of guilt as I’d decided to bed down with a complete stranger, a complete, beautiful stranger.
“Kendra, hun, do you want to take a shower first or shall I go instead?”
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go.”
“Sure.”
I’d grabbed my duffle bag and headed into the hotel’s bathroom for a quick shower. The shower’s water thrashed and pulsated against my back and face as if it knew exactly what I needed, especially with the day ending on a sour note. Once I’d lathered up my five-foot-eleven-inch frame, followed by a warm rinse, I extended my hand to turn off the shower’s faucet, only this time; it was met by another hand--Shelby’s hand.
“Let’s not,” she said seductively, removing my hand from the faucet.
Little by little, Shelby stepped inside the shower guiding my right hand onto her breast. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn’t resist her. Next, she began to guide my left hand inside her hot spot. Slowly three of my fingers began to move up and down, around and around, in and out until she began to wince with pleasure.
Suddenly, the guilt-trip set in. “Shelby--stop!” I hollered, removing my fingers promptly between her thighs. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this!”
Her eyes suddenly opened in disbelief, her moans turned to displeasure. “Kendra, what’s wrong? Why are you stopping?”
“I’m sorry, I really can’t do this!”
“What’s the big deal? “
“Shelby, you’re not listening. I can’t do this!” I shouted forcefully, stepping from the shower.
“Yes you can! No one is going to know!” Shelby declared, trying her best to convince me.
“Shelby, you don’t get it, I can’t!”
“Kendra, do I turn you off?” Shelby asked, grabbing my hand.
“No, Shelby, you don’t.”
“What about my breasts? What about my ass?” she asked again, taking my hands once more and moving them over her breasts, then sliding them down her waist. The temptation was killing me, but I was quick to pull my hands away.
“Shelby, how many times do I have to repeat myself? Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all!” I fussed.
“Okay, okay, okay!” Shelby yelled, finally coming to her senses.
“Can’t you understand? I can’t screw things up anymore!”
“Okay, let’s just forget about it!” she pouted. “I just thought it was something we wanted!”
“Shelby, a while ago, I would have, but not now,” I said hastily, while putting back on my blue Reebok velour warm-ups. “I have a very special lady waiting at home. I promised her that I would never cheat on her, and I don’t want to break that promise.”
“All right, we don’t have to do anything. We can just sit and talk if you want.”
“No, I better go.”
“Damn, Kendra, stay! I promise. I won’t try anything if that’s what you want.”
I took a moment and looked at Shelby. She plopped on the bed, frustrated by my unwillingness to participate in an all-out screw-fest.
“I’m really sorry about this, Shelby.”
“That makes two of us. Goodnight!” she snapped, and selfishly snatched up the comforter and blanket, only to leave me with a thin sheet as cover.
I ignored Shelby’s temper tantrum and bit by bit, I eased myself back into the bed, making sure to leave on my warm ups. I was adamant that there would be no sex between us, and I wasn’t about to give her any more ideas. Shelby’s tantrum had continued and for about a half-hour, she tossed, turned, kicked and nudged me until she’d finally fallen asleep. I was grateful, as I was eventually able to close my eyes for some much-needed rest.
The radio-clock interrupted my sleep with blasting music from the local radio station. With my eyes half-closed, I raised my head and hit the snooze button to quiet its annoying beep. When I looked at the clock, it read 8 a.m. It was time to get on my way. I turned over and looked at Shelby who, thankfully, was still asleep. Her body, seemingly unyielding and cold, hugged the edge of the bed as if she purposely fought to keep away from me. I’d also made a point of not waking her, just to avoid another show down. After I’d washed my face, gathered up my duffle bag, I stood by the door ready to leave and happy I’d made the right decision to forego sex with Shelby.
“So you’re going to leave without saying goodbye,” Shelby’s voice echoed from the bed.
“Well, I was thinking that it was for the best after last night.”
At first, she didn’t part her lips, just looking with an empty stare. “Can I ask you a question?” she posed, gradually sitting up in bed.
“What?” I sighed.
“When did you start turning down the kitty kat?”
“Shelby, I’m not trying to go through this again.”
“So, tell me. I mean, I know you’re used to getting it anytime you want, but to turn it down, that’s something new for you, am I right?”
“Shelby, this really isn’t necessary.”
“I find you amusing, Kendra. Aren’t you like one of those NBA players, able to get pussy any time you want; except, they don’t turn it down?”
“I’m nothing like an NBA player, Shelby,” I said annoyed with the unnecessary bull.
“Sure you are, look at you, you’re attractive, you’re athletic, and you’re popular. I bet there are lesbian groupies in every city waiting to throw their asses in your face.”
“I disagree,” I exerted, not wanting to admit some truth to Shelby’s remark.
The reality is professional women athletes do have groupies--both men and women. And as a professional female basketball player, I’ve witnessed many encounters, which have included some of my own. You meet gay women in many places--sometimes after a game, a gay club, a hotel or maybe while driving in your convertible. Sometimes it starts with a look or a glance, an inviting smile or perhaps a rub against your body to draw your attention. Now don’t get me started on the so-called straight women, but its how the game is played off the court. And as far as I’m concerned, I refuse to feed into Shelby’s bizarre inquisition.
“Kendra, you’re full of shit, and you know I’m right!”
“The only thing I know, Shelby, is that I have to go.”
“Can’t you stay a lil longer?”
“No, Shelby, I really need to leave.”
“So, what’s her name?”
“Who are you talking about?” I asked playing dumb.
“The woman you’re trying to be so faithful to.”
“It’s not necessary for you to know her name,” I said sarcastically, not wanting to give up Simone’s name. I’ve always been protective of Simone and our privacy. And this was clearly not the time to grant an interview about our relationship. There are just certain aspects of life to be left unsaid, and this was one of them.
“I have to go, Shelby, thanks again.”
“Maybe it’ll happen in another life time,” she concluded.
“Maybe.”
After closing the hotel door, I heard a yell, followed by the sound of a shoe hitting the door. Although, Shelby was incensed, I was damn happy to leave.
When I reached my truck, the sun had made its way from behind the clouds, and some of the snow began to melt. I’d warmed up my truck and made sure the snow had been removed from the windshield. Next, I turned on my cell phone to retrieve my messages. There were five missed calls, all from Simone. My heart pounded as I hurried to retrieve my voicemail. I heard the shock of my life: Simone’s dad was in the hospital, and she’d been trying to reach me all night.
“Okay, Kendra, get it together,” I said to self. “What are you going to tell Simone? How are you going to explain this one?” I gathered my thoughts to come up with an excuse--no, a lie--as to why I hadn’t called last night.
Still with reservations, I picked up my cell phone and dialed. “Simone, baby, what’s going on?” I asked nervously.
“Kendra! Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all night!” she wept.
“I’m sorry. I was upset. The ABL folded yesterday. After the announcement, I left Philly. I was on my way home when I got caught up in the snow, so I checked into a hotel.”
“I just wish you were here!”
“I’m so sorry! I was angry and tired from the drive that all I could think of was getting some sleep!” I said, further lying. “It was only this morning I realized I’d left my cell phone in the truck!”
“Kendra, my dad is dead! He died last night!” Simone finally blurted out between sobs.
“What! No, Simone!” I was in total shock. “What happened? How did he die?”
“It was a brain hemorrhage! We think it happened a few days ago. Apparently, Daddy fell and hit his head while hanging up some Christmas lights. The doctor said the trauma caused a slow bleeding in his brain, eventually causing him to slip into a coma. By the time, he arrived at the hospital, it had been too late!” she cried out again.
“Baby, I’m so sorry about your dad!”
“Kendra, just hurry home! Please, baby, hurry home!”
“I’m on my way. Baby, I’m really sorry.”
“Boo, I know. I’m just glad you were able to find a warm, safe place out of the storm.”
“Right, baby, right.”
After hearing Simone say that, the guilt trip began to eat me up inside. To think, while Simone’s dad lay dying last night, I was laid up with Shelby.
“I’m sorry to hear about the ABL too. Lacy told me last night.”
“Thanks, baby.” Purposely, I changed the subject to Sanaa. “Where’s Sanaa?”
“Your mom and dad came over last night, they’re keeping her.”
“I’ll go get her, and then we’ll both come to your parent’s house.”
“No, Kendra, not with this snow! I’ve talked to Mom D this morning; she’s going to take care of Sanaa, until I get back. I just want you here with me, okay?”
“Okay, baby, I’ll be there. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
I laid my head on the steering wheel, wishing I could forget about the madness of the last 24 hours. And as everything began to come into focus--the stress from the weather, the ABL, Shelby, and now, the death of Simone’s dad, another major headache began to swirl. Thankfully, I had a bottle of Tylenol in my glove compartment to lessen a little bit of the pressure. So, without any water, I tossed the Tylenols into my mouth. Once they’d settled into my stomach, I pulled away from the hotel’s parking lot and drove the remaining two odd-hours home.
5. Simone
Word of my father’s death had spread like wildfire. Throughout the day, people from the neighborhood who’d known my parents for years stopped by to offer their condolences. Lewis and Kellie were on their way from Los Angeles, after finally chartering a flight. Mother, in her self-imposed exile, stayed mostly in her bedroom, occasionally greeting a few people who’d stopped by. Erica and Caleb were off in the family room pouring over old photographs. At three years old, Caleb didn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about; except, maybe enough to know that his granddad was no longer sitting in his favorite Lazy Boy--a chair I fondly remembered. Like the many times, he’d rock me back and forth, especially if I’d fallen and scraped my knee or when Erica hid my favorite doll. Some times, it was the chair, I’d stand behind as Mother and I exchanged heated words; mostly, clashing about my sexual orientation. She said it was an embarrassment having to explain to a family member why I wasn’t engaged or married. At times, it became an all-out war. I’d tried many times to enlighten Mother, that my attraction to girls wasn’t a reflection of her or how she’d raised me. I wanted her to understand, it was simply who I was, but my openness just went in one ear and out the other. That’s when I’d look to my dad for comfort.
“Simone! Erica!” Mother’s voice resonated from upstairs.
“Yes!” I yelled.
“Bring me that bottle of wine in the refrigerator,” she demanded.
“Mother, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You need your rest!”
“Simone, either you bring me my wine or I’ll get it!” Mother hollered back. “I see nothing wrong with a little nip now and then!”
I hate when Mother gets the impulse to drink. Every time she has a few sips here or there; Mother’s evil twin shows up, and before long, she’s in rare form with everyone within earshot. And with Kendra on the way, I’m not ready to deal with any more drama. Mother does her best to get underneath her skin, and although Kendra works very hard to be respectful, at times, it’s hard to ignore her. Mother’s drinking reminded me of the time we were celebrating my dad’s 64th birthday when all hell broke loose:
“Here, Daddy, this is from the three of us,” I said, after giving my dad his birthday gift--a navy blue pinstriped suit by Perry Ellis. Out of all the gifts, he’d received from us kids over the years, he’d never had a designer suit, and I thought this would be the occasion for him to have one.
“Thank you, daughter,” he smiled, while he reached for the gift and card. “Love Simone, Kendra and Sanaa,” he read, and right on cue, Mother couldn’t resist.
“What was that? Did I hear, love, Simone, Kendra and Sanaa? Well, it would sound a lot better, if it you’d said, love, Simone, Kenneth and Sanaa,” Mother said with a glass of Martini in hand.
Mother’s outburst caught everyone off guard, but my dad wasn’t having any of it.
“Lillian!” he yelled, cutting his eyes at her. “Not tonight!”
Mother ignored him and continued her tirade in between sips.
“Dear, all I’m saying is, is it just me or does anyone else think the two of them together is peculiar? Come on, a gift from Simone and Kendra, instead of Simone and Kenneth? Isn’t it the oddest thing? How is it that the two of them pretend to be a married couple with a child, but the child was born through artificial insemination? The funny thing is, there’s only one mother, and the other mother who’s pretending to be the daddy is really the aunt. The real daddy is pretending not to be the daddy. I simply don’t get it.”
Mother’s insensitive tongue was a blow to both Kendra and me. Everyone held their breaths including Lewis and Kellie anticipating what was about to come next. Right away, Kendra stormed out, followed by Kellie. And the tears trickled down my face. Two seconds later, my dad’s evil twin showed up too.
“Lillian, I’ve had it! This is the last time you’re going to disrespect Simone and Kendra again! Time after time, I’ve sat listening to your bashing of them! I’m sick and tired of this! Lillian get your act together or we’re done! I mean it!”
“Mitchell?” my mother said surprised but subdued.
“Not another word Lillian! This is my birthday, not yours!”
I’d paused about the wine, but again, maybe by the time Kendra arrives, Mother will be passed out in bed--at least that was my hope.
“Mother,” I shouted slightly. “Here is your bottle of White Zinfandel.”
“This is exactly what the doctor ordered,” she chuckled, pouring herself a glass of wine. “A little nip is all you need during times like these. Here, have some,” she offered, pushing the bottle of Zinfandel to me.
“No thanks, Mother.”
“Good! That means plenty for me,” she chuckled again, followed by a sip. “Simone, how are you doing?”
“I’m okay--you?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. Everything happened so fast. One minute I was in the kitchen putting away the dishes, while your dad sat watching television--or a least the television was watching him. Sometime later, he mumbled something about not feeling well, and before I could say, ‘turn off the television,’ he was on the floor. I screamed. I called the ambulance, and we ended up at the hospital.”