Invisible Life

by E. Lynn Harris

  “He did what?”

  “You heard me. I woke up about an hour ago and he was gone with my wallet and this huge Macy’s bag with all my Christmas gifts.”

  “Are you all right? Did you call the police?”

  “Are you serious? I don’t have a leg to stand on. I did invite him here, you know.”

  “Do you have his number?”

  “He said he didn’t have a phone.”

  “Kyle, haven’t I warned you to be careful?”

  “Don’t lecture me, Ray, I don’t need that. I need to borrow two hundred dollars until I get back. Will you do that without a lecture?”

  “Kyle …”

  “Come on, Ray, I know you’re right, but I’m in no mood for your holier-than-thou attitude. I just want to forget I ever laid eyes on that low life.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you at the Citibank across the street from my apartment in twenty minutes.”

  “Do you have company?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it that Quinn guy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my. How was he in bed? He looked like he was hung like a mule.”

  “Kyle, stop dipping and just meet me at the bank.”

  “Thanks, Ray, you’re a lifesaver.”

  “Problems?” I heard a deep voice say as I laid down the cordless phone on the kitchen counter.

  “Quinn! Good morning,” I said, slightly startled. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “No problem. I have to get out of here anyway. Who was that?”

  “My friend Kyle.”

  “Is he all right?” Quinn asked with a concerned look.

  “Physically yes, mentally I don’t know. I have to run across the street. I’ll get you a couple of towels and I’ll bring coffee and bagels back.”

  “You don’t have to go through the trouble. I’ll just wash my face and leave with you.”

  “Are you sure? Please wait until I come back,” I pleaded. Quinn was standing against the sliding door that led to the kitchen, in his underwear and with an erection. He looked even better in the morning.

  “Okay, I’ll wait. But be quick.”

  “I will,” I said, slipping on some dirty jeans and one of my bulky sweaters. I found some warm socks in my laundry basket and put on my old Bass Weejuns. Before leaving, I gave Quinn a quick brush on the lips as I grabbed my ski bomber and headed out the door to meet Kyle.

  I was standing on the opposite corner of Ninety-sixth Street waiting for the light to change when I recognized Kyle standing by the door of the Citibank directly in front of me. The streets were busy with people, hailing taxis everywhere; people shopping and making mad dashes out of Manhattan. I had planned to give Kyle a good lecture, but when I saw him, he looked so pitiful that I just couldn’t. We didn’t embrace as we usually did, and Kyle forced a smile.

  “Thanks for doing this, Ray. I’ll pay you back on my first payday next year,” Kyle said.

  “That’s what friends are for. Are you sure two hundred is enough?”

  “Yes. I’ve got to at least replace the gift for my mama. I’ll worry about my grandmother later. Did you like your gift?”

  “Of course!”

  “Are you going to wear it?”

  “If I ever put a hole in my ear or nose,” I laughed.

  Kyle and I went through our good-byes again and I reassured him that I wasn’t upset with him.

  “Kyle, I hope you remember last night when making your New Year’s resolutions,” I said.

  “Trust me, Ray, I will. Thanks. I love you.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I went into a nearby deli and ordered two coffees and a couple of bagels with cream cheese. I wondered how Quinn preferred his coffee and if he liked bagels. I thought about my meeting with Kyle and started to worry about him. Despite his good looks, he always went after guys who were not his equal in looks, economic standing or intelligence. He always called it the Madonna-whore complex: never dating people he considered his equal, no matter who they were. I remember once when a hot-looking Broadway actor, Tony Martin, was in heat for Kyle. He was a really nice guy and Kyle was considering giving the guy a chance. One day Tony mentioned that he had graduated from Yale Drama School. After that revelation the poor guy didn’t stand a chance with Kyle. I think Kyle was that way to protect himself from getting hurt. With guys similar to Rock, there was no chance of falling in love. Men like Tony posed a different type of threat. They would steal your heart.

  I paid for the coffee and bagels and headed toward my apartment. I had a lot of things to do before my 6:30 flight to Birmingham. The boxes I had received the night before were from my parents and my little brother, Kirby. They sent them thinking that I wasn’t going to make it home for the holidays. It was going to be great surprising them. I was even looking forward to visiting with Pops. All of a sudden I was in the holiday spirit. I rushed back into my apartment building and waited for the elevator. It seemed to take forever. If I hadn’t lived on the twenty-third floor, I would have taken the stairs. Taking the stairs didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Besides, when an elevator did show up, it would fill quickly with tenants carrying either shopping bags or suitcases. Finally, an empty elevator. I still had to pack and do a little shopping before I headed to JFK. I would need to leave a little early to make sure that my luggage arrived in Alabama with me. Once I reached my floor, I hurried to my apartment. As I turned the keys and opened the door, I expected to hear Quinn moving around the apartment, but it was dead silent.

  “Quinn,” I called out.

  No response. Maybe he was in the bathroom. I set the bag with the coffee and bagels on the kitchen counter and looked around the apartment, even opening my closet doors. No sign of Quinn. Where was he? I glanced in my bedroom and realized that his suit coat and overcoat were gone. The bed was made up and I saw a note on my pillow.

  Dear Ray,

  Sorry, but I couldn’t wait. I had to make the next train. The evening was wonderful and I can’t wait to do it again. We have some unfinished business. Have a safe trip, Merry Christmas and get back here in one piece. I already miss you!

  Take care,

  Quinn David Mathis

  P.S. I got your number from your phone. I hope it’s the right one.

  Yes, Quinn, I thought to myself, it’s the right one. I looked at the clock and decided to call the airline to get an earlier flight. I was disappointed but excited at the same time. Quinn had left a note. It wouldn’t have been uncommon for a guy just to leave and run the risk of running into me at a later time. Yes, Quinn was different. I packed quickly and grabbed my Walkman and some tapes Kyle had mixed for me, stuffing them into my briefcase. Since I wouldn’t have time to shop, I would just give checks and write personalized Christmas greetings on my office stationery. I mean, what else would I have to do on the three-hour flight, except think about last evening and Mr. Quinn David Mathis?

  Four

  The taxi turned the corner on Country Club Lane. I could see my family’s house lit with Christmas decorations along the tree-lined street. The University Court section of Birmingham was one of the few black middle-class neighborhoods in the city. Most of the brick homes had been built in the early seventies and it was an enclave of black doctors, lawyers, teachers and contractors.

  Moore Brothers Construction Company had built most of these homes and the home of one of these brothers, Leroy Moore, anchored Country Club Lane. It was the largest home in the neighborhood and it included not only a pool and tennis courts but also servants’ quarters behind the mansion. My parents’ home looked like a cottage in comparison, but we had always been very proud of the four-bedroom brick house. It was a long way from the three-room house on the east side we had lived in when I was a small child. Mom was the primary breadwinner in the family then, while Pops was working to get his law practice off the ground.

  After paying the taxi driver, I grabbed my garment bag and briefcase and headed up the steps to the front door. Although
I still had my key, I decided to ring the bell and not give anyone a heart attack by just walking in unannounced. It looked as though both Mama and Pops were at home because both of their cars were parked in the garage. Pops always left the garage door up despite Mama’s pleas for him to do otherwise.

  I had pushed the doorbell only once when the door flew open and there stood Mama with open arms. Though she had gained some weight in her later years, she still looked beautiful to me. Her pecan brown skin glowed and her salt-and-pepper hair was up in a stylish French roll.

  “My number one son, what are you doing here? We didn’t expect you,” Mama squealed.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” I said as I gave her a bear hug.

  “Ray, Kirby, come quick, look who’s here!” Mama shrieked. By now Mama’s eyes was starting to fill with tears and I could hear someone come down the stairs at a very fast pace. While I was still hugging Mama and wiping the tears from her eyes, I saw my father walk into the foyer with a rolled-up newspaper.

  “Well, look what the cat done drug in,” he said.

  “Hi Pops,” I said, extending my hands toward him. As I was reaching for Pops’s hands, I heard Kirby, my nine-year-old little brother, screaming with delight.

  “Ray-Ray’s home! Ray-Ray’s home!” he shrilled. “Did you get the picture I sent you for Christmas?”

  Kirby hugged my thighs, since he couldn’t quite reach my waist. My father just shook his head with a slight smile on his face.

  “Come on into the den. Marlee, let go of the boy,” Pops said.

  “I just can’t believe my number one son is home,” Mama said, now wiping away her own tears. “Why didn’t you let us know that you were coming home?” she asked.

  “Just so I could get this reaction!” I said. “I know how you love surprises.”

  “Ray Jr., come on in here and let me look at you,” Pops called from the den.

  “I’ll be there in a second, Pops.”

  “Ray, come up to my room. I want to show you my football uniform,” Kirby said, pulling my arms.

  “Wait up, Kirby. I’ve got to go in and talk with Pops.”

  As I walked into the den, I realized that not much had changed since the last time I had been home, with the exception of a new large-screen television. The Christmas tree was in its usual place by the sliding glass door that led to an outside deck. The same gold sofa sat against the wall facing the television. Pops’s well-used leather recliner was in the same spot, with a table and lamp alongside it. Pops was sitting in his chair, flipping the remote control, as I walked into the den.

  “So how is New York treating you?” Pops asked.

  “It’s great.”

  “How’s your job? Have you tried any big cases yet?”

  “Not any big ones, but I am getting into the courtroom more than before.”

  “That’s good,” he said, looking at the television instead of me.

  “How is it down at your office?” I asked.

  “Same old thing, just keeping busy. We’re thinking about adding another lawyer,” he said, occasionally glancing in my direction.

  “That’s great, just great,” I said.

  While Pops seemed immersed in the television, I looked at him and realized that he was aging very gracefully. My father was a strikingly handsome man. He had beautiful eyes, not quite green, not quite brown, filled with hardness and confidence. He appeared to be in great shape, with only a small pouch above his once thin waist, and short graying hair. While I was looking at him, Pops put his glasses back on and started reading the TV Guide.

  “Been to any high school basketball games lately?” I asked.

  “No, haven’t had the time, but they are having the citywide basketball tournament over at Northeast. It starts the day after Christmas,” he said.

  “Maybe we can catch a game before I leave,” I said, remembering how much Pops used to enjoy going to the games with me before I left for law school.

  “Yeah, that would be fun. How long you here for?”

  “Oh, just a couple of days. I wanted to get back and catch up on some work.”

  “Does your mother know that you’re here for only a couple of days?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, don’t tell her tonight. You know she wants you to move back home?”

  “Yeah, I know. Where is she anyway?” I asked, looking for an excuse to get out of the den.

  “Probably in your old room,” Pops said, still looking through the TV Guide.

  “Well, I’m going to go in there and give her a hand. It’s great seeing you, Pops,” I said.

  “Yeah, son, it’s great having you home,” Pops said, still looking down at the TV Guide, not once looking in my direction.

  I wanted to go over and hug him, tell him that I loved him and that I was really happy to be home. But Pops was not the affectionate type and he really appeared to be into the television. I stood up and looked at him for a second, then headed down the hallway to my old room. When I reached the first door to the left, I saw Mama coming out of the room with linens and some other items in her hands.

  “It’s all ready for you, baby. You must be tired and I’ve got to start my turkey for tomorrow,” Mama said.

  “Thanks Mama,” I said, grabbing her and giving her another hug. “It’s really great to be back home.”

  When I walked into my bedroom, I felt as though I had stepped into a time capsule. On the wall were football letters, blue ribbons from track meets, a Right On magazine pullout of Vanity and a perfect attendance certificate from the sixth grade. I looked at the dresser and recognized my old hair brush, a can of Pro-Line hair spray and a picture of Sela and me at her senior prom. Sela, I thought to myself and smiled, I’ve got to call her.

  I went to hang my garment bag in the closet and realized that it was now filled with Mama’s old clothes. I sat on the bed and turned on the small black-and-white television that was on the table beside the bed. When I pulled back the bedspread and saw the sheets Mama had put on the bed, I smiled. They were the exact same sheets she had used when I came home for weekends from college. Yes, it was good to be home again.

  I got up to brush my teeth before retiring and realized that someone was still roaming around the now quiet house. The sounds were coming from the kitchen, and as I walked in, I saw Mama bent over, basting her turkey in the oven.

  “Lady, when are you going to bed?” I asked, startling Mama.

  “Don’t scare me like that, boy. You know you’re not too big for one of my good ole-fashion whippings,” she said, smiling.

  “What all are you cooking?”

  “All your favorites.”

  “Macaroni and cheese?”

  “You know it. Come over here and give me another hug,” Mama said. As we hugged, Mama reached up and grabbed the back of my head and just rubbed the back of my hair. As she continued to rub, she whispered, “So how is New York really treating my baby? Are you really all right, Raymond junior?”

  “I’m doing good, Ma,” I assured her. “What’s up with Pops? He was kinda quiet tonight.”

  “Oh, you know your father, not much for words unless he’s in the courtroom or entertaining his card-playing buddies. But I know he’s glad you’re home. Just a few minutes ago before I came out here to check on this turkey, he looked at me and said, ‘The boy looks good, don’t he?’ ”

  “Maybe he was talking about Kirby,” I joked.

  “You’re a mess, just like him,” Mama said as she took a rolled newspaper and swung it playfully at me. “How are Kyle and JJ?”

  “Oh, they are fine. Both send their love. How are your third graders?”

  “About the same. Some good, some bad. But I want to talk about you. How’s your love life?”

  “Mama, are you dipping?” I laughed.

  “You know I am. Let’s get to the good stuff first.”

  “Nothing really special. Have you heard from Sela?”

  “She called me about two w
eeks ago. The girl looks good and I think she and that new boyfriend broke up. It’s not too late, you know.”

  “Ma, give me back my business. I’m going to bed before you have me married before the New Year.”

  “Now, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Mama asked playfully.

  “Good night, Ma. I love you,” I said, hugging her very tightly.

  “Good night, baby. Let me be the first to tell you Merry Christmas,” Mom said, hugging me back.

  My mother, at times, was like my best friend. I could talk to her about anything. Even though we had not talked openly about my lifestyle, she knew. When she and Pops came up to New York for my law school graduation, they met Kyle and JJ at my apartment. Mama loved them both immediately, but Pops was really standoffish, almost rude. Mama once asked me what the deal was between Kyle and myself and I acted as though I didn’t know what she was talking about. I told her we were just friends and that was it.

  I called her once late at night in tears. I was in my second year of law school and I had become involved with my first live-in relationship. The guy’s name was Julian, aka the lover from hell, and when we broke up, I took it really hard. Kyle never liked him, so he wasn’t much in the way of offering sympathy. So I didn’t really have anyone else to talk to. I mean, Kyle would listen, but he was more interested in getting me to go to the bars to meet someone else.

  I wasn’t totally honest with her about the relationship. I had Mom thinking Julian was a girl simply because I changed his name to Julie when referring to the fact that my current love had left me for someone else. I had been drinking the night that I called her and I used he instead of she a couple of times. Mama, like myself, avoided confrontation, so she didn’t say anything. She just listened like she always did with Pops.

  She gave me a speech about never doing anything that I was ashamed of, that she and Pops would love me no matter what. That no matter what choices I made in life, I should always stick to them. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that there were some things you didn’t have a choice about.