by David B. Jai
I turned and started walking up the enormous concrete staircase to a pair of large metal doors. When they opened, there was a guard standing there.
“I am here to see Robert Williams Sr..”
“ID, please?” the guard asked, sounding like a robot.
I gave the guard my ID, and he checked in to make sure that I was on my dad’s visitation list.
“Walk down toward the end of the lobby, and you will see a sign that says ‘Waiting Area.’ Take a seat there until your name is called,” the guard said.
I went to have a seat in the place where the guard told me. There were about twenty vending machines and children running all over the place. I sat there just staring at the wall and thinking about Toe. I couldn’t waste any time thinking about my dad because he was a piece of shit and really didn’t mean anything to me. I am merely keeping my promise to Toe.
“Visit for Williams,” the voice said over the intercom.
I walked up to the iron gates. As I got closer, one of the gates automatically opened. About thirty little seats made of metal and a black telephone were lined perfectly in a row. Each seat was partitioned off by small Plexiglas pieces, so you can’t see or hear conversations from the other visitors and a thick piece of glass partitioning the visitor from the prisoner.
“Please proceed to window number twenty-four,” the guard said.
I started to walk down the long hall, looking at other people as they visited their family. People visiting seemed joyful, laughing, joking, and just having a good time. But my visit would be different. I would try not to make too much drama.
I finally made it to window number twenty-four. I turned the corner, and there he was, my dad, Robbie Williams, Sr. He looked a lot thinner than I remembered, had salt and pepper hair, medium brown skin, and a nicely trim mustache. Back in the day, he would be considered to be very handsome. I picked up the phone.
“Hello, son!” Dad said with great surprise and eagerness in his voice.
“Hi, Dad!”
“How are you doing?”
“Look, forget all the formalities, I just want to stop by and tell you that . . . I love you.” Tears welled in my eyes. As I looked at my father in his face, I started to take back the power that I had given him so many years ago. “And I also forgive you. I forgive you for everything that you tried to do to me. I will no longer live in my private prison, thinking about the things that you did to me. I survived you, Dad, and I’m not sorry for that. I love you, man,” I sobbed.
I hung up the phone and signaled for the guard to come and let me out.
As I started to walk away, dad called my name. “Darnell, Darnell, Darnell, don’t leave. I know everything. I am sorry about Toe.” he yelled from a distance.
I froze in place and began questioning what I’d heard. Did Dad really say what I think he’d said? Did Toe’s name even come out of his mouth? I turned around and walked back and picked up the phone. Flashbacks of when he beat me, tried to kill me, and called me names came rushing into my memory.
“What? You are sorry about Toe? But you’re not sorry about what you did to me? You did some horrible shit to me, but you’re sorry about someone you didn’t even know? All I ever wanted in life was to be loved by my dad. I wanted my dad to spend time with me, play football, and teach me how to become a man. Was that too much to ask of you? Why didn’t you love me? You were my hero, but you treated me like I was a fucking doormat. Was I not good enough for you, Dad? Were you ashamed of me, Dad? Oh, I get it, I was too gay for you, Dad?”
Suddenly, I thought he’s not worthy of me. I’d made it this far without him. I didn’t need answers now; I just needed to stay focused and reclaim my life. I wanted to say fuck you and barge out of the room, but I wouldn’t disrespect him like that, plus I needed answers. I looked dad in the eye. “Who is Mr. John St. James’ dad?”
There was a pause, then he had that same fucking look that Mom and Mr. St. James had on their face. He just stared and looked dumbfounded.
“Goodbye for the final time,” I said, slamming down the phone and getting up from my seat.
Again I can hear him calling me, “Darnell, Darnell, Darnell!” Then he said those words that I’d wished he’d said many years ago. “I love you.”
Honestly, when those words rang in my ears, I wanted to run back, tare down those partitions and hug and hold my dad. But this time, instead, I turned around, picked up the phone in the most relaxed tone that I could summon. I said, “Dad, I forgive you, and I take back all the power that I gave you over my life. No longer will my thoughts of you haunt me. I will go forward living my life, not as some fucking recluse in fear of you, but I will enjoy life as a black gay man. Toe taught me that. He was the man in my life, so goodbye, Dad, for the final time.”
I looked up at my dad, and he was crying. He motioned me to pick the phone back up. I shook my head. I was able to read his lips through the phone, as he looked extremely pitiful. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”
I put my face in my hands and cried, “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go.” I jumped up and ran toward the doors. The metal doors opened, and I went back to the car, wiping my tears.
“Darnell, are you OK?”
“Yes, ma’am. I am.” I said, smiling, feeling like I’d taken my power back. Looking toward heaven, I said, “Now Toe, are you satisfied? I kept my promise.”
We drove back to the house. I took more sleeping pills and got into bed.
“Mom, can you wake me up in the morning? My flight leaves for Jacksonville at 10:10 a.m. Oh, how many pills do I have left in my pill bottle? I’m sure I will need them while I’m on the cruise.”
“You have about twenty-five left.”
“OK, that would be plenty. Can you please make sure G-Ma and Robbie Jr. ride to the airport with us in the morning?”
“Yes, of course.”
“OK, have a good night, Mom, I love you.”
I laid in my bed until I fell asleep.
* * *
It seemed like 6 a.m. came way too fast.
“Darnell, I woke you up a little early because there’s something that I have to tell you. There’s some information that you need to know.” Mom looked really concerned, and her voice was trembling.
Maybe Jaurice may have passed as well. “Mom, what is it?” I said, as I tried to wake up.
“Darnell, there’s just no easy way of telling you this. Years ago, your daddy was strung out on drugs, and he made me do some things that I did not want to do.”
I was totally disengaged in a conversation because I really didn’t care what she had done. I’m on my way out of town; why is she confessing to me her faults? I’m not a priest.
“It’s OK, Mom,” I said.
“No, son, you have to hear me out. On several occasions, your father would bring home couples and force me to have sex with other men and women.”
I sat up in my bed. This was a story that sounded familiar.
“You all were, like, swingers, huh?” I asked.
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Mom, I’m not dumb. I could tell you all knew each other at the funeral. Then I asked Dad about Mr. St. James, and he had a dumb look on his face.”
“Well, John and Ruth St. James used to be John and Ruth Wilson. When they stopped using drugs, they changed their names to Ruth’s maiden name.”
“OK . . . so what are you saying?”
“I’ve had sexual relations with both John and Ruth before you were born.”
My mouth flung open, as I couldn’t believe what I just heard.
“I’ve engaged in sexual activity with both John and Ruth on several occasions. It was not by choice but by force.”
“What, are you joking right now?”
“No, son, I am not,” Mom said with sadness in her voice.
“Mom, it�
��s OK. We’ve all done things that we regret. Come here and give me a hug.”
Mom leaned over and hugged me, then she pulled away quickly, “Darnell, that’s not it.”
What else could it possibly be? Nothing’s hurts more than losing someone you love and finding out that your mother has been raped by your dad and your boyfriend’s parents.
“Son, this is going to be hard to say. But we think that John St. James may be your dad.”
I suddenly fell back in my bed and put the covers over my head. I thought that I was being punked. I bust out laughing out loud under the covers because nothing really mattered to me anymore. “Mom, thank you for telling me. It’s OK, and I’m OK. No worries.”
“Darnell, you’re acting strange and nonchalant. Did you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I heard everything. When can you take me to the airport?”
“We’re just waiting on your G-Ma,” Mom said.
I went to pack my suitcase and put my pills in my pocket so that I wouldn’t lose them. G-Ma came busting through the door, crying, asking me not to take the trip. I told her that I had too. It was for me, and I could really use the time away. I thanked her for all the golden nuggets that she’d given me, the times we shared together at church, the funny times, as well as what she meant to me in my life. Wow, I loved that woman.
We arrived at the airport on time. I hugged everyone and waited outside until they drove off, waving erratically to them until they got out of sight. I turned and walked through the double doors of the airport to the concourse. I had ten minutes before the flight was boarding. I sat down to start reading a book. There were a couple of ladies with newspapers in their hands. They were talking about Toe and his tragic death. There was no escaping, not even just for a few minutes. I started to think back to the last time Toe and I spent time together on the beach. We had so many plans. But it just didn’t work that away.
“Now boarding Flight 301 for Jacksonville,” the flight attendant said over the intercom.
I gave a flight attendant my ticket and boarded the plane. I had on headphones, so I turned up Whitney Houston as the flight took off.
We landed three hours later in Jacksonville, Florida. The cruise line had a shuttle bus, so I jumped on it and headed toward the ship.
As we pulled up, the boat was massive, about fifty stories high. I checked onboard the ship and went into my cabin. I sat my luggage down and went back topside to find some dinner and liquor. Heck, Grey Goose sounded terrific.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I just wanted to be left alone. I didn’t want to be in any crowd or talk to anyone. I was thinking about Toe and how much I missed him. This was his dream. This is what he wanted to do. I was doing it, and I was alone, and he was not here in my presence. How do you live someone else’s dream without them being there? Why did I even come on this ship knowing that I wasn’t ready for it?
The line for the dining facility was too long. It wrapped around toward the front of the ship by the theater. I’d say about fifty people stood ahead of me. I did not engage in any conversations because I don’t feel like talking to strangers. I pulled out my MP3 player and put on my headphones to block out the sound. Before long, I was at the front of the line. I grabbed my plate, and I found space tucked away in the back corner with no one around. I wanted to be left alone. Then I thought, “I’m really not hungry, so why am I going to eat this food?”
I barricaded my head in the palms of my hands. Hovering over my food, I didn’t know what to do. I missed Toe. I began to cry. I remembered some of the moments that we shared together, like the time at the beach, the restaurant, and of course, the hospital. Damn, I missed him so much! Then I busted out in sudden laughter as I remembered the time when I told him I could play basketball and couldn’t or when he was throwing rocks at my back window to come in the house to lay down with me. I thought about that beautiful smile he had, one that I would never see again. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes.
“Excuse me, young man, is anyone sitting here?” a chipper lady’s voice said.
I looked up and saw a tall brown-skinned man, around forty-five years old, in a black suit with a minister’s collar on. His wife was wearing a beautiful flowery summer dress. I could tell from their clothing that they were ministers. I thought, “Oh great, they’re going to want to talk and witness to me.”
I took in a deep breath and exhaled. Reluctantly, I said, “No, ma’am, it’s a free world, and you can sit wherever you want to.” I hoped that they would sense my sarcastic attitude and decide to sit at another table; however, they did not. The minister and his wife set their food down on the table. Then I observed the minister gently pulling out his wife’s chair so she could sit down first. I thought, here we go, some Fantasy Island bullshit.
“Are you here by yourself?” the lady asked.
This was going to be interesting because she’s already prowling around in my business. I certainly was not interested in talking about religion with her or her husband right now. I was in the grieving process, and I preferred to be alone. “Yes, ma’am,” I said. I simply wanted the conversation to end so that I could go back to my room, take my pills, be with Toe, and just die.
“Well, my name is Dr. Lindsey Jones, and this is my husband, Bishop Dr. C. L. Jones Sr. Please call me Dr. Lindsey, and everybody calls Bishop Jones just Bishop.”
“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Darnell Williams,” I said while looking down at the table.
“Mr. Williams, we saw you sitting over here by yourself with your head in your hands. Is everything OK?” Dr. Lindsey asked.
I was tired of lying and living a false life. I don’t know these people from Adam, so I wouldn’t lie to them but be truthful and honest about my feelings. I’ve lived a lie most of my life, so, therefore, today, I was going to tell the truth.
Mustering strength and courage, I raised my head and said, “No, Dr. Lindsey, everything is not OK. I am gay, my boyfriend, who was supposed to take this trip with me, was murdered at a prom that I forced him to attend along with my other friends. So, I’m sure that you all will not want to have any conversation with me.”
There was a long, still, pause in the conversation.
I was thinking, Finally, they see that I am grieving and would perhaps leave me alone. I started to put some mashed potatoes mixed with gravy in my mouth and savor the taste.
I saw Bishop start to move around and get fidgety. Then suddenly, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair and began to stare at me. I wanted to ask him what the fuck was he staring at, but since he had on his minister’s collar, I decided to hold back my words.
“Son, you say that you are gay?” he said. “We never asked you about your sexuality. However, that is the first thing that you said. I have to ask you, young man, are you comfortable being you?”
What a dumbass question. Then I thought, here’s another clergy member who is going to try to cure me and later decide to have sex with me. I started to feel enraged. I wanted someone, anyone, to accept me. I wanted God to accept me and love me despite my many flaws. Maybe I should just lie to him and avoid my true feelings. After all, I was so damn tired of hearing how God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Do ministers know how that makes gay people feel? Those statements cause us to run from God instead of running to God. I am tired of hurting and feeling the pain that society puts on gay people. Suddenly, I felt a gentle touch and a refreshing calm as if water was poured over my raging fire inside.
“Young man, I am sorry, you do not have to answer that question.” Dr. Lindsey said, speaking very slowly and very precisely. I could feel the love radiating from her persona and I began to calm down.
“Thank you, Dr. Lindsey! I will answer the Bishop’s question.” I took a deep breath, thought about what I would say, then said, “No, Bishop, I am not comfortable with being gay. It’s one thing to hav
e society judge me for who I share my bed with, but it’s a different scenario to have members of the church judge me. Bishop, I am gay, and there is nothing that I can do about it. Trust me, people tried to pray it away, beat me, and even tried to kill me because I’m a little flamboyant. Now, as a result of my choice, I have learned not to expect anything from you or the church, but a strong rebuke and for you to tell me that I am going to hell. Well, I’m living in hell right now, sir.”
Bishop continued to stare at me. After about a minute, he said, “Son, I want you to rest. God wants you to rest. You’ve been struggling with your sexual identity for too long. It’s time to give it to God. You’ve been trying to live without Christ in your life, and the result of you trying to do this is a continuous wrestling and you trying to get the power. You can’t fight with God and win, son. It’s a never-ending war. You are wrestling with God and trying to understand why he allowed you to be gay. No matter what you do, you cannot understand it. He knew what He was doing when He made you. The Bible says that He told Jeremiah while in his mother’s womb that He knew him. I believe it was David who said that we are individually and wonderfully made in His image. So, son, stop laboring and wrestling and trying to figure everything out, because God has already worked it out. Jesus said that He will give you rest. Stop warring with God and accept His rest and the peace that He is trying to give you. It is one thing to be thankful to God, but it’s another thing to be at peace. God made you. Therefore, He understands you. Accept the love that He gives us through Jesus Christ, and I promise you that God will have your back. Society will judge you; heck, they judge me. Be who you are and let God be who He is. I guarantee you that you will see the difference. God accepts you just the way you are. Not part of you, but all of you. Now you’ve got a part to do too, accept Him, and you will find that He’s been waiting for you with open arms.”
Bishop had my attention, and what he was saying were words that I’d never heard before from anybody in the church. God did make me, and scientific evidence proves that people may be born attracted to the same sex.