Torn Between Two Lovers

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Torn Between Two Lovers Page 17

by Carl Weber


  “I only wish things could have been different between us.”

  Something about the way he said it confused me. I mean, I knew he was hurt that Leon made fun of his homosexuality, but “different between us” sounded more personal somehow. He still hadn’t sensed my presence. I waited to hear what he would say next.

  “I wish you could have loved me the way you loved her.” I watched in shocked silence as Jerome bent down and kissed Leon’s hand. “I could have been such a good man to you.”

  For a second I thought maybe I was misinterpreting things, but there was no other explanation. It appeared that Jerome had had feelings for my husband. This was almost too much to comprehend. My best friend had had a crush on my husband. Was that the real reason he’d tried to break us up? Maybe Leon had sensed this all along, and that’s why he had such a problem with Jerome.

  “I still can’t believe what the doctors are saying. You have to get through this. I want to hear you tell me again that you love me.”

  What the…? I have to be hallucinating, I thought.

  But no, it was real. It was slowly dawning on me that this was much deeper than just some crush he had on Leon. This was something the two of them shared, and what Jerome said next confirmed it in the worst possible way.

  “I know I should have reciprocated and told you how much I loved you the last time you were at the house, and I’m sorry.” He wiped away tears. “But I’ll always have my memories, and you will always be my Big Poppa. I love you, Leon. I’ll never forget the time we spent together.”

  “You motherfucker!” I screamed as I pounced on Jerome’s back, punching his head and shoulders.

  “Oh, shit!” He managed to shove me off long enough to get out of the chair and away from Leon’s bed.

  “How could you?” I cried, chasing him into a corner of the room.

  “What are you talking about?” He shrugged his shoulders like he hadn’t just been busted. Little did he know I’d tried that same shit two weeks ago on Leon. It didn’t work then, and it damn sure wasn’t working now. “I heard everything you said, you bastard. So don’t even try to lie, because I know what the fuck I heard.”

  He just stood there with a blank expression I wanted to slap right off his face. All the pain and suffering I’d been through—the fights with Leon, the time we broke up, even the fact that I’d started my ill-fated affair with Michael—it could all be traced back to one source. Jerome was to blame for all of it.

  “Now I know why you never told me who Big Poppa was,” I said wryly, “and why you tried so hard to break Leon and me up. All the time I thought you cared about me, but I was just in the way, wasn’t I?”

  “No, Loraine, it’s not like that. You’re my friend. I love you.”

  I slapped him so hard his neck snapped backward.

  “Don’t you dare tell me you love me. How could you be fucking my husband if you love me?”

  Jerome stood up and faced me squarely. “Don’t put your hands on me again,” he said. “Now, I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I’m not going to lie about how I feel when the man I love is dying. Yes, we were together and we were in love, but not enough for him to leave you.”

  After so many years fighting for my marriage to survive, then trying to fight my attraction to Michael, and now feeling like I would have to fight to keep my sanity, I had no more strength left to fight with Jerome. “How long?” I asked. “How long were you two fucking behind my back?”

  He stood his ground, but tears were welling up in his eyes. “Six years,” he muttered.

  “You fucking bastard.”

  “Don’t act like you’re all innocent in this, Loraine. Not when it’s your lover, Michael, who’s responsible for all this.”

  “Too bad he didn’t finish the job!”

  I glanced over at Leon, and even as he lay there wounded and helpless, all I could think of was how much I hated him at that moment. I was about two seconds away from ripping out all the tubes and knocking over all the machines he was hooked up to. Jerome must have sensed what I was thinking, because he moved between Leon and me.

  A nurse walked into the room. It took her a few seconds, but she finally sensed the tension in the room and her eyes traveled between me and Jerome.

  “Everything okay?” she asked warily. She had no idea how far from okay everything was.

  I pointed at Jerome. “I’d like to introduce you to Leon’s next of kin. He’ll be making all the medical decisions for him from this point forward. My lawyers will have the papers to you Monday morning.” On that note, I walked out of the room, and hopefully out of both of their lives.

  I ran out of the hospital more upset than when I’d gone in sixteen hours earlier, running behind the paramedics as they rushed Leon into the emergency room. I’d just found out that Leon and Jerome had been having a six-year affair, and the blow to my ego was ten times worse and a hundred times more devastating than any situation I’d ever been through in the past. Even more shocking was the way that son of a bitch stood his ground as he professed his love for my husband—no, his name is Leon. I will never call him my husband again.

  My head was hurting me so bad I couldn’t see straight as I stalked around the front of the hospital. I tried to calm myself, but my nerves were so bad I could hardly breathe. This was a woman’s worst fear—to find out her husband was sleeping with someone else, and the pain was only intensified by the fact that the other person was a man. I had no idea how I was supposed to feel, but there was one thing I’d made up my mind about right away: I refused to be jealous.

  Not of him, I told myself. Not of a man. Not of Jerome!

  In this situation, jealousy would just be a waste of my emotional energy. I’d been around Jerome long enough to know that when it came to men sleeping with men, we women didn’t have a chance anyway. If it had been another woman, I could compete. I could try harder, pay him more attention, make myself more attractive than the other woman, fuck him into submission. But with a man, there was just one simple fact: I had the wrong equipment. What good would it do me to be jealous of Jerome? If that’s what Leon wanted, there was not a damn thing I would have been able to do to change it. Unless I found a way to grow a penis, and even if I could, I had no interest in doing that.

  Now, don’t get me wrong; I was angry. No, I was pissed the fuck off! But I wasn’t going to be jealous. As sexy as Leon was, the fantasy was over. If he got up and walked out of that hospital bed right this minute, he would never get any of this ever again. Just the thought of sleeping with a man who slept with other men was just flat out disgusting if you ask me. I didn’t even want to imagine what freakish acts they’d committed behind my back. Ugh!

  I walked over to the curb and vomited. I retched and I retched until my stomach emptied the little bit of food that was in it.

  “Miss, are you okay?”

  I snapped out of my fog and glanced in the direction of the voice. It was one of the hospital security guards. I’m sure I looked like a hot mess standing there with tears running down my face, walking around in a daze. To top it off, I was standing in the drop-off area to the hospital and didn’t even realize it.

  “Yes, I’m okay. Thanks.” I stepped back onto the curb.

  “You sure?” He handed me a tissue and I wiped my face.

  “I just got some really bad news.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “So am I.” I reached into my bag and took out a stick of gum. Without another word, I popped the gum in my mouth and walked away from the guard.

  I wandered toward the parking lot, trying to figure out my next move. It took me a minute to realize I wasn’t going to find my car. I had traveled to the hospital in the ambulance with Leon, and now I was stuck. I thought about calling Egypt to come pick me up, but I really didn’t want to see her right now. Oh, she’d be sympathetic and everything, but she was happily married, and as bitter as I was feeling, I couldn’t stand to be around her at the moment. I cared ab
out Egypt, but inside I was hating, big-time. Why couldn’t it have been her man who’d been fucking Jerome?

  With no other options, I started walking west toward the Marriott hotel, which I planned on making my new home. I refused to go home, not to that house, not the house I shared with him, at least not until I figured out my next move.

  As I walked down Marshall Street toward the hotel, I passed the Richmond Police Station. It was kind of an eerie feeling to know that Michael was behind those walls. If I was honest with myself, I had to accept some of the blame for what he’d done. I should have left him alone after the first time we broke it off, but I was torn between two lovers. I wanted both men, and I never really gave much thought to how unfair that was to Michael. I knew how he felt about me, so the way I rejected him must have been devastating to him. I might as well have put the gun in his hand and pulled the trigger.

  Just that thought gave me pause. Suddenly, I wanted to go inside and make sure he was okay. I stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the building for a minute, trying to decide if I was really going in. Then I came to my senses. Walking in there wasn’t going to help Michael, and it damn sure wasn’t going to help me. I could just imagine the headlines: LOVE TRIANGLE! WIFE VISITS HUSBAND’S SHOOTER IN PRISON. No, if I was going to help Michael, what I needed to do was get him a good lawyer and do it anonymously.

  I turned to continue my journey to the Marriott, but I’d gone only a few steps before I heard Michael’s voice calling out my name. He was coming down the precinct stairs.

  “Michael…,” I said, and then I wasn’t sure what else to say. After all, what does someone say to her ex-lover-turned-violent-offender? Then it finally dawned on me that in spite of his arrest, he was outside the prison walls, and now I was very confused. “I…you…What are you doing here? They told me they arrested you.”

  “They did. They just let me go.” He sounded very happy, and he reached out to hug me, but I stepped back, looking at him warily.

  “I didn’t do it, Loraine,” he explained. “I’m innocent. They’ve dropped the charges against me. I wasn’t anywhere near your house yesterday.”

  I gasped. Was it possible that he was telling the truth? So many questions entered my mind at once, but I didn’t even know where to start. “Please don’t be lying to me, Michael. I couldn’t take it if you were lying to me.”

  “I’m not, Loraine. Do you really think they would have let me out if I did it?”

  I stared at him and tried to process what he was saying. Yes, he was out of jail, but I still didn’t understand what was going on. Who else hated Leon enough to shoot him? When the officer told me they’d arrested Michael, they seemed pretty sure that they had the right man. But then again, after what just happened at the hospital with Leon and Jerome, I realized that no one could really be sure of anything, could they?

  “I didn’t shoot Leon,” Michael said when he realized I was too stunned to say anything. He reached for me again, and this time I allowed him to wrap his arms around me. I collapsed against him and broke down in tears. Michael held me in his strong arms, and for that short period of time, I felt safe and loved.

  “Michael, I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “Shh…You don’t have to apologize to me.” He squeezed me tighter. “I love you, Loraine. All I want to do is take care of you.”

  “Do you mean that? Do you really mean that? Because right now, all I want is to be taken care of by a man who loves me.”

  “I’ve always meant it. I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. I don’t know how to stop loving you.”

  I took hold of his hand. “Then take me home, Michael. Take me home and I swear we’ll never look back. I just don’t want to have to set foot in that house again.”

  “You mean that? What about Leon?” he asked skeptically.

  “He’s not the man I thought he was. You don’t have to worry about him. He’s the past; you’re the future.”

  Michael leaned back and looked deeply into my eyes. “Baby, you don’t ever have to go to that house again. My house is your house.” He reached down and took my hand. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  Epilogue

  31

  It was a damp, overcast night, and I closed my coat to protect myself against the wind as I stood alone on the pedestrian walkway of Robert E. Lee Memorial Bridge. Looking down at the James River, I couldn’t see much, but I could hear the fast-moving water smashing up against the rocks below. This bridge had become something of a lover’s lane over the years, but I could also see why it was the location of choice for more suicides than any other bridge in the region.

  Over the years, I’d met many brothers here to watch the sunset. As a matter of fact, this was the spot where Big Poppa and I first kissed, so I found it fitting to come here now that he’d passed away two days ago. Don’t worry; I wasn’t going to commit suicide. I just had so many things on my mind that I needed to clear up. So many demons that I had to put to rest before I could move on with my life.

  I knew that Michael had been arrested for the shooting, but ever since Peter called me from Big Poppa’s phone, I knew the truth. There was no doubt in my mind who had shot the man I loved. I just wanted to hear Peter admit it.

  “Hey there, Lover Boy,” I heard Peter say as he approached the spot where I was standing on the bridge. I felt a shudder pass through me. At another point in my life, I would have been so happy to have this gorgeous man calling me that. Now all I could think about was how much my “lover boy” behavior had cost me. Ron was gone, Loraine hated me, and Big Poppa had finally succumbed to his bullet wounds. And all because this one crazy fuck just couldn’t let go of his fantasy that we were meant to be together. If only I could go back in time and change the way I’d handled my life. But there was no way to alter the past. All I could do now was get Peter to confess, and hopefully get justice for the people he’d hurt.

  “Hello, Jerome,” he said, leaning against the four-foot-high concrete railing. “I didn’t think you were going to show up.”

  “I’ve been here almost twenty minutes. You’re the one who’s late.”

  He kind of chuckled to himself. “I know how long you’ve been here. I’ve been watching.”

  “Of course you were watching. I should have known.” I struggled to contain my rage. I wanted to reach out and strangle him, but I had to accomplish what I was here to do: I had to get him to confess. “Why the hell is everything a game with you?”

  He shook his head. “A game? On the contrary, my friend. Things are very serious, wouldn’t you say? I mean, you have to understand things from my point of view. I may love you, but I damn sure don’t trust you. I was halfway expecting there to be half a dozen undercover cops out here.”

  “Nope, just me. But if you thought this was some kind of a setup, why the hell did you come here in the first place?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “Call me a silly romantic, but I was sorta hoping you wanted to tell me you had finally come to your senses and we could be together. You did pick a romantic meeting spot, after all, despite the rain.”

  “I’m not here for romance.”

  “That’s too bad. So, what did you want, Lover Boy?”

  “I just need to know why.”

  “Whatever are you talking about?” I knew that the fake look of confusion on his face was meant to taunt me. He was getting under my skin and he was enjoying it.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. There’s only one way you could have gotten Big Poppa’s phone.” I was on the verge of tears when I asked, “Why did you have to shoot him? He didn’t do anything to you!”

  Peter continued to play with me. I swear he was stifling a giggle when he said, “What phone? Really, Jerome, what are you talking about? Have you been drinking? I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “Stop fucking playing games,” I said, moving in closer. I had to stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from swinging at him.

&nbs
p; He dropped the act and came back at me with just as much anger. “No, you stop. Stop fucking wasting my time,” he said. “Open up your coat.”

  “What?”

  “You asked me here for something, and it sure wasn’t so that we could fuck. I’m gonna walk away right now if you don’t prove that you’re not wearing a wire.”

  “You think I’m wearing a wire?” I asked.

  “I’ve been an investigative reporter for fifteen years, Jerome. I know all the cops’ tricks.”

  I put my arms over my head. “Frisk me, then. You’re not gonna find a wire. I got nothing to hide.”

  Peter hesitated for a second, like he was surprised his instinct was wrong this time. He looked a little confused when he checked me and discovered I wasn’t recording our conversation.

  “Hmph,” he said, trying to play it cool. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. You really think I’d be stupid enough to leave behind any evidence that could connect me to that shooting? C’mon now. You know I’m too good to slip up like that. Not a finger-print to be found, and that cell phone is long gone…. I mean, I’m good, and on top of that, they really made it easy for me.”

  “They?”

  “Yeah, they. I told you I would go after every one of your lovers until you were mine. I was prepared to take them out one by one if I had to. That kid Ron wasn’t even a challenge. Shoot, he was so unstable to begin with. I knew that he’d go off the deep end if I put those pictures in the paper.”

  I felt sick as an image of Ron’s lifeless body came into my mind.

  “Now, your beloved Big Poppa, of course, was more of a challenge. It took me forever to find out who he was. You know giving him a gate key and a garage opener so he could hide his car when he visited was pretty smart. But once Ron died and you disappeared, he must have been pretty flustered. He started getting careless. I mean really…having takeout food delivered to your house when you weren’t even in town? Not smart, especially when I had the pizza-delivery guy on my payroll. And then he was stupid enough to park in front of your house. I may not have been able to drive my car in, but I walked right past those toy cops while they were sleeping all the time while you were away.” He shook his head. “It took all of ten minutes for my contact with police to track down his license plate number.”

 

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