Learned Reactions

by Jayce Ellis

  “Because, goddammit. You’re not here. You’re not with us. This is where you belong, Deion. With her, and Trey.”

  “And...?”

  The words “and me” didn’t come. Instead, “You know how much I miss you? How much I need you?”

  Deion waited, refusing to prompt him again, and got nothing. He didn’t even know what he expected, but this midnight hour phone call was bordering on the edge of what he could take. “Carlton, you know why I left.”

  “Because the therapist told you to.”

  “No.” Deion’s response was short, sharper than he’d intended, but he didn’t care. “Don’t put that on her. What happened in our relationship was because of us. No one else.”

  There was a deep sigh, then a quiet “I know.”

  “Carlton?” Deion said, then took a breath. He shouldn’t ask this, shouldn’t put himself on the line, again, but he had to know. “Why are you really calling me? What do you want from this conversation?”

  “I want you to come back home. I want you to come back and be with me and Olivia and Trey. This is your home, not Chicago. Not London or wherever. Here. We need you. You should be with us.”

  Deion closed his eyes at the words. They were everything he’d never hope to hear, and they still weren’t enough. And wasn’t that the fucked-up thing? All this, only to realize he needed more. He needed everything, and he needed to hear the words: I love you. To know Carlton wanted him for him, not just because he helped with the kids. And maybe that was unfair, selfish, and thinking about himself more than anyone else, but he wouldn’t apologize for it. Ma would be proud.

  “Carlton,” he started, “you know you mean the world to me. You always have. And I will forever do anything I can for Olivia and Trey. But I can’t just come back like I did before. Not without a reason.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why.”

  Silence, then a low whistle through the phone. “Yeah. I know.”

  And since that knowledge wasn’t enough for Carlton to give him what he so desperately needed, it was time for this conversation to end. “You gonna be okay now, C? You can tell the kids you called. Tell them we spoke, and we’re good.”

  “Are we, though? Are we really?” Carlton’s voice was soft, almost pleading.

  Deion couldn’t help but try to reassure his friend. “Yeah, C, we are. Night.”

  Another pause, before a single, barely audible whisper filtered through the phone. “Night.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Ms. Smith-Reis, it’s good to see you. Come on in.” Carlton sounded too formal, like he was trying to play grown-up, and the frown on Ms. Smith-Reis’s face confirmed it. Still, she followed him into the house and they went through their usual routine: him offering her a beverage, her declining, then waiting for him to get one for himself.

  “The house seems...different, somehow,” she remarked when Carlton finally took his seat next to her.

  Wasting no time then, were they? “Um, yeah,” he said, dipping his head. “Deion’s gone back to Chicago.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Carlton dropped his head in his hands. “Because we’re not together. We never were together.”

  After a few moments of silence that felt like they dragged on forever, Carlton glanced up. Ms. Smith-Reis’s face didn’t show any surprise, which was surprising itself.

  “That doesn’t look like it comes as a shock to you,” he said.

  “I saw the way Mr. Jones reacted when you first mentioned being partners,” she said, scribbling on her tablet. “I thought about saying something then, but I reconsidered. The affection between you two honestly couldn’t be faked. Maybe I was wrong. And the way he acted around Olivia? Was as much as if she were his as if she were yours.”

  “Yeah.” Deion had taken to fatherhood like a fucking pro. Like he’d been built for this one moment, and he’d walked away from it. From them. From him.

  “How’s Olivia taking this? Quite frankly, it’s another change she has to navigate, and I am concerned about the way they’re piling up on her.”

  Yeah. That was legit too. “I’m pretty sure she and Deion still maintain regular contact,” Carlton started, “and she’s been in therapy twice a week.”

  “Have you done family counseling?”

  “Once a week. She has two individual sessions, and I go with her for a family session on the third.”

  “Excellent. You’re doing exactly as I requested.”

  “Olivia means the world to me. I’d do anything for her.”

  Ms. Smith-Reis didn’t look up, but he saw the smile on her face. “Including failing to tell me my initial interpretation was wrong. I have to tell you, I’m still concerned about this deception, and I have to consider it in making my recommendation.”

  Carlton nodded. Of course she did. How could she not? “I know. And the last thing I want is to see my niece forced to go back to her grandparents or the foster care system or anything like that. I promise you, I won’t do anything like that again. You have to believe me.”

  “Why’d you do it this time? Why didn’t you correct me immediately?”

  “Because I wanted to know what it was like to have him. To have him really be mine. Really be ours. Olivia took to him like a duck to water, and there was nothing I loved more than walking out the bedroom and seeing the two of them together. Him learning how to cook from her, helping her with her homework, hell, sitting in her room and playing video games. It was everything I’d dreamed of.”

  “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t say the words he needed to hear.”

  “I love you?”

  “Those would be the three.”

  “He left you because of that?”

  At that, Carlton shook his head. “No. He left me for a lot of reasons, and that was just the icing. Please believe me, Deion isn’t that emotional.”

  She nodded, then stood. “Well, thank you for your honesty with me. As I said, it’s something I certainly have to consider as part of my job. Is Olivia available for me to talk to?”

  “Of course.” Carlton led her to the back, then returned to the living room and sank on the couch. In the spot Deion usually sat in. He huffed. In barely three months, they’d established a routine. Deion on the left side of the couch, Olivia on the right, her legs tucked up on the cushion next to her. Carlton in the chair, close enough to touch Deion, to watch over his niece. To stare at his family in awe. And it was nothing short of that when he looked at them. Pure, unadulterated awe that, after all this time, he had a family that wanted him.

  And the only thing Deion had wanted was to hear the words I love you. Words Carlton had screamed in his chest, in his heart, in his head, for years now. But pushing them past his throat? Putting them out in the air and leaving himself vulnerable? He couldn’t do it.

  He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages until he found Lawrence’s name.

  Me: I think I fucked up.

  Lawrence’s response was immediate.

  Lawrence: What did you do now?

  Me: Deion left.

  Lawrence: The fuck?

  Me: We did the joint counseling thing. It didn’t go well.

  There was a pause, then,

  Lawrence: I called about that a few weeks ago.

  Fuck. This is what happened when friends had dual roles. He couldn’t just play it off or come up with an excuse. He had to deal with this, and it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  Me: You did. We went a couple days after you called.

  Lawrence: Oh, so you’ve been holding out on us?

  Me: Not intentionally. Just, there’s been a lot on my mind.

  Lawrence: No doubt. You want to talk about it?

  Absolutely not.

  Me: No. But I told the social worker.
>
  Lawrence: Fuck.

  Me: I screwed up big time, huh? I’m going to lose

  Olivia, aren’t I?

  Lawrence: NO.

  The single word was sharp, forceful, in his face in a way Carlton hadn’t expected, even in knowing the badass Lawrence was at work.

  Lawrence: We’ll figure out a way through this. I’ll talk to Gwen in the morning and have her handle my appointments. Clear your calendar.

  Me: Done.

  Lawrence: In the meantime, what the fuck did you do?

  Carlton laughed, the sound too loud in the stillness of the house. Hell, he didn’t even have the TV on.

  Me: Wouldn’t tell him I love him.

  Lawrence: You’re still on this bullshit? What’s the holdup? We all know you do.

  Me: I got scared. Shitless. That it wouldn’t be enough. That somehow, he’s been waiting all these years for me to say it, and when I did, it wouldn’t be enough for him.

  That was the truth that even he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, to admit was the core of his reluctance. Lawrence, in his supremely eloquent way, summed it up in one word.

  Lawrence: Motherfucker.

  Carlton nodded in the empty room.

  Me: Sage words.

  Ms. Smith-Reis came back out then, scrawling away on her tablet. “Well, Mr. Monroe,” she said, “I’m fairly certain I won’t need to meet with you again before finalizing my recommendation. Olivia is happy here. She wants to stay here, and she feels that you’re doing everything to make this a positive environment for her. I love the room. You’ve let her make it her own, and that speaks volumes.”

  “It was Deion’s idea,” Carlton blurted out. His dumb ass wouldn’t have thought of it, but Deion... Always looking out for everyone else.

  Ms. Smith-Reis’s smile was almost apologetic. “I do hope you’re able to work things out with Mr. Jones. Even if not as partners, he’s a positive influence over Olivia. It would be a boon to her to have him in her life.”

  “Agreed,” Carlton said, and shook her hand. “Thank you, Ms. Smith-Reis, for all you’ve done.” He walked her to the door and held it open.

  “It’s my pleasure,” she said with a smile. “And please, call me Evangelyn.”

  He barked out a laugh as she sprinted down the steps, then shut the door and leaned against it. He’d come clean to the social worker. He’d come clean to one of his friends at least, though Jaq was going to kick his ass when he found out for not telling him sooner. But, if anything, he needed to come clean to his niece, and then to the most important man in his life. And he had to do it soon, before Deion managed to put an ocean between them.

  * * *

  Deion had way too much shit going on at one time. Ma was due to call any minute, he was texting with Olivia on his tablet, and he was desperately trying to pack up his last remaining belongings. It said something that, since he’d been back, he’d felt like a stranger in his own space. Like nothing here really belonged to him. He felt much more at home with Carlton, the jackass.

  But no, that wasn’t fair. He’d never tried to make the man love him before, and it’d been unfair to try to force it on him now, especially under the guise of doing it for Olivia. He wanted Carlton’s love unreservedly, without conditions. He’d gambled, and he’d lost, and now he was going back to his original plan, of packing it up and moving on.

  His phone trilled with his mom’s ring, and he answered it, setting it to video to see her face. “Hey, Ma.”

  “You’re back in Chicago.”

  “Yeah, I am. Feel free to rub it in.”

  Ma pursed her lips, but she didn’t laugh the way Deion expected her to. Instead, she sighed and said, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “For what? I thought this was what you wanted.”

  “For my son to be miserable? How could you possibly think that?”

  “Ma, I’m not miserable. Hell, I’m packing and will be to you and Dad soon enough.”

  She nodded, but there was no joy in her expression. “Here’s not where you want to be.”

  Deion stopped what he was doing and sank onto the mattress. She appeared determined to have this conversation, and he wasn’t in the mood to fight. “Ma, what do you want me to say? You’re right. London isn’t where I want to be. Chicago isn’t where I want to be. But I can’t be where I want, so I’m going where I’m wanted.”

  Ma scoffed. Actually had the nerve to scoff at him. “You think that boy doesn’t want you?”

  “Haven’t you been telling me that for years? Or, rather, that he doesn’t know what he wants? Hasn’t that, in fact, been the entire basis of your animosity toward him?”

  She paused, tilted her head, then nodded. “Yes. I was wrong.”

  Deion didn’t truly appreciate what the phrase knock you over with a feather meant until just then. “Say that again,” he said.

  Ma laughed. “Well, it’s clear he’s in love with you, isn’t it?”

  Umm... “What makes you think Carlton feels anything for me, let alone is in love with me?”

  “Deion, please. You don’t hop onto someone’s conversation with their mother the way he did you if you don’t feel something for them.”

  “I thought you said he did that to infuriate you.”

  She pursed her lips and her nose crinkled just a fraction. “You two have known each other far too long, and he knows my feelings far too well, to intentionally antagonize me like that. I might like to think of him as that aggravating twenty-year-old, but I saw the way he looked at you when he came in the room.”

  “Yeah? What look was that?” Clearly he was a sucker for punishment.

  “He adores you. It’s obvious to anyone who sees you two.”

  Deion leaned forward and closed his eyes. To say this conversation was surreal was an absolute understatement. Of all the people he thought would be thrilled things hadn’t worked out with Carlton, it was Ma. Hell, that’d been the exact reason he hadn’t spoken to her on his way home. He couldn’t bear to hear her tell him how right she’d been. But now, her telling him the opposite? That she’d maybe made a mistake and Carlton wasn’t the uncultured ragamuffin she’d previously insisted? Was maybe too much for him to handle.

  “Deion, baby, look at me.” Her voice was soft but strong, a mother’s caress from an ocean away.

  He did, trying to grin and knowing he failed miserably.

  “Deion, you are my only child. All your father and I have ever wanted is for you to be happy. And it worried me, deeply, that you seemed so fixated on this one boy. You barely gave anyone else a chance, and twenty years after you met him, that hadn’t changed. I didn’t like the idea that you were pining away, yearning for the impossible. Especially since it seemed, from everything you said, that he was clearly fixed on keeping you in a very specific box.”

  “That hasn’t changed, Ma.”

  “Only a fool would believe that. Of course it’s changed. Anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention can see it’s changed.”

  “How? He still won’t say he loves me. He still won’t say he wants me to stay with him.”

  “Didn’t he beg you not to leave him? Even if you fell out of love with him, he wanted you to stay?”

  “So I’m supposed to give him what he needs, but he’s allowed to skate by without saying those three words? The only thing I’ve asked for?”

  That sounded juvenile, at best. And maybe it wasn’t fair, but god, he needed to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Carlton’s feelings for him were more than just the roommate variety. Were more than just the best friend coming into town and holding it down while they each sought dick from someone other than each other. He needed to know it meant something.

  “I do understand that, son,” Ma said. “I know you need to hear, to feel, to see that shift and that change. But if, for whatever reason, Carlton coul
dn’t speak, couldn’t communicate with words the way you need, would you know how he feels about you? How he’s, as much as it burns me to say it, probably always felt?”

  Well, damn. Deion sighed and let his head hang low. He remembered, years ago, his grandfather having a stroke. It had robbed him of his ability to speak for almost two years. At the time, Deion was too young to understand what Grandma must have really gone through, but he tried to imagine it now. Being with Carlton, unable to communicate, unable to say those words that Deion had so fiercely demanded. Would the love be any less? Of course not. It didn’t mean he was wrong for wanting them, but hell, maybe he had been hasty when he left. That idea maybe burned him up more than anything else.

  “You cannot know how much I despise the thought of you telling me Carlton was right.”

  Ma laughed. “You cannot know how much I despise the thought of admitting Carlton was right. Or of me unfairly judging him all these years. I’d like to think I’m better than that,” she finished, her voice lowering to a mere whisper.

  “Ma, you can’t beat yourself up over that. Carlton was kind of a dick for a long time.”

  “Not the choice of words I would’ve used, but I think I understand the sentiment.”

  Deion chuckled. Then he sighed, pulling his hair behind him and twisting it up into a bun, more to have something to do than for anything else. “Ma, what do I do?”

  “What does your heart tell you?”

  “That I miss my family.”

  Ma smiled, and it was slightly bittersweet. “And by family, I’m assuming you don’t mean me or your dad, or even just Carlton, do you?”

  He winced. He hadn’t thought about the implications of that statement, but he couldn’t deny it. “No. I miss the hell out of Olivia, and even Trey.”

  “Good,” Ma said, her voice firm. “That’s what I’ve always wanted for you, that kind of connection and home. How is Olivia doing?” she asked, smoothly switching topics, and Deion was struck by the incontrovertible truth. Ma asked about Olivia in every conversation, praising her accomplishments, mourning her challenges, offering advice at every turn. Hell, she probably near considered Olivia to be family too, and would likely do the same with Trey if they ever met. Wasn’t that a trip?