by Curtis Bunn
He overcame the lost twelve years, and Lucy was a major part of that gradual transformation back to solid citizen. She accepted him for the man she saw, not the perceived person who was wrongly accused and convicted. The women he encountered before Lucy were leery of Elliott, even as they read many accounts in The Washington Post and other credible news outlets not only about his innocence, but also about the apprehension of the confessed killer/rapist.
One woman told him, “You seem like a nice guy and I’m sorry about what happened to you. But I’m not comfortable dealing with someone who has spent that much time in prison. I’m not being insensitive. But I know how disease is transferred in prisons and how awful the environment is. I wish you the best, though.”
Elliott could not be mad at her, but she and others deflated his spirit. He was a free man, exonerated of the ghastly crimes, and yet he remained a villain in some women’s eyes. That hurt. He had to move from the D.C. area because his face had become familiar and the connotation was not all good.
He relocated to Atlanta and met Lucy, and his world changed. She was not judgmental. She empathized with what happened to him. She asked questions no else did, like “What did you take from your prison experience? How has it changed you? Do you dream of prison? Have you been institutionalized?”
The questions were asked with sensitivity and genuine curiosity and care, not prying, nosey inquiries. And with each answer, Lucy detected strength in Elliott that was almost overwhelming and increasingly attractive.
His interest in her heightened. She was a woman who did not predetermine who he was and did not judge him when he shared his story. His comfort level with her was high, allowing him to open up to her, and she, in turned, opened up to him.
Elliott knew in three conversations that his dating days—at least at that point—were over. He had found the one woman placed on earth for him. That’s what he felt about Lucy.
And he said as much during the reciting of his vows during their wedding:
“I know God is good because He sent you to me, Lucy. The power of love is amazing. Your love validates that I am free. I know you were meant for me…”
Recalling his wedding day increased his desire to call Lucy. But he learned in prison to be patient, and so he instead worked on his Innocence Project presentation until he dozed off after watching The Newsroom on HBO. When he woke up to shower and go to bed, he had three text messages.
One was from Tamara, giving him details of the event she wanted him to accompany her to over the weekend. The second one was from Henry that read: “Listen, let’s do lunch this week. I’m open.” And the other was from Lucy: “I picked a day for lunch. How is Wednesday?”
Elliott froze. He knew Lucy as well as anyone. She would not reach out about lunch if she did not have an interest in trying to rekindle something with him. The text arrived six minutes before he read it. He waited another ten minutes before responding, an attempt to not seem anxious.
“Wednesday should work,” he texted back. “Can I confirm tomorrow?”
Wednesday was open and he asked a question to get her to send him another message in an attempt to start an electronic dialogue. It worked.
“Sure, that’s fine,” Lucy texted back. “If that’s not good, I understand. No pressure.”
“I didn’t even know you knew how to text,” Elliott responded.
“I don’t have any limitations,” she fired back.
“Really? Since when? I recall your cooking skills being a little lacking.”
“That was then, this is now,” she answered.
“Gotta love progress,” Elliott typed.
“And technology,” she responded.
“And everlasting connections,” he wrote. He hesitated before pushing Send. But he was nothing if not bold.
“We do have that, don’t we?” Lucy wrote back. “No denying.”
Elliott’s heartbeat increased. He was as much excited as he was stunned to have substantive, pleasant communications with his former wife.
“I have not been the same without you,” he wrote. Then he erased it before sending. He decided it was too strong of a declaration.
“You remain close to me over these last there years, even though we didn’t see each other or talk much,” he sent.
On the other end, Lucy sat in a yoga position, anticipating Elliott’s responses. It took her two years to understand why infidelity ruined their marriage and another year to summon the courage to let Elliott know she wanted it back, wanted him back.
She deduced that the cheating was a cry for attention, not a declaration of misplaced love. It was meaningless, and not enough to detonate a family that was close and loving and thriving.
When the marriage came to a head and all the emotions poured out, Elliott apologized and told Lucy the family was bigger than the indiscretion. While she intuitively agreed with him, the hurt and disappointment ruled, and something in her believed the breach was too much to overcome. So, she insisted Elliott leave.
Upset, Lucy wanted to tell their kids why the family was splintering. Elliott pleaded long and hard for her to agree with him to never divulge the specifics of what had taken place. “Honor is at stake here,” he said to Lucy. “I don’t want that to be blemished.”
Lucy reluctantly agreed, and despite Danielle’s and Daniel’s efforts to get details, the parents held to their promise.
“I know,” Lucy texted Elliott. “It has been too long. It will be good to catch up with you.”
“I feel the same way,” he responded. He set down the phone and rushed to the bathroom to relieve himself. He thought of taking the phone with him, but he did that once and it slipped out of his hands and into the toilet. It was ruined.
When he returned, Lucy had sent another missive.
“I must warn you,” it read. “I don’t look the same.”
Elliott said aloud. “Oh, no.” He knew that meant she had gained weight.
“How so?” he texted.
“I don’t use chemicals in my hair anymore,” she responded. “I have been natural for about nine months and I love it. I feel free, in a sense.”
Relieved, Elliott was prepared to respond. Before he could, Lucy sent another text.
“You thought I was gonna say I had gained weight, didn’t you?” she wrote.
And Elliott laughed. She knows me so well, he thought.
“You set me up for that,” he responded. “But you’re right. You wearing an Afro now?”
“Like Pam Grier back in the day,” she wrote. “No, just kidding. I wear locs now.”
“Oh, wow,” Elliott answered. “You wear dreads. Interesting.”
“I don’t wear ‘dreads.’ I wear locs,” she insisted.
“Aren’t they called ‘dreadlocks’?” he wrote.
“Many people do. I say ‘locs,” Lucy answered. “Dread has a negative tone, don’t you think?”
“I guess you’re right,” Elliott said. “Never really thought about it.”
“What if I said you wear a dreadcut? How would that sound to you?”
He could not tell if she was offended or if she was being matter-of-fact. More than once his words in text messages were interpreted incorrectly, causing drama.
“I hear you,” he responded. “I hear people with locs calling them dreadlocks. But I get your point. Locs it is.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “Dreaded weather. I dread going to work. The movie was dreadful. All negative.”
He knew then it was a sensitive subject for her. So, he made sure to calm her.
“I can’t wait to see them. I’m sure they are beautiful,” he said.
“They are. I love them. I can swing them in the air if I want. LOL.”
“Swing on,” Elliott responded.
“Well, I’m going to read before I go to sleep,” she wrote. “I will look to see if you can fit me in Wednesday.
“One question before we end this?” Elliott asked.
“Sure.”
“Why do want to see me? You have avoided me for a long time, wouldn’t even talk to me. Suddenly a phone call, long conversation, text messages and now lunch? That’s a lot.”
Lucy was expecting that question, but was hoping she would not have to address it until Wednesday. It was logical that he would go there.
“Well, I will give you the full story whenever I see you,” she wrote. “But let’s just say I realize it is important to embrace the people who really love you.”
“I’m glad you know I’m among them,” Elliott wrote back.
“Thank you,” she texted.
“Thank YOU,” Elliott responded.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Up High
The idea of the Monday blues never registered with Elliott. It was a new day, one to be thankful for and to savor. The start of the week was the day in which he visited the two car dealerships he owned: one in Cobb County and the other near Midtown Atlanta.
He enjoyed his summer experience when he was a kid at that Virginia dealership…until his arrest. When he won his $2.4 million civil suit, he put away $1 million in an interest-bearing account. He used some of the remaining money to purchase real estate and eventually two small auto dealerships, among other things.
Elliott had no financial concerns. He was debt-free after buying his place at the W Residences and paying off his Mercedes-Benz S550. But he was proof that financial freedom did not necessarily translate into complete happiness.
“Your need to date younger women and to keep yourself busy is an attempt to prevent yourself from focusing on the reality of your life,” Dr. Nottingham told him during his session that afternoon.
“Which is?” Elliott asked.
“The reality of your life is that you are unfulfilled because you do not have the family life you expected to have, that you need to have,” she said. “And that’s normal. To not have what you once coveted can be difficult to face.”
“But,” Elliott said. “I know there’s a ‘but’.”
Dr. Nottingham smiled. “But not facing it can be replaced by irrational behavior.”
“What’s my irrational behavior?”
“Irrational behavior is subjective,” she answered. “For me, in your case, it’s pursuing young women less than half your age. It’s going out every chance you can get, to places your peers would not think of going.”
“It doesn’t feel irrational to me, Dr. Nottingham. It feels right. I feel like I’m getting back what was taken from me.”
“Really? That’s what you really think?”
“Okay, well, let me ask you something then,” she said. “I was going to wait to ask this at another time, but this is the perfect time. If you believe dating young girls and frequenting places young people frequent is helping you get back what was taken from you when you were incarcerated, why aren’t you developing friendships with twenty-something young men? Why don’t you go to sports bars with twenty-somethings? Why don’t you go to strip clubs with younger men? Why don’t you dress like you’re their age? That’s what young men do and you missed out on that.”
Elliott looked at her. Then looked away.
“See, Elliott, if you were truly trying to recapture your taken-away youth, why not recapture all of it?” she added. “If you did those other things men in their twenties did, then maybe it could be considered recapturing your lost youth. But you’re only focusing on one aspect of life in your twenties: women. And that says to me that you’re more about avoiding what’s missing in your life than trying to fill it with what you didn’t get to experience.”
Elliott was speechless. What she said made so much sense. He never considered the other aspects of being in his twenties. He had no interest in gaining a friend among young men. There was nothing in common.
With younger women, the common thread was companionship. There was no age limit on companionship and how you get it or from whom you receive it.
“So,” he finally said, “I’m just a dirty old man?”
“Well, I’m older than you, and I don’t consider myself an old woman—so that’s not it,” Dr. Nottingham said. “What you are is a normal man who has been confused about how to move on after losing his family. Your love for your wife is evident. So, you have thought the best way to not think about her is to be involved with people who are not likely to remind you of her.”
“Here’s the thing, though,” he said. “She called me yesterday. She eventually told me that she misses me, always loved me and wants to see me. She asked me to meet her for lunch on Wednesday.”
“How do you feel about that?” the psychiatrist asked.
“I feel great about it,” he said. “But, to be honest, I did think to myself: Why am I so accepting of her after she basically ignored me for three years?’ What does that say?”
“What do you think it says?” Dr. Nottingham offered.
“I need you to figure this one out,” Elliott said.
“You should try first, don’t you think?”
“Well, maybe I was so accepting because I want her approval. When things got ugly at home, she insisted I leave. She rejected me. I want to get past that rejection.”
“You should be sitting in my chair,” she said, smiling. “Very good, Elliott. So, now that you know that, what do you do?”
“My instincts say to do what I need to do to remove feeling rejected.”
“I see,” Dr. Nottingham said. “And how do you do that? How far do you go? At what point is rejection rejected?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m going to have to feel that out. I will know when.”
After his session, Elliott called Lucy, who did not answer. He left a message: “Hey there, how are you? This is Elliott. Do you notice that the kids never leave messages when they call? It must be an age thing. They tell me that I see that they called and that’s enough. Anyway, Wednesday is good for lunch. Let me know when and where and I’m there.”
He jumped in his car with intentions to head toward Midtown from Buckhead. He called Daniel.
“Got a question for you,” he said. “First, how are you?”
“I’m good,” Daniel said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Where’s your shadow—I mean, your sister,” he said, laughing. Daniel laughed with him.
“I’m out on assignment for my internship. Danielle is taking a golf lesson at John A. White Park. What’s going on?”
“First of all, I’m glad you answered the phone; that’s a big deal. Thanks,” Elliott said. “Second, I wasn’t sure whom to call or if I should call you. But I’m going to lunch with your mom on Wednesday. Anything I should know?”
“You’re going to lunch with Ma? Why?”
“I’m not sure. She called me yesterday and—”
“Ma called you? Are you serious?”
“Daniel, can you help me?”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “She never talks about you. She literally never talks about you.”
“Well, what’s been going on in her life? I’m trying to figure out why this is happening,” Elliott said.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Daniel said. “And, no disrespect, but you really expect me to help you if I did know something?”
“Yes, because I’m your father and I’m asking you. That’s why,” Elliott said.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you,” Daniel said. “She has been the same as far as I can tell. She hasn’t been dating anyone. She’s been the same.”
“Okay,” Elliott said. “Maybe she just wants to finally be friends after so long.”
“Come to think of it, something did happen,” Daniel said. “About two weeks ago, I didn’t have to go to work until the afternoon. I came downstairs in the morning and she was dressed up, about to go out. It was a funeral. The mother of one of the families she covers on her job died. Don’t know how, but it was sudden. She was sad. She said, ‘I visited her home that morning. Talked to her. She seemed fine.’
“Yeah,” Elliott said. “That could be it.”
“You didn’t think it was a romantic thing, did you?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know what it could be,” he said.
They hung up and Elliott returned Henry’s call from Sunday. Turned out that he was at Lenox Square mall, and Elliott turned around and met him at Bloomingdale’s. He was all right with going to that mall on a Monday, but the word was that Saturday was the day gay men used it as a meeting post.
“If you’re straight, you do not want to go to Lenox on Saturday,” a woman told him. “They are everywhere.”
Elliott was not homophobic, but before Henry’s revelation, he was as close as one could be without officially being one. So, he stayed away from the mall on Saturdays. When he caught up with Henry at the department store, they slapped hands and hugged like men do. Elliott, for all his accepting of Henry’s lifestyle, was not completely comfortable being physically close to a gay man.
He, in fact, was uncomfortable as they walked the length of the mall toward the restaurant Prime. He noticed gay men walking together and straight people looking on as if offended. His mind played tricks on him; he thought people looked at him and Henry as a gay couple. And he started to sweat.
Henry did not notice and tried to carry on a conversation. “How did it go with your kids the other night?”
Elliott heard him but he was too busy trying to act like he was not with Henry.
“Hey, man, did you hear me?” Henry grabbed Elliott by the arm and he pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
“Man, this is crazy.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I mean, I’ll talk about it when we sit down.”
The five-minute walk down the mall and up the escalator to Prime seemed like a marathon to Elliott. He had accepted Henry as his friend, but they had not spent much time together beyond meeting out at a bar.
At the hostess stand, Elliott said, “Can we have a table in the back?”