Settling Old Scores: BWWM Second Chance Romance

by Sposs, Mike

  "Pat, I have to tell you that was some of the best sex I ever had," Kevin said.

  "You weren't too bad yourself. Nice body too. It only took you about three weeks to turn me into that slut of the semester I said I wasn't going to become," she said with a toss of her wet hair and a smile.

  "No, it took me 15 years, and thousands of tears, but it was worth it. Sooner or Later, as the Grassroots would say," Kevin said with a shrug.

  "I don't know if the French part of you is the lover part or the Gaullic shrug part. I guess I will have to do more extensive research. We both knew it was going to be sooner rather than later, didn't we?" she asked knowingly.

  Later, they cooked some dinner and talked. Kevin assured Pat that his mom was not what she imagined her to be. She was a mom first, and would back her son's choices all the way. They agreed they would go find Matt in the morning and buy him breakfast like they said they would. Later, Pat called her mother, and they had a muffled conversation.

  "I just wanted to check in with her. I think she is struggling a little with me not being home every night. Of course, she knows that I was going to have this conversation with you. She was worried for me. I just wanted to tell her we had it, and things went well. Mom and I have had only each other forever," Pat said softly.

  "It occurred to me when we were looking at the old picture of us in your bedroom that the two of you must have had a conversation about leaving it up, or taking it down. I'm coming to the party late again, but clearly you talked about much more than that," Kevin said.

  "She knew how anguished I was. For the record, she urged me to tell you years ago. She had a fear that sooner or later, you would hear all this from someone else. I did too. That was part of my fear about Brenda Johnson and you. It would be like "You are still hanging out with that bi-racial bitch?" Then, you would feel like you walked into a left hook. She would be right in front of you to console you. I was jealous of how she could turn you into such a fool, I will admit that. Our moms are not so very different. They want the best for their kids. They want them to be happy, and feel for them, when they aren't," she said.

  "For the record, I chose your friendship over Brenda's boobs," said Kevin with a smile.

  "When I went in the house for the rest of the boxes, your mom whispered to me to be nice to her daughter. I bet my mom would say the same thing to you. I have walked into left hooks before, and if they don't put you on your back, they sure hurt you," concluded Kevin.

  They went out after they ate. They drove to a nearby lake that was part of the park system. They strolled and talked more. Kevin told Pat that he wanted to get up to see Mr. Sharpe again. He wanted to set up another appearance at the school like he said he would do. He also said he wanted to get in touch with Willie just for old times’ sake. They walked until it started to get dark. Then they went home. Pat turned on the radio as they drove.

  "Well no Country & Western after all" she said.

  Instead, it was Steely Dan. "Do you think Steely Dan is the Simon & Garfunkel of the 70's?” Kevin asked.

  "That’s an interesting question. If you were in the pop music appreciation class I have been a teaching assistant in, I might give you good grade just for the stimulating questions you ask. A question like that would get the whole class fired up," she laughed.

  "I wouldn't want to get a good grade just cause I slept with the teacher," Kevin laughed back.

  "On the other hand, the question is so ridiculous I might just have to fail you for being so dense. There is no way you can get away with that comparison. Paul Simon is a great lyricist and songwriter. Besides, the genres are not really the same," she said.

  "Wait a second, Little Miss Music. The point is that music progressed in a decade from a ballad genre to a jazz genre. Comparing the two is like comparing freestyle to compulsories. The freestyle has way more creativity in it, richer note combinations, deeper lyrics, more pubic hair, so to speak," Kevin said.

  "Jesus Kevin, what a metaphor! Where does this stuff come from?"

  "How about this? Steely Dan is like the older sister to Simon & Garfunkel, lusher, more filled out, mature, and ripe. Better body, with a pleasant aftertaste," teased Kevin.

  "I think you have a future as a wine reviewer, or author of pornographic books. There is a certain redundancy in the two job descriptions. You have to admit that. Why don't you give up the sea and graduate school immediately? You are missing your true calling," she said shaking her head.

  That night they again made love. This time Kevin put her on top. When she started to reach what she was after she closed her eyes, retreated to some inner place. Her movements were quiet, precise and rhythmic. There was a sexiness to her that drew Kevin in again.

  20. Mixed Up Mix

  The next morning, they got up and got ready to go out and meet Matt for breakfast. They found Matt, and took him to breakfast. He was clear-headed and hungry. As he ate, they listened to him talk about some of his war experiences. They were gruesome. Normally, they would toss some grenades in a hole. Then, go in there after the explosion to clean up and look for survivors and weapons. On more than one occasion, there was a cache of explosives in the ground and they would get a big concussive blast back in return. Sometimes, arms and legs would be blown back at them. Sometimes, the bodies would be those of mere kids. Matt said he was covered at times by "crispy critter parts".

  Pat looked like she was going to throw up. Matt just ate his breakfast and continued on in a monotone. He told another story about having to fight for his life in the dark with someone that miraculously survived the blasts. He concluded by saying he choked the guy to death right there in the darkened tunnel.

  "I won the battle but lost the war. Sometimes, I wish it was me that didn't come out. I never went in a hole again. That is the way it worked for everyone. They sent you in until you couldn't do it anymore. Nobody lasted an entire tour in that job. Even if you didn't die, you were dead once the day came that you couldn't do it anymore," he said.

  "I still wake up at night in a sweat even in the middle of winter. I go days without sleeping out of fear that I will wake up trying to claw my way out of a hole. It's a recurrent dream I have. I do everything I can, but still can't get out. I am so claustrophobic too. Sometimes, I dream I am being choked," Matt finished and looked exhausted.

  "It doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to punish yourself for things you had no control over," Pat said.

  After projectile vomiting most of his story, Matt was spent. Kevin felt like he was covered in puke.

  "I know you aren't ready to go to the VA yet. Why don't I get you a room in the flophouse over there for tonight? Even if you don't stay there, you can at least clean up and rest. Besides, if someone is looking for you, they would never look there. You know how easy you are to find? It took us about 5 minutes the other day. I will meet you for breakfast tomorrow. We will go see Janet Smith, and eat there," Kevin said.

  Matt hesitated but went for it. Kevin left Matt and Pat there while he went and got a room at the somewhat upscale flophouse across the street. He came back with a key which he gave to Matt. Then they got up and left the restaurant. Matt was still shaking his head and mumbling that he didn't see why they were doing this for him. Kevin just waived him off.

  "Matt I always admired your guts and courage. I still do. I looked up to you. You were a hero to us younger kids. You have more intestinal fortitude in your little finger than I have in my whole body. I don't want this story to play out on the track it is on. It doesn't have to either. Try to stay sober. I will see you tomorrow morning," Kevin said.

  Kevin and Pat headed off. As they headed back, they talked a little about Matt. They agreed that getting Matt to talk was a good thing for him. Being able to listen was not so easy. It was clear that he was not the burned out derelict that everyone took him to be. He was pretty sharp when he was not on anything. Kevin thought that Matt would have said more if he was just talking to a guy. When there were two of them together, it
made Matt a little afraid of being ganged up on.

  "I am going to see him tomorrow again. I don't think he is done talking. Traumatized people always have such clear memory of detail. The trouble is that it’s always for the bad stuff and not the good stuff. You and I do the same thing. We see everything through a jaded lens. You do with your childhood. I know. I do it with mine, too," he said.

  "You are probably right. I did get the sense that even if he wasn't holding back, he had more to tell. When he talked about being covered in crispy critter parts, I just about lost my breakfast," Pat said.

  "It was interesting that you were so quick to tell Matt not to punish himself over things he had no control over. See how you spotted it in someone else but never spotted it in yourself? You have to admit you spent years sort of putting yourself down for things you had no control over," Kevin said evenly.

  "I did, and I still do on occasion. I like to think I am getting better over time. I have worn the mask of solitude Paz talks about. I detest it on one hand, and embrace it on the other," she said.

  "Well, at least now you have someone to share the mask with. I think everyone has a love-hate relationship with their masks. You were great back up too Darlene," Kevin said referencing their old joke about Darlene Love.

  "You know I like the new Kevin even better than the old one. He is wittier and more astute than he used to be. He has an even better body too. You never had that testosterone thing going on, where you had to wow me with your masculinity either. You are the older brother of the boy I used to know," she laughed.

  "Yeah, that would be me ─ whiskers, pubic hair, experience, and charm. You were never the type to fall for the cave man approach. You were born to be an academic," Kevin said.

  "You do have a kind of mental toughness I admire. I don't think of it as a bad boy thing. You have a confidence that comes with it. It is very sexy to me," Pat said with a smile.

  "You know for a long time I questioned everything about our relationship. I wondered if you were a abuse victim, or if you wanted me to be a father figure. That is a role I wouldn't have a clue how to play. I wondered if you didn't like me because your mom seemed to approve of me. I just couldn't figure it out. It drove me crazy. Then you developed a body on you that would make grown men weak in the knees," Kevin said.

  "There really is no more worse case scenario than a mature body and an immature mind. Unless you throw in being mixed and confused," Pat said.

  "I know that must have been tough for you. I wish I had just come out and asked you the questions I had. I would have gotten it out of you if I asked clearly what was eating you up. I do have some questions too," Kevin said.

  "Okay, I will try to answer everything I can," she said.

  "Does your birth certificate identify you as white?"

  "It does. My mom did that because I am more white than black. I think I am about one-fourth black and three-fourths white. They do not have a mixed box in the census, birth certificates, and a lot of other forms. Maybe, just maybe, she thought it would be easier for me to live in a white world. She wouldn't say that, but I suspect she thought that. We both know it is true. That's what I mean about being raised by a white lady. I don't have any more black mannerisms than you do. What we got was just from living where we lived. God knows I can't sing or dance any better than you can either," Pat said a little sarcastically.

  "I am just trying to zero in on how you think of yourself. I have sailed out of New Orleans and some of the people down there tell stories a damned Yankee like myself can't fathom. I knew a creole guy down there that told me how his dad had a farm in the Huey Long days. Anyway, one time the dad protested the taxes from the Parish he lived in. His logic was that if his kids couldn't go to the white school, he shouldn't have to pay the white level of tax. Since he was light enough to pass, the assessor told him that for an additional 250 dollars per kid, he could get the records changed so the kids could go to the white school,” said Kevin.

  "I think in most of the rest of the South, they are stricter about it than that. I did try to join the black student union one time and they told me I couldn't because I wasn't black, or at least I wasn't black enough. So, there you have it. Nobody wanted me. As far as quotas go, I never played that card. I always tested so good anyway. I suppose if I had applied to Harvard or something, I might have done it. I wonder if they would have vetoed the application as a minority when they saw my birth certificate. To tell the truth, I don't have any idea if they even ask to see stuff like that. They give you a form to fill out without any guidance. So, you could make a case for almost anything. Mostly, one or the other makes more sense than just one drop, right? I think of myself as white because I was raised pretty much as a white to answer your question," Pat said.

  "Quite often, people will reveal themselves to be racist not knowing that you are mixed. I still get pissed when I hear that blacks are less educated, more lazy, and less patriotic than whites. I just want to be me. I don't really want to choose one side or the other though. I am not a teenager anymore. So, I derive my identity these days from what I do, not my hue," said Pat.

  "Fair enough. Be glad I didn't go down the road of comparison. I know you have met people that make you feel like barfing with stories about being the product of a Jewish and Christian marriage is like being mixed or whatever," said Kevin.

  "Yeah I have heard that crap before. You can't really know what it's like from that," intoned Pat.

  21. What Pat Thought

  Kevin had more questions. "What about your Dad? How do you feel about him? How much do you know about him?"

  Pat let out a big sigh. "My dad. Where should I start? He worked for years at the same textile place mom did. His job was to maintain the sewing and knitting machines. She was a fresh faced farm girl working at this place during the war. He didn't get drafted because he was in a critical job and a critical industry," she said.

  "After the war, the plant switched back to civilian production, but that was always a woman's type of industry. There weren't going to be a lot of men coming along and taking over the sewing machines, so to speak. At some point, about five years after the war, he was fixing more than mom's machine, apparently. That's where I came in," she said.

  "They were married by a justice of the peace. He skipped out on us though, before I was ever born. It's like he went out for a pack of cigarettes one night and never came back. He never saw me, I never saw him. How do you think I would feel about him?" she asked painfully.

  "Where was he from by the way? Do you think he lives in the area? Do you have any desire to find him?" Kevin asked.

  "The fucker! I hate him! Why would I want to find him?" she spat back.

  "Whoa Pat, I don't mean to upset you," Kevin said.

  "I think I am over my feelings. Then, they just erupt when I have to talk about him. Then, I get mad at myself for even giving Mr. Reject Your Own Daughter that much power over my life. Fuck him! By the way, you won't open the white pages and find his name in the book. That much I know. I do always look," she said despondently.

  "Well, I guess that answers the second part of the question. Does your mom feel the same way?" Kevin asked.

  "No, she doesn't. She is much more mature and Christian about it. There were even bigger stigmas about mixing back then. Her version is that they tried to make it work, but it just didn't happen. He couldn't do it. She is thankful for me, and has no regrets, remorse, or the amount of bitterness I have," Pat said.

  Kevin sighed and held her hand. "I am thankful for you too. Don't beat yourself up. We all have things that make us rage. What else do you know about him? Where was he from? How old was he when you were born? I used to deliver papers to a few houses where they were mixed. The worst cases were where the Dad was white and the mom was black. I think those white guys took pains to stay invisible. They didn't go out in the yard and play with the kids. I wonder if some of them feared for their jobs," he said.

  "He was from Wilmington, North Carolina vi
a Chicago. I think he originally learned how to fix machines from being in the mills in the South. Just before the war, he migrated to the North. Mom was 23 when she had me. He was five years older than her," said Pat.

  "Do you think he had problems keeping his job after the war? There were a lot of white returning veterans that needed jobs. He must have stood out like a sore thumb to management to begin with, and then he went and got the help pregnant. I suppose that the places up here started to fold too because of high wages. The South was a right to work region, so they fared better in that competition. I am just theorizing that it was a bad time economically and he wasn't flying under the radar," Kevin said.

  "I know you talked the other day about how they won't hire black guys up here. You are the MBA guy that knows about labor relations, economics, and that stuff. Maybe, but it doesn't make me feel more charitable towards him. Mom was out of a job once she got pregnant, I know that,"

  They rode in silence the rest of the way to the apartment.

  "By the way, what do you know or remember about Jesse Campbell, Tyrone Jones, or Sam & Donny McCann?" Kevin said, changing the subject and getting serious again.

  "I don't know too much. Campbell was the drugs guy. Tyrone was a bookie. He ran craps games and a betting parlor out of his barber shop. The McCanns were the worst of the bunch, as far as I am concerned. They had the houses on English avenue. They were in a line of work no woman can stand," Pat said.

  “You knew about those places on English? I never knew what to expect when I was around there. I always cut through those backyards from the alley when I had a morning route. Lights would still be on, music playing. Sometimes, somebody would be passed out in the backyard, which would scare the shit out of you if you weren’t expecting it. One time, I walked into a situation where the drunk woke up and thought I was a cop. It was wild. After that, I didn’t take shortcuts through there. The girls always were nice to me though, when I came to collect. They tipped generously, and some even flirted a little with me. Brown Sugar, don’t you know?” Kevin said, with a smirk.