A Clean Up Man

by M. T. Pope

  It took me about ten minutes to get to my mom’s and, sure enough, Angie wasn’t anywhere in sight when I walked into the house. I could smell something cooking, but I didn’t recognize the aroma. Momma had some Patti LaBelle playing on the CD player.

  “Hey, Ma!” I walked up to her in the kitchen and tapped her on her shoulder. She was doing some kind of slow gyrating to Patti as she stirred whatever she was cooking. I had looked at her for a few seconds in the kitchen doorway before going over to tap her. My momma wasn’t old, so it was no surprise to me. For an early retired teacher she was still beautiful to look at.

  “Hey, baby!” Her face lit up as she turned around and gave me a great big hug. I had seen her earlier this week, but you would have thought that I just got back home from Iraq or something. I loved my mom’s hugs. No other attention or affection could replace it.

  I backed up and looked at my mother after we disengaged. She was beautiful. She was pear shaped, with golden brown skin. She had dimples when she smiled. She had some gray hair, but there was only a small amount on the sides of her head, with a few sprinkled in at the top. Her voice was always gingerly and mild and most of the time she had her hair pulled back in a teacher’s bun. She was conservative most of the time, but could and would step out of the gate if necessary.

  I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table and waited to be served. She turned back toward the stove to finish what it was she was finishing.

  My mother was always a good mother. She spoiled me terribly so. I should have been serving her. The thing was she never let me. Never. She only allowed me to do physical work around the house and yard. She said the house was her domain. I never bucked, because my momma didn’t play that. When she worked, she came home and did her motherly duties faithfully.

  “Momma, where’s Angie?” I was only asking for my purposes. She probably thought it was out of concern. My mamma knew that Angie and I had our problems but she never once got in the middle of it. She would just stare us both down until we shut up. My mother had a lot of patience. It was something that I admired her for having.

  “She’s upstairs. She’s not feeling well.” She was still at the stove when she spoke over her shoulder.

  “Oh . . . that’s too bad.” I didn’t know what it was about Angie, but I felt some way about her. I thought it was the shock of finding out that she was my mom’s lover and that she was trying hard to replace him. I don’t remember very much about my father, since he left when I was a baby and my mother almost never talked about him. And when my mother did slip up and mention him, Angie copped an attitude like my mother was disrespecting her or something. She didn’t even know the man. I thought. Shit, she could have and crept in when he made his exit. I didn’t know. The truth was I really didn’t know what was what. My mother had all the information that I needed. You would have thought my father was a murderer or something. Actually, I would have been happy knowing that part. I knew nothing about him. I felt like knowing that my father was in jail or dead would be better than knowing nothing at all.

  “Sorry to hear that.” I offered consolation without any internal sensitivity whatsoever. I didn’t feel anything for Angie . . . well, maybe resentment, but that was because she was trying to be someone I knew nothing about, if that makes any sense.

  “Ma.” She had turned off whatever she was cooking and transferred it to a bowl. “Is my father dead?” I felt some kind of way to be asking something like this at my age. It felt like I was one of those adopted kids looking for a parent.

  “Kraig, where is this coming from? Didn’t we go over this before?” She immediately got defensive, as she usually did when this topic came up in conversation.

  “Ma, it’s just something I want to know.” I had a small, agitated tone as well. “I mean you never ever talk about him. The only possible conclusion I could come up with is that he is dead. You won’t even mention his name.”

  She sat down at the table and slid me a plate of chipped beef. It was one of my favorite meals for us both. I didn’t know why I didn’t notice the smell before she set it in front of me. Maybe Momma was losing her touch. It was one of our conversation foods.

  I looked at the plate as if it was a “hush plate” meant to keep me from asking questions. She usually did it when she didn’t want to talk about something. I didn’t know how she figured I would come over here and talk about this. It was like she had a sixth sense or something. I pushed the plate away and looked at her intensely. I loved my mother but I felt like there was something she wasn’t telling me. She looked back at me and then she began to eat her food.

  “So we’re not going to discuss this, huh?” My words came out with a hint of anger. I felt like I was being deprived of information I should have known long ago.

  “Kraig, it’s really not that serious.” She spoke after she put her fork down and wiped her mouth. “Your father’s not a person I like to talk about. He left a long time ago and that is that. You are not missing anything. I was your mother and your father. And you have Angie too.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I huffed at the thought of Angie.

  “Kraig, baby, what do you have against Angie? She’s only trying to fit in your life.”

  “No, she’s trying to be my father is what she’s doing. I don’t need another father. I want to know about the one I didn’t have. Angie is trying to be a substitute. I don’t need that.”

  “That’s not nice, Kraig. I raised you better than that.” She looked a little disappointed.

  Maybe I could have been a little nicer with the way I said it, but I meant what I said. “I know you did, but all I am asking is for a picture or some info about him. You act like I am going to up and leave you, Momma, if I find him. Why can’t I have two parents like the average person?”

  She got up and picked up her plate. “You going to eat that?” She pointed to my uneaten food.

  “No,” I said quick and short. I couldn’t believe I was actually pouting about this like I was a child or something. She pulled my plate off of the table, emptied it into the trash, and threw the plates into the sink. It was like she had an attitude too. I really didn’t come here for this and I didn’t want to upset my mother like this. She walked out of the kitchen and I heard her walk up the steps and into her room above my head. I heard some rumbling and then she walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “Here.” She threw a picture on the table. “It’s the only one I have. The only one I kept. I hope that’s enough to keep you quiet. It better be. And don’t tell Angie I showed you this.”

  I looked at her, confused. “Okay, I won’t.”

  She walked back out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

  I looked at the picture still sitting on the table in front of me. It was turned face down. I now had what I wanted all my life in front of me, but why couldn’t I turn it over and look at it? I sat there for a few more seconds wondering about what he looked like in this picture. A few seconds later, I finally turned it over. The picture was old and faded, almost to the point where I could barely make out his face. I squinted my eyes to try to see him. Damn, she sure did give me an old-ass picture. The picture was distorted. I am going to have to take this to a picture restoration place or something to get a clearer look at it.

  My heartbeat sped up a little looking at the picture. I was so glad I pressed the issue with my mother.

  I got up from the table and walked toward the steps that led to the next floor. “I’m gone, Ma.” I yelled halfway up the stairs.

  I heard her door creak open. “All right, baby. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I walked to the front door and jumped in my car. I patted the Polaroid picture that I had in my front pocket with my hand. I was so happy to have some type of evidence.

  Chapter 8

  Out of Control

  How I found myself back at this house was mind-boggling. I was sitting in my truck in front of the wheelchair guy’s house. I had
called him against my better judgment and instinct. The thrill of getting some and getting out was on my mind the whole of last week. My last two jobs had not come up with any new candidates. I’d kind of been looking forward to some advances from some new men with the last two jobs I’ve been on. I knew I should have been looking for a single guy, but I just couldn’t bring myself around to doing it. It just seemed normal to not get emotionally involved with married men.

  They played their part and I played mine. I’d learned over the years that married men want to hit it, quit it, and roll over. I got what Jarrod did to me back in college. He was doing me a favor by not getting caught up in feelings or even names. Just get in, get what you want, and get out. It was the perfect setup. At least, that was what I told myself.

  In our conversation over the phone Mr. Handicapped said that his wife and child were off visiting her mother in another state. He said he opted out of going because her father was not fond of him and he the same. The fact that he was a sports agent convinced him that his new son-in-law was a womanizer in waiting. In fact, he was tiptoeing out with other men and nobody was the wiser. He and his wife had several arguments about it and the issue with her father was never resolved. She was a daddy’s girl and it was staying that way. He said he felt that she would always side with Daddy because he was her safety net.

  The conversation went on and on for longer than I had liked. He was giving the scenic route of his married life for sure. I wanted so bad to say, “cut to the chase,” but I was being polite like my mother taught me. Besides, you never know what information someone might slip up on in their conversations. I actually was listening to him talk, I just plucked out the necessary and left the rest alone. He wanted attention and sex and he wanted to be treated like a man.

  Now that he was handicapped for a second time—the first one being attracted to men (his words not mine)—she pushed him over the edge and he was mine for the plucking. But it was just sex for me; I had to make sure that he understood that when I left after this rendezvous.

  I walked up to the front door with my tools in hand. I had to make this look authentic. His wife wasn’t getting any news from a nosy neighbor. I was going to play my part to the fullest. I rang the doorbell and stood back, waiting for the door to be opened. When it did Mr. Wheelchair Guy was dressed in a blue terry cloth robe. He was smiling from ear to ear. I didn’t smile; I wanted him to know that this was sex and sex only. Smiling signified a feeling of like. I didn’t want to show that I had any type of feelings for him at all. This was about sex and sex only. At least that was what I told myself.

  “Why the serious face?” he asked me as I walked past him while he shut the door behind me.

  “I’m here on business and business only.” I set my toolbox down and faced him. “I need to make this clear so that there is no misunderstanding.” I waited for him to nod his head in agreement.

  “Okay . . .” He looked confused.

  “This is only sex,” I continued. “I am only here to do you a service. We don’t exchange money or feelings. You get your nut and I get mines. Agreed?”

  “Yeah, man, I got it.” He looked disappointed but I didn’t really care. I had to make it crystal clear to him.

  “So where are we going to do this?”

  “In the living room.” He wheeled past me, into the living room, and I followed him. I watched as he pulled himself out of the wheelchair and onto the sofa. His arms were bulging and I couldn’t help but get an erection at the sight.

  “I’m ready.” He pulled open his robe and he was naked underneath. I looked at his whole body and I had to say that he kept himself up very well. His upper body was banging. He was cut the hell up. Even though he couldn’t use his legs they were nice looking.

  I kneeled down in front of him, put the condom that I grabbed out of my toolbox beside him, and then took his piece into my hand and massaged it. It didn’t take any time to get it rock hard. I was getting excited too as my own dick was pressing at my pants waiting to be unleashed. I immediately went to work on him with my mouth. In the process of going down on him I pulled out my own and began to massage myself.

  “Ahhhhh.” He moaned and put his hand on the top of my head, pushing me farther down. I didn’t gag even though he was punishing my throat. I knew that I was going to have a sore throat in the morning. “You . . . are working . . . me . . . over . . . real . . . good.” He moaned out the words as I worked on him.

  With that I began to suck harder. His moans became louder and louder. I moved my hand to his mouth and stuck some of my fingers in it to keep him quiet. He started sucking my fingers like a dick and it was turning me on heavily. I pulled my mouth off of his dick and got up on the chair. I positioned myself with my dick in front of his mouth. I leaned on the wall that was behind the couch and began to face fuck him like it was man pussy. He gagged and slobbered as I thrust harder and harder in his mouth.

  “Take that dick . . . Take that dick . . . Take that dick,” I said with every thrust. I could see him massaging his dick and working up frenzy. I didn’t want him bust in his hand so I pulled my dick out of his mouth.

  “Man, this some freaky shit.” He was smiling from ear to ear. “I never thought I would be doing any of the stuff I was watching in them porn videos. This shit is awesome.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said as I ripped open the condom pack and placed it on his dick. I got down on my knees over him and straddled him like I was going for a ride on a horse.

  I aligned his penis and my ass together and eased down on him. After a minute of easing him in me, I completely engulfed his dick with my ass and began to slam and grind on him until he came. As I was doing this his hand was all over my body; he was trying to pull my face toward his but I wasn’t having it. I was getting into any lip lock with any man. Those were probably the same lips he licked his wife’s womb with. I didn’t want any remnants of it on my mouth at all. Minutes later he came and I pulled off, went to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and walked out his house without so much as a good-bye.

  My phone rang a couple of minutes down the road. I looked at it and saw that it was him. I didn’t even think about it as I sped home. I was driving faster than normal. I felt like I was having a Carlos moment. Speaking of Carlos, I hadn’t heard from in a couple of days. I pushed the button on my Bluetooth and waited for it to prompt me to make a call.

  “Call Carlos,” I spoke loud and clear. The phone dialed his number and I waited for him to pick up the phone.

  A few seconds later, Carlos picked up the phone. He sounded groggy.

  “Where you been at, dude?” I inquired.

  “In the house, chilling.” I hated when he got in these moods. After every bad break-up with a girl, he sulked around in the house for a couple of days. I was so much into my life recently that I forgot about calling him. I could be so selfish at times. I really needed to get myself back on track.

  “How are you feeling?” I had slowed down my driving a little bit, and took my time going down the road.

  “I’m doing the usual, home, work, and no social life.”

  His funk was getting to me. I can’t let my bestie sulk at home like a dead fish in water floating at the top of the tank. “Get dressed. I’m coming by to scoop you up.” I hung up in his ear before he could debate me.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling up to Carlos’s house, and blew my horn. I looked up at his bedroom window to see Carlos pop in the window and throw his hand up, asking for five more minutes. Sure enough, five minutes later, he dragged himself out of the door and down his porch steps.

  “Hey.” He spoke weakly as he hopped in my truck, plopped down, and closed my door. “Man, love really beats a brother down.”

  “Brother?” I laughed real hard. “I must be talking to the black Carlos.”

  “Man, whatever,” he retorted. “Let’s get on to wherever we are going.”

  I pulled off down the street. I had one destination in mind: Dave & Buster’s in Arunde
l Mills Mall. It was one of our favorite hangout spots and eateries. Games, sports, and food were what we both needed at this time. He needed to be cheered up and I needed to take my mind off of Mr. Wheelchair Guy, because even though I didn’t want to like him, I had an attraction to him. I was slowly breaking all of my rules: never fall for a conquest, and never ever do them twice.

  We were seated almost immediately when we got there.

  “So what did you do today?” he asked me between sipping on a strawberry-lemonade fountain drink and looking around the room at the waitresses as they walked around. It didn’t take long for him to get it back; it as in his mojo for the female specimen.

  “I went to do some follow-up work on a previous site.” It was a half-truth because he said he didn’t want to ever talk about my escapades, so I didn’t. My mind trailed back over the last few weeks and I couldn’t help but feel some kind of way about my indiscretions with married men. I had the nerve to be sitting here feeling guilty or dirty for all that mattered. I knew what I was doing and I willingly participated in every act.

  “Yo . . . Kraig. Earth to Kraig.” He waved his hand in front of my face. “You okay, dude?”

  “Yeah . . . yeah . . . I’m okay.” I picked up the menu to look at what I was going to eat. It was a distraction to keep Carlos from seeing my eyes water up. I wished I could talk to him about what was really going on. I wished I could tell him about what happened that night he went home for the weekend. I wished I could talk about the hurt I was constantly feeling and masking behind sex.

  “So what are you going to order?” He pulled the menu down from in front of my face. “Hey, why are your eyes red? You not crying or punking out on me, are you?”

  “Nah, man.” I wiped my eyes. “I think my allergies are messing with me.”

  “Oh, okay.” He looked down at his menu again.

  “I think I’m just going to have some hot wings and a salad. You?” I looked over at him still deciding what to eat.