Married Men

by Carl Weber

  Cinnamon sat down next to me, and the doctor sat down behind his desk. Both of them were staring at me, but neither of them said a word. The silence was driving me crazy, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know what was going on.

  “Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” I stared back and forth between the two of them, holding on to the arms of the chair so my hands wouldn’t shake. I hoped they could sense I was not in the mood for games. Cinnamon looked at the doctor, and the doctor looked at me.

  “Mr. Jackson, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we found something very disturbing with the blood sample we took last week. That’s why we requested the second.”

  “I kind’ve figured that, Dr. Stone, especially since Ms. Lindsey here”—I cut my eyes at Cinnamon, then back to the doctor—“has been avoiding me ever since I got down here.” I sighed. “I want you to be honest with me, Doc. How long do I have to live?”

  The doctor exchanged a glance with Cinnamon, then looked at me quizzically. I’m sure they never expected me to figure out that I was dying.

  “Oh, no, Allen,” Cinnamon said sadly, “you’ve got this all wrong.” She patted my knee, trying to comfort me.

  “Mr. Jackson, you do have this all wrong. You’re not going to die.” The doctor tried to give me a reassuring smile.

  “I’m not? Then who?” My eyes went wide with fear. “Oh, God. Not Jonathan. Not my boy.” I could feel tears welling in my eyes. I felt like I was about to pass out.

  “Allen, no one is going to die,” Cinnamon whispered, gently rubbing my back.

  “Then what’s going on, Cin? Tell me what’s going on. I know you guys didn’t have me come down here for nothing.” My eyes never left hers. She tried to look at the doctor, but I grabbed her wrist. “No! Don’t look at him. Look at me. Tell me what’s going on.” She took a deep breath and exhaled before she spoke.

  “When they ran your blood through the tests last week, they couldn’t find the trait.” She looked like she was about to cry, but I didn’t understand what she was talking about.

  “What d’ya mean they couldn’t find the trait?” I turned to the doctor for clarification.

  “What she means, Mr. Jackson, is we could not find the trait for sickle-cell anemia in your blood.”

  “What?”

  My stomach started churning. I felt like I was about to lose my lunch. This man could not be saying what I thought he was saying. Please God, make him wrong.

  “Are you crazy? Do you know what you’re saying? Do you?” I leaned forward in my chair and was about to get in the doctor’s face. “You’re trying to tell me that Jonathan’s not my son?” I was yelling at the doctor, but even as I said the words, I knew inside that it was possible. I didn’t wanna admit it, but I knew my wife well enough by now to know there might be a chance the lab was right. Especially with Rose swearing Jonathan was premature and the doctor saying he was full-term. Now it was starting to make sense. I should’ve known something was up when Rose was so eager to try to get pregnant before the wedding. I slammed my hand on the doctor’s desk.

  “Mr. Jackson, please, please calm down,” the doctor pleaded. Cinnamon reached up and grabbed my hand as the doctor continued. “We’re not sure of anything right now. It was quite possible that we had mixed up your blood with someone else’s or that there was some type of error. That’s why we asked you to come down and give us another blood sample.” The doctor tried to smile, but I think the way I looked at him killed that idea.

  “Allen, please sit down.” Cinnamon guided me back in my chair.

  “So what did the other test say?” Maybe there was still a shred of hope that the new test would uncover a mistake on the part of the hospital, so I could get the hell out of there and go home to my son. I didn’t know what I would do if Jonathan wasn’t my child. I could barely process the thought.

  “We haven’t gotten the results yet. We’re waiting for them now.” The doctor looked at his watch. “It’s going to be another ten minutes or son.”

  So we sat in the doctor’s office and waited in uncomfortable silence for almost half an hour till the phone rang. I could tell by the doctor’s expression as he spoke that the news on the other end wasn’t any better than what they told me the first time.

  “Jonathan’s not my son, is he, Doctor?” I was sitting at the edge of the chair, holding my breath.

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t look that way, Mr. Jackson, but there are still some tests we should run.”

  I wanted to jump up in the air and scream, throw things at him, tip over his desk for giving me such bad news, but everything I wanted to do I couldn’t. I was too numb. I felt like I’d been given a huge shot of novocaine that had spread throughout my entire body. I’d never been so overcome with grief in my entire life. I’ll never forget the pain I felt sitting in the hospital when my dad died of cancer, and it was devastating to learn that Jonathan had sickle cell. But nothing I’d ever experienced could compare to the way I felt when this doctor confirmed that Jonathan was not my biological son.

  “Allen, are you okay?” Cinnamon placed one hand on my lap and the other on my back, rubbing it gently.

  “No, Cinnamon, I’m not okay,” I growled. Somehow I pulled my shoulder from her. I didn’t wanna be touched or consoled. I just wanted to get my hands around Rose’s neck and choke the life outta her. “I gotta get back to New York.”

  “Why don’t you stay down here with me a few days? I’ll take the rest of the week off. I’ll show you DC. Maybe we’ll go to Virginia Beach.”

  “No!” I shook my head. “She’s not gonna get away with this, Cinnamon. You don’t understand. You don’t do shit like this to people. Especially not people you’re supposed to love.” I stood to leave, but she grabbed my arm. I gave her an evil look, but it didn’t matter. She still didn’t let go.

  “I know what she did was wrong, Allen, but you don’t need to see her. Not yet, anyway. You might do something you’ll regret.”

  She was right. Anger had taken over my emotions. I was no longer feeling sorry for myself. I just wanted to put my foot in Rose’s ass.

  “I’ve got to go home. That bitch ruined my life.” Tears rolled down my face.

  “Please Allen, just stay with me a few days. I don’t wanna see you in jail.” The way she pleaded confirmed how much she still cared for me, and for a split second the thought actually comforted me.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go home and handle my business.” I pulled myself away from her and walked out of the office.

  I’d been sitting in my car for the better part of an hour staring at the front door. I wanted to go inside, but I was scared. Scared of what might happen if I went in. Scared of how I might react if I walked through that door and saw Rose. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was so hurt inside that I would’ve done anything to make the pain go away. And killing Rose was at the top of my list. I reached over to the passenger seat and took hold of the claw hammer I’d bought at Home Depot about an hour ago.

  I could do a hell of a lot of damage with this, I thought as I slammed the hammer into the passenger seat. Yep, a couple of hard swings and it would be all over. Rose would be dead as a doorknob. Funny thing is, I was mad enough to do it. The only problem was Rose wouldn’t have to suffer that way. I opened the car door, then slammed it shut without getting out. Goddammit! I wanted her to suffer just like I was suffering. Killing her was just too damn easy. So I decided not to take her life, but to make it the most miserable existence in the world. I glanced at my watch. It was a little after midnight. I opened the car door and walked to the front door. Rose opened the door before I could even take out my key.

  “Where the hell have you been? Your mother dropped off your son three hours ago. He’s been crying for two damn hours.”

  “My son?” I raised both eyebrows. You know, I had to laugh. Here I am sitting out in my car for an hour thinking about killing her ass because Jonathan’s not my son and she’s upset because I haven’t b
een home to take care of him. She’s got some fucking nerve. It’s a good thing I left that hammer in the car, ’cause I might’ve been smashing it up side her head right about now.

  “What the hell’s so funny?” she demanded.

  “You are, Rose! You’re what’s so damn funny. Did you give Jonathan his medicine?”

  “No. That’s not my job. It’s your job.” She gave me this superior little smirk, and I felt like smacking her.

  “You stupid idiot. That’s probably why he’s crying. Get the fuck outta my way.” Somehow, instead of smacking her I contained myself to giving her a dirty look, then pushed my way past her. She was so shocked by my actions and comments that she just stood there with her mouth open. When I got in the apartment, the first thing I heard was Jonathan wailing. My mind told me to ignore him and go pack up my shit, get the hell outta there before I did get violent. But my heart told me to go check on my boy. I followed my heart.

  “What’s up, little man?” He was lying in his crib, crying his eyes out, but he stopped the second he heard my voice. I smiled when I saw that he was wearing the New York Yankees pajamas I’d bought him the other day. God, I loved that kid so much. I took his medicine off the changing table and gave him a dropperful. “There you go, buddy. That should make you feel better.”

  I picked him up and held him against my chest. Tears began to well in my eyes and I could feel myself getting all choked up when he started to coo. I wasn’t sure if the medicine kicked in or if he was just glad to see me, but that’s when I realized that he was my son. I didn’t need no blood test to validate that. He had my name, and I’d taken care of him since he was born, so it didn’t matter whether we shared blood or not. He was my son. I loved him, and I would continue to take care of him.

  “Damn, that baby sure loves his daddy.” I could hear Rose in the doorway behind me, but I never turned around. How the hell she could just let him lay there without giving him his medicine was beyond me. I shook my head and bit my lip. I felt like packing up all our shit and running away with him. Maybe then she couldn’t ruin his life like she’d done mine.

  “That damn baby has a name, Rose. It’s Jonathan. Why don’t you use it sometime? After all, he is named after your father.” I kissed Jonathan, then placed him in his crib, making sure that his pacifier was in his mouth before I turned to face Rose. “You hate him, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t hate him. He’s just an inconvenience sometimes,” she answered so nonchalantly.

  “Inconvenience! That’s your baby. How can you call him an inconvenience?” I ran up to her and gave her a hearty shove, pushing her out of Jonathan’s room and onto the living room floor.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” she shouted as she struggled to her feet.

  “You wanna know what my problem is? You! You’re my fucking problem!” I shoved her again.

  “I’m calling the police!”

  “Go head! Call ’em!” I pointed to the phone. “I don’t give a shit. You’ve already ruined my life. What else can you do? You fucking whore!” I raised my hand to scare her, but Rose didn’t move.

  “What did you call me?” Her voice was weak, and shock was all over her face. The whole time we’d been together, I’d never, ever called her anything but her name.

  “I called you a fucking whore! And that’s what you are! A whore!”

  “I’m not a whore, Allen. And don’t you ever call me that again.” She said it like it was a label she’d been trying to rid herself of a long time.

  “Yes, you are! You fucked Jay. You fucked Kyle. For Christ’s sake, you even fucked Wil. You’re a fucking whore, Rose, and I hate you!” I’m not gonna lie, I was taking pleasure in the fact that Rose’s eyes were starting to tear, and she was now shaking with fear. I’d never seen this woman humbled in all the time I’d known her.

  “That was a long time ago, Allen. I’m not like that anymore. I swear to God I’m not like that anymore.” She was pleading with a trembling voice as she choked on her tears. “And anything Kyle told you is a lie.” She sniffled.

  “Yeah, right. Once a ho, always a ho. I feel like I should run to the doctor for an AIDS test.”

  “Allen, I’m not a whore. Please, you’ve got to believe me. I stopped acting like that the day I met you.” She actually said that shit with sincerity, which pissed me off even more. So I lifted my hand in the air like I was gonna smack the shit outta her. I wasn’t gonna do it—I just wanted to see fear on her face. I was about to tell her that I was leaving her ass, and more importantly that I was taking Jonathan with me, but that’s when I heard a knock on the door.

  “Don’t you fucking move!” I ordered, and she didn’t.

  I peeked through the peephole. Fuck! One of my neighbors must’ve heard us fighting and called the cops, because two police officers were standing at my door. I took a deep breath, gesturing for Rose to get up, then opened the door.

  “Can I help you?” I smiled at the two cops, praying that Rose wasn’t going to run over and tell them I’d attacked her. Thank God she had some sense and just sat on the couch.

  “Mr. Jackson?” the white cop asked.

  “Yes.”

  “My name’s Officer Monroe, and this is my partner, Officer Rollins. Are you related to an Audrey Jackson?”

  “Yes, she’s my mother. Is everything all right, Officer?” I swallowed hard. Please God, don’t let anything be wrong with my ma.

  “Mr. Jackson, there’s been an incident. We need for you to come with us.” I was trying to breathe but it was hard.

  “Why? Is something wrong with my mother? What type of incident?” I was starting to hyperventilate as I waited for an answer. Both cops looked at each other, then the black cop spoke.

  “Your mother was robbed and shot in front of her house a few hours ago. She’s in critical condition,” he said somberly.

  “Oh God, no! Not my ma. Not my ma!” I started to pace around in a circle, imagining my mother lying in a pool of blood. I could feel Rose’s arms wrap around me, and for that brief instant I didn’t care about the things she’d done. I needed someone to hold on to me before I collapsed.

  40

  Jay

  I’d just taken a shower and packed a small overnight bag. I was headed out the door, my arms filled with birthday presents for Tracy, when the phone rang. Tracy and I were going to spend the weekend in Atlantic City together to celebrate her birthday, and as usual I was running about an hour late. When the phone rang, I actually considered letting the machine answer it, but decided against it at the last second. I’d sent Kenya and the girls down to her parents’ place in Baltimore for the weekend and I didn’t wanna take a chance that her car had broken down or that she mighta had an accident and turned around. So I placed my bag on the floor and answered it.

  “Hello?” The line was silent, so I spoke again. There was still no answer, and it reminded me of the trouble Kyle was having with Val. Only I hadn’t given my home number to anyone, not even Tracy. Finally I heard a very deep male voice.

  “Your ass is dead, nigga.”

  “Who the hell is this?” I reached over and pushed the button to the Caller ID. The number came up unknown. Fuck! I hung up the phone. That’s when I got a sudden chill. What if Tracy’s pops was playing games?

  Nah, it couldn’t be him, I reasoned, staring at the phone. Or could it?

  It wouldn’t be hard for him or his cop friends to get my home number after they found out where I lived so easily. I felt myself break out in a cold sweat. Damn, that guy was really becoming a pain in my ass. As soon as I picked up my bag, the phone rang again. I dropped the bag and snatched the receiver, yelling this time.

  “Hello!”

  “Jay?” A male voice spoke so quickly, there was no chance for me to recognize it.

  “Who this?”

  “It’s Wil. Why you answering the phone like that?”

  “Somebody just called here talkin’ shit and hung up. That wasn’t you, was it?”
/>   “No, it wasn’t me. Like I got time to play games on your phone.”

  “What’s up, Wil?” His voice sounded troubled, not to mention that this was the first time he’d called my house in months. Something had to be up for him to call me at home.

  “I’ve got some bad news.” His voice was so low.

  “What’s up?” I braced myself.

  “It’s Ma Jackson. Somebody shot her.”

  “What?” I screamed.

  “She’s in critical condition, Jay.” Wil’s voice cracked like he was about to cry. We were both silent, and a good thirty seconds passed before he spoke again. Me, I was tongue-tied and couldn’t speak at all. I could feel the tears, but they wouldn’t fall. My stomach knotted up and I felt nauseous as I thought about all the things Ma Jackson had done for us as kids. She’d really been there for us. When our moms had to work, Ma Jackson was the only one who was home after school. Wil, Kyle, and I spent most of our time with her during our teenage years. She’d been our den mother in Cub Scouts, taken us all to Disney World. Hell, she’d given me my first condom. She’d always been hard on Allen, I’ll be the first to admit that, but she sure as hell had been good to me.

  “Jay? You there?”

  “Wha-wha-what happened, Wil?” I finally calmed myself enough to speak.

  “I don’t know, man. Rose called me about ten minutes ago and told me Ma got shot. She said they’d taken her to Jamaica Hospital. I called the hospital pretending to be her son and the nurse said she was in critical condition, about to be operated on. Then out of the blue she tells me it doesn’t look good and that her family better get down there. I’m in the car headed over to the hospital now. Kyle’s already on his way, too. You need to meet us there, man.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Did anyone talk to Allen? Is he all right?”

  “Nah, I didn’t get to talk to him, but Rose said they’re treating him for shock.”

  “Damn.” I exhaled.

  “Jay?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t fuck around and make a whole bunch of stops like you usually do. This is important. Not only is this possibly the last time we get to see Ma Jackson alive, but we need to be there for Allen. He’s really gonna need us.”