Who Asked You?

by Terry McMillan

“I don’t feel like chatting.”

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about. Who is it you know you can always talk to without being judged?”

  She points to me.

  “And who is it that will listen to you when I need to be judged?”

  She points to me.

  “Where are the boys?”

  “Luther went to run the bleachers at the Rose Bowl with two boys that’ll be on Dorsey’s football team.”

  “How’d they get out there?”

  “One of the boys’ dads takes them.”

  “What about Ricky? What’s he up to?”

  “I think no good.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “His grades are going down and the tutor says he doesn’t seem all that interested in trying to improve.”

  “He’s probably smoking pot. Max went through this around his age. It’ll pass.”

  “I wonder if I should just come out and ask him?”

  “Are you kidding me? You think he’s going to say, ‘Sure, Grandma, I’m smoking pot. You got a problem with that?’”

  “I’ll ask Luther to ask him.”

  “If he is, believe me, Luther knows it.”

  “Luther’s a good boy.”

  “That he is, but they also don’t blab on each other.”

  “I can’t handle any trouble from these kids, Tammy. I’m not up to it.”

  “Don’t worry. Seriously. You’ve been doing a good job with the two of them and they know right from wrong.”

  “What about you? Besides your new breasts, how are things going with Montana and Trevor?”

  “I don’t even know how to answer that question.”

  “You let him move back in here, didn’t you?”

  “No. He does spend the night sometimes.”

  “You want my opinion?”

  “I already know what you’re going to say.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “Threaten to keep Clementine and just kick Montana out!”

  BJ starts cracking up.

  “But I don’t want her little ass here either! I’m beginning to wonder how I ever had the patience for them.”

  “Them?”

  “Kids.”

  “I don’t know, Tammy. I’m beginning to think family takes us for granted because they’re family.”

  “I think I spoiled Montana and she’s just lazy.”

  “Hell, you work in a courtroom all day and you know what happens when there’s consequences for what you do.”

  “And when there are none for what you don’t.”

  I know there’s more to this than she’s letting on, so to lighten up I just come right on out and ask her. “Is there any way we can make something today? Like an apple pie or anything? I’ve got Pillsbury pie crust in the fridge and a bag of those green Granny apples just sitting over there on the counter waiting for Martha to tell me how to bake them with no soul, and then there’s you.”

  She stands up. “Where’s an apron?”

  I hold up two that are hanging on a hook in the pantry. One you tie at the waist. The other one slips over your head. She looks at my chest. Then down at hers. Leaves me holding the short one.

  Quentin

  Mindy has left me, Mother.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Quentin.”

  “And my practice isn’t doing so well up here. I think race might have something to do with it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, too.”

  “It’s all too much to handle simultaneously.”

  “Did something happen that made her leave, Quentin?”

  “No.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well, we’ve been fighting over money.”

  “That’s it?”

  “And there’s my office manager.”

  “And what’s her name?”

  “Caroline.”

  “So, you cheated on Mindy?”

  “No! Contrary to popular belief, Mother, I have never cheated on any of my wives. Mindy just thinks it because Caroline appears to have developed a small crush on me.”

  “Is she blonde?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Nothing, Quentin.”

  “I’m a mess, Mother. And I miss my daughter.”

  “When did they move out?”

  “A few months ago.”

  “What took you so long to tell me?”

  “I was hoping it was just temporary.”

  “Has she said anything about filing for divorce?”

  “Not to me. Not yet.”

  “Do you want a divorce, Quentin?”

  “Absolutely not! Why would you ask me that at a time like this? Can’t you hear the desperation in my voice?”

  “Well, this would be a first.”

  “I’m lonely being in this house all alone. It’s too quiet in here.”

  “Well, where’d they move to?”

  “She’s renting a condo in Sausalito, a really expensive condo.”

  “Where is Sausalito?”

  “About fifteen minutes from here. It’s a ritzy, touristy town right on the water. The harbor is filled with sailboats and yachts. Great shops, art galleries, and the best restaurants. You can take a ferry to San Francisco that goes right past the Golden Gate Bridge.”

  “I thought you said once you all got settled you were going to invite me and the boys up there for a visit? Ricky loves the water. I love bridges and have never been to San Francisco.”

  “Could we possibly have this conversation another day?”

  “You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

  “I love Mindy.”

  “Do you know how many times I’ve heard you say this, Quentin?”

  “As a matter of fact I do. But Mindy’s different.”

  “I’ve heard this one, too. But I have to admit that Mindy’s got more personality and spunk than the rest of them and she was the only one who seemed to have your number.”

  “And what number would that be, Mother?”

  “Why don’t you think about that one?”

  “I would much rather you come on out and say it, so that I might learn something I obviously don’t know about myself.”

  “Your intolerance.”

  “Could you be more specific, please?”

  “Why don’t you give it some thought during this alone time?”

  “Anything else I’m missing?”

  “I didn’t say you were missing anything, but you might have what some call tunnel vision.”

  “That is so not true. I consider myself to be quite open-minded.”

  “Well, look, Quentin. I’m your mother, not your wife, so you don’t have to worry about pleasing me anymore.”

  “I couldn’t disagree with you more.”

  “Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, but let’s not go there today.”

  “No, let’s not.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help? I really liked Mindy and I was hoping to get to know my granddaughter.”

  “Would you call her?”

  “Call her and say what?”

  “I don’t know. Tell her that I love her and promise to be a better person, a better man, a better husband.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her that?”

  “She didn’t believe me.”

  “Then why should I? Never mind. What’s her number?”

  “So, you’re really willing to do this for me, Mother?”

  “I just said I would, didn’t I?”

  I give her Mindy’s cell phone number.

  “She absolutely adores you, in case you didn’t know it.”

  “I do know it. How’s
Miss Margaret handling all of this?”

  “To her, it’s an adventure. Will you call me back after you’ve spoken with her?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I love you, Mother.”

  “Then wish me a happy sixtieth birthday,” she says, and hangs up.

  With so much on my mind, it’s hard to remember even the most important things. I order a hundred-dollar exotic floral arrangement that I hope will make up for my forgetfulness.

  After I haven’t heard from her in six long hours, Mother finally calls back. “Did you talk to her?”

  “Talk to who?” a young male with a changing voice says. I know this must be Luther.

  “Luther?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Where’s Mother?”

  “Well, my grandma is taking a nap because we had a surprise birthday party for her at her favorite Mexican restaurant.”

  “Who is we?”

  “Ricky, Auntie Venetia, Auntie Arlene, Miss Tammy and her daughter and son, Max, who brought his fine Senegalese girlfriend from Paris. Uncle Dexter came with Miss Skittles, and Ms. Lorinda from her job.”

  “That was nice.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “So, are you calling just to tell me that Mother’s napping?”

  “Oh, no, Uncle Quentin. It’s a lot deeper than that.”

  “Is something going on I should know about?”

  “That’s why I’m calling you instead of her.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “And please don’t cut me off, because I have to say this. Since you haven’t shown your mother and our grandmother any respect since we’ve been here, I wanted to personally call and tell you what a fucked-up son you are for not being of any use or any help to your own mother and for being such an Uncle Tom. You aren’t the first black man to make it in America that came from the hood, but you act like you’re too good to come back. In case you forgot, this is where you were born and this is where your family lives. I am also sick and tired of you missing our grandma’s birthday and sending her these weak-ass flowers. She doesn’t need flowers, she needs gas money and some new furniture and a vacation because of all she’s done for my brother and me. Every time you call her she gets depressed after she hangs up. All you seem to think about is yourself, Uncle Quentin. And from what Grandma said, Mindy is smart, which is why she’s leaving, and I just wanted to call and let you know that she called Grandma back and said she does not think she can take you back because you’re a cheater and a liar and if she’d known you were going to pretend like you were white and not show your own parents any genuine love and respect she never would’ve married you. So all this is to say that the next time you call our house, you better have nothing but good news, because I’m telling you right now, when I graduate from college and regardless if I get drafted into the NFL or not, Grandma’s not going to have to rely on you for anything, because my brother and I will take care of her, just like she’s been doing us.”

  Click.

  I am at a loss for words. And I have no idea where he gets his information. But it is wrong. It is so wrong. Talk about disrespect? He’s a teenager and shouldn’t speak to any adult in this manner. Perhaps it might be in everyone’s best interest if I backed off for a while. Give them all a chance to come to their senses. I just hope Mother liked the flowers.

  Omar

  I didn’t like having sex with women. I tried, I swear to God I did, but something was missing, and to this day I don’t quite know what it was. I mean, it was warm and cushiony and I appreciated the suction and the pushing and pulling and all, and I was able to come but the women didn’t have much to do with it. I found breasts to be more of a distraction than anything and I maneuvered them in much the same way I did when I learned how to knead dough at culinary school. I was always glad when it was over, and didn’t know what to do afterward except pretend to feel something I didn’t, which was passion and a closeness I was hoping would magically occur but never did. It wasn’t until I was at sea that I discovered who I really was.

  It doesn’t matter what his name was. I’m just grateful to have met him. To have been able to talk to him, man to man, and as a result, not feel ashamed to admit how much more at ease I felt being with him, and then later, realizing what being with a man really felt like. It wasn’t just sex, it was more of a kinship, a closeness, a sense of honesty I’d never felt with anybody before. I didn’t have to put on an act, didn’t have to feel embarrassed about my body. I didn’t have to apologize for anything. It was liberating, to say the least, and after two years of going from port to port, I literally got seasick, or, I should say, sick of the sea. I started out working in the kitchen as a dishwasher, and then was allowed to help with all the chopping and slicing and dicing, and after watching the artistry and beauty that went into preparing so many types of meals, I finally understood that this is what excites me. And this is why after my contract was up, I came home and enrolled in a really good culinary arts program in Pasadena, which is also where I live.

  I’ve been trying to figure out when and how to tell my mom who I am and what I’ve been doing and what I’m doing with my life now, but I don’t know if I’ve found the courage yet. Even though it may have been the cowardly thing to do, it took a lot of courage for me to be a coward. I’m afraid of my mom, though. Afraid she won’t understand. Afraid she won’t think of me as her son because I don’t fit the image she may have had of me in her mind. She has never hassled me about getting married or having grandkids because deep down inside I think she wanted to keep me all to herself. It’s also one thing to hear how open-minded people are toward homosexuals but it’s a little different when they find out their child is one.

  It has taken me thirty-two years to realize I was living in a walk-in closet, and now that I’ve walked out of it, I’m not going to pretend this was an accident or a mistake.

  I promised Luther I would take him to the Rose Bowl to practice driving in the parking lot, but I know this is really just another stall tactic. How do you pick the right time or day to tell your mother you’re gay? Chances are I’ll do it when I force myself to stop coming up with excuses.

  Of course, Ricky insisted on coming. Not that I mind. From what Luther’s told me, Ricky’s going through something and probably needs to do something constructive. I don’t know how you stop kids from getting into trouble or from going down the wrong path. My aunt Betty has done the best she could to give her grandkids all those values on a plate but if the boys choose not to let them become part of their diet, that’s on them. So many parents put so much effort and energy into parenting, I’m sure it’s heartbreaking when their kids appear to be lost. I might be a good example of taking much longer than most to find my way. But better late than never.

  I think of Luther and Ricky as the little brothers I wish I’d had. The boys haven’t had a man in their life to look up to, and although I’m certain that not having a father had absolutely no bearing on my sexuality, it would’ve been nice to know what it felt like to have someone to look up to. Someone to teach me how to be a man, show me how to do things. My cousins Quentin and Dexter don’t even register on the Richter for obvious reasons. They’re not that much older than me but my mom saw to it that we never got close. Quentin has serious issues with women I can’t put my finger on, but he can’t keep one, that’s for damn sure. On the other hand, I don’t think he really values them, because he treats them like they’re disposable and easily replaceable. From what I’ve seen, he treats Aunt Betty the same way. And what more can be said about Dexter?

  The parking lot is too crowded today.

  “Earth to Omar!” Luther says.

  “You trying to kill us?” Ricky asks.

  “I’m sorry, fellas. I’ve got a lot on my mind today.”

  “Like what?” Ricky asks.

  “You wouldn’t understand.”


  “You don’t know what I can understand,” he says.

  “I’ll bet I can guess,” Luther says.

  I shake my head. “You couldn’t possibly.”

  “You’re gay and you’re scared to tell Auntie Arlene.”

  I know I didn’t just hear him say that. I couldn’t possibly have heard him say what he just said. “What would make you say something like that?”

  “Because you try to pretend like you’re not,” Luther says.

  “Yeah, and it’s not a big deal,” Ricky says. “If I was gay I think I’d let everybody know it. And I wouldn’t really give a flying fuck what anybody thought.”

  “Aren’t you just going into seventh grade?”

  “And?”

  “First of all, watch your mouth, dude.”

  “My bad.”

  “Anyway, how in the world can you even be thinking like this at your age?”

  “You know how many kids in our school are gay?”

  Luther nods in agreement.

  “Times have changed, cuz. We’re cool with it. So did I guess right or what?”

  “I’m afraid to tell her.”

  “Aren’t you like kind of old to be coming out?” Luther asks.

  “I’m thirty-two.”

  “That’s old,” Ricky says.

  I don’t believe these kids are saying this stuff to me. Times have obviously changed since I was in middle and high school. I can’t imagine what my life would’ve been like if things were like this. I can’t believe they aren’t tripping or freaking out or making fun of me.

  “Why haven’t you guys ever said anything to me if you thought you knew this about me?”

  “What were we supposed to say?” Luther asks.

  Ricky nods. “Grandma knows, too.”

  “What?”

  “Nurse Kim told her a long time ago,” Luther says.

  “But how would she know?”

  “Because her brother is gay, too. And she said she could just tell. Anyway, this was right after you took us to see Batman, and after you left I was sitting outside on the steps and Nurse Kim was saying something to Grandma and I put my ear up to the door, hoping Nurse Kim would say something nice about me, which she didn’t, but this is what she said and I am not making any of this up. ‘Miss Betty, since I’m leaving and I been on my best behavior and tried to watch my mouth, I just wanna tell you that your nephew Omar is gay.’ And then Grandma said, ‘Why would you say that, Nurse Kim?’ And that’s when Nurse Kim told Grandma that her brother was gay and she knew how to tell. She called you a young man and said you were suffering inside.”