If This World Were Mine

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Sure,” I said without thinking.

  “Tell her,” Yolanda joked.

  “Not for all the wings in the world,” I said.

  “I guess that’s my clue to know I’m pushing it and to say good night. Oh, before I get off, John is coming with me Friday night when we meet at Uncle Doc’s. I want you guys to meet him, so will you give Riley and Dwight a call and see if they want to come?”

  “Sure, but now you better quit while you’re ahead.”

  “Good night.”

  “I can at least hope for that. A good night would be nice,” I said as I hung up my phone.

  I honestly thought I was above being jealous of anyone, until the moment Yolanda walked into Uncle Doc’s with her new man. Not only was I jealous of John getting so much of Yolanda’s attention, I was envious of Yolanda for catching one of the finest-looking Black men I’ve seen in a long time. As the kids say, Yolanda has met the baby’s daddy. A daddy with handsome, athletic good looks and a body to match. He was wearing jeans so tight that it appeared the jeans were wearing him.

  And they looked so happy, it was contagious. It seemed like the crowd at Miss Thing’s Wings just opened up and made a space for them to get through. I saw a couple of brothers stop John to shake his hand or pat him on his back as they made their way toward me. Damn, I thought as I looked at John and Yolanda walking toward me, they look happy!

  Yolanda came up and gave me my usual “Hey, baby-boy!” greeting and a big warm hug. Yolanda had a way of making everyone around her feel special, and my brief jealousy quickly dissolved. Her smile does that to me.

  “Yogi! Whatsup? Whatsup?” I asked as she released me from her hug.

  “Dr. Leland Thompson, I would like you to meet John Henderson. John, meet Leland,” Yolanda said in a mock-formal tone. She did a half-step back, signaling us to shake hands.

  “John,” I said, “it’s good to finally meet you, man.”

  “Good to meet you, Leland. Thanks for letting me crash your Friday-night time with Yolanda.” Now I knew what Yolanda was talking about. John’s voice seem to emanate not from his diaphragm, but from a much more southern locale. I flashed back on a scene Dwight had made at the group meeting when Yolanda talked about John’s eyes. I would have said exactly the same thing—they were a startling gray color. Intense considering their lightness. They seem to draw you deeper into his soul than one would go on a first meeting.

  “Yolanda,” I said, “can you believe that Uncle Doc managed to reserve us a table, with chairs, on Friday night?” We all took a seat, and John moved his chair a little closer to Yolanda’s. “Dwight and Riley said they’d try to stop by for a minute and Uncle Doc has been peeking his head out of the kitchen every half-second or so to see if you’ve arrived.”

  “Uncle Doc? Is this the uncle you mentioned, Yolanda?” John asked.

  “Yes baby, that’s him,” Yolanda said.

  “So is he really your uncle, Leland?”

  “Oh, yeah. One hundred percent. My daddy’s baby brother,” I said.

  “This is the best food in the city of Chicago,” Yolanda said. “Just wait. This food alone will bring you back.”

  “Oh, I think I’ve found something better than food to bring me back,” John said as he smiled at Yolanda. I think John and Yolanda were holding hands under the table when they spoke to me, ’cause I couldn’t see their hands on the table. I felt kind of left out, but that was okay. Sisterfriend was happy, and John seemed to appreciate what he had.

  “Let me see what Uncle Doc is doing. He really wants to meet you, John. I’ll be right back.” As soon as I stood up, two old dudes walked up to the table and asked John if he was Basil Henderson, the football player.

  “I tole you it was him!” old dude number one said. “Man, see that what I be talking ’bout. I know my football shit!”

  “Good to meet you, Mister Basil,” old dude number two said. “Don’t pay him no mind, Mister Basil. He thinks he knows everything and most times he don’t know nuthin’!”

  John rose and shook hands with both men. “It’s good to meet you both,” he said. He seemed very much at ease with his public.

  “C’mon, man. Let’s get out of the man’s face. We got chicken waiting and Mister Basil here with this pretty woman,” said old dude number two as they nodded their heads at Yolanda and went back to their stools at the counter.

  “My, my, my,” said Uncle Doc as he approached the table. “Ain’t you something? Look just like two little love doves. Douglas Thompson’s the name, son. But you can call me Uncle Doc. Mightily pleased to meet you.” Uncle Doc shook John’s hand across the table as he sat himself down.

  “Miss Yolanda, you’ve been mighty scarce around here since this young man came on the scene,” Uncle Doc said as he gave John the twice-over. “Now, I don’t like to git in nobody’s business, but this here little girl is real precious to me. You taking good care with her, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” John answered. “She’s real precious to me too, sir.” I had to give it to John. He was polite, courteous, confident, and sincere.

  Just as Uncle Doc and I sat back down, I saw Dwight making his way through the people standing in line to place their orders.

  “Dwight,” I called over the noisy Friday-night crowd, “over here!” Dwight looked his usual intense self, though he seemed to warm a little when he saw Yolanda.

  “Glad you made it, Dwight,” I said. “Let me introduce you to John—also known as Basil—Henderson. John, meet Dwight Scott.”

  “Nice meeting you, Dwight,” John said, standing to shake Dwight’s hand. “I understand you’re also in Yolanda’s journal group?”

  “Yeah, man, that’s right. It’s a long story how I got there. An ex-wife. Like I said, a long story. But it’s a pleasure to meet you, man.” Dwight’s voice went from warm to cool. “How’s it hanging, Uncle Doc? Yolanda.” Dwight seemed even more uncomfortable around Yolanda than usual. He avoided her smiling face even when he said “You’re looking beautiful, as usual, Yolanda.”

  An awkward silence fell across the table for a second until Uncle Doc lightened the mood with a long litany of all the football players who had been in his place. He asked what we’d like to eat—on the house—and called Aunt Thelma over to take our orders. I got my Trade Platter, but Dwight said he had “another commitment,” and Yolanda said she had to get John to his hotel so he could get his “beauty sleep” before his ESPN debut the next day. Oh, so that’s how he does it, I thought.

  Dwight gave us a curt good-bye and left. Moments later Yolanda and John followed suit after Uncle Doc made them promise to return soon and gave them two Sweet Thangs to go.

  “Man seem o-kay to me,” Uncle Doc offered as the two of us watched John and Yolanda disappear into the crowd. “Yolanda sure does look happy. Makes this ole heart glad,” he said.

  “Me too,” I said, ashamed of my earlier selfish feeling. “I think this one’s a keeper, Uncle Doc. This might be the one.”

  Chapter 11

  Sometimes a man’s past comes and kicks him in the ass at the most inopportune time. For me, it happened on a crisp autumn Saturday in September. I was in Chicago, on my first assignment for ESPN, covering a Northwestern football game. It wasn’t the play-by-play assignment I’d hoped for, but a sideline gig. My job was to get interviews with the coaches before, during, and after the game. I was also responsible for interviews with key players after the game. I was looking forward to the experience, but, I have to admit, I was a little nervous also.

  Everything associated with the game had gone well, thanks to Yolanda’s pregame prep. She showed me how to take the you-knows out of my conversation and suggested I ask players questions I wanted answers to. Her point was to think like Oprah or somebody instead of going with the canned questions the producers had written out for me. “Just imagine you’re at home watching the game and think of the things you’d want to know,” Yolanda advised me.

  I was walking back to the limo with Yola
nda’s soft hands in mine. This was going to be a special weekend for us. I’d had the chance to meet some of her friends the previous night, and she had planned a special evening for the two of us in her city. I had my own plans. It was time to see if Miss Yolanda had been worth the wait. Just as I was looking in the window of the black sedan, making sure this was my driver, I heard someone call my name. “Mr. Henderson.” When I turned around, a young man ran toward me and said, “Mr. Henderson, I was hoping I hadn’t missed you. I’m a big fan of yours. Would you sign this football for me?” He was an imposing young man, brawny and tall with a warm smile and big whiskey-colored eyes. He looked like a football player.

  “Sure, young man. Do you play ball?” I asked as I took his football and looked inside my jacket for a pen. Signing autographs for children and young high school and college players was one of the things I missed most about playing pro ball.

  “Yes, sir. I play for Northwestern. I’m a wide receiver just like you were,” he said.

  “You certainly have the size for it. Congratulations on the win. Did you play today?”

  “No, sir, I’m just a freshman. But already I’m number three on the depth chart. I’m just waiting for my chance,” he said confidently.

  “Well, by the way, what’s the starter’s name? I should know that.”

  “Bates. Bill Bates. He’s a senior. Made all Big Ten,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s right, Bates. But you never know. I guess you know you’ve always got to be prepared,” I advised.

  “Yes, sir, I know you’re right. How’s your knee? I was really sorry when I heard about your injury.”

  “The knee is fine. Thanks for asking. What’s your name? Who do you want me to sign this to?”

  “My name is Kirby. Kirby Tyler. But I want you to sign the football to my father. He’s a big fan also,” he said.

  “What’s your father’s name?”

  “Raymond Tyler,” he said proudly.

  “Raymond Tyler?”

  “Yes, sir. But you can just put Ray Sr.”

  My hand suddenly became moist with perspiration, and I stopped writing and looked up at him. I asked, “Where are you from, Kirby?”

  “I’m from Birmingham, Alabama. Graduated from Ramsey High School.”

  “I know a Raymond Tyler from Birmingham, but I don’t think he’s old enough to be your father. This guy I know used to live in Atlanta and New York. He’s an attorney, but he’s not old enough to have a son your age,” I said.

  “You’re probably talking about my big brother, Raymond Jr. You know my brother?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  “Aw naw, that’s mad real. He’s here. He’s waiting on me at the locker room door. Hold up, and I’ll run over there and grab him,” he said. Before I could stop him to suggest I see his brother later, he was gone.

  “Isn’t that something else, running into the little brother of someone you know?” Yolanda said. She had been standing there patiently and quietly. So quietly I had forgotten that she was right next to me. I wondered if my face had changed. Did she notice my reaction when I heard the name Raymond Tyler? Raymond Tyler. My past had showed up.

  I kissed a man once. It shocked me. It shocked me even more when I did it again. It blew me away when I enjoyed it. Raymond Tyler was that man. While I was waiting on Kirby to return with his brother, I tried to remember what I had blocked out successfully for years. My attraction, naw, make that distraction, I had with men. I stood there, motionless, noticing only the gold and red leaves fall slowly from the trees.

  Despite a cool wind blowing, my body felt warm.

  “John, did you hear me?” Yolanda asked.

  “What? Aw … baby, I’m sorry. What did you say?” I turned to face Yolanda, who looked concerned.

  “I said, isn’t that something, running into an old friend, and from what’s walking in this direction, a fine old friend,” she said as she noticed Kirby and Raymond a few feet away from the two of us. Thoughts of shame and pleasure that had taken me years to forget now flooded my mind. I felt like I was drowning in fear. Raymond was smiling, but I couldn’t tell if it was a glad-to-see-you smile, or a mofo-I’m-gonna-bust-you smile.

  He looked me dead in the eye when he reached to shake my hand. He seemed to look right through me to our shared past, like he was pulling the secret from me. Secrets I kept from everybody, even myself.

  “Basil, what a surprise. It’s so good seeing you,” Raymond said.

  “Indeed it is, Ray Tyler—what a surprise,” I said, trying to smile, but I had the feeling it was coming off more like a chilly stare. I wanted to grab Yolanda and run for the limo, but instead, I stood there like a dumb mofo—my palms all sweaty.

  “Whatsup? My kid brother tells me you’re an announcer now. I thought you were still playing for New Jersey,” he said.

  “Naw, you know, that’s all over. Had to find a new gig, you know, and this one came up. Do you live here in Chicago?”

  “No, I’m just here to see if they gonna give my little bro some playing time. My partner and I live in Seattle,” he said. Just as I was preparing to ask another question, I felt Yolanda nudge me, and when I looked at her, I realized I hadn’t introduced her and Raymond. I slowly grabbed her hand and pulled her in front of me and said, “Let me introduce you to my lady. Yolanda Williams, meet an old friend, Raymond Tyler, Jr.,” I said.

  Yolanda smiled, extended her hand, and said, “Nice meeting you, Raymond. Did I hear you say you live in Seattle?”

  “Nice meeting you also, Yolanda. Yeah, my partner and I built a house there. It’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world.” He beamed. As I looked at Raymond, I was wondering why he had referred to his partner twice in less than a minute. Was he trying to prove something, and did Yolanda know what he meant by “partner”? Did I even know what he meant? Raymond was one of those guys who I believed could go either way. If he ended up with a wife and kids, I wouldn’t have been surprised. While I was busy thinking where this meeting was going, Yolanda and Raymond were engaged in pleasant conversation. I couldn’t help but notice how handsome and confident Raymond looked in his charcoal-colored slacks and mustard-yellow V-neck sweater. He looked more muscular than I remembered.

  “Doesn’t that sound like a great idea, John?” Yolanda asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “What?”

  “Raymond just invited the two of us to visit him … and what did you say your partner’s name was, Raymond?” Yolanda asked as she looked toward Raymond.

  “Trent. My partner’s name is Trent, and I’m sure he’d love to meet the both of you. Let me give you my card, and maybe when the football season is over or when it gets too cold here in Chicago, you guys will pay us a visit,” he said.

  “Thank you. I’ll give you one of my cards and one to your little brother, just in case he needs help getting adjusted to Chicago. You don’t have family here, do you, Kirby?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said shyly as he looked toward Yolanda.

  “First of all, baby, don’t call me ma’am,” Yolanda teased. “I’m old, but not that old.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kirby said.

  “What are you two doing this evening?” Yolanda asked. “Do you have plans for dinner?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, but we do. I’ve got to help this knucklehead get settled and make sure he realizes he’s up here to get an education, not just play football,” Raymond said as he playfully knocked on his little brother’s head.

  “Maybe the next time,” Yolanda said.

  “Yeah, next time. Basil, it was great seeing you. I hope to hear from the both of you soon,” Raymond said as he gave me his card and shook my sweaty hands once again.

  “Yeah … you know it was good seeing you too, Ray. Nice meeting you, Kirby. Good luck with the rest of the season,” I said.

  “Thanks a lot! Thanks for the autograph, Mr. Henderson. Now I know what my pops is getting for Christmas,” he said as he admired the football I had sign
ed. As I watched Raymond and Kirby run toward the stadium playing catch with the football, Yolanda said, “Ain’t that a blimp. A fine-looking man like that gone to the other side.” I pretended not to hear.

  Chapter 12

  My cellular phone rang as I drove down the Dan Ryan freeway. “Hello,” I said.

  “What’s going on, big sis? I tried reaching you at home all morning. Are you on your way to church?” Sybil asked.

  “No, darling. On my way back from the airport. Dropping off that man of mine,” I joked. “Is everything okay? Are the children and Martin okay?”

  “Oh, everybody’s just fine. I just wanted to hear my big sister’s voice. I’m on my way to Sunday school,” Sybil said.

  “It’s good hearing from you. I’m going to make it up there real soon, or better yet, we should plan a weekend where you can come here. I know this wonderful place that Riley turned me on to, where we can get facials and massages. A day spa.”

  “That sounds nice, but how much is it?” Sybil asked.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. My treat. But I think it’s around two hundred a day.”

  “Honey, for two hundred dollars, they are gonna have to come and clean my house for a month also,” Sybil laughed.

  “Girl, you are too crazy. I’m coming up on my exit. I’ll call you later on tonight.”

  “Do that. I love you, sis,” Sybil said.

  “And I love you more! Give the kids and Martin a big hug and kisses from me.”

  “I will,” Sybil said. I clicked off the phone and took the Ohio Street exit.

  I arrived at Leland’s a couple of hours before our scheduled meeting. John had an early morning flight back to New York, and after dropping him off at O’Hare, I decided to go and see if I could help out and find out what Leland really thought of Mr. Wonderful. The prior evening with John had been relaxing and romantic, even though there were a few times when John seemed preoccupied. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he was worried about how the executives at ESPN viewed his performance. I thought that was understandable.