Instead of calling my dad, I picked up my phone and dialed Raymond Tyler’s number like I dialed it every day. He picked up after the first ring.
“Merry Christmas,” he said in a cheerful voice.
“Whatsup, guy,” I said.
“Basil, I was hoping you’d call back,” Raymond said. If he was, maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“So you’ve been thinking about me,” I said.
“Yeah, I have. I was pretty tough on you the last time. I’m sorry. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing,” I muttered.
“Did you get that problem solved?”
“What problem?”
“The person you were talking about killing. Were you able to work that out?” he asked.
“Not really, but I have to forget about it. What are you doing for Christmas?”
“I’m going home tomorrow and then it’s off to Orlando,” Raymond said.
“What’s going on in Orlando?”
“My family’s going to the Citrus Bowl. Northwestern playing Tennessee. I’m hoping I’ll get to see my little brother score a touchdown on New Year’s Day,” Raymond said.
“You’re really proud of him, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am. We all are,” Raymond said. While Raymond was telling me about his holiday plans, I was thinking how lucky he was to come from such a close-knit family, where there was love and no secrets.
“Raymond, can I ask you something?” I asked after he finished detailing his plans.
“Sure, Basil. Whatsup?”
“How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get your family, especially your father and brother, to accept your lifestyle?”
“My life, Basil. It’s not a lifestyle, it’s my life. And to answer your question, it wasn’t easy. I still haven’t had the conversation with my little brother. But I will, and soon,” Raymond said.
“Do you know what you’re going to say?”
“No, but I’ll know when it’s time. Maybe I’ll write him a letter. It’s not like it will be a total surprise. I’ve been living with Trent for almost five years, and he’s usually with me. I think it’s clear we love each other very much.”
“So, you’re just going to write him a letter? Is that what you did with your father?”
“Yes and no. My father and I talked, but I still wrote him a letter to explain my life more clearly. It’s never easy for fathers. Especially Black fathers. They always think it’s their fault. Don’t tell me you’re getting ready to come out,” Raymond said.
“Naw, it ain’t nothing like that. I’m not going out like that. There are just some things I need to tell my father. Things that happened to me,” I said.
“Then tell him,” Raymond urged.
“I don’t know if I can,” I said.
“Then write him a letter,” Raymond suggested.
“I’ve never done that.”
“Basil, I know whatever it is can’t be easy. I can hear it in your voice. I’ve never heard you sound so unsure of yourself. You’re one of the most confident men I’ve ever met. That’s why I was sorry for being so short when you called the last time. To me, it just sounded like you hadn’t changed a bit. You know, when you start to tell the truth about who you are, life becomes much simpler, much sweeter,” Raymond said. I was thinking that was easy for him to say. Raymond always had the world by a string.
“You think I’m confident?”
“Some might call it arrogant, but yes, I think you carry yourself with a certain power that’s attractive in a way.”
“There are some things I need to say that I’ve never said to anyone. But I don’t know if my dad can handle it. He might really be pissed off.”
“Is this causing you pain?” Raymond asked.
“Yes,” I said softly.
“Then you’ve got to talk with someone. If you don’t, Basil, whatever it is will destroy you,” Raymond said.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Do you consider me a close enough friend? It sounds like you have something really heavy. I care for you as a human being, and as a brother struggling with issues I’ve had to deal with. But I know you must have some friends who would understand,” Raymond said.
I wanted to tell him how when I made love with him I didn’t see my uncle’s face in his eyes. That he and Yolanda were the only two people I had been intimate with where the invisible presence of my uncle didn’t interfere with our lovemaking. In my eyes, that made Raymond and Yolanda special.
“I think I could talk with you. But not on the phone. I need to see you in person,” I said, almost pleading.
“When?”
“I’ll fly to Seattle, Alabama, Orlando. You just tell me the time and place.”
“It will have to be at the beginning of the year. Are you still in New York?”
“Yes, that’s where I am now. I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“Then write the letter. You’ll be amazed at how much stress it will relieve. You don’t have to mail it. But you have to write it. Give me your number and I’ll call you in a couple of weeks. If you still want to talk, we can get together. I may be in New York on business anyway,” Raymond said.
I gave Raymond my number and then asked, “What kind of business?”
“My best friend and his wife adopted a new baby and they’ve asked me to be godfather,” Raymond said proudly.
“Do you know how lucky you are?” I asked.
“I know I’m living under a state of grace. I know I’m blessed, and I try to remember that every day,” Raymond said confidently.
“So that’s all I have to do is write a letter?”
“Write the letter, Basil. It will at least be a start.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“Merry Christmas, Basil. We’ll talk next year,” Raymond said.
“Good-bye and Merry Christmas. I hope I can wait that long,” I said.
“You can. You will. I’ve got to run,” Raymond said.
“Yeah, me too,” I said as I hung up the phone. This time I let the phone remain intact. I had a phone call to look forward to.
I spent Christmas Day alone. For dinner I had a smoked turkey and cheese sandwich I ordered from a local deli that never closed. I watched a basketball game and a college football game. I suddenly missed sports. When I was playing, the holidays didn’t seem any different from other days because I was usually involved with practice. I couldn’t remember the last time I had spent Christmas with my family.
But I always talked to my dad on the holidays, and at around ten o’clock I decided this year wouldn’t be any different. I wondered if he had spent the day with my aunt Lois and her family or if he had some new lady friend he was sharing his holiday with.
When his answering machine picked up, I was relieved. I could leave a message. “Dad, Merry Christmas … sorry I haven’t talk to you … I’ve …” Suddenly I heard a clicking sound and then my dad’s voice. “Son, hold on, I’m here. Let me turn this thing off.”
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I said.
“Same to you. Where have you been? You had me and your auntie worried. We were looking for you in Detroit. You missed a meal and all your cousins were asking ’bout you.”
“Something came up. I’m surprised you’re at home. What did you do today?”
“Aw, I spent the day over at Lois’s house. We had a nice dinner,” he said.
“Sorry I missed it. Well, I was just checking on you and letting you know I’m doing all right,” I said.
“Are you sure, Basil? Are you really all right? Now, if you’re worried about that money I asked you for, don’t worry. Lois and I are going to get a second mortgage on our houses. Mac is our brother. He’s not your responsibility.” Now he was really making me feel like crap.
“I’m okay. Are you sure you want to do that, Dad? Isn’t your house almost paid for?”
“Yeah, so I should be abl
e to get enough money to pay for Mac’s operation.”
“You really love him, don’t you, Dad?”
“He’s my baby brother. He’s family. Of course I love him.”
“Dad, I want to explain why I won’t lend Uncle Mac the money,” I said softly.
“It’s your money, son. You don’t have to explain,” he said. If I didn’t know better, I could swear I heard my dad sniffling. He couldn’t be crying. I had never seen my dad shed a single tear.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah, son, I’m gonna make it. I just wonder how a son of mine could turn his back on his family. I mean, damn, Basil, I thought I raised you better than that!” My dad’s voice moved up in volume and then I thought I could hear those sniffles again.
“Let me explain,” I said.
“No need. Merry Christmas, son. I hope you and your money will have a nice holiday season,” my dad said as he hung up the phone.
I started to call him right back, and then I started to call my aunt Lois. Maybe I could talk with her and explain why I couldn’t help Mac. That’s when I noticed the yellow legal pad with a black ball-point pen lying on the coffee table. I had pulled it out after I talked with Raymond, but I hadn’t written a word. I could hear Raymond’s voice ringing in my ear. “If you don’t, Basil, whatever it is will destroy you.” I wanted to shout from my terrace, “It already has!”
I picked up the pen, but I didn’t know where to start. I put the pen to my lips and then on the paper.
Dear Dad,
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But this is something I must do. First, I love you. I know I don’t tell you that often, but I do. Dad, there are some things about me you don’t know. I pray you don’t know.
When I was around nine years old, something terrible happened to me. You had left on one of your trips and Uncle Mac had come over to stay with me. Up until that night I loved it when Uncle Mac came to stay with me. He was your brother, my uncle, and I loved him.
I don’t need to go into details, but Uncle Mac’s usually soft touch became unkind. On that night I became a little boy who wanted so badly to trust the world, but after Uncle Mac left my bed, I knew I couldn’t. I could no longer pretend the world was unknown to me or I would enjoy what I would see. That touch would also make me unkind to the world, and the people who crossed my path.
I have carried that night and the guilt I felt all these years and never told anyone. But I know if I continue to pretend it didn’t happen, it will become worse than the molestation. Yes, that’s what it’s called, child molestation.
I know you love your brother, and right now I’m trying to discover some of that love, but I’m afraid my love for Uncle Mac ended with the memory of a clean and innocent nine-year-old boy.
The memories of that night were suddenly so vivid in my mind, I had to stop writing. I felt my eyes watering, but I still had the power to stop them. I read what I had written and I knew how much my letter would hurt my dad. I didn’t want to do that. So I ripped the page from the tablet and balled it up with a maddening force.
I went and picked up the phone and hit redial. A few rings later, my dad answered the phone. He sounded defeated. “Dad,” I said.
“Yes, son.”
“You don’t have to apply for a second mortgage. I’ll take care of Uncle Mac, but I want you to know I’m doing this for you.”
“Thank you, son, but why do you suddenly have this hatred for my brother?”
“It’s not sudden, and I can’t talk about it now. I don’t know if I will ever talk about it. Just take the money and do what you have to do,” I said sternly.
“Thank you, son, I will.”
“Good-bye, Dad. Merry Christmas. My accountant will call you tomorrow.”
“Thanks again, Basil. You’re a good son.”
I hung up the phone, hit my CD player with Luther’s “Goin’ out of My Head,” and I picked up my pen and started to write again.
Dear Raymond,
Horrible things often begin softly, like a kind touch. There is a story I must tell you.
And Then …
The balance of the Chicago winter wasn’t cold and was short on snow. Right now, the city is in a final slide toward summer. I’m feeling almost brand-new. As if the bullets never came close to my heart, ending my dreamless life.
But as my mother said, “Leland, when God is in control, things happen for a reason.” I now treasure life … this life and I’m dreaming again. I went home with my mother and Uncle Doc after the first of the year. I had a great time visiting all my family and friends and met my mother’s man. He’s really a nice man and I think Mattie hears wedding bells.
A lot has happened for me and the group since winter. I think maybe my friends and family have learned from my brush with death. Yolanda and Dwight are expanding their friendship, with a slow-moving kind of passion. It’s really wonderful watching them fall in love. I talk to Yolanda almost every day, and with Dwight at least twice a week.
Riley is busy with her new project! A new baby. On Valentine’s Day she and Selwyn adopted a beautiful little boy, named Yourdan. I think the only singing she’s doing is in the nursery, and the way Yourdan smiles, Riley’s singing voice might be improving. Selwyn recently got a big promotion that allows him to spend more time in Chicago with his wife and new son.
The changes in my life have been good. I’ve reduced my client load and joined the staff at Michael Reese Hospital treating adolescents who have been sexually abused. I made this decision after reading about the plight of a nine-year-old Chicago girl who was raped and left for dead in the Cabrini Green projects. Her story touched me deeply and reminded me why I wanted to be a psychiatrist. I may never be able to help Girl X personally, but being on the hospital staff I will be able to help other little girls and boys like her.
On the personal tip, I’m dating again. After I got back from New Orleans, Uncle Doc called one evening and told me to rush over to Miss Thing’s Wings. He said he had a present for me.
When I walked into the restaurant, there sitting at my favorite corner table was the stranger from the party. His name is Dorian, and as the kids say, he’s all that. Dorian is a teacher at Westside Preparatory, and we have so much in common it’s scary at times. But not so frightening that I want to run away.
Who said you couldn’t have happy endings? Who said you can’t have new dreams? Not me.
About the Author
E. Lynn Harris is a former computer sales executive with IBM and a graduate of the University of Arkansas-Fayetteville. He is the author of the bestselling novels Invisible Life, Just As I Am, and the New York Times bestsellers And This Too Shall Pass, If This World Were Mine, Abide With Me, and Not a Day Goes By. In 1996 Just as I Am was awarded the Novel of the Year prize by Blackboard African-American Bestsellers, Inc. If This World Were Mine was a finalist for the 1997 NAACP Image Award and winner of the James Baldwin Award for Literary Excellence. Harris currently divides his time between Chicago and New York.
If This World Were Mine Page 30