“I did! She and dear ‘ol daddy buried me! Better to have a dead son than a gay one! They’ll get their wish, but my revenge comes first. They died without a will. This house is mine! Before I die, I’m going to burn it to the ground!” He laughed, the sound raspy and thin. “Damn you, Baas. You barge in here, make me think about them, and now you’ll go on your merry way. Fuck that. I’ve changed my mind. Sit down and listen. I want to talk.”
Samuel reluctantly pulled up a chair.
“Are your parents living?” Damour asked.
“Yes,” Samuel answered.
“What would they do if you told them you were queer?”
Father would have one of his friends visit me. He’d bring a doctor.
“We’d discuss it.”
“Really? How civilized. They’d accept you?”
“They’d want me to change.”
“There you go! My daddy, bless his little heart, tried that. He caught me playing with dolls. Burned them. Prayed while beating me. At 14, I started having sex with boys and then, two years later, ran away with an older man. I’d call home from time to time. Daddy hung up. Mother cried. Maybe she did love me then, but she loved her god more. Eventually, I died for her too. I stayed away from here until a few weeks ago, but when I’m in this room I still see the parties. Men in dark suits sat and talked about business. Women wearing gloves and long dresses held little tea cups and complimented mother on her pink frosted cake. I’d steal a look and then, upstairs, smile at my face in the bathroom mirror. I was so beautiful! I wanted to show them! I did. Once. I put on a silk shirt and tight pants. Daddy had a keen fashion sense and didn’t appreciate the look. He dragged me into the shed. You know the trouble with silk? Can’t get the blood out.”
“Your mother…” Samuel stopped.
“Liked you?”
“She was nice.”
“Bullshit! She wasn’t interested in you, she was lonely! After you left she had no one. Sat in this big house all by herself. How sad. But that’s what happens when you receive the due penalty for your error. Romans 1:27. Daddy knew his scripture. He taught me well. You’re young, Baas. Let me give you some advice. Don’t get fooled by the righteous. I’ve decided. Your parents don’t love you. Trust me, you’ll get over it. Time for you to go.”
Samuel walked quickly to the door.
“Next time you’re here, I’ll have that tea,” Damour said.
“I’m not sure when—”
“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? Think what I have is contagious? It isn’t, unless we have sex. You planning on that?”
“No…”
“Me either. Then it’s settled. No gay cancer for you. Don’t wait too long before stopping by.”
Samuel knew he would never visit Leo Damour again.
While driving away, he again remembered the kind old woman who had been more than a landlady.
2
“I’m not a divorce lawyer,” Samuel told the spindly young woman sitting in his Little Haiti office. Eyes puffy from crying, her thin brown hair pulled back from her face, Glenda wore little make-up and fidgeted with the plastic purse on her lap.
“Mr. Baas prefers to have clients who can’t pay,” Vera said while walking past them. Glenda glanced at her, then confused, back at Samuel.
“Vera’s my secretary,” he said. “She thinks I don’t charge enough.”
“Think? I know! He can help you, honey,” and Vera, a cigarette in her mouth, continued on to a bathroom accessed only through Samuel’s room.
“She’s great. Keeps me in line.”
“Like your mother?” Glenda said. “I want a lawyer who will fight for me. I have a child. He needs a Christian home.” She touched the small cross hanging from her neck.
“I represent people with immigration problems or who have been injured. You need an attorney specializing in divorce law. I’m sure you’ll find him.” Samuel got up to shake her hand, sat down when Glenda started to cry. He didn’t know what to do.
“Here, dear,” Vera said, handing her a hanky. She went into the outer office, came back with a folding chair and sat beside the woman. “You can tell me. What did he do?”
“I …caught him…” The deep hurt from betrayal in her voice, Glenda looked sadly into Vera’s old eyes. “I came home early from work. I saw them. In our bed, under the quilt I made for Christmas. It has puffy, little red hearts and puppies. She was there, looking up at him. I felt sick, a sharp pain right in my stomach. But I didn’t say anything. I ran and huddled in a corner of the living room. I don’t know how long I sat there before I felt his shadow. He stood above me. I asked if he loved her. He said no. That made me feel better. He’s a policeman. There’s a lot of pressure with his job. I know how men are.”
“Don’t we all,” Vera said, and snickered.
“Jesus asks us to forgive. I told Billy I love him. He said he wanted a divorce. Our son is only 7. He’ll grow up without a father. We had a happy family. Make this stop.” She pushed the divorce papers onto Vera’s lap.
“Is there property?” Vera asked.
“We have a house. A car. There’s not much in the bank.”
“What is your husband looking to get?”
“I don’t understand.”
“From the marriage.”
“Out,” Glenda answered and began trembling.
“There, there, we’ll get through this,” Vera patted Glenda’s hand. “Your boy needs a place to live. Whoever has custody of him will get the house. Is there anything your husband can use against you?”
“Me? I’ve been working in the same supermarket for ten years. I come home, cook, clean, and take care of my family.”
“Good. Custody and the house shouldn’t be issues, but you can never know for sure.”
“Billy already told me I can have everything and he’ll pay child support,” Glenda said. “I don’t want the divorce. I want him back. That’s why I’m here.”
For a moment, Vera’s thin gray lips twisted contemptuously.
“I’m sorry, dearie, but that’s not how divorces work in Florida.” To the extent her wrinkled face allowed, Vera again looked friendly and supportive. “We are a no-fault state. If a man wants to run out on his wife, there’s nothing you, or anyone can do, to stop it. Is he still in the house?”
“No,” Glenda answered.
“Too bad. When he fell asleep you could have cut his balls off.” Vera cackled.
Eyes wide, Glenda blushed.
“What a terrible thought! I would never hurt Billy. I love him.”
“How sweet,” Vera remarked.
“I was driving, not knowing where I was going, but praying that Jesus would lead me to someone who could help me. I came to a stop sign and looked around. There was Mr. Baas’ sign. Guess I didn’t pray hard enough.”
“You did. He’s the right lawyer for you. Young, honest, and reads the bible.”
“You do?” Glenda asked Samuel.
“I’ve gone to church,” he answered.
“Mr. Baas will protect you and your child,” Vera said. “I’ll get his retainer agreement.”
Glenda opened her little purse.
After she left, Vera stood hands on hips in the doorway to Samuel’s office.
“That’s the way you make a living, Baas. We don’t sell cans of beans in here. If someone comes in, looking for a lawyer, take the case. Christ. How long have you been practicing? Three years? You should have learned something by now. Did you feed the fish? You wanted them.”
Once a week, Glenda met with Samuel.
Even though all the legal matters in her case had been settled, when she called to make another appointment he never refused to see her. She would sit in his office and he’d listen to her tearfully talk about her marriage and how much she loved her husband. Samuel always had a handkerchief ready.
On the day before the scheduled final hearing, Glenda took his hand.
“I had lost faith,” she said, her legs neatly crossed under her long skirt. “Now I know God brought me to you. My husband’s adultery was part of His plan. Thank you, Mr. Baas. You have been more than a lawyer.”
He hesitated.
Isn’t that all I am…
“Please, call me Samuel.”
“A beautiful name. Right out of the bible.”
They left his office and went for coffee, Samuel able to drink his after pouring in sugar. She invited him to dinner.
“Saturday, after the judge does what the Bible says is wrong. 7:00. Timmy’s bedtime is 8. You’ll get to meet him.”
“I’d like that,” Samuel said.
The hearing lasted five minutes. Held in chambers, the judge signed the order granting the divorce and giving Glenda, as agreed to by the parties, the house, custody of the minor child, and child support, the language all very dry and clinical. Glenda didn’t cry.
After saying good-bye to her ex-husband, who nodded acknowledging her while hurrying toward the door, she turned and looked sadly at his empty chair.
Not wanting to be late, on Saturday Samuel left his NE 79th Street condo at 6. The drive to South Miami Heights took 30 minutes. For the next half-hour he drove through this neighborhood of one-story, concrete block houses, all with small windows. Many of the homes looked neglected. Paint peeled from walls, chain link fences tilted, the lawns had burned brown.
Exactly at 7, Samuel parked in front of Glenda’s home and got out. While walking along the bromeliad lined, brick walkway, he smelled the newly cut, green grass.
I can keep it this way.
On the bright white, farmer’s porch, he lightly touched one of the three Adirondack chairs arranged in a circle.
Glenda smiled at him through her large picture window.
“Hi Samuel,” she said, opening the door. “I’m so glad you came. You can leave your shoes out there on the mat. Here’s a pair of slippers.”
They walked into the living room where a small, mop-haired boy sat on the white shag carpet, a wooden lap desk across his knees.
“Timmy, say hello to Mr. Baas.”
“Hello,” the boy said while continuing to draw.
“Mind your manners young man!”
Timmy slowly turned around.
“Pleased to meet you,” Samuel said, and smiled.
Blue-eyed, the boy stared at him coldly.
“Timmy! If I have to send you to bed without supper, I will!”
“Hello—again,” he said and went back to his drawing.
“Five minutes more, then I want you in the kitchen for dinner,” Glenda told him.
“I’m not finished.”
“You heard me. Don’t get any of that on the rug.”
Timmy cursed under his breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“It better be nothing. I’ve got that bar of soap waiting. Come on, Samuel. You can help me set the table.”
In the all-white kitchen, Glenda handed him four plates.
“You’re our guest. That’s your place.” She pointed to one of the four chairs. “Timmy will sit across from you. Timmy! Dinner!”
The boy shuffled in, slumped down on his chair after nosily pulling it out. Samuel waited, sat after Glenda. She faced the empty seat.
“You have a nice kitchen,” Samuel said. “It’s cozy.”
“White makes everything look clean. Sit up, Timmy! No slouching at the table. Let’s bow our heads. Heavenly Father, thank you for Your compassion and love and the blessing of faith that allows us to live knowing You have a plan for our lives. Through the crucifixion and resurrection of your Son, Jesus Christ, we are promised everlasting life. When accepting Jesus as our Savior we not only triumph over death but defeat the Devil in this life. Satan tricks the weak, but sinners can repent, and through grace, return home. You have taught us the meaning of salvation. True love conquers all. Bless this food. Amen.”
“Amen,” Samuel said.
“I didn’t hear you,” Glenda looked at Timmy.
“I said it.”
“Say it again.”
“Amen! Amen! There! Are you happy!”
“Now we can eat. Do you like spaghetti, Samuel?”
“Love it,” he answered.
“I hope you’re OK with water. We have milk.”
“Water goes great with pasta. Thank you.”
“How was school today, Timmy?”
“Fine.” He poked at his food.
“You were there a whole day and that’s all you can say?”
“OK, yeah, I’ll tell you something.” He looked at her defiantly. “I got into a fight!”
“You what?”
“Pushed Johnny down. The teacher came over and pulled me off. I missed the rest of recess. No big deal.”
“John’s your friend. Why did you do it?”
“No reason…”
“That’s not an answer. I’ll call John’s mother and find out myself.” Glenda put her fork down.
“He said he saw daddy.” His voice low, Timmy’s stared at his plate.
“Go on.”
“With a woman. They were kissing. I called him a liar. Daddy would never do that.”
All rebelliousness gone, Timmy again looked at her, his eyes those of a frightened child wanting his mother to tell him there were no monsters under the bed.
“Your daddy and I are divorced,” Glenda stated. “That means, for now, he lives someplace else. He has friends. Some of them are women. What’s important for you to know is that he loves us. Remember when Sparky ran away? How much you cried? He found his way home. I’m sure your daddy will too.”
“I miss Sparky,” Timmy said. “Is he in heaven?”
“Of course,” Glenda answered. “Dogs are sinless. Fathers, mothers, even children, need saving. But remember this. If we believe in God, He will help us find happiness. Now eat your dinner.”
In this kitchen of white, with its lace curtains and homey tidiness, Samuel felt part of a family. Glenda had told him: ‘God led me to you.’
Timmy can be my son…
“What were you drawing,” Samuel asked him.
“A rainbow, with a man at the end.”
“Is that your daddy?”
“Yeah. He’s big. A lot bigger than you. He has muscles and his hair isn’t curly like a girl’s.”
“Timmy!” Glenda glared at him.
“That’s OK,” Samuel said. “It’s permed, Timmy. My last one. I’m planning on getting a short haircut. Would you like that better?”
“I don’t care. My daddy’s a policeman.”
“He must be brave.”
“He is! He arrests bad people and puts them in jail! Are you a policeman too?
“I’m a lawyer,” Samuel answered.
“What do they do?”
“Lots of things. My clients, the people I help, want to stay in this country, or have been in an accident.
“My mother isn’t going anywhere,” Timmy said. “She has this house and isn’t hurt. So why are you here?”
/>
“I invited him,” Glenda said. “Mr. Baas was my lawyer for the divorce.”
His face suddenly red, his eyes blue fury, Timmy jumped up and kicked the chair over.
“You made my daddy leave! I hate you!” His legs pounding loud and angry, he ran upstairs.
“I’m sorry,” Samuel said. “I…”
“It’s Timmy who should be saying that but he’s too upset now. Tomorrow, after he’s calmed down, I’ll make sure he sends you an apology.”
“Thanks, Glenda, but I really don’t need it.”
“He does, and I’m going to watch him write every word. I made an apple crisp. I’ll put the tea on.”
Before going to the stove, she picked up the chair, straightened the white cushion and reset Timmy’s place at the table.
Samuel ate two big slices of her pie, would have asked for a third if Glenda hadn’t taken him by the hand into the living room. They sat of the sofa. She placed a pillow between them.
“I like your house,” Samuel told her.
“We’ve lived here eight years. We used to know all the neighbors. New people moved in. They’re different.”
Samuel didn’t want to ask. With Glenda and her son, he had a family waiting for him. But what if these ‘new people’ were blacks and Cubans? How could he fall in love with someone who hated them?
And what if she learns I was born a Jew?
He took a deep breath.
“How are they different?”
“No children and a lot of the couples aren’t even married,” Glenda answered. “South Miami Heights is far from downtown. The houses out here aren’t expensive. We used to have block parties. Not anymore. Our friends moved in closer. If they couldn’t sell, they rented their homes. Across the street is a house with three men and two women living together. I don’t let Timmy play outside anymore. Maybe that’s why Billy wanted to get away. After a hard day doing police work he didn’t like coming home to more trouble. I love this house, but I would have left it if he’d asked me. He didn’t ask.”
“You keep everything so neat,” Samuel said. “Simple and uncluttered. I’ve done the same with my place. White makes living there easy. I don’t have to think about colors.”
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