“I didn’t walk away. I just didn’t think she needed the stress of us trying to have a relationship with everything else that was going on. What would I have looked like, trying to be with this girl going through a fucking divorce, dealing with more of Stephanie’s bullshit, while we had a newborn baby in the neonatal intensive care unit and she was recovering from a life-threatening injury? I did her a favor,” he said. He was visibly angry. He had snatched his glasses from his face and was smacking the back of one hand against the palm of the other as he spoke.
I shook my head. He should have thought that damn sensibly before getting with her too. Then we wouldn’t even have had those problems.
“Even before then, Aric, you kept her on a long leash, but you wouldn’t do more with her than have sex and try to control her. I don’t get it, brah. And now you’re mad because you heard her and Jamie having sex?” I quirked an eyebrow and cast him a skeptical glance as I shook my head. Then I walked across the room to throw my trash away.
“Why would she answer the phone? She did that shit on purpose,” he griped.
I turned to look at him and folded my arms across my chest, then chuckled at my friend. “You’re not mad because she picked up the phone while having sex. You’re mad because she was having sex with somebody that wasn’t you.”
“Yo, fuck you, Gabe,” he said to me, pulling his ringing cell from his pocket.
I only chuckled and shook my head, because his answer usually meant I was right in my assessment of things. Anybody other than him doing anything with Chyanne would always be a serious problem.
“Whatever you say, Aric.”
As the day progressed, I made it my business to finish up some of the projects I’d been lax about, just so I could stay ahead of the game. The business we were in was cutthroat. It was best to always stay ahead of the game, lest you found yourself out of it altogether. By the end of the working day, I was anxious to leave. I took all the back roads just so I wouldn’t have to sit in I-20 traffic. I made it home just as my father was pulling into my driveway. I braced myself for whatever was about to happen. We hadn’t talked in days, and he had seemed to be content with keeping it that way. We both exited our cars at the same time. His gray Jaguar XJ looked as if it had been freshly detailed, and as always, my father was dressed to impress.
“Hey, Pop. Good to see you,” I said to him after he walked up to my car.
Normally, I’d hug him, but it just didn’t seem fitting in that moment with what had happened between us.
“Good day, son. You have a minute to talk?” he asked, sliding his hands into his slacks pockets.
I nodded. I’d always have time to talk to my old man. “Sure. Come in,” I said, walking to my front door.
We made small talk about how my day and his day had gone as we walked inside. The tenseness between us was still there. I could tell by the rigidness in his stance. Once inside I took a moment to go upstairs and change into sweats and a T-shirt while he waited for me in my front room. I walked back down to find him watching the Weather Channel.
“You must be planning to fly back out soon?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch while he sat in the La-Z-Boy-style chair across the room.
“Yeah. Wanting to make sure Cecilia is okay with all the storming over there. She says she’s okay, but I want to be sure, you know? May bring her back with me.”
I nodded and watched the TV for a bit, wondering what he wanted to talk to me about, but I kept my thoughts to myself out of respect.
“You talk to Stephanie today?” I asked.
He nodded and looked at me. “Yeah, I just dropped her off at home before coming here. She had to meet with her attorney today. The sentencing hearing will be soon.”
Since Stephanie had been fitted with the ankle monitor, the only way she could leave the house was with my father. She had been released to his custody.
“How is she?”
“About as good as can be expected, son. She wants this whole thing to be over. It’s taking a toll on her.”
“Imagine what it’s doing to Chyanne,” I said to him, making him cast a sidelong glance my way.
“You seem to care a lot about a woman you have no ties with, son. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were fucking the girl.”
The left corner of his upper lip twitched as he slowly turned to look my way. I didn’t back down. A knowing look passed between father and son, one that relayed the message whether we spoke it or not.
“Yeah, but what’s that got to do with you not holding Stephanie responsible for what she’s done?”
“That wasn’t me holding her up in her wrong. That was me being a father and being there for my child. I still love her, no matter what she’s done.”
“I know, Pop. You’ve always made that pretty clear.”
“I’ve never done for her what I wouldn’t do for you, Gabriel. It doesn’t feel good for me to see that you feel otherwise.”
His tone was visceral, so I knew that his words could be taken with a grain of salt.
“That’s not the point, Dad. The point is you did treat us differently at times, but we don’t need to hash that out anymore. What’s done is done. You said you wanted to talk? Oh, and it’s nice to know that Cecilia is on your mind and all, especially when you just left my mother’s bed last night.”
My father opened his mouth like he was about to say something but thought better of it. He took a deep inhale, then exhaled while he looked at me. I could tell I was pushing him to a point where he didn’t want to be.
“I went to visit your mom because I wanted to see how she was doing,” he lied.
“They have phones for that. Just admit you wanted to see her.”
“At this point I don’t even see why the hell I have to explain my actions to you,” he said, leaning forward.
I leaned forward to mimic his posture. “At this point I think you should know I’m looking out for the best interests of my mother . . . since she seems to be your last priority when it comes to her feelings.”
My father licked his lips, and his face flinched as he watched me. Strangely enough, both of us had locks that fell around our shoulders and hung down, slightly swaying as we played the staring game.
“I love your mother, Gabe.”
“Bullshit.”
He chuckled, then leaned back and stretched his arms on the back of the sofa. “I do.”
“Not enough to not make her your other woman for the last thirtysomething years.”
“If she had a problem with what she and I shared, then she would have said something.”
“She has said something, but you’re not listening.”
“Your mother ain’t a fucking fool, Gabriel. Trust me, if she had a problem with anything we’ve shared over the years, she would have said something.”
The unctuous look on his face rubbed me the wrong way.
“You didn’t and don’t see the tears she sheds when you leave and go back to the real world, Pop.” I slapped a hand against my chest as I spoke. “But I do. Do you know how many nights I’ve had to watch my mother fight with the fact that she loved you, then fight with herself about the way she had to have you?” I asked and shook my head. “Nope. I bet the shit never even crossed your mind.”
When my father stood, I did the same. The talk we were having had been long overdue. For years I’d looked the other way, but when he mentioned he was going home to get his wife just a few hours after leaving my mother’s bed, it irritated me. An anger I hadn’t felt since he sent me and my mother away to New York rose in me. I was pissed at my father for sending me and my mother away like we were just some nuisance that he needed to rid himself of. It made me feel as if he didn’t love us enough, like he’d wanted to get rid of his dirty little secret. The shit was to the point that I was just sick of it. I’d kept my mouth closed for years because I’d wanted to respect my parents, but damn, when would enough be enough?
“Say what you need to say, son.
Go ahead and do it now, because this will be the last time I allow you to speak to me this way.”
“Nah, Dad. Why don’t you start talking now? You can start by telling me why, if you love my mother so much, why you never left Cecilia?”
“When a man marries a woman, he does it for better or for worse. He doesn’t just divorce her because he lays his head somewhere else from time to time. That’s not how it works.”
“So, all my mother has ever been to you is somewhere else to lay your head? Seriously, Dad? Tell me how you can just come to us and give us a few hours, or if we’re lucky, a few days at a time, then go back to them like it’s nothing. Didn’t you see how much it hurt her or me? Didn’t you see it then? Or did you just not care?”
My father stepped closer to me, and I could tell that either we were going to come to blows or we were going to reach a middle ground in understanding. Either way, I was going to speak my piece.
“You have no idea what you’re speaking on, son.”
“Oh, but I do, Dad. Unlike you, Mom is very honest and open with me about the things that have gone on with you two. She does that for me, Dad. She’s been doing it since I was old enough to first start asking questions about why my father has two families,” I said, holding up two fingers to drive my point home. “She did it so I wouldn’t feel like my father didn’t love me.”
I watched as my old man ran a hand through his locks. “I was there for you even at times when it seemed impossible to do so. I was always there, so don’t you fucking stand in my face and try to tell me I wasn’t. What is this really about, son? You mad because I couldn’t be with your mother like I was with Cecilia? You’re mad about shit that was put into play long before you were even thought of. We all handled it the way we saw fit.”
“And almost forty fucking years later my mother is no more to you now than she was then. This is all I’m saying. You know my mother, and you know she is more woman than you’ve made her out to be. I love you, Pop, and I respect you a hell of a lot, but I’m asking you as your son to leave Mom alone,” I said. “She is a strong woman and has been her whole life. She’s been there for you whenever you’ve needed, but where were you the nights she was alone, when she had to cry in her pillow about the hand life had dealt her, huh? She couldn’t pick up her phone in the middle of the night and call you, because when you weren’t around, she respected your home. The only time she called you was when it was for me. You succeeded in making my mother your bona fide side whore.”
Before I knew it, my father’s fist had connected with my jaw. I stumbled backward as the hit knocked blood from my mouth. I balled my fist, ready to return the favor.
With his finger was pointed in my face, he spoke. “Don’t you ever in your life speak about your mother that way.”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then smacked his hand away. “Why? Because you don’t want to hear the truth?”
I stood face-to-face with my father, waiting for whatever reaction he’d have.
“Fuck what you think is the truth,” he spat out. “Let me tell you something, Gabriel. You better get your shit together. I don’t know what’s going on with you or why, but make this your last fucking time coming at me like this.”
I couldn’t even stand to be in front of him anymore, so it was my turn to walk away from him. I left him standing there, so I could get my head together. I’d held so much in for so long. He refused to see the way my mother sometimes fronted a smile just so she wouldn’t have to cry. Unlike me, he hadn’t heard her cry in the middle of the night. He didn’t know the look on her face when he would leave her: she would turn to gaze at me with an expression that showed she was trying to keep it all together for me. So fuck him for trying to act like he cared more than he really did.
Aric
Some people really made my ass itch. They sat back behind their computer screens and made judgments of your life, when they had so many skeletons in their closet that the shit had turned into a graveyard. I made the mistake of turning on the TV. Just as I’d made the mistake the other day of reading an actual article online about what’d happened in my life. On my TV they had the story wrong. On the blogs they had the story wrong. People were sympathizing with a woman who had tried to kill an innocent child. I would never get it. Yes, I’d stepped outside of my marriage and gotten another woman pregnant. I would make no excuses for that. It was what it was, but I was sick of explaining myself. People trying to blame me for what Stephanie had done was bullshit.
Call me an asshole. You could call me what you wanted. At this point, I didn’t give a damn. All that mattered was I’d finally gotten the divorce I wanted. I was done testifying in court, and all I wanted was for the madness to be over. I couldn’t even bring myself to be with Chyanne after all that had happened. I’d been in my marriage for twenty years. There was no way I could be with Chyanne. She was far too young for me to even consider it, right? At least that was what I told myself when I let her go. Some nights I kicked myself for my decision, especially on those nights when the woman writhing underneath me couldn’t bring me to satisfaction like Chyanne could. Or when one simply annoyed me by talking too damn much. Chyanne knew when to leave me alone. She knew when to talk. She knew when to try to comfort me. She’d learned how to satisfy me sexually. Shit, she even knew when to feed me. What man didn’t want that in his life?
“So, son, are we still invited to my grandson’s birthday party when the time rolls around?”
“Yeah. I don’t see why not.”
“I hear your bat-shit-crazy ex got found guilty. You cool with that?”
My father and I had gotten closer since AJ was born. I was actually surprised to see how taken with AJ he’d become. He was quite prideful that his grandson was his namesake. Although he called me AJ too, I wasn’t named solely after my father. My name was Aric L. McHale. My father was Aric R. McHale. My mother had given me a different middle name to spite my father. AJ was a moniker that my son and I shared.
I was listening to my father on the phone as I washed AJ’s face. He had been eating ice cream with sprinkles and had made a mess all over his clothes and face.
“As long as she gets the punishment she deserves, I’m okay with that,” I answered.
“You done your soul-searching yet?”
I stood and moved to the kitchen sink to rinse the white facecloth. “What do you mean?”
I heard him moving around. The noise from the TV started to become distant, which meant he was moving away from my mother.
“I mean, have you finally accepted your fault in this all?”
“I accepted it a while ago.”
“Come off it, AJ. Have you even gone to see the woman you were married to for almost twenty years?”
I sighed. As always, hearing my father call me by my childhood name, which was now my son’s moniker, took me back.
“Dad, what does me going to see her have to do with soul-searching? Who said she even wanted to see me, and why in the fuck would I want to see her? The bitch tried to kill me.”
“Jaysus, lawd, son. I bet she’d be willing to lie down in nettles for it, and the fact that she tried to kill you was nobody’s fault but your own, AJ,” he commented.
Most people didn’t know my father was a black Irishman. I, myself, at times had to remember he was when he used certain sayings. And just like almost everybody else, he saw what Stephanie had done as being mostly my fault.
“What purpose would me going to see her serve?”
“Closure, son. Give the woman closure so she can get the hell on, and take my goddamned last name back if you can.”
I chuckled at my dad, even though he was annoying me. “Okay,” I said, conceding only to get him to drop the subject. “Are you going to counseling with Mom tonight?”
“I will in my fuck. I’ve better things to be doing. Now, let me talk to my grand.”
I laughed at his Irish vernacular. “I will in my fuck” was his way telling me that he’d go w
hen hell froze over. I knew a sure way to get him off the phone was to ask him about going to counseling with my mom. He was dead set against it and didn’t see the reason for it. To be honest, neither did I. If anyone needed the counseling, it was my mother. So I was more than happy to encourage her to go. I passed my cell phone to AJ before starting to clean up the mess he’d made with his arts and crafts and the ice cream. It wasn’t long after that my father finally let AJ off the phone.
I started to pack AJ’s things while my mind wandered to what my father had said to me. I hadn’t laid eyes on Stephanie in a personal setting since signing our divorce papers. I didn’t want to see her. I really had nothing to say to her. She’d tried to kill my son and his mother, all because I’d finally called her bluff on the divorce she used to always throw in my face. Then she’d tried to kill me. A few more inches and a bullet would have been embedded in my brains. Every day I looked in the mirror, I had to look at the scar on the side of my head and thank the Lord. Every time I moved my shoulder the wrong way and a pain hit me, it reminded me of the bullet fragments still there.
“AJ, grab your backpack. Your mother should be home now.”
I’d never seen my son move so fast. He ran across the room and grabbed his Spider-Man backpack and forgot that Caillou was on. To see how much he loved his mother always made me smile.
“Mommy, Daddy?” he asked, looking up at me with wide eyes that had the same hazel hue as mine.
I’d learned his language, and I knew that was his way of asking me if he was going home to his mother. The doctors wanted to have us believe that because he was born a preemie, he would be behind developmentally. Bullshit. My son wouldn’t be labeled because of some asinine shit they’d “studied.” I made sure that the words “I can’t” were nowhere near his vocabulary. I challenged him, pushed him beyond where they said he was supposed to be. They said he would be behind in walking. Said he wouldn’t be able to talk at the time when normal toddlers would. I called their bluff. I worked with my son and made sure he wasn’t behind on anything, simply because I wanted to prove the doctors wrong, and I had.
Tell Me No Lies Page 6