by Nina Perez
Every year my mother set up a booth by the firehouse and sold warm pies. She didn’t always sell them. She used to give them away, but Dad thought she should get paid for her efforts, so she started charging for them: fifty cents. She didn’t do it for the money, she explained, but because she enjoyed doing things for others to make them happy. She liked caring for others. Chloe reminded me a lot of my mother in that regard. It was nice to see that some things didn’t change as I approached my mother’s booth and found her dressed as Betsy Ross and my father as George Washington. She was selling sweet-smelling apple pies. I walked up just as a couple was leaving with two pie boxes.
“See you in church, Marie.” My mother called as they left. She smiled when she saw me. “Patrick, look at you! I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“That’s the idea, Ma,” I joked, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, son.” My dad gave me a solid pat on the back.
We talked briefly about the parade and who was wearing what costume. When my mother asked if I’d heard from Charlotte, I didn’t have the heart to tell her the details surrounding our most recent and disturbing conversation earlier that night. Instead I told her that I had spoken to Charlotte and she’d already had plans to attend a party that evening. I knew she was disappointed, but she seemed to take some small relief that someone had at least spoken to my sister and confirmed she was still alive. My father didn’t look as convinced though, and I kept my eyes fixed on the teenagers bobbing for apples in a nearby booth so as not to meet his gaze.
“Have you seen Paul yet?” my mother asked, changing the subject.
“No. I’m hoping to hook up with him later, though.”
My mother cast a quick glance at my father, who remained silent. “Well, we saw him and his… uh… friend shortly before you arrived. They mentioned going on the hayride.”
I knew without asking who my mother meant. Paul was officially out of the closet and dating Derrick, the new guy at work. We hadn’t spoken about it much, but I had made Paul promise that he was doing this for him and not because he was being pressured by Derrick. He assured me the decision was all his.
“Did he seem okay?” I asked.
My father nodded and adjusted his tri corner hat. “Your mother made sure to ask him several times.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing to worry about people.” My mother lifted her chin defiantly. “People can be…” She paused, looked around, and then whispered the rest. “People can be assholes.”
“Yeah, I know.” I was thinking about Max, the last person Paul had told before coming out at work. I’d offered to be there for it, but Paul thought it should be a private discussion like it had been when he told me. I hadn’t been able to get many details out of Paul, but he said Max had been angry and Max wasn’t returning my calls.
“I’ll head over to the park now.” I kissed my Mom on her cheek and gave my father’s arm a squeeze.
“Are you staying at the house tonight?” he asked.
An image of Chloe walking towards the door, casting a seductive smile over her shoulder with her hair bouncing and her hips swaying, flashed through my head.
“No, I’m going home tonight.”
“Well, stop by the house before you go. I have a pie for you and Chloe,” my mother said.
As I walked towards the park I found myself wishing Chloe was here. Costume or not, I wanted to experience this night with her. It was brisk out, but with the air thick with the aroma of spiced cider and roasted nuts, it was impossible not to feel warm all over. I took a deep breath as I walked by booths selling caramel apples and cotton candy. At the entrance to the park, right behind the gazebo, there was a jack-o-lantern carving contest underway. I noticed my neighbor, Fred McCarthy, was judging as usual. He took his job seriously and I felt sorry for the contestants. Mr. McCarthy noticed me too and waved.
I spotted Paul as I approached the line for the hayride. He was in line with a tall, thin man with red hair. They were both wearing dark wizard’s robes with burgundy and gold scarves. Paul was sporting black-rimmed glasses and a fake lighting-shaped scar on his forehead. I greeted Paul with a hug and turned to Derrick.
“This must make you… Ron Weasley?” We shared a laugh and a handshake. I stood in line with them as they waited their turn. We made small talk about the parade, the weather, and my upcoming callback audition. When Derrick offered to go for a refill on cider, Paul and I were able to talk about the giant elephant taking up space in our thoughts.
“Have you heard from Max?”
“Not yet. You know, part of me understands his anger, but there’s another part that’s angry as well. Friends since childhood and this is what I get?”
“It’s going to take time.”
“I know, I know. It’s just that we’ve known each other so long. I’d be lying if I said I thought he’d react like you had, but I didn’t expect this. You think you know somebody and—”
“That’s funny.” The voice came from behind us. “I was thinking the same thing.”
We turned to find Max stumbling towards us, dressed as Buzz Lightyear and unquestionably drunk.
Chapter Eight
When the Masks Come Off, Part Four
Chloe
“You haven’t had sex yet?” I thought Crystal’s eyes were going to pop out of her head.
“No, settle down.”
She scooted a few inches down the couch, putting some distant between us, and looked me up and down. I did a mental rundown of all of my sexual partners, trying to figure out why the revelation that Patrick and I hadn’t had sex yet was so shocking to my cousin. Did I have a reputation I didn’t know about?
“Why not?”
“I told you. We’re taking it slow.”
“Ha!” Crystal cackled. “Girl, there’s taking it slow and then there’s standing still. And you two are going in reverse.”
“Stop laughing. Don’t make me sorry I told you.”
“Sorry. You know I’m just messing with you. Seriously, are you afraid or something?”
“What would I have to be afraid of?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one all wrapped up but not giving him any. Oh, I can’t wait to see this white boy. He must be something. You sitting here blushing. He got your nose wide open.”
“I’m leaving.”
Crystal carried on as if she hadn’t heard me. Her eyes got wider as she wiped away tears of laughter. She placed one hand on my leg to stop me from rising. “Oh, I know what you’re scared of. Have you never seen a white one?”
“A white what?”
“You know, a white one. Dick, Johnson, Penis, Co—“
“What? Yes. No. Yes.”
I thought Crystal would roll off the couch she was laughing so hard.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” I asked, trying to remain straight-faced and annoyed.
“Nothing. And apparently nothing’s getting into you either.”
“Oh, you got jokes. Is your candy laced with something?”
"Well, which is it? Have you seen one or not?"
"Not in person, but I'm sure I have."
"Like in a porno?"
"No!"
"What? Do you have all-black porn or something?”
"I don't own any porn."
This was too much for Crystal. She bent over, head to her knees, in a laugh so deep it was silent. Her little bee antennae fell off as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh, lawd. What am I going to do with you, Chloe? Here, before Bri gets back, let me lend you some of mine. I have all kinds.”
“That’s it. I’m leaving. Tell Brianna I said goodbye.” I was half-smiling, half-scowling as I playfully slapped her several times about the legs. I stood to leave, grabbing my jacket as I did. “I’ll have you know that I am not afraid, or at least I wasn’t. Now you’ve given me a complex. Happy now?”
Her laughter could still be heard as I walked to the elevator. I decided to take a taxi home.
The later it got the more freaks seemed to roam on Halloween. I’d had enough for one evening.
With my head resting against the back of the seat of the taxi, I stared up into the starless sky. Orange streetlights whizzed by as the taxi headed downtown. I thought about what Crystal had said and realized my parting shot was only half in jest. Before our conversation I’d told myself that Patrick and I not having sex yet was kind of sweet—romantic, even. We’d only been officially dating, or whatever it was, for a few weeks. If I hadn’t already lived with him and the situation was more traditional, I probably wouldn’t have slept with him this soon. Soon, but not this soon—no matter what color he was.
Now I wondered if maybe deep down there was some apprehension about having sex with a white guy. What could I possibly have to worry about? Sex was sex. Right? Everyone’s parts worked the same way. Thoughts of parts led my mind down the path of stereotypes. What were the first sexual stereotypes one thought of when it came to white men? Small penises. I’d never seen Patrick’s… or any other white man’s for that matter, but during the times when one thing was trying to lead to another I’d felt it and it certainly didn’t seem like we were going to have any problems.
I wondered if Patrick worried about such things. What were some of the stereotypes about black women when it came to sex? Oh, yeah. I laughed on the inside less the cab driver think me a crazy woman. We were supposed to be insatiable freaks. Did Patrick expect me to know all kinds of tricks? No longer able to hold it in, I laughed loudly. The taxi driver gave me a bemused look and asked, “Everything okay back there?”
“Just perfect.”
As the taxi pulled in front of our building I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t have taken Crystal up on her offer. I laughed even louder as I paid the driver, so caught up in thoughts of penis, porn, and stereotypes that I wasn’t even aware of how much I tipped him. I hoped that when Patrick and I finally did consummate our relationship I didn’t scare the poor man away because I couldn’t stop giggling.
Turns out I needn’t have worried—at least not that night. For when I opened the door to the apartment I found Patrick sitting on the couch looking thoroughly beaten, bruised, and very much like sex was the last thing on his mind.
Chapter Nine
Make It Better
Patrick
“Oh my God. Patrick, what happened?”
Chloe dropped her keys and bag on the floor at the door. Her jacket was off in one fluid motion as she closed the distance between us in long strides. “Trust me. It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice.
“Really? Cause it kinda looks pretty damn bad. Like you got your ass kicked.”
I knew from checking my face in the bathroom mirror when I got home that the left side of my bottom lip was busted and swollen. That side of my face was pretty bruised too. At first glance I thought both eyes were blackened, but I didn’t remember Max landing that many blows. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was just the smeared eye makeup.
“Max happened.”
“Why the hell did Max hit you… repeatedly?” Chloe gingerly touched the left side of my face and I winced. “Oh! Sorry. Hold that thought.” She ran to the kitchen and returned a few moments later holding a bag of frozen peas. “Here you go. Place this on your face.”
I did as I was told. Then I told Chloe everything that had happened at the park before she jumped out of her skin in anticipation and worry.
From the way Max was staggering towards us, I knew the outcome would not be a good one. He was angry at Paul for not telling him he was gay, that much was obvious, but if you dug deeper it wasn’t really clear if he had a problem with Paul being gay or the fact that he hadn’t been told sooner, or at the very least when I was told. It also didn’t help matters that any attempt to dig deeper and have an actual conversation about it was met with nothing but belligerence and venom.
“How many times do I have to apologize to you, Max?” Paul had asked.
I felt for him. What he was going through was hard enough, worrying what people thought of him and if their feelings towards him had changed. The last thing he needed was for those who were supposed to be closest to him to act this way.
“Max, come on. You’re not helping.” I said.
“Oh, it’s real easy for you to say that, Golden Boy,” Max slurred. “It’s real easy to be all bygones and shit when you were let in on the little secret. What’s that like anyway? I’ve always wanted to know. What’s it like being the one everyone turns to?”
“Max, I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d act like this.”
Max looked even more infuriated. “You think I’m upset because you’re gay? Who are you people? Both of you. You don’t even know me at all, so I guess it went both ways.”
“Max, if you would just talk to me. I want to hear what you have to say, but not like this.”
Just then Derrick returned, holding two cups of cider and looking very wary. He looked back and forth between each of us: Max stumbling, staggering, and red-faced, with his green wings askew; Paul looking hurt and torn; and me with my chest heaving with anger.
“Is everything okay?” he asked cautiously.
Paul took Derrick by the arm and started to steer him away. “Not really. Maybe we should just go.”
“Yeah,” Max called. “Just leave with your boyfriend. Is that who this is? Your boyfriend? Your significant other? Just go off and be a couple of—”
“Then I hit him.”
“You did what?” Chloe asked. She had already gone back into the kitchen and exchanged the bag of peas for a frozen bag of carrots.
“I hit him. Chloe, I don’t know what he was going to say next and I don’t want to know. I was afraid it was something he’d never be able to take back. You should have seen him. I’d never seen him that drunk.”
“So what happened next?”
“Well, I thought that was pretty obvious,” I replied, pointing to the bag of baby carrots. “He hit me back. A few times.” And I’d let him.
“Is this what you want? To beat someone up because you’re so angry? Is this easier for you than talking to your two best friends?” I shouted from my position on the grass. I wasn’t going to get up and fight my friend. I could have withstood a thousand punches if it meant sparing Paul a verbal assault. Paul and Derrick tried to step between us and we’d attracted quite a crowd. Max sobered up enough to have the decency to look slightly ashamed.
“Well, isn’t this what you two expect of me anyway?”
He turned and stumbled off into the park, knocking into people along the way. He brushed against Mr. McCarthy who tried to steady Max on his feet. An electronic voice escaped from his costume: To infinity and beyond!
“It would have been funny if my face didn’t hurt so damn bad,” I told Chloe.
“Patrick, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t do anything.”
“I just know how much they both mean to you. I’m sorry that things have come to this,” she said, pointing to my face. “How’s Paul?”
“He and Derrick drove me home. He’s a mess. This is hands down the biggest test of our friendship and it doesn’t look like it’s going to end very well.”
“I can’t make excuses for Max’s behavior, but maybe you guys should give him more time. Again, no excuse, but you knew his reaction wasn’t going to be the same as yours and you’ve had years to deal with it. I know from recent experience that no matter what their motives, it always sucks to find out someone you’re close to has been keeping something from you. Especially something so important.”
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel like this.”
“How do I make you feel exactly?”
She was smiling and brushing my hair back from my forehead. I couldn’t smile, mostly because it hurt to, but also because I wanted her to know I was dead serious when I answered.
“You mak
e me feel better than anyone ever has.”
“Well, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she said.
“Uh, oh.” I smiled and immediately regretted it. “Ouch.”
“Here, let Mama make it better.”
Then she gently kissed every inch of my lips. And it felt better.
The love story of Chloe and Patrick continues in book four, which will be available for Kindle download in time for Thanksgiving. How will Chloe’s mother and Myra react when they learn of the new romance? Will Patrick’s family accept Chloe? Can Patrick repair his friendship with Max? Find out when book four is available by November 23.