His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sherise’s muffled sobs. Marc was hesitant about turning around. He did not want to comfort her. He wanted her to suffer, as he had, since she made her grand announcement. The better breed in him forced him to turn around and approach the couch.
Without thinking, he held her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. No words were spoken. There were no kind ones that he could offer. Instead, he sat there, holding her until she stopped sobbing. They both sat there locked in an embrace, clearly in two foreign worlds. Neither person said a word to the other until Sherise prepared to leave the brownstone thirty minutes later.
Sherise pierced the silence as she turned the knob to the door.
“For real Marc, I’m real sorry that you feel this way. I know you don’t want me, or this baby. It’s wrong for me to try to force it on you. This baby is the closest thing to love I’ve ever had. I aint’ just gonna throw it away. I know you want to be with somebody who’s educated and refined. But all I got is me. That’s it. I hope that we can at least stay friends, for the baby’s sake.” Sherise said and walked out of the door.
Marc hated to admit to himself that he was momentarily moved by Sherise’s words. She seemed so clear about the situation, but so completely powerless to control the circumstance. He decided at that moment that he would accept the child for what it was. Though he wasn’t going to be with Sherise, he was going to be supportive of the child that he helped to fatherts werefter he watched Sherise hail a cab and disappear down the street, he went to his study. He looked at his portfolio and organized it so that he could clear a few thousand dollars within the next couple of days. He then called his realtor and told him to look for a two-bedroom condo in a nice neighborhood. He didn’t have to be with Sherise, but no child of his would ever see the inside of government housing.
His next call was to his father. He dialed the numbers slowly as he tried to think of the words to inform his father of this tremendous event in his life. After the phone rang twice, his father answered.
“Hey, dad, what’s up?” Marc asked, trying not to reveal how disturbed he was.
“Marc, man I thought you forgot about me. I called you when your mom and I were in St. Lucia. They had some pretty young things there, and I thought about you. What have you been up to?” Charles asked, excited to hear his son’s voice.
“Just work. I just wanted to talk to you about a couple of things. You got a minute?” Marc asked, knowing his father would move a mountain if it separated him from his only son.
“Come on, you know I got time. I need to talk to you anyway. You know your mother’s birthday party is in two weeks, and I expect you to be here.” Charles said in a tone that sounded more like a warning than a suggestion.
“Dad, you know I wouldn’t miss that. I have this bachelor auction next weekend, but after that I’m all clear. Has mom been driving you crazy about it? I don’t know why you didn’t just hire a party planner. Mom can be a lunatic when it comes to these things.” Marc said jokingly to his father.
“Don’t I know it. Son, I tried to convince your mother to hire an event planner, but she said that they could never capture her taste for things. So now, she’s running herself ragged about the details and threatens to call it off at least three times a day. Man, I will be so glad when this is over.” Charles said to his son.
“I hear that. All that aggravation for one day. What’s up with women? They’re like that for parties and weddings. You would think that their lives depended on it.” Marc replied.
“Wedding, huh? Son, what made you mention that? You aren’t calling me to tell me you found “the one” are you?” Charles asked with growing anticipation.
“Nah, nothing like that. I just wanted to check on you. You know you’re my ace...” Marc started, but was interrupted by his father.
“Look man, don’t go pissing on me and telling me it’s raining. I’m your dad. I wiped your little baby balls. I know when something is up with you, so what’s going on?” Charles asked.
Marc searched his mind for the words to explain to his father that he was going to become a father unwillingly. There was a brief pause on the phone, and Charles knew his son well enough to know that if he spoke, his son would loose his courage. Instead, he remained quiet.
Marc cleared his throat as he began to speak.
“Okay dad, I’m gonna give it to you straight. I have a baby on the way.” Marc spat the words out and exhaled deeply as soon as he was done.
Charles remained silent for about thirty seconds.
“Dad, are you there?” Marc asked nervously, unable to read his father’s silence. He thought he could almost hear his father’s heart beat.
“Yes, yes. I am here. I guess the next question is are you getting married?” Charles asked bewildered by his son’s comment. He troubled himself with trying to think of the last female his son had spoken to him about. There were so many, all of them seemed temporary. He wondered what the situation with this woman was. Was his son withholding secrets from him for fear of his judgment? He quickly dismissed the thought.
“Nah, I am not getting married. That’s just the thing…Uhm, this was an unplanned pregnancy and I have no intentions on being with this woman. But she is insisting that she has this baby and here we are.” Marc said to his father.
He felt his shame grow as his father took in the situation. On the other end of the phone, Charles sat in awe of the irony. He was forced to marry Ilene for reasons much like those that his son now faced. He forced words out of his mouth.
“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a situation. Have you tried to reason with her? This could be the worst thing for the both of you, as well as a baby.” Charles said.
“Dad, believe me, I have tried everything. But her mind is made up. I think that she thinks that having this baby is going to make us stay together. Really dad, I just wish this whole thing never happened. She and I are so different. I just don’t want to be with her. I don’t want to be a dead beat dad, either.” Marc said.
“Well, that’s the last thing you’re going to be, rather you are with this woman or not. Your mom and I raised you better than that.” Charles allowed his comment to hang in the air before he spoke again. “How long have you known her?” Charles asked.
“Briefly.” Marc answered.
“And her family?”
“Let’s just say she doesn’t come from preferred stock.”
“Son, how exactly do you know this woman?” Charles asked hoping that his first grand child was not the result of a one-night stand.
“Dad, just know that everything is a mess and it’s not what you and mom planned for me. Hell, it’s not what I had planned for myself. But the baby is coming, and I have to deal with it for what it is.” Marc said assertively as he tried to make himself accept what he just said.
“I hear you son, and you know what? You’re right. It is what it is, and Campbell men handle their business… No questions asked. But I think you know that you need to get a blood test when the baby is born.” Charles said sternly to his son.
“Without question. I just wish things didn’t happen this way. I don’t want to resent her for the rest of my life.” Marc said in a defeated tone to his father.
“Then don’t. Look, I don’t know how you and this woman hooked up, but I can pretty much guess that having a kid was the last thing on your mind. Life is like that. Shit happens. I am not saying that you should go out and marry this woman, but it doesn’t help to be miserable about what will inevitably happen. I’m just glad that you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I would have wondered what was up with you if you suddenly showed up with a little crumb snatcher.” Charles said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, that would have been a little rough. Speaking of rough, dad please don’t…” Marc started.
“You don’t even have to worry. You know that I wouldn’t mention this to your mother. It’s your business, you tell her. Besides, I want to be far away whe
n Ilene Winters Campbell is told that she is going to be a grandmother. She wouldn’t be able to get to those botox injections fast enough.” Charles said laughingly.
“But seriously son, I want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, call me. It’s not going to be an easy road, let me warn you now. If this woman has watched Oprah’s ass at least once, she is going to try to take you for some money. Make sure you have an attorney, preferably a Jewish one. They’re greedy and smart. That’s a perfect lawyer. I know a few people at Georgetown. I can call in a few favors.” Charles offered.
Marc was amazed by his father’s desire to protect him, even when he had made a very adult decision. He decided to decline his father’s offer, partly because he had to let his father know that he would handle the situation, but mostly because he didn’t want his father to be privy to Sherise’s “animated” disposition.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m cool. I already spoke to someone, and I think things are going in the right direction. I appreciate your help dad, seriously.” Marc said, borrowing his dad’s seriousness for the moment.
Marc thought it was a good point in the conversation to change the topi “No more about me and my baby mama drama, how was the trip? I know you golfed your heart out.” Marc said as he pictured his father teeing off in front of a perfect sunset clothed in those ridiculous plaid pants and a coordinating golf shirt.
“Actually, I didn’t get much in. Your mother and I toured the island, did some snorkeling, and really just hung out. It was relaxing and long overdue. Man, I got myself a massage from one of those island women when your mother was getting her hair braided. Ooh Wee! Man, I think that might have been the highlight of my trip.” Charles said as he laughed devilishly.
Marc did not know what blew him away more, his ultra conservative father letting it loose or his uptight socialite mom getting her hair braided. Either way, he was happy that they weren’t settling into old age without a fight. In his mother’s case, he knew that her fight would include an arsenal of fade creams, supplements, injections, and even surgery, if she thought that she were loosing ground.
His father’s laughter warmed him and made him long for his teenage years when he and his father would go out after his Friday night football games and talk. They spoke candidly without the fear of retribution on either side. When he went to college, Marc regularly returned home just so he could spend Sundays on the couch watching football with his father. His bond with his father far surpassed that which existed with his mother. It was a wellknown fact in their family and seemed to go unchallenged.
He looked forward to spending time with his father in two weeks. The fact that his mother was celebrating her fiftieth birthday was a footnote, at best. The two men were bonded beyond familial ties. They shared a collective experience of being a black man that refused to accept a mediocre existence. Their bond transcended blood and DNA. Both men knew it and were glad that they had such an intimate relationship of support.
The two continued their conversation about topics from current events to politics, and back to politics again. Charles gave Marc a brief synopsis about the bash for his mother. Complete with a catered meal of filet mignon and seared lobster brochettes in a truffle sauce, the event that would host one hundred twenty of Ilene’s “closest friends” had easily surpassed the $25,000 mark. Ilene insisted that the atrium room of the Ritz Carlton was the only suitable venue for such an event. The ornate gold molding of the room and painted murals seemed to attest to Ilene’s penchant for extravagance for the sake of public accolades. Charles despised that about his wife, but learned early on in their marriage that this was one of her lesser demons. The amalgamation of flowers that would be draped over anything that would stand still were an assortment of various white flowers in everything from magnolias to calla lilies to an exotic Japanese orchid that only bloomed for twelve hours once a year. The pomp of it all was dizzying to Charles who preferred writing the checks to attending the actual planning of such a grandiose event.
Marc mentally lamented for his father and his inability to tell his mother that his income couldn’t sustain such a lavish production. But he knew that his mother would only go into one of her unreasonable rants and declare, for the hundredth time, that she would not have married him if she knew that she had to live such a meager existence.
As the two men continued to chat, Marc noticed the sudden formality of his father’s dialogue, and knew instinctively that his mother was near. Marc quickly wrapped up the conversation and made a hasty exit. He wasn’t ready for his mother’s probing and disapproving moments of measured silence. He would tell her when she was ready to hear it and more importantly, when he was ready to defend it.
Chapter 16 Natalie
“Girl, what the hell are you doing?” Eric asked of his sister as she stood in the mirror of her cramped bathroom and washed her face continuously last fifteen minutes. She ignored his question. He walked to the bathroom and plucked the back of her neck like he did when they were younger. True to form, she sprung up in battle stance and chased him around the house. “Girl, you better stop, you gonna make me fall and then I will have to kick your ass.” Eric warned as he scuttled away from his sister.
Natalie ignored this warning and shook her wet residue of PhisoDerm and water onto her brother’s perfectly pressed Emmanuel Ungaro button down shirt.
Eric, a professed fashionista, decided that he would excuse his sister’s disrespect of his high end clothing.
“You know what bitch, I am gonna give your ass a pass this time because you’re crazy as all hell. You keep poppin’ them pills and by next week, you gotta an ass whippin’ coming.” Eric said as he smiled and said a quick mental prayer for his sister’s recovery.
When Dr. Reade called him and told him that Natalie had attempted suicide, he told his supervisor at the Cheesecake Factory in Atlanta that he would be leaving and would be gone for at least a month. The coveted manager’s position would likely be given to a young associate chef, who had been secretly vying for it for months. Eric chose to ignore the clandestine plot to expose his declining profit margin to upper management. He did, after all, have tons of friends that he regularly allowed to eat on the house. It was one of four ‘dream jobs’ he captured and lost in the last three years.
When the call came, he didn’t hesitate. He knew his sister needed him and didn’t flinch as he emptied his marginal bank account to fund his trip to Houston. He had a “roommate”, so he had managed to stash away enough money to keep things moving in case he found himself in the familiar position of unemployment.
Sensibility and years of experience instructed him not to call his mother. Her discerning voice alone would force anyone back into a psychotic state. The fact that she dismissed Natalie’s mental condition as nothing more than the effects of a spoiled childhood only fueled Eric’s determination to protect his sister from the dysfunctional family that they emerged from. Natalie was his heart. He hated himself for his ability to be cruel to her, but would readily head straight to the state penitentiary for killing a mofo that dared to hurt her.
Their bond was made stronger when he decided to come out of the closet. He decided to make the announcement at his high school graduation party. He tried his best to explain to his mother that he loved men and wasn’t a blasphemous sociopath. The latter was easier for Rosemary Logan to accept. She threw him out of the house, complete with the cake and few items of clothing that he owned. Noone, not even Earl Logan, the supposed patriarch of the family, dared to challenge her actions. Instead, they busied themselves with other things in the house as Rosemary began rebuking Eric in the name of Jesus and swore that the devil would not abide in her house.
Broken and dejected, Eric lived with friends for months and worked at an alternative nightclub to support his immense passion for clothing and ‘the life.’ He developed a nasty little coke habit that he was able to kick after a brief stint at a quaint rehab center in Palm Springs. Natalie was his only visitor.
She even lent him the proceeds of her savings to help him get back on his feet. He was able to afford a small studio apartment in Northeast DC that his sister regularly frequented. She used the opportunity to update him on the household goings ons. The latest arguments that Rosemary had won, Tanya’s most recent pregnancy, and of course, her own distaste for the life of misery that he was fortunate enough to escape.
On occasion, Natalie would invite Tanya to join her when she visited Eric. She usually declined, but Natalie remained persistent. Her final request was met with dissention as Tanya proclaimed, “I don’t want to go see his faggot ass. Look how much trouble he caused momat church. His little gay ass is gonna burn in hell.” Natalie never asked her again.
Eric knew about his sister’s disapproval and allowed their relationship to fall to the wayside. Natalie was all the family he needed. Her voice snapped him back to their stark reality. “So we gonna leave or what?” Natalie asked standing by the door shaking her keys.
Eric had hardly noticed that she had gotten dressed, did her hair and make-up, and readied herself for their evening out. “Where you going with that monstrosity for an outfit on?” Eric asked as he stretched his eyes in amazement of his sister’s ensemble of baggy blue jeans, a frumpy Old Navy performance fleece sweatshirt that was red once upon a time, and black sneakers. He gave an appropriate nod at the make-up that was immaculately applied, but quickly sent her back to change clothes. “Honey, I am a fag, but you don’t have to look like a hag. It’s no wonder you can’t keep a man. Coming out here looking like who killed her and why. And I know you got clothes, cause you obviously aint spending this money on decorating or furniture. Lawd! Who still has a wicker queen chair? Where is your airbrushed picture of a BMW to go with it?” Eric asked as he sat in the chair posing for an imaginary picture.
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