So You Call Yourself a Man

by Carl Weber

  Every time I heard his voice on the phone, it damn near brought tears to my eyes, because it was a miracle he could even pick up the phone in the first place. Two weeks ago, he was paralyzed from the neck down, and now, it was only by the grace of God that he could sit up and use his arms.

  I was still concerned, though, that the attack had done something to his psyche. When he told me he believed Sonny had something to do with it, and that Sonny might actually have been the masked attacker, I didn’t know what to do. I planned to talk to the doctors about his mental state, but in the meantime, I knew they wanted to focus on him regaining some physical strength. It was important for him to concentrate on that, and he wouldn’t be able to do it if he was agitated over this imagined evil side of Sonny. To pacify him, I agreed to go check out the house after he’d been trying to convince me for over two weeks. I figured that once I could tell him Tiffany and her kids were fine, he would give up on this theory that Sonny was out to get him.

  “Brent, it’s James.”

  “Are you in? What did you find? Is she there?” I barely understood what he said because he was talking so fast.

  “Nah, I’m outside the door, but it doesn’t look like anyone is here.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Go inside. That girl’s in trouble, James. I just know it.” Brent had so much concern in his voice, and I knew he believed what he was saying about our friend. “I just hope she ain’t dead.”

  “Look, Brent, stop exaggerating. You know she’s not dead. I spoke to her on the phone last night. She said she was fine.”

  “He could have been sitting right next to her.”

  I held my breath and counted to three to calm myself before I lost it. I still couldn’t believe all of this had started because he ran into Jessica while he was in California. I didn’t have any doubt she told him that crap about Sonny being dangerous, but I also knew she was a liar. Sonny had been telling us that for years, long before she packed up the kids and the house and ripped apart his family. I had no idea why Brent believed her story, but I assumed the beating had scrambled his brains a little.

  “Look, man,” I said when I felt like I could speak without yelling at Brent. “Maybe we should just talk to Sonny. Why don’t I come back tonight after he’s off work? I’ll see what’s up, then we’ll come talk to you at the hospital.”

  “No! You’ve been over there three times, and every time you get there, Tiffany’s mysteriously been away. I want you to go in that house.”

  “Look, Brent, that’s easier said than done. What if someone comes home? God, what if Tiffany’s in there asleep? I don’t want to scare the girl.”

  “I just talked to Sonny at work. And if Tiffany shows up, make up a lie. Matter of fact, you can blame it on me. Tell her I wanted a picture of her kids to put in my room with my other godkids. She’ll believe that. Everybody believes paraplegics as long as we’re not asking for money.”

  “All right, man. I hope you’re right…wrong about this.”

  “I hope so too, but I doubt it. And make sure you check all the closets. Jessica said he used to lock her in them.” Why Brent was pushing me to betray my boy Sonny’s trust for something that bitch Jessica said was beyond me. I took out my key and opened the door.

  It didn’t take but about five minutes to check the downstairs rooms and closets. The upstairs took a little longer because I had to check under the beds. There were no dead bodies or abused girlfriends like Brent feared, but I did find something interesting under Sonny’s bed. I never knew it, but he actually had a gun. Once the upstairs and downstairs were checked, I called Brent and gave him my report.

  “Did you check the basement?” he asked.

  I wasn’t happy about it, but I knew I had to check down there. If I didn’t, Brent would still be insisting Sonny was guilty. I had to check every nook and cranny to satisfy his paranoia. I’d be relieved when this was done.

  The only thing I found in the basement other than Sonny’s computer equipment was an old wine barrel. I cracked open the top, but immediately turned my face away and shoved the cover back down when my nostrils were overcome with the strong scent of vinegar. Damn, that shit was nasty.

  I was about to go upstairs and leave when I noticed a gray door that just seemed out of place. I became even more intrigued when I noticed it had not one, but two combination locks on it. Could it be…? I banged on the door, and to my surprise, I heard movement.

  “Is anyone in there?” I shouted.

  As faint as it may have been, I heard a panicked voice. “Yes.”

  “Tiffany, is that you?”

  “Yes,” she replied, this time a little louder. Jesus Christ, Brent was right! Sonny’s ass was crazy. “Hold on, Tiffany. I’m gonna get you outta there!”

  My eyes searched the room for something to break the locks, but it was empty except for the computer equipment. Then it hit me: the gun upstairs in Sonny’s room. I could shoot the locks off.

  “Tiffany, don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”

  “No, please don’t leave me,” she pleaded, but I had no choice. I didn’t even answer her before I ran to retrieve the gun. It might have seemed like a lifetime to Tiffany, but it didn’t take me long at all to get back downstairs.

  “Tiffany, back away from the door, sweetheart. I’m going to shoot off the locks.” It took five shots, but I finally got both of them off. When I finally opened the door, Tiffany came out crying. She fell into my arms.

  “Everything’s okay,” I assured her. “You’re safe now.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, close to hysterics. “We have to get out of here. He told me he has cameras all over the house and he watches them while he’s at work. He’s probably on his way back here right now.”

  “Don’t worry. He can’t hurt you now.”

  “You don’t know what he’s capable of!” she cried. “He’s already murdered my ex-husband.” She pointed at the wine barrel. I felt my stomach lurch. Was there really a body in there? For the first time, I was actually scared.

  “Come on, my car’s outside. We’ll go to the school and get your kids. We can call the cops on the way.”

  She ran up the stairs. Was this really happening to me? I took one last look at the wine barrel before following after her. I tripped on the bottom step, and by the time I regained my footing, she was already in the kitchen. I heard her scream.

  “Bitch! How could you?” Sonny was there with her, and he sounded ready to commit another murder. Fuck that, I wasn’t taking any chances. I went back to get the gun. Sonny might have been my best friend, but he was definitely not stable.

  I crept up the stairs, but Sonny was there, waiting for me with a gun to Tiffany’s head. I pointed my weapon at him.

  “Why the fuck are you interfering, James?”

  “I’m here to get you outta trouble, buddy.” I tried to remain calm. I didn’t want to set him off. Tiffany’s life, and maybe my own, was at stake.

  “It’s too late for that. Now, back off, James. I don’t wanna hurt you, man.”

  “Believe me, bro. I don’t want you to hurt me either, so why don’t we put these guns down?” My hand was starting to shake, I was so damn scared.

  “I can’t do that, bro. You know I love you, but I can’t do that.” Sweat poured down Sonny’s face, but his hand remained steady and his expression was locked in determination.

  “Come on, Sonny, why can’t you just put it down? We can work this out.”

  “Because this bitch here fucked everything up.” He pressed the gun against her head. “Things were going to be different this time, James. I had the rules set and everything. I even gave her a written copy when she moved in. She signed them.” Finally his demeanor cracked a little. I could hear a slight change in his voice.

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to walk out that door so I can finish this. I’m not going to jail. I’ll kill her and I’ll kill myself before I go to jail.”

/>   “If you’re going to kill yourself, man, I understand it. I don’t agree with it, but I understand it. But don’t kill her. Let her go, Sonny.”

  “I’m sorry, James, but if I can’t have her, nobody will.” I took a few cautious steps toward him and he pulled her in tight. “You’re going to have to shoot me, James.”

  “No, Sonny, I’m not going to shoot you.”

  “Yes, you are. Because if you don’t shoot me, I’m going to shoot her. I can’t live without her, James.”

  “Yes, you can. You lived without Jessica.”

  “Jessica wasn’t my soul mate, James. I know that now. Tiffany is.”

  I knew something about having a soul mate you didn’t want to let go of, so I believed he really did feel that way. Granted, the level he had taken his obsession to was dangerous and extreme, but some small part of me understood.

  “I’m going to count to ten, James, and if you don’t shoot me by then, I’m going to shoot her and then I’m going to shoot myself. Are you willing to watch both of us die?”

  He moved Tiffany to the side, giving me a clear shot at his chest and head. Then he started to count.

  When he got to five, I screamed, “Sonny, don’t do this!”

  “Six…Pull the trigger, James,” he said, without the slightest fear in his voice. “Seven, eight…”

  I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger. Tiffany’s screams filled the room. When I heard a thud, I opened my eyes. Sonny was on the ground, bleeding from his chest.

  I dropped to my knees, screaming, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t wanna do it. You made me do it.” Tiffany ran from the house immediately, but I couldn’t budge. I sat beside my friend and cried openly as I watched the life drain from his body.

  I don’t know how much time passed before I heard my cell phone ringing. Barely conscious of my actions, I pulled it from my pocket and opened the phone.

  “James!” It was Brent. “You didn’t call me back. Are you still in the house? What happened in the basement? Did you find her?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, barely able to speak through my tears, and unable to believe that what I was saying was reality. “Sonny’s gone, Brent. Sonny’s dead.” I dropped the phone in a pool of my friend’s blood and buried my face in my hands.

  Epilogue

  One year later—Brent

  The phone rang just as I was changing my son B.J.’s diaper. Being in a wheelchair, I knew I couldn’t get his Pamper on and still answer the phone in time. I let it ring and continued to tend to my son’s needs. The answering machine would get it, and I’d return the call later. Besides it was probably just Alison, checking up on us for the fourth time today.

  Alison gave birth to our beautiful baby boy about three months ago. We named him Brent Jr., B.J. for short, and he was the true love of my life. B.J. made waking up each morning worthwhile, even if it was only to lift my useless legs and struggle into a wheelchair. Though I had regained the use of my upper body, nothing below my waist would ever be the same. The doctors predicted I would never walk again, and I could take Viagra all day long and it wouldn’t cure my permanent impotence. My life as I had known it was over. So now I lived my life for my son.

  I was still married to Alison, but she had become my caretaker in many ways. True to her word, she stuck by me through three surgeries and countless hours of rehabilitation. She was the rock of our family, working two jobs to support me and B.J. I hoped someday to be able to go back to work and provide for my family, but for the time being I was still too emotionally distraught about everything that had happened. Alison never complained about anything. She told me countless times that the only thing that was important to her was that we were still together as a family. Now that B.J. was born I totally understood what she was trying to say.

  Jackie was no longer a threat to the stability of our marriage and our family. Once he figured out that the sexual part of our relationship would never again be possible, he returned home to his wife and children, and remained in the closet. His vow to reveal his sexuality to the church never came to pass, and Trustee Moss was more than happy to help him keep that secret.

  On Sundays, when I saw Jackie in church, though, I knew he was still up to his old tricks. It burned me up every time I saw him at services flirting with a new young man, especially since he wouldn’t say more than five words to me at any given time. I thought our love was more than that. Hell, I was still the same man inside, even if I couldn’t get it up anymore. His latest “friend” was Deacon Ferguson’s son, Todd. They didn’t think anyone knew, but it was obvious to me every time Jackie changed lovers. I guess it’s just something another gay man can spot.

  Yes, I am still a gay man. Just because my equipment is malfunctioning doesn’t mean the desires aren’t still there. I still loved Jackie more than anything in the world. I missed the times we spent together, and sometimes while I watched him play the organ, my mind got filled with images of the day he wore nothing under his choir robe. Once, Alison caught me staring so hard during service that she turned my wheelchair around so my back was to the choir. I tried to turn the chair around again, and she whispered that if I even thought about it, she’d leave me home alone the following Sunday. Like I said before, my life was no longer under my control.

  That was why I was grateful for the fact that I was at least able to care for my son’s basic needs. I finished changing his diaper and placed him in his crib, then wheeled myself to the telephone to check the answering machine. I pressed PLAY and smiled when I heard James’s voice.

  James and Cathy had just come home from a much-needed vacation with the boys. They had a long way to go to repairing their marriage, but whenever I talked to him, James seemed hopeful. He and Cathy were seeing a therapist to work out their issues. Each of them was coming to terms with the other’s affair, and Cathy had been able to accept Marcus as a new addition to their family.

  James was also spending time one-on-one with a therapist to help him deal with the horrible fact that he had killed his best friend. Rationally, he knew that his actions saved Tiffany’s life and spared her children from growing up without their mother. Even Jessica had called when she heard the news, thanking James for his bravery. But while others praised him as a hero, he was torn up inside, still wondering if maybe he could have talked Sonny into dropping his gun that day. He was making strides in his therapy, but I don’t think even I could fully understand what it must have been like having to make the decision he did that day. James was a strong man, and all three of his sons would grow up to be better people because they had him as a role model.

  Marcus was getting along well with the other boys, and James had him in counseling as well to help him work through any feelings he had about his mother’s abandonment. Michelle still had not contacted them to check on her son, but for the time being, it was probably better that James and Cathy could work on their marriage without Michelle complicating things. Maybe some time in the future she would try to make amends with her son, but for now, James was just happy to be headed back toward a normal, drama-free family life.

  I was looking forward to hearing all about their trip and was sorry I had missed his call. As I listened to his greeting on the answering machine, I became even more disappointed. All I got was “Hey, Brent, it’s James. Hope you’re doing well. Cathy and the kids and I just—” before I heard a squeaking noise and the message stopped.

  I cursed under my breath as I lifted the cover to retrieve the small cassette tape, which was now a tangled mess inside the machine. Before I married her, Alison had been thrifty, but it had allowed her to build up a decent savings. Now that I was unable to work, our accounts had dwindled, and she had to become even more of a penny-pincher. That was why we were still using this ancient answering machine with the tiny cassette tapes to record messages. I think we were probably the only people under the age of seventy who had not yet switched to a digital answering machine. Now this broken tape was just one more reminder of how my injur
ies had changed every aspect of my life, including finances.

  I tossed the tape into a wastebasket, wheeled my chair to the desk in the corner and opened the top drawer, where Alison usually kept a few cassettes. I grabbed the first one I saw and went back to the machine. After I placed it in the answering machine, I rewound the tape then pressed PLAY. Sometimes Alison threw used tapes into that drawer, and I wanted to listen to be sure I wasn’t recording over something she might have wanted to save. What I heard caused my blood to run cold.

  “Yo, it’s Bubba. I took care of that thing you wanted me to do. I don’t think you gotta worry about that dude going anywhere real soon. That bat did the trick. I wouldn’t be surprised if old boy was paralyzed for life. I don’t know what he did to make you want to hurt him like that, but…oh well, whatever. When you gonna call me back so we can talk about you paying me the other half of my money? You still owe me twenty-five hun’ed.”

  My hands shook as I reached out and stopped the tape. Confused thoughts raced through my head. Whoever this Bubba was, he obviously came from the streets, and I couldn’t imagine how Alison would know someone like that. My mind was struggling to make the connection between my devoted, caring wife and everything I had just heard this man say. Could it be possible that Sonny hadn’t been the one to attack me? Had Alison paid someone to beat and maybe even kill me? I felt bile rising in my throat as I realized that this might actually be true.

  I retrieved the cassette from the machine, not quite sure what I was going to do with it. I knew I had to confront Alison with what I’d heard, and demand an explanation. In the meantime, I would search for any more clues in the house.

  I put the tape on my lap and moved back over to the desk to find the file folder containing Alison’s bank statements from the past year. Rifling through the papers, I found the statement from the month after the attack and examined the column that listed all the previous month’s withdrawals. Tears collected in the corners of my eyes when I saw it—a cash withdrawal in the amount of twenty-five hundred dollars, made just days after I ended up in the hospital. Scanning backwards over the list, I found the other one, another withdrawal in the same amount, made while I was on my last trip to San Francisco.