“What do you want me to say? You have all the power here.”
“All the power?”
“Yes. If I say the wrong thing, you walk out of here and I’ll never see my son again.”
Shock lines were etched across her forehead. “Is that what you think?”
“That’s how it’s been since I broke Malcolm’s arm.”
“You scared me, El. You broke a man’s arm. Bent his elbow back until it cracked. It takes a special kind of crazy to do something like that.”
“You didn’t have a problem with my special brand of crazy when it came to defending you.”
“That time was different. The look in your eyes . . .” She shook her head. “You kept your eyes on me the entire time you were bending his arm back.”
“You did that to me. You lied. Told me you’d killed my child. He’d been alive a whole year, and I had no idea he existed.”
She dropped her head like she was ashamed. “I was wrong for that. I let my anger get the better of me.” She lifted her head to look at me again.
“And now? What’s your excuse now?”
“I did what I thought was best for Jacques. He’s been happy and thriving.”
“Without me.”
“Without the anger and bitterness between his parents.”
“I’m not angry or bitter. All I want is my son. He needs his father.”
“Malcolm has been good to him and for him.”
I felt my anger rising. A man’s pride could take only so much before he snapped.
I said, “Malcolm isn’t his father.”
“No, but he’s a good man.”
“A good man he may be, but Jacques is still my son.”
“I wasn’t going to have Jacques around you and that man.”
“Your homophobia—”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. Her glare would have sent chills through me had I been a lesser man.
“I’m not homophobic,” she snapped, almost belligerently. She had the same look on her face that a “good” white person had when called out on their covert racism. “Don’t you dare throw that word at me when you know damn well—”
I half expected her to start naming her gay and lesbian friends. Half expected her to tell me all the things she had done for the gay community at large. But she didn’t do any of that. Her cell phone rang and cut into our conversation.
She stood. Grabbed her cell and walked a few feet away. “Hey, baby,” she answered. “Yeah, the flight was fine.... Yes, Malcolm, everything is fine.... He’s here.... We talked already. . . .”
She spoke to her husband the same way she used to speak to me. Soft and gentle. Nicole was good for a man’s ego. She was the strong, independent type while at work, but when she got home, she knew how to make a man feel like a man. She was the kind of woman who couldn’t be beaten into submission. A man had to prove he was worthy of her submission in order to get it. But once she gave it to you, it was something no other woman could imitate. It was something a man would search for to the end of the world, hoping to find it again, if he fucked up and lost it.
My eyes traveled over her body. Her ass. Her hips. Her thighs. Like fine wine, she had only been made better by age. She finished her phone conversation, then walked back over and sat.
I asked, “Can I get all this in writing?”
She looked perplexed. “Excuse me?”
“Our deal when it comes to me getting time with Jacques, I’d like it in writing.”
“That’s an absurd request.”
“No, it isn’t. This is safe for you and me. If it’s in writing, it’s legally binding. I’d like that for security on my end.”
“That’s crazy.”
“If you don’t want to put it in writing, I’ll have my attorney contact your attorney, and we can take it to court.”
Her doe-like eyes narrowed. “Don’t freaking threaten me like that, Elliot.”
“For seven whole fucking years, going on eight, I let you do this shit your way. I haven’t even breathed the same fucking air as my son,” I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice low and my anger contained. “All I ask is that we put this agreement in writing, and you can’t even give me that? How much fucking control do you need to have, Nicole?”
She swallowed and sat back, her spine stiff. “Don’t curse at me, either.”
“Put it in writing, or I’ll see you in court.”
“Do what you have to do.”
“No judge is going to smile favorably on a woman who has kept a man’s child away from him that long.”
“In the state of New York, they will. Especially given your violent history against said child’s mother and family.”
I grimaced. “That was then. I haven’t bothered you and your family in years. I’ve gone to counseling, anger management classes, and I’ve taken parenting classes. I’ll shoot my shot.”
“And miss the whole damn goal. When it comes to the safety and well-being of my children, I’ll take on God. So try me, Elliot. Please try me.”
In that moment, I didn’t remember the love we used to share. I didn’t remember the things we had taught one another about sex, about love. I didn’t remember the way her lips felt on mine. Didn’t remember how wet she would get when I touched her. Didn’t care about the times she took off work and school and nursed me back to health when I was sick. I didn’t care that she had seen me at my lowest and had still loved me back then. I didn’t care about any of that.
Nicole had become my enemy. She wasn’t my first love. She was my opponent in the age-old battle between men and women. Demi and Mona were right. For years I had let my guilt dictate how I would handle the situation. My guilt over what I’d done to her, the pain I’d caused her, had guided my hand. No more.
My son had to know I had fought for him, would fight for him. And even if I lost the battle and the war, at least Jacques would know that I’d fought for my right to be his father, and not just in title. Not having my son had created a void in my life that couldn’t be filled by anyone. I had done right by him in every way I could. I had sent money every month, without the courts making me. And not just a couple hundred dollars. I had sent more than I really could afford, even though Nicole made way more money than I did.
I stood and ran a hand down the front of my shirt. I gazed down at the woman I used to know. “I’ll take my chances,” I said. “I want Jacques to know that I fought for him. I’m no longer going to sit around and hope you do the right thing.”
Nicole stood. Her posture was defensive. “Hope I do the right thing?” she repeated, pointing at herself. “Me? Do the right thing?”
Before I could respond, Nicole drew back to the past, came around the present with a slap so hard, I swore she tried to knock me into the future. My fists balled up instinctively, but I kept my hands down. I heard the “Oh, shits” and “Oh, my Gods” that followed the slap. My eyes watered. My lips thinned as I tried to keep the word bitch from escaping my mouth. I felt my breathing escalate. Deepen. But I had to keep my wits about me, lest I forget in that moment, she was not only a woman, but a woman I . . . loved.
Nicole didn’t back down. She didn’t flinch or run away from my anger like before. She pointed a stiff finger at me and spat, “You got some damned nerve telling me to do the right thing, when you’re still sticking your dick in him.”
The gasps that erupted around the lobby coated my skin. All eyes were on us now.
“You’re sick. He’s sick. Both of you are sick. And may God have mercy on your souls,” she said, then stormed off.
I was left standing there and had to face glares of disgust and judgmental condemnation. I didn’t give a fuck about what any of those people thought. I was disappointed that Nicole and I couldn’t get past the bullshit to do what was right for Jacques. That was all I wanted at this point.
She didn’t love me anymore. I had accepted that a while ago. She couldn’t get over what I’d done to her, even though she’d moved on
and started a family of her own. I couldn’t do anything about that.
I walked through the grand lobby, the shiny Italian marble reflecting light up at me. People moved out of my way, parted like the Red Sea or parted like they didn’t want me to touch them for fear I’d give them the “gays” or the “homos” or some fucking shit. All of that could have been in my imagination.
As I walked toward the parking deck, my phone beeped. A message from Nicole popped up. It’s so fucked up that you won’t admit what you did to me.
I responded, Not doing this with you. Can we just talk about Jacques?
How can we do that when you still have him around? Don’t you see how messed up this is, El?
It has nothing to do with me being a father.
I looked up as the wind blew past me. A few of the people in the hotel were still looking at me. I’d stopped walking so I could text. I really didn’t want to leave the hotel without knowing I’d be able to see my son. Talk to him. Be a part of his life.
It does. It has everything to do with you being a father. I don’t understand the method to this madness.
Give me a chance to prove myself as a father, Nikki. Can I have that?
I stood there for a while before she answered. I felt like I needed a smoke. I didn’t smoke. But in that moment, I needed one. I paced the area for a bit. Hoped no one called security on me. I just couldn’t bring myself to leave without her word that I could be in my son’s life.
“You’re still here?” I heard behind me a little while later.
I turned to find Nicole standing there. She had her purse and the keys to a rental in her hand.
“Yeah. Was waiting for you to text me back.”
For a while, we just stood there. Two educated adults acting like hood niggas and rat bitches. With all the degrees between us, one would think we’d be smart enough to jump over this hurdle.
Finally, I moved closer to her. Not by much. Didn’t want to scare her off. “I just want a chance,” I said again.
Nicole’s face bunched up like she was in pain. One hand went to her stomach. I knew the date. As soon as she’d said she was in town and needed to see me, all those things I used to keep close to me in regards to her came rushing back. Her periods had always been bad. They’d have her doubled over. One time, I thought she was going to be hospitalized because of it. She was the only woman I’d dated whose period came at the same time every month like clockwork. I saw that hadn’t changed.
“I have some eight-hundred-milligram Motrin in the truck,” I said.
She gave something of a smile. “Yeah. Was headed out to get something . . . some pain meds,” she said.
“Give me a second,” I said, then jogged off.
I rushed to my truck. Grabbed the pill bottle that didn’t have my name on it. Rushed back to the woman whose heart I’d broken. I popped the top to the bottle. Poured six pills onto the napkin Nicole had in her hand. She sat on one of the stone benches near the parking deck. She quickly took a small bottle of water from her purse and took two pills.
“Damn. You need both?” I asked, genuinely concerned.
She nodded. “They got worse after every child, the cramps, I mean.”
“Shit,” was all I could say.
I sat next to her. The wind whipped around us. She pulled her sweater tighter. It wasn’t cool to me. We sat that way for a while. Saying nothing. Stewing in old memories and old pain.
“You and he have some kind of folie à deux,” she said.
I knew what she was doing. It was something she’d had a habit of doing when we were together.
I sighed. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Try to psychoanalyze me. I’m not one of your patients.”
Nicole didn’t respond. At least not to me. She groaned a bit. Wrapped an arm around her stomach and leaned forward.
I stood. “Maybe you should go back to your room and lie down,” I suggested.
She didn’t say anything to that, but she did say, “I never wanted to keep Jacques away from you, but my family, they were all afraid of you. Daddy thinks you got violent gay demons that are out to destroy black women.”
I didn’t want to, but I laughed. The absurdity of it all was too comical not to laugh. “Violent gay demons?” I repeated.
Nicole chuckled. She actually chuckled. “Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but he believes it. And I was young, hurting. Couldn’t believe what I walked in on. I was pregnant and alone—”
“You didn’t have to be.”
“You didn’t give me many options. My family was afraid for me. You hurt me bad, El.”
“I know.”
“I cried for months on end. My ob-gyn told me I was going to cause harm to the baby because I was in a deep depression.”
I remained silent. Didn’t say a word. She needed to get it off her chest, so I let her.
“Then, one day, I felt Jacques move. He kicked me so hard. I’d been in the bed for days on end. My mama had to give me sponge baths. I was in the worst way. Braids got matted to my head because I wouldn’t take them down. Months after you almost killed Daddy, I still had those fucking braids,” she said with a chuckle. “But that day, he kicked. First time I’d felt him move. And he kicked so hard, I yelped. Our son literally gave me a kick in the ass. I got out of that bed. I showered. I cut a lot of my hair off to get those braids out. Jacques saved my life.”
All I could say was, “I’m sorry.”
“And then I saw you with him. And the pain came back.”
“I remember that day.”
“I wanted to kill both of you, but by then I was dating Malcolm, and I didn’t want you to know I was pregnant.”
“Is that the night you called me on the phone?”
“Yes.”
There was silence again. Neither of us wanted to relive that phone call. That phone call changed everything.
Nicole said, “You know, normally, this thing between you and Demitri—”
“Nicole.”
I called her name to stop her. She was about to try to diagnose me again. I looked up to see a brother walking by in an Atlanta Braves baseball cap. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He had some old scars on his face, like he had been in a fight a few weeks ago and the wounds were healing. He was bald headed and looked at Nicole a little too long for my liking.
She noticed the way he was looking at her too. As if he was trying to see if he knew her from somewhere. He kept his hands in the pockets of the black hoodie he had on. I took Nicole’s hand and led her back inside. I didn’t want to seem paranoid, but fools in Atlanta were crazy. I didn’t want to take any chances that the homie was out to rob people.
“Let me help you up to your room,” I told her. She stared at me like she didn’t trust me. “I’ll just walk you to your door, make sure you’re inside, and then I’ll leave.”
She nodded. We rode the elevator to the very top floor. Her room was at the very end of the hall. She pulled her key card out, but another cramp hit her, and the card slipped to the floor. I picked it up. Slid the key card in the door, then pushed the door open for her. I watched her slowly walk inside.
“Sure you’re going to be okay?” I asked her.
She looked at me, pain in her eyes. This kind physical and not emotional. “Come in for a second,” she said.
Samona and Demi popped into my head. For the first time since I’d been talking to Nicole at the hotel, they came to mind.
“You sure?” I asked Nicole.
“Yeah.”
I walked in, and the door slipped closed behind me. I had no idea Nicole and I had escaped a brush with insanity.
Elliot
An hour later, Nicole and I lay in the king-size bed in her hotel room. My shoes were off. Shirt tossed on the back of the chaise lounge next to the window. Nicole had on a nightshirt and her period panties, as she jokingly called them. Her cramps came with a vengeance. She wanted me to lie there with her. Massage he
r stomach and back, like I used to.
I imagined her husband, Malcolm, doing all the things I used to do to her. I massaged her until she fell asleep. Stayed with her like I didn’t have someone who loved me waiting on me. Wrapped my arms around Nicole like Mona was an afterthought. I told myself she was my son’s mother and I needed her to be okay.
Before she dozed off, we’d talked. She’d told me more about Jacques. About how his siblings, all five of them, looked up to him.
“Damn. You have six children?” I’d asked, shock clearly in my voice.
She’d beamed with pride. “Yes. Jacques is the oldest, then my first set of twins, Hunter and Christopher. Then Julianna. Then the second set of twins, Erica and Eric. Twins run in Malcolm’s family. I told you I wanted a big family.”
And she had. It was one of the things we had talked about during pillow talk.
“You and Malcolm were popping them out, huh?” That came out with a bit of nastiness I hadn’t intended to let show. I was jealous to know another man had created a family with her that should have been mine.
She caught on to that. Sat up on her elbows and looked down at me. “You’re angry,” she said.
“No,” I lied. “Disappointed.”
Her eyes raked over my face like she was studying me. Stopped on my lips, like she was remembering a time when they used to satisfy her. Then her eyes found mine again. We held each other’s gaze, trying to see who would look away first. I did. Didn’t want her to see the regret there.
She turned over on her side. Brought her fingers up to my lips. “I’d have done anything for you,” she whispered.
My groin stirred. I thought about Mona. I said, “I know.”
“I loved you.”
My heart ached. I thought about Demi while Nicole’s fingers traced my lips. I swallowed and said, “I know.”
She brought her face closer to mine. Her lips brushed mine when she said, “In some ways, I still love you.”
I fisted my hands. The sweet smell of her breath took me back to the good old days between us. Made me wish I could turn back time to that day on the Christopher Street Pier. “Nikki, stop,” I said, voice so low, I barely recognized it.
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