“Oh, no? You didn’t mind looking at it with your friends.”
“The video doesn’t exist anymore. I told Matt and Ryan to delete it.”
“Do you think they did?” I asked hopefully.
“Yeah, I know they did. So, can we please move on?”
“Why? Does it make you feel uncomfortable to discuss how you betrayed your friend?”
“He’s not my friend. Not anymore.”
“Oh, so you’re admitting to being homophobic? I hope you’re proud of your narrow-minded world view,” I said sarcastically.
“I’m not proud of it, but it’s the way I was raised. My dad always taught me that homosexuality was wrong.”
I swallowed down a knot of guilt. I’d allowed a homophobe to raise my son and pass on his misguided ideas. With a sigh, I accepted that I had no choice but to step up to the plate and work with Phoenix and try to undo the damage that Everett had caused.
“Phoenix,” I said in a gentle tone. “I feel that you should have gotten outpatient therapy after your suicide attempt.”
“I didn’t try to kill myself. It was an accident. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Clearly upset, the veins at his temples visibly throbbed.
“Something’s not right with you, son. And you need therapy.” I spoke in a low, placating tone.
“So, in other words, you think I’m crazy,” he said, rolling his eyes and sulking.
“I didn’t say you were crazy, but your behavior is destructive and your words matter. It’s troubling for me to discover that you lack empathy for what you did to Baxter.”
He let out a long sigh. “I don’t lack empathy; I just don’t like homos. You can send me to a million shrinks and none of them will be able to change my beliefs on the subject.”
“Maybe not, but a skilled therapist can possibly teach you that lashing out at people who are different than you is not honorable,” I explained as I pulled into the parking lot of a medical center. I’d already called and made an emergency appointment for Phoenix. Now, all I had to do was get him to walk through the door.
Phoenix did a double-take as he looked at the signage in front of the building and then gawked at me. “I thought you said we were going to the mall to get me a bike.”
“I said that for Sasha’s benefit. Do you honestly believe that I would reward your antisocial behavior? I made an appointment with a psychologist and if you refuse to talk with him, then I don’t know what else to do except send you back to Philadelphia.”
Phoenix flinched and gave me a look of shock, like I was the worst traitor in the world. Then he smiled wryly. “You abandoned me once, so why am I surprised that you’re doing it again?”
“I’m not abandoning you, but I can’t ignore your frightening and insensitive conduct.”
He sucked his teeth. “You’re acting like I’m the one who took a knife and slashed Baxter’s stupid wrists.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?” I said, shaking my head.
“Whatever, Pops. Use any excuse to get rid of me again. Take me to the airport—I’m ready to get out of this boring town, anyway.”
• • •
“I’m changing Phoenix’s flight. He’s decided to shorten his visit,” I said to Elle over the phone.
“Why? Did something happen?”
“No, but he’s kind of homesick,” I said, unable to bring myself to reveal the sordid details of why his visit was really being cut short.
“All right. Everett and I will pick him up.”
“I really want to continue building a relationship with Phoenix, and hopefully we can reconnect around Christmastime. My wife, daughter, and I were considering coming to Philadelphia to visit my parents during the holidays. If Phoenix wants to, we can spend some time together then.”
“You’re not being straight with me, Malik. I sense that something is wrong. Did Phoenix do something wrong?”
I went quiet. I wanted to gently convey to Elle that I suspected that our son had serious mental health issues. He was missing vital components of the human experience: morality, compassion, human decency. But how do you tell a mother something like that? Besides, I could be wrong. He was only thirteen and was still maturing. Still forming his opinions of how he viewed the world.
“Elle,” I said softly. “I think he needs therapy.”
“But his psychiatrist at the hospital didn’t recommend outpatient therapy.”
“He’s a smart boy and he fooled the doctor. I’m serious, Elle. Phoenix needs help.”
“Can you be more specific,” she said with an edge to her voice.
“For one thing, he’s homophobic and incapable of tolerance toward gay people. And he told me his opinion was influenced by Everett.”
“That’s not true! Everett isn’t biased toward gays or anyone else.”
“Well, that’s what Phoenix told me.”
“Then he’s lying.”
“Maybe so. But if he made up that story, then that’s proof that he needs help.”
“Kids at that age lie, Malik. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
“If you choose to keep your head buried in the sand, then there’s nothing I can do about it. Like I said, I’ll be in town during the holiday season, and I’ll see Phoenix then.”
“You don’t have to do him any favors,” Elle spat bitterly and then abruptly ended the call.
CHAPTER 18
After a two-week stay in a psych hospital, Baxter came home and once again spent most of his time holed up in the family’s garage customizing bikes. One day as I drove past, I felt obligated to stop and say hello.
“How are you doing, Baxter?”
“I’m okay,” he said, squinting at me like I was from another planet. I supposed it was weird to see me standing outside his garage slash workshop.
“You’re good with customizing bikes. You ever think about going into business?”
He blushed and scratched a fresh batch of pimples on his cheek. “No, it’s just a hobby. Something I like to do.”
“Listen, Baxter, I’m really sorry… Uh, I know that Phoenix wasn’t very nice to you and I want to apologize for him.”
“What did he tell you?” Baxter’s voice rose in panic.
“I know about you and that boy…in the video, and uh, I want to talk to you about it. There’s nothing wrong with being gay, but you’re much too young to be sexually active.”
His eyes darted wildly, like a trapped animal, and I was sorry that I’d brought up the subject. My intention was to be supportive, not to embarrass him.
“But I’m not gay,” he protested.
“Maybe not. You’re, um…probably too young to know what your sexual orientation is.”
“I know that I like girls,” he blurted, sounding tearful.
“Well, how do you explain the video that Phoenix had on his phone?”
“I didn’t want to do it; he forced me.”
“Who forced you?” My voice rose in pitch as I imagined beating the hell out of the child molester who’d taken advantage of a thirteen-year-old kid.
“Phoenix did. And he filmed it.”
“What?” I shook my head briskly, thinking I’d heard wrong.
“He said it was a friendship pact—a way of proving that I was his best friend. After I did it, he threatened to tell all the kids in the neighborhood that I was a freak.” Right before tears began streaming down his face, Baxter made an anguished sound that seemed to come from deep within his soul.
I kept my own anguished cry bottled up inside of me with a hand covering my mouth.
“Please don’t tell my mom,” Baxter pleaded.
I nodded and began to slowly walk backward out of the garage. In a state of disbelief, I mumbled that I’d talk to him later.
Back in my car, I drove in circles wondering what kind of monster-child I had created with Elle.
Phoenix was devious. A liar. Cruel. And sexually deviant.
Not because of any homosex
ual tendencies, but he had basically molested Baxter and then blackmailed his victim.
There was no point in telling Elle; she wouldn’t allow herself to believe it.
And I couldn’t bring myself to tell Sasha, either. The subject matter was unusually awful and too painful to discuss.
In my confused mindset, I held the irrational belief that I was somehow responsible for my son’s immorality. My absence in his life. My drug usage before he was conceived. The wanton orgies I’d engaged in when I was getting high had something to do with his lack of character.
Or maybe I was simply being punished for all the pain I’d caused my loved ones in the past. I thought that serving a jail sentence was sufficient payment for my previous transgressions. I thought that becoming an upstanding citizen would absolve me of my sins, but I was wrong.
Phoenix, my terribly flawed child, was living proof that the past had a way of catching up with you, no matter how fast and how far you tried to run.
I drove for another half hour before pulling into the lot of a random, dive-type bar. Although I hadn’t touched alcohol in over ten years, I had never needed a drink as badly as I needed one right now.
And a shot of heroin would be even better.
In a rundown place like the bar I was about to enter, I was sure that the bartender or one of the patrons could point me in the direction of a dealer.
Don’t do it! I told myself.
No matter how much pain you’re in and no matter how much self-blame you heap on yourself, you still have to hold on. Don’t allow a moment of weakness to cause you to throw your life away.
I’d hoped that the pep talk I’d given myself would make me feel better. Make me feel stronger. But it didn’t; I felt worse. Without warning, the floodgates opened and I surrendered to my emotions, dropping my head into my hands and weeping bitterly.
In a moment of complete despair, I reached for my phone and called my old friend, Ahiga.
“I need to talk,” I rasped when he picked up.
“Did you use, Malik?”
“No. But I want to.”
“Hold on, friend. You don’t want to go back to that life—not after all you’ve accomplished. Give me your location and I’ll be there ASAP.”
I told him where I was parked and then began reciting the serenity prayer as I waited for him to arrive.
• • •
In record time, Ahiga’s silver Toyota Tundra came careening into the parking lot. He beckoned me and I got out of my vehicle and slid into the passenger’s seat of his. He drove to a nearby Dunkin’ Donuts. We went inside and he ordered two large cups of black coffee.
Ahiga tented his fingers and focused his dark brown eyes on me. “What’s troubling you, Malik? Marital problems?”
“No, Sasha and I are fine. It’s my son, Phoenix.”
“Ah!” he said with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “I’m glad my two children are grown. Teen years are rough. It’s a stage in life that I wouldn’t want to revisit with my kids. But looking back, I realize that teenagers are hardwired to butt heads with their parents.”
“I wish my trouble with Phoenix was something as simple as our butting heads, but it’s a much bigger issue. Very serious.”
Ahiga narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I took a deep breath and began to unburden myself, confiding to Ahiga all of the ugly and scandalous behavior that Phoenix had exhibited in his short stay in Arizona. I even admitted to my own feelings of guilt, and it felt good to finally talk to someone and get it out of my system.
At the conclusion of the awful tale, I said, “What Phoenix did to his friend, Baxter, borders on criminal activity. If he were a little older, he’d be tossed in prison for sexual misconduct.” I groaned at the thought of Phoenix making the National Sex Offender Registry at such a young age.
I searched Ahiga’s face. “If he’s this heartless, sexually deviant, and deceitful at his young age, what kind of sociopathic behavior can I expect out of him when he’s older?”
Ahiga grunted and took a big gulp of coffee. As he pondered my question, we sat in silence. He busied himself, folding a Dunkin’ Donuts napkin into various places until it took on the appearance of an interesting geometric design.
Satisfied with his paper creation, he set it in the middle of the table and then gave me his full attention. “Your son is not likely to change for the better without hands-on guidance from his parent, but it sounds to me like you’ve already given up on him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You sent him back to Philadelphia knowing full well that his people there aren’t equipped to deal with his issues.”
“I’m not equipped, either!”
“But at least you’re able to acknowledge that he has serious problems and needs help. From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like his Philadelphia family, particularly his mother, is willing to face any unfavorable truths about him. In my opinion, you threw in the towel too quickly, Malik.”
“I gave him an ultimatum…get therapy or get to packing. What was I supposed to do, handcuff him and march him into a therapy session at gunpoint?”
“First of all, before you label him as sexually deviant, take into consideration that confusion about sexual orientation is perfectly natural.”
“But he deliberately targeted someone he perceived as weak. And after he coerced the boy into doing something he didn’t want to do, he bullied, shamed, and blackmailed him. And then he had the sheer gall to invite others to join him in taunting a nice kid who had only wanted to be his friend.” I shook my head regretfully. “You can’t convince me that any of that is typical teenage behavior.”
Ahiga smiled gently. “I’m not a shrink, but indulge me and let me play armchair psychologist for a moment.”
“Be my guest.”
“It seems to me that in order to cope with his conflicted emotions, Phoenix projected his own feelings of shame and self-loathing onto the other boy. It wasn’t a wise thing to do, nor was it kind, but I want you to take into consideration that most teenagers are completely self-absorbed; seldom are they wise or kind.
“You have to heal your relationship with your son because he needs you now more than ever. I realize you envisioned stereotypical male-bonding experiences with your kid: fishing, camping, or whatever. Unfortunately, your situation is not that simple. In fact, it’s extremely urgent. You have to step up to the plate, Malik, and figure out how to help your son. No more self-pity sessions; there’s no time for that. You have to roll up your sleeves and do the work.”
“I don’t know where to begin,” I admitted.
“Begin with a phone call. Assure him that your love is unconditional and you need to apologize for kicking him out of the home.”
“I didn’t kick him out.”
“You know what I mean. You gave him an ultimatum, and that wasn’t right. Telling him, ‘My way or the highway’ is not how a loving parent responds to a teenager in crisis.”
Ahiga was right. When the going got rough, I quickly bailed out. Despite the realization that Phoenix had significant problems, I was willing to let naïve Everett shoulder the responsibility of raising my deeply troubled child.
Knowing what I had to do, I slurped down the rest of my coffee and stood up. “Thanks, buddy. You gave me a lot to think about and I’m going to reach out to Phoenix with a phone call.”
“I expect to see you at the next recovery meeting,” Ahiga said as we headed for the door. “There’s no cure for addiction, Malik. Once an addict, always an addict, and believe me, every major life crisis will make you keenly aware of that fact,” he said with a sage expression on his face.
“I’ll be at the next meeting. I promise.”
CHAPTER 19
Ahiga drove me back to my car. After he left, I sat in my car thinking about our conversation.
I started the motor, but before pulling off, I gave Phoenix a call. I expected that after seeing my name on the screen, he
would decide not to pick up.
Surprisingly, he answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Phoenix. How are you?”
“I’m good.”
I couldn’t read his tone; he sounded noncommittal. Without a clue as to how he felt about hearing from me, I pressed onward, trying to draw him into a conversation.
“I, uh, wanted to apologize for the way I handled the situation. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum. I let you down, and I’m really sorry, Phoenix.”
“It’s okay, Pops. You didn’t let me down,” he said with a bit of warmth in his tone that let me know that we were making progress.
As much as I would have liked to skip right over the pain Phoenix had caused Baxter and simply focus on rebuilding our relationship, I couldn’t dismiss what Baxter had told me.
“Phoenix,” I said and then cleared my throat. “Uh, regarding what you told me about that video with Baxter, I now know that there’s more to the story than you admitted.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” On the defensive, his voice hardened.
I released a long breath. “Baxter told me that the other male in the video is you.”
“He’s lying!” Phoenix’s voice cracked and went up several pitches. The fear and panic in his tone was painful to hear.
It was unbelievable that in this day and age the stigma surrounding homosexuality still existed, and that stigma was causing my son an incredible amount of anguish.
I chose my next words carefully and spoke them lovingly. “You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not. If you’re attracted to boys, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“But I’m not gay,” he insisted.
“Then why did you coerce Baxter into giving you…” It was difficult for me to put a name to the sex act. I couldn’t bring myself to utter the word oral. By no means was I prudish or straitlaced, but talking about adult subject matter with my son was terribly uncomfortable.
I heard a strange noise coming from Phoenix’s end of the phone.
“What’s going on, Phoenix?”
He didn’t answer, but the noise persisted, and I recognized the sound of sniffling.
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