by M. T. Pope
“Well, Mr. Black, I first want to convey my condolences for the death of your father. I know this won’t be easy to talk about, but I need any information you can give me on the people or person that may have wanted to harm your father.”
“Well,” I said, hesitating a little, “my father did have a lover that was living with him. I don’t think he killed him, but he may know who did.” Even after all that James put me through, I still felt a little sorry for him.
“Oh, really,” the detective said, now sitting in straight posture, giving me his full attention.
“His name is James Park. I don’t know where he lives now, but I know he does still live here in Baltimore,” I said, now smiling a little. “Oh, and he does have a record, so that should make it easier too.”
“Yes, indeed. That would greatly help.”
“Is there any way I could see the pictures of the crime scene?”
“Look, it’s against procedure to let anyone this close to the victim see these pictures, but I will in this case. He handed me the case folder that held the pictures and other evidence pertaining to the case.
I then leaned back in my chair and proceeded to review the snapshots of my father’s gruesome murder. The first picture almost knocked me out of my chair. To say that my father’s body had been totally mutilated would be an understatement. The murderer had carved the word faggot into his chest.
The second picture showed the disfigurement of his face. His lips and eye lids looked like they were cut off with a scissors of some sort. The next picture showed a bat pushed far up his anal cavity.
I turned away slightly as my stomach churned with nausea from the next photo, which showed his genital area had been cut clean from his body and was hanging from the ceiling like a mistletoe ornament. This was definitely going to be a closed-casket funeral.
I returned the folder to the detective and made my way out of the precinct and disturbingly wandered home, pulling over a few times mid-trip to throw up.
The pictures flashed in and out of my head as I made the trip home. As bad as my father was, he still didn’t deserve to die in such a manner. I didn’t know if James had anything to do with it, but it was all going to come out in the end.
Chapter 19
Ashley
All-About-Me Syndrome
November 11th, 2018, 5:30 P.M.
The news of my grandfather being murdered didn’t bother me one bit. I was in my own world and could care less about his wrinkled, old ass. I was sixteen, and I had my own life to live. He lived his shit, and I was definitely going to live mine.
The funeral was going to be in two days, and I was wracking my brain, trying to find an excuse to get out of going to it. Tony and I had plans for that day, so I wasn’t trying to hear no shit about no old dude’s life. People crying and carrying on made me sick. I was like, Man up, and stop all that crying shit.
Tony planned on taking me on a trip to New York, to get away from dry-ass Maryland. I was pretty sure Tony was going to have a lot of money to spend on me. I needed all the new outfits and shoes I was going to get, so I couldn’t turn that shit down for no funeral.
Plus, we planned on getting a hotel room in one of the expensive hotels like the Waldorf or some shit like that, so we could fuck till we fainted. Ever since Tony had given me that bomb-ass orgasm in the back of the car, I was like an addict chasing that first high. I had to get out of this shit somehow. I just had to figure it out.
I walked out of my room and down the steps toward the dining room, where my mother and grandmother were sitting at the table, putting the finishing touches on my grandfather’s funeral. I walked through the room and put on the best about-to-get-sick act I possibly could. I was going to get an Oscar for the scene I was about to put on.
Cough! Cough! I tried my best to sound convincing without overdoing it. “Hey, Ma.” I kissed her on the cheek. Cough! “Hey, Gran,” I said as I slowly hugged and kissed her on the cheek as well.
“Hey, baby,” she said with a bright smile.
I loved my grandmother. She was a mean cook and always so attentive to her grandchildren. I hated to pull this fast one on her, but I gotta do me.
“You okay, baby? It sounds like you coming down with something.”
Cough! “Oh, nah, Gran. It’s nothing but a little cough. It will probably go away in a couple of days.” I wanted to scream, “Yes” but I held it in. My plan was now in full effect, and I was going to milk this one for all it was worth.
It was Saturday morning, and everybody was getting dressed for the funeral. I was still in the bed, putting on the best “deathbed” act I could muster. I hacked so loud that even I thought I was sick.
“Ashley, what’s going on in here? It sounds like you about to cough up a lung in here.” My mom walked over to me and began to check me for a high fever. “You don’t have a fever.”
“Really?” I said, a look of distress covering my face. I quickly grabbed my mouth and darted for the bathroom and closed the door. I stuck my finger down my throat and vomited up my dinner from the night before. I wiped my mouth and headed back toward my room.
“Are you okay?”
My mom trailed behind me with the look of worry on her face. She was making this easy.
I leaned up against the wall halfway back to my room, pretending to be too weak to finish the short journey back, and she assisted me as I slowly crept in my bed.
“Mom, I—I don’t think I can make it to Granddaddy’s funeral,” I said with the most pitiful face I could muster.
“I wasn’t going to let you go even if you tried, with the condition you’re in.” She tucked me into bed as if I was a toddler again.
“Mom, please tell Dad I’m sorry I missed Granddaddy’s funeral.” Everything in me was screaming, “Suckers!” I sealed the deal with a trivial request. “Can you bring me back a flower and obituary, since I can’t make it?”
“Sure, baby, whatever you want.” Mom turned and made her way toward my door. Then she turned around, ruining my plans with this one last statement. “We will be gone for most of the day, but I will be calling the house to check up on you.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Okay, Mom.” I was truly pissed. I wasn’t expecting this shit. I guess I was going to have to change my and Tony’s plans.
Everybody was gone, and I had the house to myself. I called Tony with the change of plans. I decided, since my family was going to be gone most of the day, that I would invite Tony over, so we could enjoy ourselves in privacy.
What I didn’t expect was my father to come back earlier than expected. Luckily Tony and I were in the living room watching movies before we decided to have sex, because that shit would have been hard to explain to my father. His image of his chaste, loving daughter would’ve been shattered if he’d caught me having sex in his house.
“Hey, Dad.” I quickly jumped to the other chair in the room as I heard his keys opening the door.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he said, looking at Tony.
I assumed he was waiting on me to explain the unknown visitor.
“I thought you weren’t feeling well.”
“Oh, Dad, this is Tony.”
Tony got up and shook my dad’s hand.
“Tony had called to check up on me and came over to bring me some ginger ale and saltine crackers for my stomach.”
“Oh, okay,” he said with a look of tiredness on his face. “Nice to finally meet you.”
When Tony first started calling the house for me, I had told my father that Tony was my mentor for the mentorship my school was sponsoring. He had no idea we were being intimate.
My dad exited the room, and I assumed he was heading to his room to be alone. I quickly ushered Tony out of my house, just in case my father wanted to have a more in-depth conversation with us.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Come in,” my dad called out.
“Hey, Dad.” I walked in and noticed he was sprawled out on his back across the bed facing me
. His face was wet with what probably was tears. “You okay, Dad?”
“I’ll be okay, baby girl,” he said, sounding exhausted and worn. “Just going through some stuff.”
I walked over and sat down on the bed next to him. He looked up at me with a faint smile. He wasn’t fooling me. I knew he was hurt that Grandpa was dead.
“I know you hurting, Dad.” I rubbed his hair, hoping it would relieve some of the hurt. “I’ma miss Grandpa, too.”
I scooted over some more and placed his head on my lap and brushed his hair some more. His tears flowed freely. Seeing him this way made me tear up as well.
“All you have to do is remember the good times you and Grandpa had, and it won’t hurt as much.”
I was feeling bad now for not going to the funeral. I was nothing like my father. He was caring, and he loved to share whatever he had. I, on the other hand, was selfish and sneaky. I was crying harder now.
“Sorry, baby girl,” my dad said in a voice a little higher than a whisper. “I got you in here crying like a baby.”
He wiped my tears with the back of his hand as he sat up next to me. He put his arm around my shoulder, and I laid my head on his shoulder. I was a daddy’s girl indeed.
“You feeling better, I see.” He smiled harder this time.
“Dad, you always make feel good.” I smiled. “You’re my favorite daddy.”
He looked at me like he had seen a ghost.
“Why you look at me like that, Daddy?” I was confused.
“Oh, ah, sorry, pumpkin,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. “You saying that reminded me of something I forgot to do at work.”
“Oh, okay, Dad.” I smiled. “I thought you was seeing dead people or something.” I playfully hit him on his leg, and we both chuckled a little.
“Hey, pumpkin, how about you and I go downstairs and fix us something to eat? Daddy‘s gonna make you some of his favorite banana pancakes.”
“Really?”
“Yep. So go down and get the kitchen ready. I’ll be down after I wash my face.”
I zoomed down the steps and was in the kitchen in seconds. I loved spending time with Dad, and he always made time for just us.
Chapter 20
Mona
Casket Case
November 13th, 2018, 1:34 P.M.
I sat in the front row of the funeral parlor with Alex, Diana, and Mrs. Black. I was a little worried about Ashley being home sick and alone. Shawn had made his exit before the service even started. I knew he was going home, and he and Ashley would be home together, which put my worries to rest.
I knew this would be too hard for Shawn to bear, even with him reconciling with his father only weeks earlier. I could understand, and I didn’t even try and stop him from leaving.
I held on to Mother Black, who softly sobbed as the mourners passed the closed casket, touching it and whispering sweet prayers. Despite their tumultuous marriage, she still held her head up proud and free. I was so proud of her.
The parlor was almost filled to capacity, and I was a little shocked at the turnout. I guess people really didn’t care about Carl’s faults. There were a couple of old faggots in the bunch, which wasn’t a surprise to me, but seeing my gynecologist, Dr. Grant, sitting in the pews definitely was. I wondered how he knew Shawn’s father, and made a mental note to check in on that later on.
After a couple of sorrowful solos and hymns, a string of people got up and spoke about Carl Black’s life.
Just then, public enemy number one, James Parks, waltzed down the aisle in all black like he owned it. All eyes were on him as he made his way to the coffin.
What in the hell? When the fuck did he get out? And does Shawn know he is out? He probably didn’t because, if he did, then he would have told me. Or would he? Shit. I just can’t shake this muthufucka. All I know is, his ass better stay away from me if he knows what’s good for him.
I can’t believe I fucked his crazy ass. Twice. In California when I was burying my uncle and then again on my living room floor. I still can’t believe that shit, with my whoring ass.
I was broken out of my trance when James’s whimpers of sorrow escalated to loud moans. He went all the way Hollywood. He even had the nerve to open the casket. He moaned and sobbed loudly as he leaned in and kissed Carl’s corpse.
People gasped all over when he kissed Carl’s cold, dead body. I was pissed that they didn’t superglue that shit closed. I was going to talk to Momma Black about this mess after service.
James then walked toward the podium to let us know what Carl meant to him. Though noticeably older, he was still handsome in the face.
My mouth gaped opened during his entire spiel. He ranted and raved on and on about how Carl was his all and all, that he couldn’t live without him. Momma Black too was shocked and appalled with his over-the-top display of grief.
Finally, James came over to me and Carl’s wife with his condolences and made his exit as quickly as he had come in. I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping this was the last time we would be seeing him again. But I knew his ass would pop up again sooner or later.
After the service concluded, everyone headed to Lou-don Cemetery for the interment. Thankfully, James didn’t show his face.
On the way back to Mother Black’s house for the repast, the car was completely silent. Mother Black was in the passenger seat as I drove toward her house.
“Hey, Ma,” Alex yelled from the back of the car. “That dude was straight crazy.” He chuckled. “You woulda thought him and Grandpa was dating or something.” He laughed again. “He was a straight faggot.”
“Alex, don’t talk about your”—I caught myself before I said something I didn’t want to deal with yet.
Mother Black stepped in, saving me from disaster. “Alex, baby, that man was just a close friend of your grandfather. That’s all. Some people get really emotional when they lose someone close to them.”
I don’t know about that emotional shit. James is a pain in the ass, and as far as I am concerned, he has no emotions. That bastard was just there to torture our family again. It’s like he feeds off drama. I wish his ass would leave us the fuck alone.
I also wondered how Alex acted like he hated gay men when he too had that same demon riding him as well? It’s amazing how men can cover that shit up and dress it up to look like it’s not what it really is.
I prayed every day that Alex wouldn’t take the same road that his “two fathers” took, and I lay on the altar every Sunday praying that the men in my family would be spared from their homosexual demons.
Please, God, help them!
Chapter 21
James
Getting Cranky
November 13th, 2018, 2:03 P.M.
I just left the Betts Funeral Parlor and was walking to my car, giddy as shit. I had everybody in that muthafuckin’ joint eyes on me. I knew they’d be talking about that shit for weeks. I got in my car and was getting ready to pull off when my phone began to ring.
“Hello? Hello? Hello?”
No response.
“Stop calling me, bitch, if you not going to say anything. Coward-ass muthafucka!”
I was fuming hot. I had been getting crank calls for the past couple of days, and the shit was getting on my nerves. Whoever it was blocked out their number so they couldn’t be traced.
Ring, ring, ring!
I answered the phone with an attitude. “Hello.”
“Bitch, you’re next,” a muffled voice yelled into the phone. Click!
I stared at the phone in disbelief. I just shrugged it off. Somebody was sure mad at me, but I could have given a fuck. It was probably some bitch pissed off that I had fucked her man or some shit like that. There was always a hater in the bunch. Cunts be hating me because their man be hanging round me like a cat to a can of tuna. Like I always say, “You fucked after I fuck him, because he ain’t coming home after he had a taste of my lovin’.”
Ring, ring, ring!
I lo
oked at the phone and smiled. It was my first love. My momma. “Hey, Ma.”
“Hey, baby,” she said, her voice a little on the weak side. “Cough, cough, cough! How’s mama’s baby? Is my Jerry being good? When was you going to call your old mama?”
“Mama, you’re not old.” I sighed. Hearing her say that just melted me. My biggest fear was losing her. She was my everything. “I have been meaning to call you, Mama. I was just trying to get myself situated and all. I’m sorry, Mama.”
“No need to apologize, baby. Cough, cough, cough! Mama knows you be busy.”
“Mama, is everything okay? You sound like you are sick, Mama.”
Mama was up there in age, and she was a smoker too. Having to take on so much with being a single mom and working two jobs all the time contributed to a lot of stress.
“Well, Jerry, baby.” She hacked a couple of times and started to wheeze a bit. “Them doctors at the Mercy Liberty Hospital says I gots me that lung cancer going on. I got a few months to live, at the most, six.”
I sank down in my seat and slumped over. I couldn’t grasp what she was telling me. I couldn’t be hearing this. I put the phone down for a second and let the tears flow. I was like a baby in need of tender care.
“Mama, sniff, sniff, Mama, sniff, Mama, are you sure? I mean, what did they say?”
“Well, baby, I’ve been feeling out of breath the last couple of weeks, and I knew something just wasn’t right. So I went to them white folk over at the hospital, and they ran some test and gave me the results about two weeks ago.”
“Mama, you shoulda told me right away.” I sobbed some more.
All the past years of foolishness came to my mind. I’d wasted so much time trying to get even and spending time in jail, I missed the time I was supposed to be spending with her. What kind of son am I? I should’ve been home and taking care of my mother instead of fooling around.