Tears on a Sunday Afternoon

by Michael Presley

  “What the fuck is that in your hand?” I asked, looking at a beer bottle with brown liquid in it.

  “It’s a Shandy. You want one?” Brian twisted the cap off.

  “A Shandy? Does it have anything in it?” I asked, staring at the bottle.

  “Yeah, there’s alcohol but it’s also sweet.”

  “You are in love, aren’t you?”

  Brian looked at me with this big smile on his face. “I told you. Julie’s the one for me.”

  “Any woman who can make a man drink something called Shandy must be the bomb.”

  “She is.” Brian lifted the bottle to cheer and I obliged.

  “So, are you thinking marriage?” I asked jokingly.

  “Maybe, after we do this thing. I have some stuff I need to take care of first.” Brian looked down at the ringing cell phone. “Speak of the devil.”

  “Right on cue.” I left Brian to talk to Julie, whom we were meeting at a cafe in the city. I didn’t think my feelings for Julie had changed, but the incident with my father had put it on the back burner.

  “We have an hour to kill because Julie won’t be leaving her mother’s house for another half an hour.” Brian sat down with his Shandy in his right hand. “I never knew I would love again.”

  “Why? What happened to you? A bitch cheated on you?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch opposite him.

  Brian turned the TV on.

  “Life isn’t fair.” Brian held his face in his hands.

  “Brian, you put a little too much into pussy,” I said, without thinking why Brian was so distraught.

  “I have a daughter.”

  “A daughter?!” Brian had never spoken to me about children.

  “It’s always very hard for me to talk about her.”

  “Why, is she in Australia or something? Did the bitch take your daughter and run away with her? Because bitches will do that; this girl did that to a friend of mine. She took his son and left New York. He doesn’t know where the fuck she is. He has tried tracking her down but he can’t find her. These bitches are crazy.” I remembered my friend, Leroy, ranting and raving when his child’s mother took his son and bounced.

  “I know where she is, but I can’t go near her. She’s in California.”

  “So, why don’t you go and see her?”

  Brian got up from his chair, put the empty bottle of Shandy down and went into his room. He returned a short time later carrying an album. Brian sat next to me and opened the album. The first picture in the album was Brian, beaming, holding a half-covered baby in his arms. He didn’t have to say it but the look in a man’s eyes when he is holding his child is priceless. He pointed to the picture. “That was when she was born. She was the most beautiful baby in the world.”

  “She sure was.” I smiled, realizing that I had said the same exact thing about my son.

  “This was when she was one.” It was a picture of a baby girl holding on to a crib. There were more pictures of his daughter in all different positions. Brian was in some of them and in others, it was only his daughter. The last close-up picture of his daughter was when she was in front of a birthday cake with the number two in the middle. After that, the pictures were taken from a distance with a high-powered camera.

  “What happened after she turned two?” I asked.

  “By the time Linda turned two, her mother and I weren’t speaking anymore. I had moved out and we could barely stand being in the same room together. Don’t ask me what happened between us. I don’t know. Whether it was her fault or mine is irrelevant. The shit simply wasn’t working. But she would always make me be a part of my daughter’s life. She would let me keep my daughter all the time and I thought it was going to go on forever.” When Brian stopped and looked up, his eyes were swollen with tears.

  I felt sorry for him. “Did something happen to your daughter?”

  He shook his head. “No, nothing like that.”

  “So, your daughter is still alive?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He continued to stare out into space.

  “Why don’t you go see her?”

  Brian closed the wallet and gripped it tightly in his hands. “My child’s mother met someone and he was very insecure.”

  “That’s his problem. Let him go get counseling,” I said.

  “She said I couldn’t see my daughter anymore.”

  “Okay, bitches say shit all the time. Who gives a fuck?! What the fuck, she’s not God!”

  Brian shook his head. “God she isn’t but she’s willing to go places even the devil won’t go.”

  Brian didn’t have to say any more because I knew exactly what was coming next.

  “That would have destroyed you and everyone around you,” I said.

  “I would never do anything like that. God knows I would kill anyone that even comes close to my daughter with that. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. I have never held my daughter in my arms since then.” Brian started to cry. The tears were uncontrollable and unstoppable. It shook his body on this Sunday afternoon.

  I put my hands around his shoulder to comfort him. “Your daughter is getting older and one day you’ll be able to talk to her and tell her the truth.”

  “But I’m missing so much,” he said between sobs. “She’ll never forgive me.”

  “Brian, there’s nothing you could’ve done. When a man is accused of sexual abuse, the accusation is a loss. It doesn’t matter who finds you innocent. There will always be questions. People who are willing to put stuff like that out there for their personal gain are sick; it’s a sickness that no fire burns hot enough to punish them for. Your daughter will be old enough soon, when the mother cannot pull something like that, and you can go back then. You can go back and take her away from that bitch. I also bet you a million dollars that the man she did that to you for is long gone. Bitches like that can never keep a man.”

  My phone chimed and it was a text message from Julie. “Brian, it’s time to start over. Julie’s on her way to the restaurant.”

  Honeysuckle Café was a new restaurant located in the western end of Brooklyn. It was the only soul food restaurant that served only brunch and dinner in Brooklyn. The parking lot was manned by a uniformed armed guard who directed my car into the half-full parking lot. I pulled up between a blue Jaguar and a white Cadillac Escalade. I turned the engine off, putting an end to a Strickly the Best CD that Brian had popped into the sound system.

  There were two huge pillars painted in red, yellow and green with an entrance sign between them. The rest of the building was multicolored in red, yellow, green and black.

  “This is different,” Brian said as we walked toward the pillars.

  “The black man is doing his thing. This is no Flatbush. Somebody paid a few dollars to build this,” I said, walking up to an attendant dressed in a white shirt and black pants standing at a huge mahogany door.

  “Good afternoon, Gentlemen. Party of two?” He held the door for us to enter.

  Brian placed a few dollar bills in the man’s hand. “Our company is already inside.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” the attendant said as the money disappeared into his pocket.

  “You’re being generous today,” I said to Brian as the attendant eased the door shut.

  Brian searched the room for Julie. “In spite of all the ups and downs, it’s still a good life.”

  Anyone who knew anything about restaurants would have quickly concluded that this was an expensive one. There was ample spacing between the tables, instead of them being scrunched together like normal, economical restaurants. The tables were made of high quality wood and the clear table coverings ensured that diners could admire their beauty. I alerted Brian when I spotted Julie waving her napkin. We pointed in her direction and the maitre d’ escorted us to where she was seated.

  “Two brothers, over six feet tall, physically fit and dressed to impress; you two attract a lot of attention.” Julie laughed. “Most of the women, and some of the men too, all had their eyes fi
xed on you.”

  “Julie, you’re not right,” Brian said, kissing her on the lips.

  I followed by kissing her on the cheek. “Yeah, Julie, the women checking me out I could deal with, but then you had to spoil it with the men comment,” I said, pulling my chair out.

  “Get real, guys. We’re in 2006. If there’s a woman looking at you, I’ll bet you anything there’s a man doing the same.”

  Brian shook his head. “Maybe we should change the conversation.”

  I picked up the menu. “I’m extremely hungry.”

  “This is my third time eating here. Everything on the menu is good,” Julie said.

  “Well, I want breakfast. I think number ten has everything I’m looking for.” Brian pointed at his menu.

  “Honey, do you think you want all that cholesterol? The omelet is made with four eggs,” Julie remarked, rubbing Brian on the right knee.

  I looked around. “Where’s the waitress?”

  “I asked her to give us some extra time,” Julie replied.

  “Julie, I’ve never seen this side of you. You’re a control freak, aren’t you? Watch out, Brian.”

  Julie gave me that I-don’t-believe-you-said-that look. “Donald!”

  To me, she was the most beautiful woman in the restaurant. I engaged her eyes with mine, making an unspoken plea for her affection.

  “Guys, I want to make a toast.” Brian lifted his glass of water. “Cheers to my friend Donald, for introducing me to the woman that I now consider my soul mate, the very beautiful Julie Walker.”

  Julie was beaming. I felt like Brutus as we clicked glasses. Judas was in this gathering and his name was Donald. I had known Julie for all those years and my feelings for her had never gone beyond admiration. But now, as I saw her huddled next to Brian, my heart was bleeding. I turned away from the lovely couple to find some kind of distraction. About ten feet away sat a group of young people, presumably college students. By his mannerisms, I assumed the boy was gay; even though he was surrounded by four girls. Cultural boundaries had obviously been crossed in that institute of learning. The boy was Spanish, one of the girls was Asian, another White and the other two were African-American.

  “Donald, give the waitress your order. She’s way too young for you.” Julie had obviously found the object of my attention.

  I had always stayed consistent with my choice in women. Nationality and age never mattered to me. I would sleep with a forty-or twenty-year-old woman. The one that I was checking out looked to be no older than twenty-one.

  “Order for me,” I instructed Julie and got up from the table.

  “You trust Julie that much?” Brian asked.

  “If she cares for me half as much as she does for you, I’ll be okay.” I had gotten the attention of the young woman and I was sure she would follow me into the restroom.

  Julie gave me a killer look, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t have her so why should she give a fuck about who I went to bed with. I didn’t look at her as I walked toward the restroom. The lounge area was as stylishly designed as the restaurant; there were two big couches and a few lounge chairs. On the wall there was a pay phone for someone who, for some godforsaken reason, had forgotten their cell phone. The plasma located on the left side of the wall was approximately twenty inches in length. The men’s room was located to the left of the lounge and the women’s on the right. I didn’t have to wait long before she appeared. Her walk was pronounced, yet very sexy, and her tight jeans sent praises to youth. I could tell that she was a woman who got what she wanted; even at such a tender age.

  “You were waiting for me.” She made it more of a statement than a question.

  “I was waiting.” As always criminal activities were the main topic in local news. I didn’t want to watch it but the location of the TV didn’t give me an option.

  “Any woman at the tables could’ve followed you into the restroom. You and your friend really made an entrance but I see that he’s taken. So, what do you want now that you’ve gotten my attention?” She sat down on a beige chair and crossed her legs. She might have been young but her upbringing must have had some money input.

  Our age difference did not give her the right to ask that question. “Shouldn’t I be asking that question? I’m old enough to be your father.”

  “If you were interested in being my father, we wouldn’t be in this room right now. Besides, I already have a father.” She was confident. I liked that. “I’m twenty-one, presently a junior at Columbia, and I’m sure you can tell the kind of men I like. You don’t have on a wedding ring, which means that you’re not married; or you took off the ring because your wedding vows didn’t include forsaking all others.”

  “How much time do you have?” I asked.

  “This is my father’s restaurant. I’m not fucking you in here.”

  Even though the thought had crossed my mind, fucking wasn’t paramount to me at the moment. “You live on campus?”

  “Hell no! My father has an apartment in Manhattan that I’m using while I’m at school. We live in Mills Basin on Livery Drive.”

  “Who are the friends with you?” I asked, trying to complete her character in my head.

  “The boy is Carl and he’s gay. He thinks you’re hot. The girls are my friends. They’re all at Yale, but we went to the same prep school. Don’t be so concerned. I don’t hang around children. My cell number is 927-678-2344. By the way, my name is Brenda.” She stood.

  I stowed her number in my phone. “What time is good?”

  “That would depend on what you’re calling for.” She gave me the look that only a twist of the lock on the bathroom door would satisfy.

  “Got it,” I said and turned my attention to the news. The anchorman stated that they had found some leads in the death of a retired New York City corrections officer in upstate New York.

  I didn’t hear the door close, but I knew that I was alone in the lounge. I fell down on the couch as my eyes became transfixed on the TV. As always, the anchorman teased viewers with the intro, then went to a commercial. I had avoided the news because I didn’t want to see my face as a wanted man on the TV screen. But now they had caught my attention so I sat back and waited through the GEICO commercial and two other car commercials.

  “Donald!”

  The news correspondent said that the dead man had an argument with one of his business partners before he went out into the woods. Even though the old man was in his early seventies, he was apparently involved in the production of methamphetamine. The newsman promised to keep viewers up-to-date as this story unfolded.

  “Donald!”

  “Yes?” I lifted my head to see Brian standing by the door.

  “Julie thought you were in here fucking the young girl, but when she saw her come back and you still didn’t return, she sent me to look for you. What were you watching on TV? You look scared.” Brian walked to the TV so he could see what was showing. But the news had already finished and there was a sitcom repeat on.

  “You guys get your food already?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we’re almost halfway finished. Yours must be cold by now.” Brian was still looking at the TV.

  I got up from the couch. “Well, let’s head back.”

  “So what’s up with the little misses?” Brian asked.

  “We’ll connect on another day,” I said opening the door to the lounge.

  “She’s hot and she does attract attention.”

  “You’re right. She’s hot but her attracting all that attention could be because she’s also the owner’s daughter.” I held the door open for Brian.

  “People say if you go and look in gold mines, you might find some gold pieces and if you look in sewage tanks, you are apt to find shit.” Brian walked through the door.

  “Ninety-nine percent of the time you’re right, but that one percent of shit you find amongst the gold can stink the entire place up.” I closed the door and Brian and I walked back to Julie.

  I didn’t know
what appealed to me about Brenda nor was I sure that I would ever call her. My cell phone address book was filled with numbers of women that I didn’t call. It would be virtually impossible to remember where I had met them all. Then, there were those that I did meet and fuck but, with just a name and phone number, my recollection of the time we had spent together often proved difficult. If I didn’t call a woman within seven days of meeting her, most likely, I would never call.

  Julie and I had been out to brunch a few times and I usually ordered a sandwich or a steak omelet. A deluxe turkey sandwich with Swiss cheese was waiting for me that day.

  “I see that you’re back to babysitting, Donald,” Julie commented as I was about to bite into the sandwich.

  I put it back down. “My dear Julie, what’s a man supposed to do?”

  “Be a man, Donald, and show some kind of control. You’re not fifteen anymore,” Julie scolded me.

  “Why should I?” I asked as I ate some of the French fries.

  Julie always chided me for my promiscuous ways. I sometimes wondered if I had a sexual problem, but that would mean I was symptomatic at a very early age. There are a million different ways to handle stress. For me, sex was the only one that worked. I didn’t have a drug, gambling or any other dependency so I considered myself lucky.

  “One day, Donald, your dick will kill you,” Julie said and continued to finish her food.

  “As long as it doesn’t stab me in the heart. I hate blood.”

  That ended the conversation. The rest of lunch was all about the food.

  Chapter 9

  12TH DAY

  “How are you doing, Donald?” Malcolm asked.

  I didn’t want to be there, much less talk to my father-in-law. “Fine.”

  “Well, your face doesn’t look it,” Malcolm said, a glass of champagne in his hand.

  We were attending an event in Lauren’s parents’ clubhouse, located by their private dock. My presence as Lauren’s husband had been ordered, not requested. I had walked in with Lauren on my arm like a dutiful husband, which was indeed a painful experience. Malcolm had already introduced me to a few of his business partners who, for a lack of a better word, I found very “creepy.”