The First Male

by Lee Hayes

  With care, Thomas dug the keys out of his jacket pocket, making sure that they didn’t jangle against each other as he searched for the ignition key. He had to get out of there. He had no problem fighting one dude, but he wasn’t thrilled with the thought of taking on up to five.

  Outside the car, Thomas heard frantic voices; voices desperately out for blood, searching for him in the dimly lit parking lot. Heavy footsteps pounded in succession against the hard black asphalt outside of the Lux Lounge. The thumping sounds fanned out in different directions as the gang sought to corner its prey. Thomas felt as if he was surrounded, trapped like a mouse in a maze. The parking lot was full of cars, their drivers, inside, heavily drinking and furiously dancing away the blues of their troubled lives; that is, until Thomas flirted with the wrong girl, a bad habit he had perfected. For him, there was nothing more satisfying than the forbidden pleasure of another man’s woman. The moment he slid into a prohibited sweet place that belonged to another was the moment his ego swelled. He could have any woman. Any time.

  During the evening, he had purposely made eye contact with the girl’s boyfriend on several occasions, smiling wryly from the corner of his mouth when she pointed him out to Thomas. He was across the room at the pool table with his brow furrowed deeply into a sharp crease, a sharp wooden toothpick clutched tightly between his thin lips. Despite his formidable presence, Thomas made very little attempt to disguise his intent. The two men’s eyes slashed across each other with shallow cuts, finally settling into a permanent sour glaze. Periodically, between shots of tequila that ignited the back of his throat and bottles of Corona that cooled it, Thomas looked at him as if to say “tonight, I’m getting between her thighs” and “fuck you.”

  The boyfriend returned Thomas’s stares, walking menacingly around the pool table while gripping the pool stick, fire in his belly, daring Thomas to push too far.

  The waitress—Carmen Delgado—pushed Thomas away several times, but he recognized the faux protest that glinted in her eyes. Her mouth may have said, “Stay away, I got a man,” but her eyes said, “Come closer and fuck me now.” Thomas would have, had it not been for the gang now circling the lot, looking for him.

  He only had one shot at getting away. If he tried to start the car and the engine didn’t turn over, the vultures would descend upon him and peck him apart, piece by piece. And they would enjoy it; Thomas had antagonized them so. If it came down to it, he’d fight and take a couple down with him, but he’d lose. The odds weren’t in his favor..

  He had a clear shot out of the parking lot if the car would start; a clear, direct path into the street. The car belonged to his elderly landlord and neighbor, Ms. Irene Bell, and it wasn’t in the best condition. By the time the goons hopped into their cars, he’d be gone, cloaked in the safety of the dark streets.

  Slowly, he inserted the key, said a little prayer, and turned it. Vroooooooommmm.

  “Thank you, God,” he said to himself. He sat up in the car so that he could see over the dashboard, threw the car into drive, and pressed hard on the gas pedal. His tires screeched as he burned through the parking lot, shooting the middle finger at the guys as he blew by them, narrowly avoiding a full on collision with the girl’s boyfriend when he jumped in the path of Thomas’ escape route.

  “Yeah, and fuck you!” he yelled as he watched their agitated bodies grow smaller in his rearview mirror. Once again, he had avoided catastrophe.

  When Simon opened his eyes, he was sitting straight up in bed in the hotel room. He was naked, except for a thin white sheet that was draped across the lower half of his body. Brilliant sunlight spilled into the room from the partially open blinds, and he could smell the fragrant aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Images of his dream—or vision—still claimed a part of his mind. He looked around the room, which seemed much smaller than before, as if the walls had been pushed closer together. He expected Thomas to burst from the bathroom, having escaped the clutches of Carmen’s boyfriend. He had never dreamed of Thomas before, yet he felt a spooky closeness to him, an inexplicable bond. Now that he was awake, he felt robbed, as if the waking hour had stolen a part of Thomas’s life that was yet to be discovered in the dream.

  He shook his head in disappointment and noticed a lid-less, half-empty Styrofoam cup of coffee sitting on top of the dresser. From the outside, voices of a passing family seeped into the room and stole his attention. A father, Stephen. A mother, Lana. Two daughters: Christina, seven; and Carrie, five. The girls sang an off-key rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” but they sang so joyfully that it made their parents giggle. Simon listened to the pitter-patter of eight feet on the sidewalk until they rounded the corner. At this point, he didn’t even question how he knew so much about the family he had never even seen, except in his mind’s eye.

  Simon shifted his body to get out of bed, planting his feet on the floor. He stood up and stretched, feeling as if he had just awakened from a much-needed slumber. As he placed his arms at his sides and took a step forward, the doorknob jiggled and Franklin stepped inside.

  “Oh shit,” Franklin said as he closed the door quickly behind him; surprise stained his face. His eyes grew wide as he stared at Simon as if he hadn’t seen him in months. “You—you up,” he managed to say after a few seconds.

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Simon, unashamed in his nakedness, stood and waited for an answer from Franklin, who seemed at a loss for words. Franklin diverted his eyes downward, moved over to the dresser and dropped the car keys on the wooden top, next to the coffee cup.

  “Dude, could you put on some clothes?” Simon looked down at himself, as if he didn’t realize that he was nude. He grabbed the bed sheet and wrapped it around his waist. He watched Franklin move nervously through the room, carefully avoiding eye contact. He could even hear Franklin’s shallow, quick breaths. Clearly, he was ill at ease. In contradiction to the disharmony that surrounded Franklin, Simon felt perfectly calm, at peace. Gone was the tight ball that had resided in the pit of his stomach and served as a constant reminder of his overwhelming sense of fear. He felt rested, at peace. He was at peace with whatever had happened to him over the last few weeks and, as much as he could, made peace with whatever was to come. He no longer dreaded the future.

  “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Simon finally asked as he sat back down on the bed.

  Franklin stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Simon. “Everything. Everything is wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “First, Brooke called a bunch of times, but I didn’t answer ’cause I didn’t know what to tell her. And, the credit card you used to pay for this room was declined and the manager is gonna bang on the door at any minute to kick us out. Shit, I had to hide in the parking a lot a for a few seconds ’cause I saw him coming our way.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. The room was like seventy dollars, and I had a couple hundred dollars on that card, at least,” Simon said, ignoring the information about Brooke.

  “Simon,” Franklin said as he took a seat on the twin bed across from Simon, “we’ve been here four days.”

  “What? We just got here last night.”

  “No, we didn’t. You been asleep for three straight days, every since . . . ” His voice faded.

  “Since what? Franklin, since what?”

  “Since you . . . since you, walked on water.” Franklin’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence and he diverted his eyes away from Simon, who watched as Franklin’s body shifted uneasily as he sat on the bed. Simon wished he had words of comfort to offer, but he didn’t. He couldn’t explain his extraordinary feats and, at this point, didn’t have the inclination to even try. Walking on water? Sleeping for three straight days? It all sounded so normal to Simon now. It never ceased to amaze him, the things that people can grow accustomed to.

  “Franklin,” Simon began, but he was cut off, mid-sentence.

  “It’s cool, man. Really. Walking
on water ain’t the only shit that’s been going on around here the last few days.”

  “What else?”

  “I mean you. You’ve been freaking me out, sitting up in bed at night while you still sleepin’; talkin’—I guess it was talkin’—in a language that didn’t sound . . . human. I don’t know what the fuck it was. You were like, talkin’ to someone, and the crazy part about that shit is that I swore I heard whispers in the room, but wasn’t nobody here but me and you.” Franklin spoke rapidly, leaving little room between his sentences for Simon to process what he was saying. “I woke up one night and you were standing in the middle of the room, sweating like it was a hundred and twenty degrees. I couldn’t wake you and I couldn’t move yo’ ass, either. I tried to pick you up, to lay you down, but it felt like you weighed a ton. Shit, I couldn’t even push you down. Then, you started moaning like you were in pain and black shit starting running out of the corners of your mouth. It was slimy, like oil and it stank to the high heavens. I had to open the window to let the smell out, even though it was cold as hell outside. I almost froze my balls off. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about callin’ 9-1-1, but then I didn’t know what the hell I’d tell ’em, so I didn’t, but it’s safe to say that you done officially freaked me the fuck out.” When he finished speaking, Franklin exhaled loudly and looked at Simon with droopy eyes that begged for better days. “Is this shit real, or am I losin’ my mind? Am I crazy?”

  Simon spoke frankly. “It’s real. I think you know that.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a relief. I can deal with anything ’cept losing my mind. My granddaddy had Alzheimer’s, and I seen how it can mess up yo’ mind. I don’t wanna be like that.”

  “Trust me, you’re not losing your mind.” Simon’s voice was flat, offering little encouragement. Franklin commanded part of his attention, but a greater part of Simon’s mind was still with Thomas. He wanted to know more; he didn’t need to be told that what he saw wasn’t a simple dream. He’d stopped having random dreams some time ago. Everything he saw now, in his sleeping hours, turned out to be warnings or messages, but this time was even different than that. This time, he felt as if he had lived a part of this man’s life in his dream; Thomas’s life was his life, too. He experienced everything Thomas felt that night. He felt Thomas’s lustful exhilaration, the frantic pace of his heartbeat, the enormous adrenaline rush prompted by the fight, and Thomas’ celebratory moment when the car started and he realized that he’d live to fight another day. “We better get out of here before the manager comes. I don’t have any more money,” he said, focusing on the immediate issue.

  “Neither do I. I got just enough gas money to get us home, maybe a little breakfast, too.” Franklin hopped off the bed and started tossing his clothes in his open gym bag. “What the hell are you waitin’ fo’?” he asked when he noticed Simon wasn’t moving.

  Simon needed a few seconds. Without warning, it dawned on him, like truth. “Oh, shit,” he said.

  Franklin stopped. “Oh shit, what?”

  “I met my father last night.” The truth could not have been any plainer to Simon.

  Franklin’s face cringed. Instantly, Simon regretted his words. The part of him that had grown accustomed to not sharing his life with others suddenly became more prominent, and he wished he could recall his words, like an e-mailed message that was sent in error. Franklin had seen too much. Simon felt guilty for dragging Franklin with him and laying his troubles at his feet.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Never mind”

  “Look, answer the damn question. I saw you walk on water. At this point, nothin’ would shock me.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “So, what you mean about yo’ daddy? You met him?”

  “Kinda. In my dream last night, but I didn’t just meet him, I was him. He’s dead, though. I was living a dead man’s life. His name was Thomas,” Simon said slowly, “Thomas Thibodeaux.”

  “Thomas,” Franklin said, letting the name wash across his tongue, “you said that name a few times last night in your sleep. Thibodeaux. Isn’t that ole girl’s last name, the one we’re looking for, Addie?”

  “Yeah. She’s my grandmother, I think. No, I know. She is my grandmother.” Franklin plopped down on his bed and exhaled. Simon expected him to run screaming from the room, finally having reached his limit.

  “So, let me break this down. This woman we been driving around lookin’ fo’ is really yo’ grandmamma that you ain’t never met, and now, you say that you lived a part of your dead father’s life in your dream? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  “Well,” Franklin said. “I guess it’s another day in Simon’s bizarro world. I always knew you was a freak,” he said teasingly.

  “Speaking of freaks, I’m not going to ask you how I got naked,” Simon said with a chuckle.

  “Hold up. No homo. I ain’t into that freaky-deaky shit. I’m a pussy connoisseur,” he said proudly, tugging at his shirt. They looked at each other and laughed until their stomachs hurt. Simon hadn’t laughed in so long that he had forgotten the feeling; now, it swept over him like the memory of a long, lost love. It was familiar, comforting, and it lifted his spirit to the clouds.

  Franklin continued. “Yo’ ass was soakin’ wet after you pulled yo’ little walking-on-the-water trick. You came in here and collapsed. I had to pry yo’ clothes off to keep you from catching pneumonia. Trust me, it wasn’t one of my finer moments. Be happy I took care of yo’ ass, a’ight?”

  “A’ight, man. Calm down. I was wondering. I’ve seen the way you been looking at me. I’m just saying,” Simon said playfully.

  “Look at these nuts.” Franklin grabbed his testicles through his sweat pants. “Stop playing, and get yo’ ass up befo’ these crazy Texas muthafuckas call the cops and lock our asses up.”

  After slipping away from the resort and driving for an hour, Simon nodded off in the car while Franklin sped down the highway. He awoke, after some time, when he felt the car bounce and bob as it moved across a rough patch on a country dirt road. Simon looked around and all that he saw was thick trees and dense shrubbery. Franklin followed deep tire tracks left in the red dirt that eventually ended when a fallen tree blocked their path forward.

  “Where are we?” Simon asked, wiping sleep from his eyes. “What are we doing?”

  Franklin threw the car into PARK and turned off the ignition. “Get out,” he said as he unhinged his seatbelt. Before Simon could respond, Franklin was already out of the car and walking briskly toward the dense trees. Simon hopped out of the car and quickly followed, leaping over the fallen tree to catch Franklin. Dead leaves padded the forest floor, and broken branches that were scattered about made walking more treacherous than Simon expected; he had never been a big fan of the great outdoors. He hoped the rural obstacle course would slow the stride of Franklin’s gait, but Franklin continued to move easily, his long legs covering great distances in a single leap.

  “Hey,” he called out to Franklin, who moved with purpose and surprising agility. He seemed focused, like he knew exactly where they were going, even though Simon knew there was no way Franklin was familiar with these woods off some lonely Texas country road.

  Finally, they reached a clearing and Franklin stopped, looking around as if to inspect the place. Simon caught up to him, breathing heavily.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Simon asked between quick breaths.

  “We’re here.”

  Simon eyed Franklin oddly and then took a moment to assess his surroundings. They were standing in the center of a circle of enormous pine trees. Near them was an old, rusted barbeque grill that looked as if it hadn’t been used in decades. Cigarette butts, old food wrappers, and broken glass from beer and soft drink bottles decorated the landscape. Knee-high, brown weeds, bent over and bowed, created a foreboding wall at the edge of the forest.

  “Okay, where’s here? What are w
e doing?”

  “We’re doing a little experiment,” he said, sounding like a professor. “I’ve listened to all this stuff you been talkin’, and I seen some crazy shit with you over the last few days, but one thing stuck in my mind about it all.”

  “What?”

  “You ain’t never tried to control it.”

  “Huh?”

  “This . . . power that you have. You ain’t never tried to control it. You said shit keeps happening to you, but I say its time you stop lettin’ it happen and you control it. That’s why we here. I wanna see what you can really do. Ain’t nobody around. Just you and me.” He took a breath and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, do something.”

  “What? Franklin, it doesn’t work like that.”

  “How do you know how it works? You ever tried to do something on your own?”

  The simple truth of his words shined like a beacon on a darkened night. Simon realized that he had been so freaked out by things that he never even took a second to understand that maybe, just maybe, he could control this thing, whatever it was. Maybe he didn’t have to succumb to random events—maybe he could control them!

  Simon shook his head from side to side, acknowledging the wisdom of Franklin’s simple words. “Damn, you’re right. You’re fucking brilliant!” Simon ran over to him and hugged him tightly, even though Franklin playfully protested.

  “Get off me, fool! I don’t want yo’ hoodoo rubbing off on me!”

  “A’ight, a’ight,” Simon said as he took a few steps backward. “What should I do?” Simon was suddenly anxious, ready to prove that he was still the captain of his fate.

  “I don’t know. Make something move, like this bottle.” Franklin kicked an old bottle with a faded red-and-white label toward Simon.

  “Okay, okay. I can try.” Simon shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck as if he was loosening himself up right before a title fight. “Wait, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Try something. Focus on it. Tell it to move.”