“How much do you need?”
“Five hundred dollars,” Kyle said.
“Five hundred?” I said with a slightly startled voice.
“Yeah, I know it’s a lot, but I’ll give it back in a couple of weeks,” Kyle promised.
“Okay, no problem. Do you want me to go pay your phone bill?”
“No, my phone will be on in about an hour. I wrote them a hot check,” Kyle explained.
“Then what do you want me to do?”
“Can you get the cash, put it in an envelope, and leave it with Grady?” Kyle asked.
“Cash? You want me to leave cash? Why not a check?”
“ ’Cause not everybody is as stupid as the phone company when it comes to my checks,” Kyle joked. “My drugstore uses a check approval service.”
“Okay, I’ll run to the bank in a couple of hours and I’ll have it there by noon.”
“Thanks, Nicole, you’re a sweetheart,” Kyle said softly.
“No problem. You would be there for me,” I said.
I hung up and thought about our conversation. Because it was one sure way to damage relationships, I had an unwritten rule that I never loaned money to family or friends—a rule I could never follow. It never failed you would be the one ending up feeling bad about the loan, not because the majority of the time you didn’t get the money back, but because the people you loaned the money to would start to avoid you. I hadn’t heard a word from my brother since I loaned him the fifteen hundred dollars. I decided I would give the five hundred dollars to Kyle as a gift. I mean he hadn’t asked me for a dime for all the fabric he had purchased making bridal gowns I would probably never wear.
The decision to give Kyle the money made me realize that I needed to call Pierce and make arrangements to meet him and call off the engagement or at least discuss my concerns in depth. I slowly turned the beautiful engagement ring and thought how naked my hand was going to be without it. But no ring could justify how I felt inside. I was looking in my closet for something to wear when the phone rang.
“Hello,” I said.
“Praise the Lord, girl,” Sheila said.
“Praise the Lord,” I responded.
“Well, let’s get started. How was the pageant?” Sheila asked.
“It was great. I’m sorry you didn’t make it.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it when we finish our prayer. Got anything special you want to pray for this morning?”
“Yeah, I want to send a special one up for Kyle; he’s having some money problems,” I sighed.
“Okay, and you know since we’re praying for him we should ask the Lord to take that demon spirit out of him,” Sheila said.
“Demon spirit?” I quizzed.
“Yeah, Kyle’s a homosexual, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, Nicole girl, you know homosexuality is a demonic spirit,” Sheila said.
“It is?”
“Yeah, girl, read the Scriptures,” Sheila advised.
“Which ones?” I questioned.
“I don’t know any exact one. My minister preached on it a few weeks ago. I’ll find out which ones,” Sheila said.
“Yes, please do that, Sheila, because I don’t think you’re right. Christ loves all His children.”
Sheila didn’t respond; she simply started praying and I couldn’t help but think about what she had just said. Her tone had the same tone of hate that Pierce’s voice had the evening before in Harlem. Suddenly I was happy that I would see Dr. Huntley in less than an hour.
I didn’t wait for Dr. Huntley to ask me how I was doing before I started to tell her about what happened with Pierce and about the accident. I told her how I couldn’t believe Pierce had called the man black and how much it hurt me.
“Why did it hurt you, Nicole?”
“Black. I hate that word. Sometimes I think it’s worse than the n word.”
“The n word?”
“Yes, nigger.”
“You think black is worse than nigger?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why, Nicole? Why are you crying, Nicole?”
“It was a beautiful red dress. My first evening gown that was bought especially for me,” I said through my tears.
“A red dress?”
“My mother didn’t think I should buy a dress that color because of my being so dark-skinned. But my daddy said I looked beautiful in it and I felt beautiful when I tried it on. I really felt special, like I could really win.”
“Win? Win what, Nicole?”
“The Miss Conway County pageant. It was my first pageant. During rehearsals, all the white girls were so nice to me. I think that’s because they didn’t view me as serious competition; didn’t think I could win. Until they heard me sing. They all changed. And that night at the pageant it happened.”
“What happened? Tell me, Nicole,” Dr. Huntley said softly.
“Candance was backstage helping me with my wardrobe and when the evening gown competition was ready to get started I couldn’t find my gown. Candance and I looked all over the place. We couldn’t find it. All the other girls were all lined up in their beautiful gowns preparing to go onstage for the competition. No one offered to help us find the gown.”
“What did you do?”
“I couldn’t go out on stage without an evening gown. I just started crying sitting there in my slip. Crying so hard that I ran into the bathroom and that’s where I saw it.” I paused.
“The dress?”
“Yes.”
“Where was it?”
“In the toilet covered with—covered with …”
“Covered with what, Nicole?”
“Stuff. Excrement. You know. It was covered with shit!”
“What happened after you found it?”
“Candance came into the bathroom and handed me a note she’d found on my dressing table. The note said take your black ass to the black-assed Miss Black Nigger pageant where your black, blueberry-looking black ass belongs.”
“What did you do, Nicole?”
“I started crying again. I couldn’t stop until Candance said …”
I remembered how much Candance and I always helped each other—how much fun we could have—and how I missed her.
“What did Candance say, Nicole?”
“She said, ‘Don’t ever let them see you cry. When you cry they win. Don’t let them win, Nicole. Please don’t let them win.’ ”
I went on to tell Dr. Huntley how it hadn’t stopped there. After the incident my mother was terribly upset but she took her anger out on me. Berated me for trying to force myself into some place I didn’t belong. It took both my father and Candance to stop her yelling. I told her how much my mother’s words hurt me. How I never forgot that night.
“Did you tell your mother that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Nicole. Your time is up. Are you all right? I have a little extra time,” Dr. Huntley said.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I said as I rubbed my eyes. They were tired from all my tears.
“Nicole, can I ask you something?”
“Yes, Dr. Huntley.”
“What color is your mother’s skin tone?”
“Light,” I said softly. “Very light.”
“Do you think that’s the root of your problems with your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t. Is it a problem for your mother?”
“You’d have to ask her,” I said.
“I’m asking you, Nicole.”
“You know people can be so cruel. Especially toward children.”
“Yes, Nicole, people can be, but what does that have to do with you and your mother?”
“They acted as though I wasn’t even there.”
“Who, Nicole? Who?”
I was talking like I was in a self-induced trance. “When I was a little girl, my mother would take me to downtown Little Rock to
shop. It was our special time together. Just us girls. People always thought she wasn’t my mother. Me being so dark and my mother having beautiful honey-colored skin. One day these two ladies kept badgering my mother. Saying it was no way I could be her daughter. When I thought my mother had finally convinced them, they laughed and said my daddy must have had some powerful blueberry genes. My mother joined in their laughter.”
“How old were you, Nicole?”
“Six or seven,” I said as tears began to roll down my face.
“Nicole, were these women black or white?”
“They were black. Light-skinned black women.”
“It’s okay to cry here, Nicole,” Dr. Huntley said softly. She reached in a tissue box on her desk and pulled out a handful and walked over and sat next to me on the sofa. I couldn’t recall her ever coming so close. She gave me the tissue and softly patted my knees and repeated her words. “It’s okay to cry here. In my office they can’t win,” she said.
And then in a move that both shocked and comforted me, Dr. Huntley hugged me tightly until my tears stopped.
I left Dr. Huntley’s brownstone feeling a great deal of pressure had been released. How long I had wanted to share that dreadful day with someone who understood. The incident was one I hadn’t shared with anyone. Not my mother, father, or even Candance.
With my session behind me, I began to enjoy the day that was sunny but autumn nippy. The leaves were beginning to change colors, painting the city beautifully with warm scarlets and golds. I hopped into a taxi and asked to be let off at a bank near Kyle’s apartment. I cashed a check and instructed the teller to give me large bills, which I then slipped inside my pink stationery, on which I’d written Kyle a little note, telling him to keep his head up, that things were going to get better. When I arrived at Kyle’s apartment, Grady, the regular doorman, was not on duty, in fact no one was on duty. This was strange, but since I was in a hurry I walked through the security door and caught the elevator up to Kyle’s floor. I would slide the money under his door. Just as I stooped down, I heard music blasting from Kyle’s apartment and noticed the door slightly ajar. I gently pushed the door open wider and called out Kyle’s name. There was no response. “Kyle?” I called out again, this time louder.
“Who is it?” Kyle’s voice called back.
“It’s Nicole,” I said as I walked into the apartment. Kyle wasn’t in the living or dining area and something seemed different. It was the smell. As I walked into Kyle’s apartment I felt as if I had inhaled enough vodka to bathe in. At least it smelled like vodka; it was definitely some type of alcohol. Suddenly Kyle appeared from the bedroom. He looked a mess in a pajama top and not-so-clean underwear.
“How did you get up here?” Kyle demanded.
“Kyle, what’s the matter?” I asked.
“Nothing. Answer my question. How did you get up here?”
“There wasn’t anybody at the door,” I stumbled.
“I’m sorry, Nicole. I’m not feeling well. That medication has me knocked out all the time. I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to yell,” Kyle muttered.
“What’s that smell?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s alcohol. I’ve been rubbing my back down with it,” Kyle said.
“How do you do that?” I inquired.
“Well, not me. I have a guy who does it for me,” Kyle said.
“Oh, you’ve got it like that,” I said, trying to remove some of the unanticipated tension in the air.
“Do you have the money?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah, I got it,” I said as I searched my purse for the envelope. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”
“No, I’m fine. But since you’re here why don’t you try on the slip I made for one of your gowns?” Kyle suggested.
“I don’t know if I have the time,” I said, looking at my watch.
“Oh, come on, girl. Run in the bathroom and try it on,” Kyle said.
“Okay,” I said.
“Come here, Miss Nicole. What is going on with your hair? It’s truly worryin’ me. It’s doing a Newark hair thang,” Kyle joked.
“I’ll fix it while I’m in the bathroom.”
I went into Kyle’s bathroom. As I was trying on the beautiful ivory slip he had made I thought of Kyle in the living room. He didn’t look good and that had me worried. I realized I hadn’t seen a lot of him in recent weeks, but I didn’t make much of it since I had been busy and we did talk on the phone at least three times a week. Before I took off the slip I walked into Kyle’s bedroom and used the phone to check my messages. There was a message from Pierce begging me to meet him at a restaurant for lunch so he could explain everything. His voice sounded desperate. I called him back and agreed to meet him at a nearby restaurant when I left Kyle. He sounded relieved and hopeful.
I went back into the bathroom and was changing back into my clothes when I realized I’d left my purse in the living room. I wanted to freshen up my makeup and hair before heading out to meet Pierce; I’d decided I would give him a chance to talk. I opened the bathroom door and asked Kyle to please bring me my purse. It seemed to take him forever. He was walking around like an old man. This back problem was more serious than I’d thought.
When he finally brought it to the bathroom door, I looked into his eyes. There was definitely something wrong. His eyes were weighted down with sorrow. The sheer force of Kyle’s regular personality was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t burden him with my problems.
I was touching up my makeup when I opened Kyle’s vanity cabinet to see if he had some Visine. It looked like Kyle had everything but. As I was about to close the cabinet, two bottles caught my eye. One of the bottles had Valium printed clearly on it, but the name on the bottle was Darius Allen, and then there was a large bottle of white capsules with blue stripes. I couldn’t pronounce the name of the medication but this one did have Kyle’s name on it. I looked in my purse, pulled out my small writing pad, and wrote down the name on a piece of paper. Pierce would know what it was. Who did I think I was, Christy Love?
As I walked back into the living room, I mentioned to Kyle that I’d run into a friend of his at the pageant.
“Oh yeah, who?” Kyle asked.
“Colin St. Martin,” I said.
“Oh, him. How is he doing?”
“Oh, he seems fine. He said he was a model with Zoli,” I said.
“Since when?” Kyle asked.
“Oh, I didn’t ask him that. He showed me his book,” I said, trying to study Kyle’s eyes.
“Chile, that book has been seen in more gay bars than in anybody’s modeling or booking agency,” Kyle said dryly.
“You think so? He is good-looking and he said he’d just booked a national underwear ad,” I said.
“An underwear ad? I guess we’re moving up if they’re letting someone that dark do an underwear ad. But he’s an IBMer, so I guess that’s understandable,” Kyle said. Here was a small glimpse of the old Kyle.
“What’s an IBMer?” I asked.
“Itty bitty meat,” Kyle smiled.
“Kyle, you’re so crazy,” I laughed.
“What’s the matter with you? Your eyes look like you’ve been crying,” Kyle said.
“Oh, I didn’t sleep too well. I’m fine.”
I leaned over to give Kyle a kiss and he gently pushed me back.
“I’m fighting a little cold, Nicole. Let’s just do cocktail kisses,” Kyle said as he playfully blew me a kiss.
“Okay, baby. Get better. I’m meeting Pierce downstairs,” I said.
“Tell Doc, I said hey,” Kyle said as he shut the large steel door.
I was glad that Pierce had suggested we meet at a Mexican food place located on the ground floor of Kyle’s building. The restaurant was packed with the lunch crowd and I spotted Pierce at a small table against the wall.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I said.
“Thanks for meeting me. I was afraid you wouldn’t show up,” Pierce said.
I w
asn’t listening or looking at Pierce. I was thinking about Kyle.
“Nicole, please look at me. I need to explain.”
“What?”
“Nicole. What’s the matter? You seem miles away.”
“I don’t know. Something is up. Pierce, have you ever heard of this medication?” I asked as I handed Pierce the small piece of paper with the name of the mysterious medicine. Pierce’s eyes suddenly got big and he reached inside his jacket and put on his glasses.
“Who’s taking this?” Pierce asked.
“Kyle, I think. What is it and how do you pronounce it?” I asked.
“Retrovir Caps, 100 mg, zidovudine,” Pierce said out loud as he read from the tiny piece of paper.
“Sounds serious. What is it in layman’s terms?”
“You sure you want to know this?” Pierce asked.
“Yes,” I said impatiently.
“Nicole, it’s AZT. Whoever is taking this has AIDS or is, at the very least, HIV positive,” Pierce said solemnly.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes, Nicole, I’m sorry but sure,” Pierce said.
“Pierce, I’m sorry but we’ll have to talk about this later. I have to go. I promise I will call you later.” Any problems Pierce and I had could wait. I had to contact Delaney immediately.
Twenty-one
I love the fall. It stirs a great many fond memories. Vibrant September, golden October, and brilliant November. It was in the fall that I scored my first high school touchdown against North Central. A twenty-three-yard reception between two defenders who were much bigger than I was. It’s a feeling I will never forget. It was also in the fall when I first made love to another man, another feeling that I will never forget. And it was in the fall when I discovered the pleasures oral sex brought, not only to my female partner, but to myself as well.
I love fall weather. Cool, crisp nights watching the summer try to hold on until fall’s colorful foliage forces its hand and sends it packing. But there was something different about the beginning of this fall that led me to believe this year’s would not be the same. They say winter is the season of discontent, but sometimes discontent comes early.
One of my fondest memories of the fall was my initiation into KAΩ, my college fraternity. I pledged during the time when black fraternities really pledged, hazing and all. It was hard to believe it had been close to fifteen years since I and nineteen other line brothers crossed the sands into KAΩ, so it was only natural that all twenty of us planned to meet to commemorate this important event in our lives and to enjoy the brotherhood of those who would follow us.
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