“Before you go, will you put some fresh water in here? It’s time for me to take these horse pills,” Kyle said as he handed me a pitcher from his nightstand.
I went into the kitchen, washed out the pitcher, and filled it with water from Kyle’s filtering system. This was one of the few times in recent months Kyle’s apartment was so quiet and empty. Since I’d found out about Kyle’s illness I’d tried to get over at least every other day. Members of Kyle’s family and those of his friends he allowed to see him always kept the apartment bustling. And it seemed like Raymond never left the apartment.
Watching Raymond take care of Kyle made me realize what a special man he was. It was as though he’d put his entire life on hold for his friend. I’d heard a lot of horror stories about people with AIDS being deserted by family and friends.
Kyle’s mother was devoted also. She took the bus back and forth between Jersey and the city to take care of her son. Peaches might love her cocktails, but she didn’t let them interfere with Kyle’s care. She always managed a brave front around Kyle and Raymond, but one night when Kyle was asleep and Raymond went out for a walk, Peaches broke down and cried in front of Delaney and me. She said she never thought she would have to bury one of her children. “Do you know how hard that’s going to be? When you girls have children I hope you’ll never have to go through something like this.” Delaney and I just gave her a hug because we had no idea what to say.
Raymond and his friend Jared were feverishly trying to locate Kyle’s father for Christmas. I was praying for their success because I got the impression this was really important to Kyle. Peaches wasn’t excited about it but she realized it was what Kyle wanted.
I walked back into Kyle’s bedroom with the pitcher and he was sitting up in the bed laughing loudly and clapping his hands.
“What’s so funny? What are you looking at?” I asked as I poured Kyle a glass of water and sat the pitcher on the water-stained wood.
“Chirl, sit and look at this. This is a mess. I had that child,” Kyle said.
“Who?” I asked, looking at the television where Kyle was pointing.
“Him. The guy on this show. Look at him actin’ all butch,” Kyle said.
Kyle was watching a television show called “Studs.” I had seen it a couple of times but I never really paid that much attention to it. The guy Kyle was talking about was an attractive-looking, brown-skinned man. The three women on the show were going on and on about how fine and romantic he was on their dates. Kyle wasn’t saying anything; he just stared at the television with a wide grin on his face. I didn’t quite understand the format of the show, but at the end the guy Kyle knew and a very attractive girl won a weekend date to San Francisco.
“That’s the last place she should want to take him,” Kyle said.
“Is he gay?” I asked.
“Is Rockfeller Center lit up like a Christmas tree? Does Robin Givens have the best weave in the world?” Kyle asked. “I slept with him a couple of times when he was in New York on business.”
“So I guess the answer is yes.”
“You got it, girl!”
“Oh, this is so depressing,” I sighed.
“What?”
“That’s why I’m so scared to start dating again. I would never have thought that guy was gay,” I said. “What am I gonna do, Kyle?”
“Don’t worry, darling. When I get up there. I’ll send you somebody,” Kyle smiled as he pointed toward the ceiling.
“Make sure he’s all man,” I said.
“Do you want him black, white, or high yellow?” Kyle asked.
“At this point I just want somebody who loves me,” I said.
“He might already be down here. I may not have to do that much work,” Kyle said.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Just mind your business. I’ll do the work, but in the meantime I’ll give you one of your Christmas presents early. Go over there and look in the bottom drawer and pull out that shoe box,” Kyle said.
“What is it?”
“Just go over there and get it,” Kyle said. “It’s been used but it’s still in working order.”
I went over and pulled out the box from Kyle’s drawer. When I opened the box I let out a loud squeal. It was a vibrator.
“Kyle, you are sick!” I yelled.
“Chirl, you better get a grip. That thing got me through a lot of cold winter nights and this is going to be a cold one,” he laughed.
I put the box back in the drawer and slammed it shut.
“So you got it like that? You’ll be wishing you had taken it. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone.”
“Kyle. You know that’s not me,” I protested.
“Oh, I forgot, Miss Black Kathie Lee Gifford.”
“Kyle, you’re a mess. But I love you,” I said.
“And I love you too,” Kyle said.
“Kyle, can I ask you a favor?” I said in a serious tone.
“Sure, Nicole. Why so serious?”
“Well, I want you to pray with me. You know Jesus is still in the blessing business,” I said.
“I know you mean well, Nicole, but I’m straight with Jesus. But if it will make you feel better you can pray, but no songs and you can’t tell anyone,” Kyle said.
I fell to my knees and took Kyle’s hand and started praying out loud. Asking God to come down and ease Kyle’s pain and to take this dreadful disease from his body. I was praying so fast, words poured from my mouth like water from a rushing shower head. My body became warm and soaking wet after praying. My clothing felt sticky against my skin as I got up from my knees and looked into Kyle’s eyes. There was a blank expression on his face.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine. No, I’m blessed,” I said.
“Nicole, something you said earlier is bothering me,” Kyle said.
“What, baby? What did I say?”
“When I said I was going to send you somebody. You asked me to make sure he was all man. Do you think Raymond and I aren’t all man? Do you think gay men are less than whole?” Kyle asked in a very serious manner.
“No, Kyle, I don’t think that.” I smiled, trying to conceal my discomfort.
“Think about it, Nicole. I know you don’t mean any harm but I’ve had the feeling for a long time that although you love gay men, you’re still harboring ill feelings. It’s not uncommon for straight women to feel that way, but I think you ought to be aware of it,” Kyle said.
I could tell he was very serious about this and I felt tears forming in my eyes. Was I homophobic? “Kyle, I’m sorry. I don’t consider you any less of a man. I’m actually hurt you feel that way,” I said.
“Like I said I don’t think you say or feel a certain way to hurt me. And I’m not accusing you, so don’t get hurt. But women ought to think about the men who really hurt them. It’s not gay men who lie, cheat, beat them, and leave them alone with kids to fend for themselves. Well, sometimes these confused gay men do. But when you think about it, heterosexual men beat women down daily. Especially black women.”
“You have a point there. How long have you felt this way, Kyle?”
“I realize that you and I became friends because you wanted to keep in touch with Raymond and that was okay. I know you loved him dearly, Nicole, and he hurt you. But have you ever thought about the pain he goes, through daily? I’m comfortable with being gay. Raymond’s not and may never be.”
I slowly moved my hands over Kyle’s quilt, studying the beautiful patchwork. I started to bite the ends of my hair, which I did when I was nervous. I was listening to his words but I couldn’t look into his eyes. His words hurt, but it is true that the truth hurts sometimes. I remained silent, trying to absorb what Kyle was saying.
“Nicole! Look at me!” Kyle said sharply.
“What!” I said, looking at Kyle’s eyes for the first time since the conversation took this dramatic turn.
“You realize Raymond loved you, don’t you
?”
“Did he? Does he?”
“Yes, Nicole, he does. Please, darling, if I don’t leave you with anything else let me leave you with the fact that no man black or white chooses to be gay. That goes for women too. There is nothing gay about this life.”
“I’m learning that, Kyle. Please be patient with me,” I pleaded.
“I don’t have much time, darling. I don’t want to leave you here not knowing the truth. I know you’ve come to love me and I love you. I didn’t always feel this way.”
“You didn’t?”
“Chirl, like I said I realized why you were so hot to be my friend. I figured I could meet some men through you and get some business. But I fell in love with you. You really are a special lady and I realize how Raymond fell in love with you.”
“Oh, Kyle, that’s so sweet,” I said.
“It’s the truth,” he said as he gently rubbed my hands and smiled. “Now don’t get mushy and I really don’t want to see any black puddles on your face.”
I spent another hour with Kyle. For a brief time we were both silent. I was thinking about our conversation; I don’t really know where Kyle was. But slowly, in the comfort of the dimly lit bedroom, Kyle began to talk. He started in a whisper but when he got excited, he broke into giggles and then his voice cracked. He seemed to be speaking under stress. I asked him if he wanted some more water or tea, but he insisted he was fine. Our conversation ventured to religion. Kyle explained to me he had a personal relationship with Christ and he was certain he was going to be with Him. He told me that as a little boy, he’d realized that he was different and that that difference was being gay. He felt Christ was the only one who understood him and loved him just the way he was.
Kyle said he got AIDS not because he was gay or promiscuous, but because Christ knew he could handle it. That maybe Christ needed him.
His face lit up when he talked about seeing all his family and friends once he got to heaven. “I’ll look Candance up,” Kyle said. “But it might take some time. She’ll probably be as far away from the sissies in heaven as possible,” he laughed.
“Kyle, don’t say that.”
“I’m just kidding, chile.”
“You don’t think AIDS is God’s work?” I asked.
“Chile, no. AIDS is some of man’s shit. But I think when we come into the world, it’s already established when we’re going to leave. My time is just almost up,” Kyle said matter-of-factly. “I’m just happy it will be a peaceful exit.”
“What’s it gonna take to find a cure?” I questioned.
“When they realize everyone’s life is worth saving. The men, the women, and the babies. When they realize gay men do more than hair and sew dresses,” Kyle said.
“You think people still think it’s a gay disease?”
“Oh yeah. They have to believe that. It makes them feel safe.”
“You know I’ve learned a lot this afternoon, Kyle. I really must look seriously at some of my religious teaching.”
“Good, because if I hear God created Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve one more time I’m going to croak. Who thought of that stupid ass shit? Who the fuck is Steve anyway? I ain’t even trying to hear that shit. I’m looking for Leroy or Tyrone,” Kyle laughed as he snapped his fingers in the air.
“I don’t know, baby. I never thought how silly it sounds.”
“You better start thinking, girl. You didn’t think Pierce would turn out like he did. I won’t be around to school you.”
“It sounds to me like you have a better relationship with God than a lot of people I know, including myself,” I said.
“I think God just gets mad with us when we get down here and try to be something we’re not. I really think that pisses Him off.”
“I think you’re right, Kyle. I think you’re right.”
I looked at my watch and realized I had fifteen minutes to get to rehearsal. I grabbed my jacket, gave Kyle a big hug and a kiss on the lips. He held my hands so tightly I had to gently pull them away.
“I’ve got to go. I’m running late, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
“Okay, baby. Tomorrow. I love you, Nicole,” Kyle said. When I looked at Kyle there was a disheartened look on his face and melancholy in the sound of his voice.
“I love you too, Kyle. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Get on out of here,” Kyle said as he waved his hand in the air.
“You know we ought to go to see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center,” I said.
“Okay. Maybe tomorrow.”
I blew Kyle a kiss as I rushed out of his bedroom and bumped right into Raymond’s hard body.
“What’s the rush?” he asked.
“I’m in a hurry. Where’s Peaches?”
“Downstairs talking to Grady,” Raymond said.
“How’s my boyfriend?”
“Who, me?” Raymond asked with a big smile.
“No, not you. Kirby,” I smiled.
“Oh, that’s how it is. Knucklehead’s fine. He hasn’t stopped talking about you,” Raymond said.
“That’s sweet. I’ve got to run. Go in there and take care of him. He’s kinda down. Spent the whole afternoon reading me. But I needed it,” I said as I pulled open the door.
“What did you do?”
“Kyle will tell you.”
“Nicole,” Raymond called out.
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“Thanks for what?” I asked.
“For being you,” he said.
I smiled and leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. He tasted wonderful.
“Why were you surprised, Nicole?”
“I just didn’t realized he felt that way. I didn’t realize that I was that way,” I said softly.
“Where do you think that comes from?”
“Well, it would be easy to blame it on Raymond, but he’s just one person and I have to take some of the blame.”
“How so?”
“Well, maybe I didn’t make it clear. I pursued Raymond and he responded. It’s not like he sought me out just to hurt me. I guess I always thought gay men were like …”
“Like what, Nicole?”
“Like sissies. Wanting to be women.”
“Why?”
“It’s the image I was given growing up. What I saw on television. What was said in church. The stereotypes.”
“How do you feel now?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Not sure?”
“Yes. A part of me still gets upset to think that there’s a large pool of smart, good-looking black men who will never be available to me.”
“So are you saying you want a black man?”
“I think that’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Then explain your long relationship with Pierce.”
“How can you not respond to a man who treats you as nice as he treated me—at least for the most part—no matter what the color,” I said.
“Then color really doesn’t matter?” Dr. Huntley asked.
“In a perfect world, no. But here, I’m sorry to say it does.”
Dr. Huntley gave me a supportive half smile and leaned closer to her desk.
“Maybe there was a time when I thought dating a white man would be different. Better.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Well, right after I broke up with Raymond, I went out a couple of times with two different black guys. Both of them were big trouble.”
“How so?”
“Well, the first one used very abusive language all the time and I just felt the next thing was going to be some type of physical action. He used to always tell me that I was beautiful, but dumb. Those aren’t the words he used, but that was the message. The other one always made a point of staring at white- and light-skinned women after I shared with him how I felt about the color of my skin.”
“You thought a white man would be different?�
�
“Yes. When Pierce came around trying to be a friend and treating me so differently from anyone else, I just thought it was my fairy tale coming true.”
“So that’s why you dated him for so long?”
“In a lot of ways, yes. I felt like I was living in a fairy tale. The nice restaurants, the limos. I guess it didn’t matter that I wasn’t truly in love.”
“How do you feel about that now?”
“Well, I’m realizing life’s not a fairy tale. That I have prejudices that I must face and remove from my life. That I’m not in some beauty pageant. That I can’t expect to live in a perfect world if my own attitudes are so imperfect.”
“Do you believe there will ever be a perfect world?”
“Not here. But Kyle said something I will always remember.”
Dr. Huntley tipped her head forward gently. A movement for me to tell her what he’d said.
“He said God only gets mad at us when we come to earth and pretend to be something we’re not. I think he’s so right.”
Dr. Huntley smiled her reassuring smile. I smiled back.
“You’re making a lot of progress, Nicole. A lot of progress,” Dr. Huntley said as she stood up from her chair.
“I think I’m just beginning.”
Thirty-one
They say you can learn things about yourself when facing adversity. Some of the things I was learning about myself didn’t sit too well with me. I guess I could blame my parents, but that wouldn’t be quite fair. My parents always taught Kirby and me we were just as good as anybody and, because we were black males, in many cases we had to be better. I took that to heart. This became crystal clear to me one day when Kyle wanted to rent the movie Paris Is Burning, a movie about black drag queens, over my most vehement objections.
In a lot of ways I thought I was better than drag queens even though we both slept with members of the same sex. In fact, there were times when I felt superior toward gay guys who were overly effeminate or passive in bed. I also knew I was not alone in my thinking; I thought about men like Kelvin, Basil, and Quinn. We all had what could be called homophobia within the homosexual community. When I went out to the bars I was polite, but with chilly overtones, when drag queens or fem guys approached me. I smiled and then gave them that don’t-even-think-about-it look. I thought back to Sherrod’s client, Charles Marshall, and how my support of Basil’s actions was desperately wrong. My feelings toward Marshall were based on his appearance and mannerisms, and my ill feelings were just as damaging as Basil’s fists. No matter what Basil or I thought about Marshall’s advances, he didn’t deserve Basil’s beating or my contempt. I realized that I must come face to face with those feelings and fears so that I could overcome them. I questioned what type of example I was setting for my little brother; I remembered his use of the words soft and fag. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late to stop his cycle of malice and misunderstanding.
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