“I might be in Atlanta the first part of April. I’m going to be meeting with a songwriter and I’ve got some stuff to do with a scholarship fund Candance’s parents are setting up,” I said.
“That will be great. You can meet my mother, see the place I’m redoing, and let me cook you the best meal you’ve ever had.”
“That would be nice,” I said. “Oh, did I thank you for the cards and flowers?”
“Yes, you did,” Jared said.
“You’ve got to stop doing this every day.”
“Why?”
“It’s expensive.”
“I think you’re worth it,” Jared said, his deep voice sounding softer.
“You’re really special. Thank you,” I said.
“After waiting all these years. I can’t do enough,” Jared said.
“You’re really sweet, Jared, and I thank you.”
“So are you.”
“Are you going to take the position at HUD?”
“No. I really want to stay here. I’m thinking about running for the City Council,” Jared said.
“What’s going to stop you?”
“Raymond,” Jared said.
“How so?”
“Well, I’m going to need him to run the campaign. I just want to make sure he’s all right,” Jared said with concern.
“He isn’t drinking heavily, is he?”
“He’s not drinking at all. Told me he wasn’t going to drink again until he falls in love,” Jared said.
“You really look after him. He’s lucky to have a friend like you,” I said.
“We are both lucky,” Jared said.
“Do you ever worry about him getting AIDS?”
“No more so than I would worry about anybody else I know,” Jared said.
“How did you get so smart?” I asked.
“I live every day like it’s the first one and I try to learn something new each day,” Jared responded smoothly.
“Praise the Lord, Nicole,” Shelia said.
“Praise Him. How are you doing this morning?” I asked.
“I’m blessed,” Shelia said.
“Well, do you want to start?”
“Do you have anything special you want to pray for?”
“For guidance and strength,” I said.
Shelia had started praying over the phone lines when my eyes caught a glimpse of a picture of Kyle, Delaney, and myself. I thought about Kyle and wondered what he was doing and if he was really in heaven. How I missed him. Not only because he made me laugh but I missed his friendship as well.
“Nicole, are you ready?”
“Yes, Shelia, but before I get started I want to ask you something,” I said.
“Sure, Nicole. What?”
“Do you think gay people go to heaven?”
“Sinners can’t get into the kingdom, Nicole. You know that,” Shelia said.
“But what about adultery and other sins?”
“If sinners ask for forgiveness they can enter the kingdom,” Shelia said.
“But not homosexuals?”
“What are you getting at, Nicole?” Shelia asked.
“It’s just that I have a lot of gay friends and I’m really having problems with what I see as your problem with gay people,” I said.
“I just think they need to give up the wicked life,” Shelia defended.
“Don’t you think Christ made them gay?”
“Oh no! That’s Satan, Nicole. You know that’s Satan’s work,” Shelia said.
“Do you love the Lord, Shelia? I mean really love Him?”
“Child, yes. You know that. Why would you ask me that?”
“Have you heard ‘How can you love me who you have not seen and not love your brother who you can see?’ ”
“I still have a right to how I feel,” Shelia said boldly.
“Well, I don’t agree. I think the biggest sin is not believing. I’m going to hang up before I get upset and say something I’ll regret. Have a blessed day.”
After I hung up the phone I yelled something meant for Shelia. Bitch!
“Why didn’t you call her a bitch?”
“To be honest, I hate the word and it wouldn’t be nice,” I said.
“Do you have to be nice all the time, Nicole?” Delaney asked.
“I used to think so, but that’s beginning to change,” I said.
“I’m really proud of you, Nicole. Kyle would be too. That doctor must really be helping you,” Delaney said.
“I don’t know what got into me. I guess not saying anything made me just as guilty as Shelia,” I said.
“So are you still going to keep her as a prayer partner?”
“I don’t know. I have to think about it. It’s not that I want everybody to agree with me. It’s just the way she speaks of gay people with such disdain.”
“Most black people feel like that,” Delaney said.
“I wonder why?”
“They just don’t understand,” Delaney said.
“Do you think it’s because so many black men are in the closet?”
“Don’t forget the women,” Delaney said.
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that.”
“Have you told Jared about Dr. Huntley or your problems with Shelia?”
“I’ve mentioned the problem with Shelia and he’s in total agreement with me. I haven’t told him about Doc Huntley. But I’m going to very soon.”
“How do you think he’s going to respond?”
“I think it will be fine. It has to be. If I want complete honesty from him, then I’ve got to give him the same thing.”
“Well, you’ve got a valid point,” Delaney said. “Where are you getting all this spunk from?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, girl, since you’ve met this Jared guy you’ve been right up there in people’s faces. No longer a little Barbie doll. You better warn Jared he’s getting a pussy plus package.”
“Girl, you’re crazy.”
“And it looks like it’s rubbing off on you,” Delaney said.
“Let’s just say I’m still a work in progress.”
Thirty-five
“I’m starting to feel much better.”
“That’s great, Raymond. I feel like we’re making progress.”
“I’m still sleeping with the lights on,” I said.
“Why do you think you’re still doing that?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Dr. Paul didn’t respond.
“I think Nicole and Jared are about ready to have a relationship.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. A part of me is happy but a part wishes it was me.”
“So have you told Jared and Nicole that?”
“He hasn’t asked and I haven’t really talked with Nicole. Jared walks around like he’s walking on eggshells. I know he’s looking out for me.” I suddenly smiled.
“What are you smiling at, Raymond?”
“The other night Jared said one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”
“What did he say?”
“Well, I was down in the dumps. What else is new, huh? You know Basil is getting married and he wants to continue our relationship, but I can’t do that. So I’m really feeling sorry for myself while Jared is trying to contain his excitement about Nicole. Anyhow he looks at me with those big puppy-like eyes of his and says; ‘One day you’re going to find somebody who will love you as much as you love them. And I’ll be happy and sad. Happy because you deserve it. Sad because it won’t be me. Raymond, if I was the least bit gay or had the inclination to be bisexual, all your problems would be solved. It would be a love of the century. Do you understand what I’m saying?’ ”
“What did you say to him?”
“I asked him if he had ever been with a male.”
“What did he say?”
“He laughed and said, ‘Naw, you can’t fake the funk.’ But wasn’t that nice for
him to say, Dr. Paul?”
“Yes, it was. How did it make you feel?”
“Very special.”
“Don’t you think you’re special?”
“Sometimes,” I mumbled.
“Just sometimes?”
“When I’m around my family sometimes. Always with Kyle and Jared or Nicole.”
“We haven’t talked about Nicole or women. Are you still attracted to women sexually?”
“Yes. Do you think that’s going to change?”
“Do you?”
“You’re the doctor,” I answered in an annoyed tone.
“Where is that anger coming from?”
“I get sick and tired of people thinking you can’t really be attracted to both sexes. Why would I lie to you? I’m paying you to tell the truth,” I snapped.
“I don’t think you’re dealing with your feelings. What do you like about women?”
“I love their softness. The warmth of their bodies. On the outside and inside. The taste of their bodies. The way they believe in fairy tales. Their honesty.”
“What about men?”
I smiled. “Their bodies. No matter what size. Their ability to be soft when they think nobody’s looking. Strength. Their power.”
“So you find different things in each sex?”
“Yes.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Is it wrong?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m beginning to feel that’s the way it is for me.”
“What don’t you like about women?”
“The guilt I feel sometimes when I don’t tell them the truth.”
“With men?”
“The fact that they rarely tell the truth when dealing with another person’s feelings.”
Dr. Paul looked at her watch and laid down her legal pad.
“Well, I think we can cut back to twice a week. How do you feel about that?”
“That’s cool. I’ve got to handle some problems with Kyle’s estate. I’m going to my office to talk with Gilliam about coming back to work. I think I’m almost ready to face the real world.”
“I think you’re ready.”
“I hope you’re right, Doc. I hope you’re right.”
If I was going to rejoin the real world I had to start at home. That night I decided to sleep with the lights out. I started to have a drink, but I remembered my promise and I stopped myself. I didn’t even take my medication. I drank a cup of hot chocolate, read a few days of a Daily Word Nicole was sending me, and got on my knees and prayed. I filled my CD player with music and climbed into my bed in the dark.
It must have been very late or early morning when I woke up because there wasn’t any music playing. My bedroom was still in darkness and I was wide awake. Pitch black and silent. I was sitting up in the bed but I couldn’t move. Suddenly I felt a gentle invisible hand shielding me and directing my body back to my regular sleeping position. A vast presence came close to me, comforting me. There was an undeniable sense that somebody was in my bedroom. And then a peacefulness covered me like a homemade quilt. I fell back to sleep.
The next morning I leaped from my bed determined to jump-start my life. I made coffee and then cooked eggs and bacon. I made a couple of phone calls to Jared and Melanie and then I started to go through my mail, which had been unopened since I’d returned. I knew my credit must be shot to hell. The envelope marked American Express was thicker than a deck of playing cards. Not a good sign. A nice note from Delaney thanking me again. More bills and Christmas cards and a large manila envelope that fell to the carpet. When I reached down to pick it up I immediately recognized the handwriting. It was Kyle’s. I ripped it open so fast that I tore the corners of the letter.
Dear Raymond,
Well, my friend, sometimes shit happens when you least expect it. I guess the fact that you’re reading this letter means I’m gone. That is unless I screwed things up. Isn’t this great drama? You know me, I wasn’t going to let AIDS and death upstage me.
I’m writing this letter on a cold December evening. You just left for the hotel for some much needed rest. I’m sitting in my chair, looking out the window, and enjoying this beautiful winter night. I always loved the winter. The promise of passion that snow brings. I’ve enjoyed some passionate winter nights in my life so I think I want to leave with the winter.
I’m writing because words are tough these days and I wanted to thank you for being the best friend a faggot could have. Now don’t flinch. I know how you hate the word, but it loses its power when you use it to describe yourself. How long have we proud African-Americans been calling each other niggers?
Seriously, this journey called life would have been a dull trip without you. Of all the big-dick boys I’ve met in bars too countless to mention, none have compared to my meeting you and I never saw your dick.
You know so many people go through life without ever knowing true friendship. We spend our lives trying to find someone to love us, or to love what we want them to think we are. But true friends accept you for you and that my friend is a joy. A joy I would have never known had I not met you. Don’t you feel sorry for the people who never experience the joy of true friendship? Friendship turned out to be the one thing in the gay lifestyle that I could depend on. Lord knows I couldn’t depend on trade.
The last two months, though filled with great physical pain, have been among the best in my life. Spending my final days looking into your beautiful eyes and seeing the warmth and love sparkling like tiny diamonds against a black velvet sky. It was worth waking up for each day. I know I’ve given you a hard time about slinging both ways, but you have to be true to Raymond. Don’t ever let anyone put you in a box. Save some secrets for yourself.
You know one of the truly sad things about AIDS is the loneliness. There were times I sat in this chair and felt a loneliness so overwhelming that it made me scared. I was scared until the night you turned the key to my apartment. I was never afraid of the disease. Some people might say I earned it. I did in fact spend my life as a dick receptionist. But I wouldn’t change a thing about my life. I was scared I’d never get the chance to tell you what your love and friendship meant to me. Now our love and friendship don’t have to end because I’m gone. It now becomes an affair of the heart. I always wondered what people meant by that saying.
I know I’ve asked you for a lot of favors and you’ve always delivered. I have two more things I would like for you to do. First, check in on Peaches every now and again. I know she’s a piece of work, but she was my mother during
this journey and she was a good one. She loved me from the moment I came out of the tunnel and I know she loves you too. So please call her on her birthday and Mother’s Day. Make sure she doesn’t spend the money in one place and please don’t let her spend it on a man.
I want you to take the money from the Chicago Mass Insurance policy and start a foundation that will provide support and little gifts and cards on a regular basis to minority AIDS patients. I don’t care if they are men or women, gay, bisexual, or straight. Let the only criteria be that they don’t have a Peaches, Nicole, Delaney, or a Raymond Winston Tyler, Jr., in their life. Hopefully you’ll live to see the day when there won’t be a need for the foundation or the need to specify color.
Now back to you. I want you to live your life the way you feel most comfortable. Please know that Christ made you from His own image. If it’s good enough for Him then why worry about mere mortals. Cherish the friendships you have with Jared, Nicole, and JJ. I hope that you and Delaney will become friends. She’s a wonderful chile.
Now this is not good-bye. Like I said true friendship never ends. Who knows I might be back quicker than you think. I read the other day where Vanessa Williams is pregnant again, so if she has a little boy it might be me; same thing applies if it’s a little girl. You know Vanessa and I are very close. Maybe I’ll come back as a rich white lady and we will meet in a plush deluxe bar and start all over.
> You know I’m leaving because it’s time. Maybe God needs me to deal with all the kids taking over heaven. Don’t worry I’ll get it right before your arrival …
Thank you, my sweet prince, for the friendship, the love, and giving my life meaning, memories, and magic. Now give some back to yourself. Get back to life. It’s over, Raymond, you can cry now but please no hymn sanging. Stay strong, my brother.
Love always,
Kyle
I laid down the letter on my kitchen counter and tears started to pour from my eyes like hot lava from an erupting volcano. So many tears that they were blinding me. The tears were joined by loud sobs. Sobs so loud that the crystal silence of early morning was broken. My sobs stopped but the tears that made no sounds continued. It seemed impossible that I could have contained my grief for so long. I went to my bathroom to wash my tearstained face and when I looked into the mirror, I broke out in boisterous laughter. That Kyle, I thought, leave it to him to have the last word.
Kyle’s letter provided me the inspiration I needed to make the trip home to Birmingham for the conversation with my parents. The two-hour drive seemed shorter than usual and in no time I was pulling up the driveway of my parents’ home. When I got out of my car I could see the reflection of the television in the sliding glass door to the family room, so I knew my pops was home. Mama never watched the big-screen television alone. I tapped lightly on the sliding glass door and suddenly my pops pulled back the curtains and let out a broad smile when he saw my face.
“Marlee, come here. You’ll never guess who’s begging outside our door,” my pops joked.
“Hey, Pops,” I said as I walked through the door and shared a half hug and a couple of pats on the back with my father.
“How ya doing, son? What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, Pops, I’m okay. Which question do you want me to answer first?”
“Ray Junior, what are you doing home?” my mother asked as she appeared in the family room from the long hallway.
“Can’t I just come home to see my folks?”
“Of course,” my mother said. “Have you eaten? I got some cold baked ham. Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
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