She looked up at me and shyly nodded.
“You’re sure this isn’t because of that attack?”
“No, Nicole, it’s just who I am. You have any problems with that?”
“No, Delaney, I don’t. I’m just blessed you’re my friend.”
Exposing your true self to a friend is a wrenching experience that most people will never endure. Most people aren’t that honest. While Delaney’s confession took me by surprise I tried to be supportive. I couldn’t help but think back on Raymond’s confession and the pain that covered his face. I saw the same pain in Delaney’s face. But I don’t think it was a pain that came from being gay, it was more the pain of not feeling comfortable enough to reveal their true selves at the beginning of a relationship.
I had never had a female gay friend, at least not to my knowledge. But I loved Delaney and I didn’t see how her sexuality would create a problem. She explained to me that she didn’t hate men. Delaney said that she still found herself attracted to men but she was committed to her relationship with Jody. She said it was a man who had helped her to discover her sexuality. Delaney said in her wild days, a guy she was dating got her to go along with a three-way with another girl he was seeing on the side. She said at first she said no but he kept asking her to try it at least once. Delaney said the woman was beautiful and when they made love it felt like the most natural thing in the world to her.
She told me she left the guy and started an affair with the older woman before moving to New York. While she was explaining her introduction to her sexual discovery, I was wondering why men liked the idea of two women having sex. Was it power or just an erotic allure?
After Delaney finished her disclosure she asked me if I had any questions I wanted to ask. I told her I understood. That night before going to bed, I searched for and found a copy of Essence magazine that dealt with the issues of black gay women coming out and with bisexuality. I just wanted to make sure I had told the truth.
I wondered why I was so calm when Delaney told me and why I was so accepting of her being gay when I was furious about Raymond’s being gay? Was it less threatening to me for a woman to be gay? I was a bit upset Delaney waited so long to tell me. Did she doubt our friendship? Was it something about me that made people hold back when it came to their sexuality? Did they think I couldn’t deal with it? I suppose they might have been right—past tense, I hoped.
Thirty-seven
“I always viewed my father as some immortal.”
“Why is that, Raymond?”
“When I was growing up I thought he could do anything. That he was perfect. I couldn’t imagine life without him. When I grew up I always wanted to please him no matter what.”
“But it sounds like your father is proud of you and he accepts your sexuality,” Dr. Paul said.
“Maybe he accepted it before I did. I guess I was trying to appear perfect in his sight.”
“Perfect.”
“Yes, I had so many advantages in life thanks to him and my mother. What’s that saying—to much is given, much is expected. I was trying to give it all to them. To me being attracted to men ruined the perfection.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because it was how other people viewed it. I never felt disgust for gay people but I felt sorry for them.”
“Why?”
“Because of the way people treated them. I felt they would never have love.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Well, everything has changed for me. But now the hardest part is staying true to myself.”
“True to yourself?”
“Yes, by remembering that perfection is something we all strive for, but never attain.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Less and less every day.”
“Tell me a little about your relationship with your mother.”
“It’s always been great, but I never gave her a chance to voice her feelings about my life. In a lot of ways I’ve treated her just like my father does.”
“How so?”
“That she will always be there—giving her unconditional love and support,” I said.
“Do you think your parents will accept a male lover in your life?”
“I think so after our talk. It still may be a little difficult at first, but I don’t think we have to worry about that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be taking Basil home. He wouldn’t go in that role anyway.”
“What role?”
“As a boyfriend.”
“So the trip home and the letter from Kyle seem to be helping you.”
“Yes, I think they are. I didn’t say all I wanted to say to my parents but I think when we meet with them, I’ll be able to say the rest.”
“The rest?”
“Yes—to tell my father he can’t be immortal in my eyes anymore. That he has to be human.”
“And your mother?”
“I just want her to say how she really feels.”
“Does that frighten you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Whenever I really want to know how love feels, I think about my mother, taking care of me, never judging, just taking me as I am.”
“I think talking to your parents was a giant step, Raymond,” Dr. Paul said as she got up from her chair.
“Yes, I think you’re right. Now if I can just keep walking. I have to keep walking. Forward. Right, Doc?”
Dr. Paul didn’t smile, she just nodded ever so slightly.
A problem with one of Kyle’s insurance policies finally forced me back to work, but after my conversation with my parents and a couple more sessions with Dr. Paul I was ready. Chicago Mass Insurance Company didn’t want to pay benefits on Kyle’s policy because there wasn’t an autopsy following his death. They were contending Kyle knew of his condition when he purchased the policy. I was going to make them prove that. I thought it was ironic the only policy we had trouble with was the one Kyle had earmarked for his foundation.
After several conference calls with the Chicago Mass legal staff I decided I could only get my desired results if I went to Chicago and bartered with them in person. Gilliam gave me names of a couple of lawyers in Chicago who handled insurance companies in case I needed help. This would be the first time in my career I would be negotiating with an insurance company directly. In Basil’s and Delaney’s cases both insurance companies were happy to pay to avoid legal action and embarrassment to their clients.
Gilliam and I agreed I would come back to work at the firm full time in June. This would give me time to handle Chicago Mass and set up Kyle’s foundation, which was still without a name. Nicole and Jared had both agreed to be on the Board of Directors, so I knew I could count on them for support in establishing the foundation. I had also spoken with Janelle a couple of times and she was excited about the foundation and shared with me a letter she’d received from Kyle. I cried as she read hers and she cried when I read mine.
The calendar said spring but a winter mist lingered over Chicago. I left Atlanta without an overcoat. If I stayed longer than overnight I would have to buy one.
I took a cab to the Chicago Mass building on Michigan Avenue. When I arrived I discovered their legal staff was located in a separate office building. The receptionist offered directions and told me it was close enough to walk. When I exited the building there was no hint of what was about to happen. I was standing at a stoplight waiting for the Don’t Walk sign to change and hoping I wouldn’t get lost or be late for my meeting when I heard a very familiar voice say, “I don’t believe it. Raymond Tyler, Jr.”
I looked around to see who was calling my name on my first visit to Chicago. I blinked when I turned and realized I was standing right next to my frat brother Trent Walters.
“Trent. What are you doing here?”
“I live here, frat. Did you forget? What are you doing here?”
“Taking care of some legal b
usiness,” I said as we exchanged the secret KAΩ handshake at the busy intersection.
“Where is your business? How long are you going to be here?”
“Over on North LaSalle—125 North LaSalle,” I said.
“Well, ain’t that just the shit. That’s where my office is located. I’ll show you where it is.”
Trent and I walked through the busy city and talked about the last time we had seen each other. I thanked him for calling and leaving the information on Miller.
“No problem. I called you a couple of times after that,” Trent said as he gently leaned his body into me directing me through the busy Chicago sidewalks.
“Yeah. I got the messages. I was in New York for an extended stay. Sorry I didn’t get back with you.”
“No problem. Were you in New York on business?”
“Yes, sort of.”
“You didn’t say how long you’re going to be here.”
“Well, my meeting this morning will determine that. I may be going back this afternoon. I have a room reserved at a hotel on Michigan Avenue though, just in case I have to stay overnight.”
“My condo is near Michigan Avenue. You have to let me take you to dinner no matter what happens with your meeting. I won’t take no for an answer,” Trent said. He looked distinguished in a black cashmere overcoat, opened at the top revealing a beautiful blue and yellow tie. His dark brown skin was clean-shaven and his cinnamon eyes sparkled under well-shaped brows.
“Sure we can have dinner. Give me your office number and I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Great! If you finish early maybe we can even have lunch together,” Trent said as he pulled a business card from his wallet. As Trent handed me the card he guided me into a huge office building.
“This is the building. What floor?”
“I’m going to the twenty-second floor.”
“I’m on thirty-three. Come up or call when you finish.”
“I will.”
“It’s great seeing you, Ray. I look forward to dinner,” Trent said as he flashed a charming smile.
“It’s great seeing you, Trent. I’ll talk with you later,” I said as I saw the number twenty-two light up on the elevator board.
I realized Trent was right when the taxi cab driver said three dollars in an annoyed tone. I could have walked. Trent’s condo was in a huge old building that looked like a church from the outside. I walked into the lobby and punched in Trent’s name on the automated keyboard. Trent’s voice came over the intercom instructing me to come to 2317. Inside of the lobby were several small shops and a large grocery store directly across from the elevators. I took the elevator up to the twenty-third floor and walked down the carpeted hallway. When Trent opened the door an inviting aroma of food greeted me.
“Come on in, Ray. Glad you could make it. Have any trouble finding the place?”
“No, I took a taxi.”
“Oh shit, frat. You could have walked. It looks like a beautiful night outside.”
“Yes, it is, but it’s chilly.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re used to that Southern spring weather.”
“What’s that I smell? I thought we were going out,” I said as I looked around Trent’s beautifully decorated living and dining area. His condo was filled with the accoutrements of success. There was a large picture window in the living room looking out over a lighted Lake Michigan.
“I decided to cook. I’m making stuffed pork chops,” Trent said as he took my jacket and placed it in a nearby hall closet.
“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble, frat. I was going to treat you.”
“You can do that when I come to Atlanta. What can I get you to drink?”
“You got any club soda?”
“Club soda? What’s up, frat? This isn’t the Raymond Tyler I know.”
“I’m just taking a break from the stuff,” I said as I walked over to Trent’s wall unit and looked at his pictures. “Who is this?” I asked, eyeing a picture of Trent in military gear with a little boy.
“That’s Trent Junior,” he said proudly.
“I didn’t know you had kids. I forgot you were in ROTC.”
“Just Trent Junior, and yeah, I served in the Marines right after college. Had to pay Uncle Sam back.”
“How old is Trent Junior?”
“He’s five years old. Lives in Montgomery with his mother.”
“Whose his mother?”
“Kisa Lewis. I dated her at Alabama. She was a Delta.”
“Oh yeah. Real pretty lady.”
“She still is quite beautiful,” Trent said as he brought me a sparkling liquid in a frosted glass.
“I hope this water is okay,” Trent said. He was also carrying a large wine goblet filled with burgundy wine.
“Nice place. I see you’re living large.”
“I do okay. I’m sure you’re doing okay in hot Lanta.”
“Yeah, I do okay.”
“Have a seat, Ray. You’re not in a hurry, are you?”
“No,” I said as I sat down on the large pit sofa sectional. Trent took a seat on an ottoman facing me.
“So how did your meeting go?”
“It could have gone a little better. It looks like I’ll be here at least another day.”
“Great. Then you can take me out tomorrow. I’ll even get a chance to show you my city,” Trent said as he smiled with clear honest eyes.
“So you like living in Chicago?”
“I love it!”
Trent got up, walked over to his stereo system, and placed some CD’s in a carousel that popped out. Seconds later the voices of After Seven filled the room.
“I have that CD. Those guys live in Atlanta,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s right. Seems like all the top music acts are moving there.”
“Yeah, I think so.… The food smells great, Trent.”
“I hope you’ll like it,” Trent said as he hopped up and went to the kitchen to check on dinner. He was wearing baggy jeans and a kelly green sweater.
“How big is your place?”
“Two bedrooms plus den. I’ll show you around after dinner.”
The food was great. Trent had prepared broccoli and corn on the cob to go along with the pork chops. While eating, Trent and I talked about college days and the recent reunion. Trent’s voice filled with anger as we relived the incident with Miller and the fraternity.
“Man, I’m thinking about sending the money I normally send to those jerks to the United Negro College Fund,” Trent said.
“That’s not a bad idea,” I said.
“Do you ever hear from Sela?”
“Through my mother. They keep in touch. I was just home a couple of weeks ago. Sela’s happily married and has two little girls, Taylor and McClain.”
“Interesting names for little girls,” Trent said.
“Power names.”
“I guess so. Come on, let’s go into the den,” Trent said as he led me from the living area. “You sure I can’t get you an afterdinner drink?”
“Not until I fall in love,” I said.
“What?” Trent asked with a sheepish smile.
“Oh, don’t pay me any mind. I decided I wasn’t going to drink until I fall in love again.”
“What brought that on?”
“Long story.”
“Any prospects?”
“No. Not yet.”
We walked into Trent’s den and were greeted by a fireplace glowing with a freshly laid fire. A single log burned, suddenly slumped, and then released a spiral of red sparks.
“This is nice, Trent. A fire in April.”
“Only in Chicago.”
Trent’s and my conversation ventured from black college football players turning on their white universities after failed pro-football attempts to the Sugar Bowl game. When we talked Trent looked me directly in the eyes and I could have sworn he was inching closer to me on the small leather sofa in his den. There was definitely a te
nsion in the air, but a nice one.
I shared with Trent the loss of Kyle and how I had been with him in his final days. While I was talking about Kyle my eyes welled up. I stopped talking and glanced away. Trent touched my arm with silent understanding and I bit my lower lip and smiled.
“Can I ask you something, Ray?” Trent’s voice was thick with mystery.
“Sure, Trent,” I said.
“Was Kyle your lover?”
Trent’s question paralyzed me momentarily. My heart began to pound and my underarms became wet despite my antiperspirant. “Why do you ask, Trent?”
“You don’t have to answer, Ray.”
“I’ll answer.”
“I’m just curious. I mean when you talk about him there is a lot of love in your voice and eyes,” he said. His own voice was full of concern.
“I did love Kyle. But we weren’t lovers. We were just friends. No, we were more than friends. We were like brothers.”
“Oh.”
A few minutes passed in silence.
“Did you want to ask me if I ever had a male lover?”
“If you want to tell me,” Trent said. His face looked startled at my question.
“Yes, Trent. I have had a male lover. And you?”
“No,” Trent said quickly. There was another brief silence in the room, Trent and I eyeing each other with suspension.
“But it’s not because I haven’t desired one. I spent so much time in the military and I haven’t met the right guy yet,” Trent said as I looked at him with a disbelieving stare. The stare was not because I couldn’t believe Trent was gay, it was because of the honesty in his voice when he spoke.
“So I guess you’ve been to bed with a man before?”
“Yes.”
“When did you realize that you were gay? Or are you bisexual?”
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