Less Than Perfect Circumstance

by Kristofer Clarke

  “Don’t say that, Dex. You know dad loves you,” Dane said persuasively.

  “Well maybe he needs practice in showing it.”

  Marvin and I had a few problems in our father-son relationship, though nothing I thought age and time couldn’t fix. There were times my father treated me like a stepchild than the son he helped to create. My accident hadn’t made it any easier. There was so much about me my father didn’t understandnot that he even tried. It puzzled my father that his sons who had shared their mother’s womb were so very different; something he said he noticed from my first cry. Actually, Dane and I were more alike than our father knew.

  Marvin never held his tongue for anyone, and since he and I, for the most part, were much alike, the simplest conversations, without warning, became arguments. Tension always existed between us, and Marvin’s constant attempt to dictate how I should live my life didn’t help in easing that tension. I refused to let my father run my life, and Marvin insisted on doing so.

  “I’ll get around to calling him eventually. It’s not like he has called to see how I’m doing,” I said.

  “This is true. But you know how he is.”

  Dane sensed how uncomfortable I had become talking about our father. It’s not like Dane was making excuses for him. I did actually know how Marvin was. Whether Marvin was right or wrong, he thinks you have to make the first moveadmit you’re wrong and apologize to him. He was a stubborn old man who budged for no one, no matter what desperate situation you found yourself in.

  “In time, bro,” Dane continued. “I just wanted to call and check on you, make sure you didn’t need anything. Before I forget, I have an audition in New York in two weeks. My agent told me Will Smith was also reading for the lead, but maybe they’ll throw this one my way.”

  “Good luck with that, Dane,” I offered.

  “Thanks. I’m gonna try and come see you for a few days since I’ll be that close, if that’s cool with you. I know you don’t like people seeing you when you’re not looking your best,” Dane asserted.

  I laughed at how well my brother knew me.

  “Yeah, that’s cool. I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime too soon, so let me know.”

  “I’ll do that. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Although I woke with good intentions, my day was unproductive at best. My plants finally got the water they thirst for. Even though I was able to eat solid foods, I didn’t have much of an appetite. The pomegranate, pear, and grape salad with candied pecans wasn’t exactly what I had been craving, but it was filling. Between breakfast and dinner, where I enjoyed the Cedar-Planked Citrus-Rosemary Salmon I had prepared, I took my time restoring order in a room that had become too familiar to chaos. There were phone calls that needed to be returned, but in my mind, one more day of peace wouldn’t hurt. I did manage to put a rag to my burgundy 620i Convertible, which had sat under one of the aged oak trees that lined the driveway. I had no plans to go anywhere; it was just another step in getting the life that was almost taken from me back in order.

  Night had slowly crept up on me. I sat in my chair facing the fireplace, my feet crossed at the ankles, and a wine glass with cold orange juice in my hand. I rested my head on the back of the chair, closed my eyes, and escaped in thought until thought gave way to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THAT’S THE WAY LOVE WORKS OUT SOMETIMES

  Trevor

  In my mind, I prayed, hoped, and wished harder than ever that this night would never end. I knew when morning came, I would have to say goodbye to the one person who, unknowingly, had taught me to love again. No matter how much I tried to prepare myself for the moment, saying goodbye wasn’t going to be easy. Letting go had never been; loving Kelvin was.

  Kelvin never asked for too much, but in return, he gave more than enough. Morning found us on our proclaimed side of the bed, with our backs toward each other, taking comfort in knowing we were an arm’s length apart. I was lying there, awake, thinking how much time would pass before we would have another night like that. I watched Kelvin most of the night, staring into his face, thinking he had not the slightest idea how much sadness and hurt I felt.

  When I woke, my eyes were sad, and my heart filled with pain; very different from the beautiful summer morning that greeted us. Before Kelvin woke, I stood looking from the bedroom window at the U-haul truck we had spent most of the last evening, and the evening before that, packing; the same vehicle that would eventually take Kelvin away from me. I thought about how alone I was going to feelin 1084 Willow Crest Court and my heart sank. Kelvin’s laughter, his boyish smile, and love would soon be too far for me to see or feel.

  “Are you ok?” Kelvin asked with sleep still in his eyes and fatigue in his voice.

  Fighting back tears I had held back all week, I lay in silence as I thought of a response.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I responded, and wiped my face before turning around. “You have a long drive ahead of you, you need to get up.”

  Kelvin seemed content just lying there. He rolled onto his back and motioned me over to him. Kelvin took a deep breath and I allowed my body to melt into his.

  “Are you sad?” Kelvin asked.

  Damn, he loved to ask that question; and a dumb question at that! What did he think I was going to say? Oh baby, I’m glad you’re moving. I’m glad I won’t have you to spend my time with.My thought was long.The truth is, I was lying on Kelvin’s chest, looking into his eyes, and I already missed him. Kelvin had been asking me to be a big boy about our decision; I was finding it hard to be a big anything.

  “Baby, I’m really going to miss you.”

  I clasped my hands across Kelvin’s chest, rested my chin on top of them, and stared deeper into his eyes.

  “I’m going to miss you too, baby. I hope you’re not mad,” Kelvin responded, closing his eyes momentarily.

  “No, I’m not mad. And even if I were, the decision has been made.”

  “Well, if you have to be mad at anyone one, I’m a good place to start. Just remember I love you, and don’t miss me too much.”

  “Listen, Kelvin. We made a decision, and no matter what happens, it’s one we both have to live with.”

  Kelvin smiled and hugged me even closer. He had assured me everything was going to work out between us. I had never been in a long distant relationship, and although I was reluctant, I was willing to try. As much as I loved Kelvin, I was willing to try anything.

  While Kelvin showered, I lay in bed, on my back, with my eyes closed, trying not to think of how different things were going to be without him. I wasn’t sure which part of being with Kelvin I was going to miss the most, but I certainly wasn’t looking forward to finding out. What was I going to do with all the extra time?

  Since Kelvin and I became exclusive, everything with us was routine. Several times a week, my evenings ended with him, and my mornings began next to him. Kelvin was there when my days didn’t go as planned, and when I took time away from the office, I knew I had a lunch date whenever he requested it, as long as his schedule allowed.

  Although he had a long drive ahead of him, Kelvin took his time getting ready. He stayed in the shower longer than usual. When I got tired of thinking, I spent time at the bathroom with my head leaned against the door, staring at Kelvin’s sexy silhouette. After he showered, Kelvin came into the bedroom,asked if I was ok, and kissed me on my forehead.

  I was lying there, motionless, watching Kelvin as he dressed. I watched him massage his abs and then his chest with lotion, being very careful not to miss a spot. His back was the hardest to reach because of his newly acquired muscles and loss of flexibility. When Kelvin asked me to lotion his back for him, I jumped at the opportunity to touch my man’s naked body one more time. I would have done anything to prolong his departure.

  As I massaged Kelvin’s shoulders, I thought of the many massages I had givenhim when he came home from a long day at work, or a hard workout at the gym that left him in pai
n and hardly able to move. Kelvin would drop his gym bag in the foyer, and undress usually before he reached the bathroom. Then, while the bathtub was filling with water, he would stand in the bedroom door and ask me to join him. We would sit, usually with Kelvin’s body between my legs, and massage his body until he was completely satisfied. This I was going to miss.

  After kissing Kelvin several times on the back of his neck, Ifelt my manhood rise in excitement. I glanced at the clock and soon realized time was my rival. Since Kelvin didn’t object to my advances, I continued my aggression, kissing him more passionately. We enjoyed the sensual pleasure until Kelvin received a phone call he couldn’t ignore. If I wasn’t mad before, I was mad now.

  When Kelvin finished his conversation, we knew we wouldn’t be able to finish what we had started. Actually we could, but it would only make Kelvin’s leaving that much harder. With the taste of Kelvin still on my lips, I sat and watched him as he dressed for his departure.

  We walked down the stairs hand in hand, both very quiet. Once outside, I stood in the driveway with my hands folded across my chest, not knowing what to say. A few weeks earlier, we had celebrated Kelvin’s birthday, now I had to say goodbye. Whatever I had to say to Kelvin, I knew I had to say it now. I was already emotional while helping Kelvin pack, and now that the day had arrived, it was hard to control my tears.

  “Drive safely, and remember, I love you very much,” I managed to say when my mouth opened. After a long kiss and hug, I turned and walked back up the driveway towards the house. Even if I wanted to turn around, I couldn’t. From the bedroom window, I watched Kelvin check the lock on the back of the truck, making sure it was properly secured.

  As the truck pulled away, my tears flowed. I did nothing to stop them. I stood and watched the truck disappear as it turned from Willow Crest Court onto Old Crescent Drive. When it was no longer in sight, the tears flowed heavier. When my legs were too weak to stand, I lay across the bed again, still sobbing, asking God, or whoever was listening, to please bring his baby back.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MISUNDERSTOOD

  Dexter

  Message 21: Sweetheart, this is your mother. I hope you’re feeling better. Call me when you get this message. Your dad sends his love.

  I love you weren’t words I heard frequently from my father, and as I grew older, those three words came fewer and even farther apart than before. It wasn’t that my father didn’t love me, he just wasn’t a man who wore his heart on his sleeves; at least not when it came to me. Marvin wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and when he spoke to me, it was only out of necessity, and necessity was always carefully avoided.

  At times Eleanor felt the need to communicate things my father had difficulty saying. This was her way of keeping the peace between the men in her life. There were times I craved for the love my father once showed effortlessly. I just wasn’t going to sell my soul to get it.

  Bryus and Trenton had also left messages announcing their going away dinner in two weeks.

  Note to self: no excuses, must attend, I thought.

  You know who this is. I haven’t heard from you. I trust that you are doing well. It would be nice to hear you say so yourself. Please, call me. Love you.

  The familiar voice was one I was trying desperately to forget.

  Messages deleted.

  My mother was awake early in the morning and was already in her garden with her cell phone nearby. She has done many things in her gardenlaughed, cried, sang, hummedbut lately, her time in her prized garden was spent weeding and planting. She valued the time; however, she welcomed any interruption that talking with her children or grandchildren provided.

  “Hello Mother,” I began.

  “Hey, baby,” she greeted.

  I always thought it was a name especially reserved for meuntil I realized everyone of her children was her baby at some point.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  I knew exactly how my mother was going to respond, but for conversation, I figured I would ask anyway.

  “Baby, you know I rise with the sun and the roosters, if there were any around.”

  I smiled at her comment, something I actually needed since it seemed I had forgotten how.

  “Do you need some tomatoes? I have more than I know to do with them.”

  This was Eleanor’s attempt at a normal conversation without bringing up the accident or my injuries unless I did. She could have thought of another topic.

  “Is that all you grew?”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Eleanor responded with a smirk in her tone. “I have basils, and mint, some peppers, too. Enough about my precious garden, how are you doing, son?”

  “Better,” I answered, and then thought, so much for not bringing up the accident. “I haven’t been able to do too much around here, and this scar doesn’t seem to be going anywhere,” I continued.

  “Have you at least gotten out of the house?”

  Eleanor didn’t like the idea of my being a hermit, even if I thought I had perfectly good reasons.

  “Yes, Mother. I went outside this morning. Spoke to Artis…”

  “That fine young man. How is he doing?” she interrupted.

  “He’s well. We had a brief conversation, mainly about nothing.”

  In Eleanor’s eyes Artis and I were made for each other. However,Artis just wasn’t my type. After the sexual tension between us finally faded, Artis accepted that only a nonphysical friendship could exist; even that was hard work. Artis was attractive, had been since high school, but we were better off as friends.

  “Good. I worry about you sitting around the house, being depressed.”

  “I know, Mother.”

  “You have to get out. Throwing on a baseball cap to cover that….,” she paused, thought for a moment and then continued. “Why don’t you call Belinda, see if she wants to do something. Just make sure you get out.”

  “I will, Mother. Hey, is dad around?”

  “No,” she responded quickly.

  I was relieved. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to say to him, and I was sure anything said would eventually lead to an argument. Definitely not the way I wanted to start my day.

  Conversations with Marvin DeGregory required a lot of mental preparation. There was no telling what would come out of my father’s mouth, and when he said the wrong thing, I was ready to set him straight with my quick tongue. I was never disrespectful, but I needed my father to know I was no longer the little boy whose life he thought he could dictate without any objection.

  “Your father went to the golf course early this morning with your Uncle Vernon, and your cousin Julius,” Eleanor continued, almost sounding apologetic. “They probably stopped somewhere for a quick bite; you know how those three love their stomach. There’s no telling when they get together.”

  There were times I envied the relationship my uncle and cousin had, but then I was reminded just how different they were from me and the man I called dad.

  “Has he calmed any?” I asked, almost afraid of her response.

  “Honestly, no. He asks how you’re doing from time to time but still will not talk about what happened…at least not to me. I just don’t think he’s ready.”

  Two months had passed and Mr. DeGregory still refused to confront me. I didn’t understand the difficulty in that, but I respected my father’s decision. I certainly wasn’t going to force him, and the longer this process took, the longer we would avoid arguing. As far as I was concerned, I had more to deal with than my father did. Whatever it was that bothered him, I didn’t have the time or the energy to try and figure it out.

  I knew it was something when he wouldn’t even talk his wife. He wasn’t that damn secretive. My mother was always an easy person to talk to; the family confidant. People went to her about any and everything. It was no-holds-barred with her. They found it easy to share their deepest secrets and their shames, usually because she held her judgments to herself, unless it was solicited. E
veryone, including y brothers and many of her students, sought my mother’s advice; well, everyone except Deidre.

  Deidre didn’t have anything to hide, and even if she did, it would be quite difficult. Being the only girl in the family had its rewards. The DeGregory boys, young and old alike, were very protective of our sister, and on the first night she introduced Marcel to us, we gave him a taste of just how overprotective we were. Things Deidre thought she kept to herself and her GOD, or her diary, were found out with ease, and as a young girl, she wondered how. She never questioned it, just accepted our behaviors as part of being her brothers.

  Since everyone confided in Mrs. Eleanor DeGregory, she, at times, became overwhelmed. She had to share some of the burden of keeping all those secrets with someone. Usually she would confide in me. It had to do with the fact that I kept secrets just as good as she. I kept almost nothing hidden from my mother. Things that I didn’t want her to know, or things I thought would be too overwhelming to keep to myself, Itold to Deidre.

  Since Deidre and I were close in age and she hadn’t paid much attention to the prejudices and stereotypes around her, talking to her was easy. What I loved most about her was her nonjudgmental and impartial attitude.

  The trust that developed between me and Deidre began one afternoon after a long day at school. I had come home, hurried pastmy bedroom and knocked anxiously on Deidre’s bedroom door. When I entered the room, she was lying across her bed with her face buried in a science textbook, studyingsomething she’s always done even if there wasn’t a test to study for.

  “Hey, sis, can I bother you for a minute?” I asked.

  My heart was pumping fast from thinking too hard.

  “Sure, come in. What’s up?”