Less Than Perfect Circumstance

by Kristofer Clarke

  “What else have you found out? You’re so busy playing detective, why don’t you tell me. What other bones might I have in my closet? Better yet, tell me this. Despite all you know, everything that your detective-work has uncovered, why have you stayed?” Patrick asked calmly.

  “That’s simple,” I began.

  “Since you want to talk about curiosity,” Patrick interrupted. “Why are you here asking me to make a decision? It seems you have enough evidence to decide for yourself. Are you sure you don’t get a certain satisfaction from being with me, enduring all you say you have? Just how much of this has to do with your father’s feelings towards you, or yours towards him? Am I supposed to believe you love me so much you were able to overlook Jacoby, the constant arguments between you and your father because of me, as you’ve said, you wondering if there are others involved? Newsflash, Dexter. You’re not the only one sitting around wondering.”

  “You’re not going to turn this situation on me,” I warned. “And my father has nothing to do with this.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Since you obviously don’t want us to make a decision together, I’ll make the decision for us.”

  “Just stick to making a decision for you. And make sure it’s one you can live with. I’m going to be fine regardless,” Patrick said, convincingly.

  “Where was that testimonial the night Jacoby left you sitting with that defeated what-am-I-going-to-do-now look on your face? I stayed with you and you want to warn me about making decisions I can live with?”

  “That was your dumbness,” Patrick acknowledged. “But you didn’t do that just for me. You did it for you.”

  “So here’s what I’m also going to do for me. I can’t wait for you to decide if you’re ready to be serious with just me. I’m tired of waiting. Every time I think you’ve finally come around, you pull back. If you don’t pull back, you lie. I don’t know which is worse, and I’m afraid one day your lies are going to seriously hurt me. And if they don’t hurt me, then those same lies are going to end up getting you hurt.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Call it what you must. I have to go. When you decide you’re ready to give your heart to someone, you can find Jacoby, or maybe your cousin. What his name? Oh, yeah. Jerrell Gibson-Morgan.”

  “What?” Patrick asked, stunned at my disclosure.

  “I know. That’s not the name you told me, is it? The next time you decide to lie, lie about everything,” I suggested. “That Six Degrees of Separation theory actually has some truth to it. Yup, it’s a small world after all.”

  With that, I turned and walk to the car. I felt Patrick walking up behind me, but I paid no attention to his approach.

  “J.R., get in the car,” I commanded.

  “Uncle Dexter!” J.R. called with concern evident in his voice. Patrick reached for my hand, but I pulled away from him again. I just wanted to get away.

  So many times I had walked away from Patrick feeling more foolish than before. Most of the times, I just ignored it. I just couldn’t ignore it anymore. Oh, I hated to leave. Finally, I hated hurting more.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  The rain that had threatened to fall began as I pulled into my garage. I was thinking so hard that when he got home I was exhausted. When I walked in the house, the phone was ringing.

  “J.R., can you get that for me?” I asked, and sat on the couch with my head leaned back, staring into the high ceiling.

  “J.R. speaking,” he answered. After a few moments, he yelled, “Uncle Dex, it’s Uncle Rick.”

  He didn’t seem to have too much to say. What was he calling for now, I thought. I was in no rush to talk to Patrick. I was still fuming from our conversation.

  “Tell him I’ll be there shortly,” I instructed.

  “Uncle Rick…,” J.R. began, before becoming silent again. “Uncle Rick, what’s wrong?”

  The words didn’t fall from J.R.’s mouth quickly enough before I was grabbing the phone from him. Patrick had already hung up.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said it’s an emergency, and for you to meet him at St. Christian’s.”

  What could have happened? It’s only been thirty minutes since we left him, I

  thought. I grabbed my keys and J.R. and I were back in the car heading to St. Christian’s.

  My mind raced a mile a minute. It was raining, but I was too busy thinking to pay the rain any attention. The raindrops got bigger and fell harder, but my only thoughts were to get to where Patrick was.

  There were more cars on the road than earlier. I slowed as I was sandwiched between two eighteen-wheelers, but I couldn’t avoid the avalanche that met my windshield. The windshield wipers were moving faster, but not fast enough. There were red lights in front of me, and bright headlights approaching. Several cars going faster than they should be, given the condition, passed by, splashing settled water onto my windshield. An SUV in front of me slammed on its brakes.

  “Uncle Dexter,” J.R. yelled.

  I could hear the fright in his voice.

  I responded, stepping on my brakes, sending my car into a quick slide. I recovered, checking my side mirrors before quickly changing lanes. I paid no attention to how close the cars behind me followed.

  Maybe I should just turn around, I thought, but I ignored and kept driving, racing carefully to Patrick’s rescue, though I wasn’t sure what I was about to rescue him from. The rain was unrelenting. A care next to me swerved left then right, and then veered close to a guard rail. J.R. extended his leg, pressing a phantom brake on the passenger side. He then quickly turned his head to see the impact that followed.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, extending my hand over J.R.’s chest. His heart was beating double-time. “Relax, man. It’s just a little rain. We’ll make it,” I added, trying to ease his fear. We were a few exits from the hospital.

  The rain was falling even harder. The road, which was barely visible before, suddenly disappeared. I stepped on the brakes and braced myself for the unknown.

  “Uncle Dexter,” J.R. screamed.

  The car went sliding out of control.

  “J.R., hold on,” I instructed, steering the car in the direction of the slide.

  The car went slamming into an eighteen-wheeler that was pulling over to avoid the bad weather. If my life flashed before my eyes, I couldn’t remember. I went in and out of consciousness.

  “Are they going to be ok?” I heard a strange voice as I faded away.

  When I regained consciousness, I was lying on my back in a hospital room. Where was my nephew? Where was Patrick? What the hell happened to me? I didn’t worry about the pain I was in.I needed to find my nephew.

  “My nephew, is he okay? Where is he?” I asked a white-faced man after he had finish shining a miniature flashlight into my eyes.

  “Mr. DeGregory, my name is Dr. Zachary Oliver. Do you know where you are?”

  “Can someone please tell me if J.R. is okay?” I tried to raise myself up but the pain paralyzed my attempt

  All I could think about was J.R. As much pain as I was in, all I thought about was how much time he had stayed in the hospital after he was born. And here he was, again, all because of me. I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I was when the doctors told me he was fine. Thank GOD for seatbelts.

  I wanted to see J.R. Hearing that he was okay wasn’t enough, but they ignored my request. I couldn’t worry about myself until I was sure my J.R. was okay, and I needed to see for myself. And even though Patrick and I had our break-up earlier, I needed to make sure he was okay, too.

  “I need to see my nephew. Where is he?” I demanded in frustration. The pain was becoming more excruciating.

  “Mr. DeGregory, calm down. I assure you, your nephew is going to be ok. This is Mr. Trevor Harrison, the man who made the call to 911. He wanted to stay until your family had been notified.”

  “Is my sister here?” I asked through pained voice. “Does she k
now J.R. is ok?”

  “Your sister? No sir. A Mr. Patrick McKay is in the waiting area. He was the last person you called on your cell phone.”

  “Patrick,” I spoke.“Patrick. Is he okay, doctor? Please tell me he’s okay.” The doctors looked at each other with puzzled faces.

  “Mr. DeGregory, you were in a car accident near the Myles Drive exit. Do you remember?”

  My head was pounding. I felt as if I had been kicked in the face by a thoroughbred. I couldn’t remember much of anything.

  “Mr. DeGregory, was Mr. McKay in the car with you and your nephew?” They knew the answer to the question. They just wanted to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

  My eyes had the same puzzled look.“No.” Ipaused. I closed my eyes, cringing as the pain shot through my body again. “No, he wasn’t.”

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

  “Dad, when they told me Patrick was fine, a pain shot through my heart. Again, I had given Patrick another chance to do what he did best; lie. He knew exactly what to do when he wanted to know how much I cared, or if I still loved him. When I said I had had enough, I was serious, and Patrick knew it. There wasn’t anything he could say or do to get me to change my mind, so he pulled that stunt. J.R. and I could have died. I remember telling Patrick that one day his lies were going to hurt me, and I almost didn’t live to tell you everything.”

  I had been talking non-stop. My mouth was dry, my palms were sweaty, and I was feeling hot. The bottled water I had bought at the airport was long gone, but there was still one more score I had to settle with my father.

  “You know,” I leaned in closer. “I haven’t forgiven you for abandoning my brother and me. Although what happened to my mother wasn’t entirely your fault, you and your actions drove her to it. Maybe Dane has forgiven you, because he was the good son. But me, I was the bane of your existence. I was the one you showed public smiles, but in private you dished out unreserved disgust because of the person I chose to love. No matter what, Patrick wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. And obviously, my mother wasn’t enough, either. Have you ever thought that I held on to Patrick out of pure contempt? It was the only way to hurt you without physically harming you. See father, you were stuck in your ways, and I knew that seeing your son loving another man was ripping your inside. Your hatred for me didn’t start with Patrick, it started when you realized Dane and I were different. You couldn’t find it in your heart to love me, even though you were so great pretending. You made your hatred for me solely about Patrick, and I played along.”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  I thought about the love my mother had for my brother and me. Connie admitted she fell in love with us the moment she heard the rapid thumping of our hearts. But even though Marvin had been there to watch us grow, it still wasn’t enough to keep him around. He came home from work one afternoon, packed all he could, and left. I remember coming home from school and finding my mother in the couch, lying in fetal position. A Marlboro Light rested in a make-shift ashtray. My mother didn’t even smoke. I could tell from the whiskey glass that sat in a pool of its own perspiration that she had been drinking, too. Her eyes were blood-shot red, and I could tell she had been sleeping, and crying when sleep didn’t give her the escape she needed.

  Connie had always been a strong woman. That was the only type of woman who could actually love the man who was my father. Unfortunately, loving him only broke her down. I remember Dane dropping his book bag on the living room floor and walking over to Mother. She didn’t look like the woman we had come to know. I stood at the entrance to the living room, frozen in fear.

  “Mom!” Dane yelled out to my mother, and shook her gently. He tried not to startle her, but it was almost like she was already dead to the world. She managed to respond, but in a whisper. I began picking up the empty bottles and cigarette cartons that added to the unusual tidiness.

  “Boys, I need to tell you something,” she said, reaching for the cigarette that had already burned closer to the butt.

  I gave my mother no chance to sugarcoat what she needed to tell us. I could tell by my mother’s condition and the state of the house that my father was gone.

  Marvin DeGregory didn’t always play the role of perfect daddy. He stopped loving my mother long before he walked away. My mother was too in love to know it. I began picking up the mess my mother had unintentionally created. When the living room was clean, I looked at my mother, hugged her tightly, and then kissed her on her forehead. When I turned to walk away, my mother grabbed me.

  “I love you, son,” she said, and smiled.

  I walked upstairs to my mother’s bathroom and ran her a bath. I thought it was something she needed. I wasn’t sure if that was the remedy for my mother’s pain and heartache, but that was all I could come up with.

  Dane sat outside the bathroom, leaning against the wall.

  “Dexter, is she okay?” he asked.

  He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he asked his next question.

  “Do you think he’s coming back?”

  I went back downstairs, unintentionally ignoring my brother’s questions, and escorted my mother to the bath that was waiting for her. I sat on the bathroom floor with my knees pulled up to my chest. I clasped my hands around my legs so they couldn’t slide from me, and listened to my mother talked. She smiled, reminiscing on the good times she had shared with Marvin. As it hit her that the one man she had loved for as long as she could remember had left, the tears rained heavily from her eyes. She tried to mask the tears by squeezing the warm water from the sponge cloth over her face. When her arms became too heavy, her attempt to disguise the tears failed. I offered her no additional comfort, allowing her to have the cry she needed. I hoped the hurt she felt and the heartache that Marvin’s leaving had created would one day be replaced.

  I excused myself and retreated to my mother’s bedroom. My face was still, and sadness had taken my breath away. In my mother’s room, I turned down the comforter and fluffed her pillows. When I returned to the bathroom, I handed my mother her robe. I walked my mother to her side of the bed, lifted her feet and placed them under the covers, and slowly pulled the comforter up to her neck. She tried to convince me she was going to be fine, but she couldn’t hide how she truly felt.

  When I finally went to my room, I stood with my back leaned against the wall. When I realized my father had not only left my mother, but had also left my brother and me without warning or explanation, the tears overwhelmed me. I felt my body slide towards the floor, and I found myself in the exact position I was in as I listened to my mother in the bathroom. I missed my father already.

  When morning came, I inhaled, searching for the whiff of Saturday morning breakfast my mother usually prepared. I walked to the bathroom, but before I could enter, I noticed how quiet and still the morning had been. My father was gone, so the usual Saturday morning sports news wasn’t being listened to at some excruciating level.

  I called out for my mother and waited for her to respond. I walked lightly into my parents’ room and saw my mother lying in the same position I had left her in. Dane sat in a corner of the room, his knees and a white blanket pulled up to his chest.

  “You didn’t sleep there, did you?” I asked.

  Dane shook his head, “no,” and stared at Mother.

  I called out to my mother again, smiling. I walked over to her and attempted to wake her by force. She didn’t respond. I turned and noticed the empty bottle of pain killers and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying on the floor.

  “She asked me to bring them to her,” Dane finally spoke.

  Our mother had chosen not to live, rather than live without the man who was supposed to love her.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  “I never forgot how I felt the day Dane I were brought to your door. You welcomed us as if we had infiltrated your perfect little family. You had left thinking it would be too soon before you see us again, and the look on your face t
hat day showed that something inside you died when soon came sooner than you thought it would. You thought they needed you more than we did, and you left and never looked back. So now you know why I’m at your bed every day. I wanted to watch you die, just like my brother had to watch my mother ease the pain she felt over losing you. I wanted you to know the hate I carried for you, even though all I wanted to do was love you. I cry because part of me will miss you, after all, you are my father. But I also cry mostly for the mother I lost. Yes, Eleanor tried her best, but I wanted my mother to love me. I wanted my mother to share in my accomplishments, especially since you never did. I hope that maybe now in the afterlifewherever that may beyou can explain to her exactly why you left. Dane and I were always a beam in my mother’s eyes. I’m still trying to figure out what I ever meant to you.”

  I excused myself from my father’s room and headed to a vending machine at the end of the hall. Many of the patients, those well enough to pace the halls, took their daily stroll. Nurse Hagerty sat behind the desk, engaging in a polite conversation with another nurse working with her.

  “Mr. DeGregory, is everything okay?” he asked, looking briefly in my direction.

  “Everything is fine. I got a little thirsty,” I explained.

  When I got the water and walked back to my father’s room, whatever misery, pain, or discomfort my father might have been in, was over. Marvin had died. I stood facing my father with my hands folded across my chest.

  “You didn’t want me to see you go, did you?” I asked rhetorically.

  Even if I wanted him to, I knew my father wasn’t going to respond. I stood in the room for a long while, staring at my father’s lifeless body. I had said everything I needed to say to Marvin.

  Finally, I believed my father had listened. I had forgiven him. I pressed the red button above the bed, the same button I had stared at so many times, to summon Nurse Hagerty to the room. I didn’t notice the nurse already standing behind me.

  “Mr. DeGregory, I’m so sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry. I got the time I wanted with him,” I said as the tears rolled down my face.