Less Than Perfect Circumstance

by Kristofer Clarke

  Before long, the room was filled with the essential hospital personnel. I sat at the desk in my father’s room and dialed Eleanor’s number.

  “Mom…” I whispered in the phone.

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I DIDN’T KNOW MY OWN STRENGTH

  Trevor

  I woke in the morning with spontaneity on my mind. I wasn’t exactly sure where that thought would take me. It’s been a while since I had dropped the top of my convertible and let my head blow in the wind like the rich old ladies at the end of a 1950’s movie. I had no destination in mind, just to drive until something told me to turn back. I just wanted to go.

  Before I walked out the house, the phone rang. Nothing was going to interrupt my unplanned escape.

  As I drove, I wondered what had happened to Dexter and his nephew. At the stoplight, Itook a quick glance in my rear-view mirror and noticed two women talking and laughing. It was at that moment I noticed how others can make you realize how easy it is to be happy. In their exchange, the women seemed to have no worries, and if they did, whatever those worries were, they would not infringe on their happinessnot this time.

  I thought about sitting under the big oak tree, talking to my mother. The same oak tree that had been myback-restseveral times as I sat talking to her about things I felt only she would understand. It was this conversation that gave me the strength to finally distantmyself from Kelvin.

  That evening after talking to my mother, I entered the house to a ringing cell phone I had purposely left on the dining room table. When I answered without looking at the screen, Kelvin’s voice shocked me. I hadn’t heard from him since our last conversation.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Kelvin asked when he heard my voice.

  I decided that, once and for all, it was time to put Kelvin’s audacity to rest.

  “Did you get the letter?” I asked. I was surprised at my calm.

  “I haven’t opened it yet,” Kelvin said.

  “I think you should. It will explain everything.”

  “What the hell is this about?” Kelvin broke in after being silent.

  “For some reason I’ve allowed you to think you have the right to talk to me as if my face is the one you’re staring into at night,” I began as soon as I collected my thoughts. “If you’re going to call demanding to know what I’m doing, or who I’m doing what with, then I would appreciate it if you just don’t call.”

  “What’s gotten into you?”

  “To answer your question bluntly, you’re what’s gotten into me. I’ve been stupid to believe I owe you any type of explanation whatsoever, yet time and time again I find myself establishing some goddamn alibi whenever I’m unavailable to you. If you’re asking questions because you care, then that I appreciate. But if your only reason for your inquisitions is to exercise some power I have allowed you to believe you still have over me, then please, don’t call. I have allowed you to make getting over you harder than it had to be, like it’s some twelve-step program that I consistently fail. Our interaction, at this point, is unhealthy for me. The space you so often threatened to give me, I would appreciate that now, too. Somewhere between loving you and losing you, I lost me. I want me back.”

  Kelvin never responded. I could tell he wanted to, but I never gave him a chance. This time, I wasn’t interested in what he had to say. I wasn’t mad, but I had to do something to get back the power over my life that I had so willingly given up. It had taken me a long time, but that evening, time had expired.

  The hurt I felt when Kelvin left and the betrayal I felt when I read Lawrence’s words quickly became a distant memory. They had been put in their right place. I realized I had to hurt to stop from hurting, but I didn’t have to hurt as long as I did. I tried to think of the time I spent with Kelvin, and the time I spent getting over him, not as time wasted, but as a learning experience. Boy, did I learn.

  I got on my knees and asked God to send somebody to love me. I thought he was joking when he sent me…me. You’re an awesome God. I thought.

  After my conversation with Kelvin, one where I did more talking than listening, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders, and I wished I’d had that conversation sooner. I called my father’s house and spent a few minutes talking to Natalie, and accepted an invitation to have lunch with her and her son Adrian Ebner.

  I was back in the car. I drove in silence. I began fingering the stereo controls in the steering wheel and came across a station playing a song I had never heard before by Terryan Johnson. I had my elbow resting on the top of the car door and my head in the palm of my hand. I smiled at the lyrics that came from the speakers.

  “Looking into eyes I’ve never seen before

  Touched by your hands I’ve never felt before

  Smiling at smiles that brightened new days

  I thought I’d never see again

  I can’t believe I’ve been afraid to

  Love you,

  Trust you,

  Start anew with you

  Forget the less-than-perfect-circumstance

  That never included you”

  I sang along as loudly as I could, and he paid no attention to how horrible he sounded, or who heard. I felt too good to even care. Terryan was doing to me what only Janet and Brandy could. I listened carefully to words that made me think about the one person.

  I picked up my cell phone and dialed his number. I thought about how much I was missing him. Our last conversation didn’t end the way I wanted, and I wondered how receptive he might.

  “Hello, Jackson. This is Trevor.”

  “I know who this is, man. What took you so long?”

  “It’s just been crazy since we last spoke, but I’m fine. I did something I should have done a long time ago.”

  “Oh, you did?”

  “Yes, I did. I was so wrapped up into losing love that was already lost that I….”

  “Don’t say it. So why am I hearing from you know?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “What exactly are you ready for?”

  “You,” I responded. My heart and face finally wore the same smile.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THE CLOSER I GET TO YOU

  Trevor

  Jackson’s behavior went against all that I expected. By now he should have moved onmost guys probably would have, but Jackson wasn’t like most guys. I didn’t expect him to still be there when I called.

  In my lengthy commitment to free my heart from one man, my heart was slowly opening up to another. There was nothing I could do to stop it, and even if I could, I wouldn’t.

  Dating Jackson was simple. Lavish dinners at some expensive five star restaurant, which we could easily afford, we settled for quiet evenings at home, watching movies, or talking and laughing about things that probably wouldn’t have made sense or seem funny to anyone else. Since we usually had busy weeks, most of our time spent together happened on the weekends. We made the most of whatever time we had.

  Jacksonand I had a connection. There was a time I thought the love I once received from Kelvin was perfect. Now here I was with Jackson, who was all that Kelvin was not, and he was perfect still. I loved the attention I got from Jackson. I couldn’t believe I deprived myself of this feeling.

  When the moment of intimacy arrived, Jackson’s tongue and hands were no strangers to my body. It’s as if he had memorized everything that was pleased me. His tongue, hands, and his lips performed as if they had met my body before.

  “Are you enjoying this?” Jackson stopped and asked during one of our moments.

  “Please don’t stop,” I pleaded.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Jackson answered with assurance.

  There were times I could feel Jackson’s eyes piercing through the darkness, attempting to see the passion in mine.

  “You know something?” Jackson asked, staring deep into my eyes.

  “What?” I cleared my throat and responded
.

  “I can fall in love with you,” Jackson disclosed, and his comment made me smile.

  “What’s stopping you?” I asked as I took Jackson’s face in the palm of my hands and kissed him passionately, all the while thinking to myself, I already love you.

  We twisted and turned until I found myself on top of Jackson. My smaller frame covered a little more than half of Jackson’s tall, masculine, build. Jackson wrapped his hands around me and gently pressed his fingers in the small of my back, pulling my body even closer. I obliged.

  “Trevor,” Jackson called out.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you thinking right now?”

  Jackson questioned with passion in his voice.

  His question caught me off guard, and without thinking, I responded. “I love you, Jackson Bradley.”

  “Just the response I was looking for. I love you, too, Trevor. Trevor Harrison.”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  My past was as colorful as a Matisse or Kandinsky painting. I have come across one person or another who thought an I-haven’t-forgotten-about-you message was supposed to make me all googlie-eyed. I have met those whose idea of a passionate night landed us in front of “Motel 5” or “Super 7” on the border of “you’ve got to be crazy” and “is he serious”, and those who cursed my boldness to believe that, even at my young age, I was worth more. And then there was Kelvin. If my past was the haystack I had to endure to find my needle, then I was proud of my back-story.

  Now a new day had come to find me with Jackson. I was staring into the ceiling, a broad smile on my face as I thought of the night Jackson and I had. On this morning, as early as it was, I looked good. My dark brown eyes beamed with satisfaction; with contentment. I had skin the color of light brown sugar. I sported neatly trimmed sideburns with mustache that connected to my beard in a perfect square, framing soft lips that Jackson took the pleasure kissing all night before falling asleep. My 5’11”, thinly muscled body stretched alongside Jackson’s as I thought about lying beside the love I almost lost. The rough I had to travel through had brought me to my diamond. I had everything, again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  AND THE ANGELS WILL SING

  Dexter

  Just as I was finally able to clear the air with my father, he was gone. How cruel, I thought. I hated funerals just as much as I hated hospitals. Now it was the idea that one eventually led to the other. I watched the parade of mourners walking to and from my father’s lifeless body. I wanted to remember the good times my father and I shared, but the good were so few and far between.

  Eleanor, what the hell are they crying for, messing up my good suit with their tears is what Marvin would have said if he were alive, but this he couldn’t control. I remember my father joking one Thanksgiving, saying, “When I die, just laugh and be glad I’m not here setting you kids straight.” Set us straight, he did. Strangely I was going to miss parts of my father.

  Rather than sitting in the front of Holy Spirit All Christian Church staring at a man who I barely recognized, with the exception of the Charcoal Ecru Tic Stripe suit and Cambridge striped tie I gave Marvin two Christmases ago, I opted to sit in the back. Eleanor sat in the front with her head resting on Deidre’s right shoulder, dabbing the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief that was probably already soaking wet. Eleanor never cried while Marvin was in the hospital, now she was letting everything out.

  Briana spent most of the ceremony with her head in her father’s lap. She was going to miss her grandfather the most. She wasn’t just daddy’s little girl, she was granddaddy’s little girl, too. J.R. was more mad than sad. He sat there unemotional and seemingly just as lifeless as his grandfather. When he stood to speak, his eyes had a heartfelt sadness about them. His face was tight. Whether he was mad at my promise that his grandfather was going to be ok, or if he was mad at God for taking his pop-pop away from him, no one knew. Someone was going to have to answer all the questions building inside of him.

  Dorian and Lena sat on the bench behind Eleanor. Dane stood near a window halfway between the pulpit and the back door, positioning himself where he could see how the family was holding up.

  “Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Belinda greeted.

  She was elegantly dressed, as usual, wearing a long black Georgette Ball skirt, beige beaded shell top, black satin sling-back heals, and a small leather clutch purse. Even at a funeral, she was dressed to kill, and I didn’t expect any less.

  “You’re not late. The man isn’t in the ground yet.”

  “Good to see you smile.”

  “Thanks for being here.”

  “Are you holding it together?” Belinda asked.

  “Take a look around you. I have one of the few dry faces in here.”

  “Not trying to mess up your make-up?” Belinda joked.

  She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. Once again, she was there to make me laugh when I should be crying. She waived at Dane who nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Hey, where is…?” I asked, realizing Belinda had arrived alone.

  “Don’t even ask. I hope this doesn’t come off insensitive, but your father isn’t the only thing dead these days.”

  “Please, don’t tell me...”

  “Okay. I won’t tell you that the bliss that you saw a couple weeks ago didn’t last longer than your flight back to Miami,” Belinda interrupted. “Oh, I don’t need to tell you that. We’ll have plenty of time to talk. We’re disrespecting your father.” She lifted her head towards the front of the church.

  “Even in death, the man demanded respect.”

  My next breath was deep, and as I exhaled, my shoulders dropped, as if the weight of my father’s and my own stubbornness had finally been lifted.

  When I looked up, Eleanor was standing behind the pine casket eulogizing her husband. She stood sandwiched between a cross of white mums and red roses, and a double hearts made of red and white Carnations.

  “My dear Marvin,” she began. “I can’t begin to tell you how much your love, your honor, and your respect has meant to me. My husband, my best friend, my better half, God never promised you would be here forever, but the time that he allowed us to experience together was filled with love and laughter.”

  Eleanor’s speech was halted by tears, which she gently wiped away.

  “In life we spoke at night before going to bed, and in your absence, we will do the same. I don’t know how I’m going to go on without you. I miss you with all my heart. I love you. I love you. I love you,” she continued.

  When Eleanor looked up, Dane stood in front of her with his hand extended, ready to walk her back to her seat. As she passed his casket, she kissed her husband on his forehead, and whispered, “I love you”, then straightened his casket spray, even though it hadn’t been wrinkled. Everything had to be perfect for her Marvin, even if the home he was going to wasn’t at 1856 Everglade Crescent.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  The follow the leader funeral procession to Forest Glenn Cemetery was quicker than it actually seemed. Instead of driving in the car by herself, I invited Belinda to accompany me in one of the family limousines, after all, she was like family. Not too much was said, which was expected.

  The gate to the cemetery looked like the proverbial Pearly Gates that everyone referenced when talking about their arrival in Heaven. The drive from the gate to the grave site had more twists and turns than a psychological thriller at the local movie theatre. After the casket was removed from the back of the hearse and placed on the roller, it finally hit me; my father was gone. Pastor Desmond Donovan stood at the head of the casket preparing to read a scripture from his big white bible.

  “Heavenly Father!” he began in prayer. “As we commit the body of Brother Marvin UdonisDeGregory to the earth from which he came…” he continued.

  Wherever Pastor Donovan was preparing to send my father, I wanted nothing to do with it.

  The few chairs that were provided were occupied
by everyone except J.R., who was still sitting in one of the limousines with the door open. His Uncle Dane stooped before him. I walked closer and stood beside him.

  “Hey nephew, are you okay?” Dane asked.

  “Uncle Dane, my Grandpa isn’t coming back.”

  When J.R. lifted his head, his eyes were cherry red and seemed swollen. His suit jacket was folded neatly in his lap, and his dress shirt drenched in tears.

  Dane removed a handkerchief from inside his jacket, held his nephew’s face in his hands and wiped his tears.

  “What’s the funniest thing you remember about your grandpa?”

  “His jokes,” J.R. responded quietly, without thinking.

  “That’s right, his jokes,” Dane agreed.

  “I never thought they were all that funny, Uncle Dane,” J.R. said. Through his tears came a heavyhearted smile.

  “I don’t think the old man wants you sitting here all sad and teary eyed because he won’t be here to tell those awful jokes again. You should at least say goodbye to him, don’t you think?”

  “He’s never coming back.” J.R.’s smile was immediately replaced by sadness again.

  “As much as we’re going to miss him, you are right. He isn’t coming back,” Dane said in an accepting tone.

  “I know, Uncle Dane.” J.R. stood, adjusted his shirt, replaced his suit jacket and started towards his family.

  Dane stood with his hand resting on the limousine door. When J.R. was a few feet away, he turned to face us and smiled. He was going to be ok.

  Dane closed the limousine door and began walking slowly towards the crowd of mourners with both hands in his pants pocket.

  Like J.R., saying goodbye was going to be hard for me, too. I walked across the street, and stood under an old oak tree, leaning on the trunk. My eyes pierced through dark sunglasses worn to hide tears that fell unpredictably. Belinda walked over and stood beside me.

  “As crazy as our relationship was, I can’t believe he’s gone. Our lives would have been so much easier if we weren’t so busy being such jerks about everything,” I admitted.