May the Best Man Win (9 page)

 

 

As soon as I got in the house my house phone started ringing off the hook. It was my father. I so didn't want to answer it but I hadn't talked to him in a minute so I picked up. “Hello.”

“Hey, son, how is life treating you?”

“Everything is good, and you?”

“Well, son, your old dad needs a favor.”

“Sure, Dad,” I answered, unsure of the favor.

“I need a couple hundred bucks to pay some bills off. I'm in between money right now.”

“When did you need it by?”

“Tomorrow would be fine.”

Tomorrow I scheduled myself late so I just told him I would meet him for breakfast at one of my favorite eateries. We hung up the phone within seconds. Again, as I said before, my father and I didn't have a real relationship. He was in and out of my life as a child and teenager, which was very hard for me to handle. Having only my mom to go to when I had issues that only a male figure could help me out with didn't help me get through my teenage years easier. Sometimes I'd felt that I wouldn't be gay if he had been there to guide me when I needed him the most. I now knew that him not being in my life had nothing to do with me being gay. From what my mom told me, which was very little, my dad had some issues and she had some self-esteem issues. She said that was the reason she took him back and put him out on numerous occasions. I felt like she was hiding something because my mom was a very vocal person and she said what she had to say and moved on. I assumed, like a lot of people, she was vocal about what she wanted to be vocal about. She never went into detail when talking about their issues and she always managed to detour conversation into something else when the topic arose. I was sure the truth would come out eventually. It always does.

Enough about my parents and my issues, it's time for me to go to bed. I have an early day and a busy one indeed. Thank goodness it's Friday and I am the boss, because I'm getting in late and leaving early; a wonderful advantage to being the boss.
I didn't do it or get to do it often so I was going to enjoy it.

I noticed I had a few messages on my answering service, but I decided I would listen to them when I got out of the shower and prepared myself for bed. I turned on some Anita Baker and soaked in the tub for about a half hour before retiring to my bed. I was exhausted, and it seemed like as soon as I toweled myself off and put on my pajamas I was in my waterbed, savoring the softness of my satin sheets.

I quickly rolled over and picked up my cordless phone, and dialed the code to retrieve my messages. The first one was from my mother, telling me she loved me and that I needed to call her more because I was going to miss her when she was gone. She did this to make me feel guilty. It worked every time. I'd call her tomorrow while I was at work. The next one was from Ronald. Yes, he was still calling me. I listened to the message. He missed me . . . He was sorry . . . Could he come over . . . yadda yadda yadda . . . Delete. That was enough for me to hang up, roll over, and go to sleep.

 

I woke up Friday morning totally refreshed. I decided I would dress down. Blue jeans and a button up would suffice. I was only going to meet my father and head to work for a few hours. Showered, shaved, and dressed, I headed out the door after feeding Grey. I hopped in my Volvo and sped off toward my destination.

I arrived downtown at about nine-thirty in the morning and was anxious to get this father/son gathering done and over with. I was curious as to what “bills” my father had to pay, but I was not going to ask because as an adult and as a man I didn't like to be questioned, and I was sure my father didn't like that either, especially by his offspring.

I parked my car a block or two away from the restaurant and walked until I could see my father sitting in a chair with one of his legs folded on top of the other, and he was in deep conversation on his cell phone.

“Yeah, Lee, I'm about to handle some business, so I am going to get back with you in a little bit. Yeah . . . Yeah . . . Yeah.” He nodded his head while he talked. Then his voice began to escalate. “I
told
you I got you. Now give me some time.” I sat down as he hung up the phone and set it down on the table.

My father was an enigma and to this day I still didn't have him figured out. I didn't know where he lived or worked. I'd never seen anybody he'd dated nor had he talked about anyone. He would pop up from time to time at my house or my mom's house and hang out and disappear just as fast as he came. When I looked at my father, I could see where I got my handsome features. He was a shade lighter than me, same height with brown eyes and a medium build. He had sprinkled gray hair in his beard and head. I wished he and I could have the relationship that my sister had with my mom.

“Hey, son, come give your old man a hug.” He got up as well as I and proceeded to hug me. His hug was one that was genuine and I could feel the love. Or maybe it was that I wanted it to be genuine.

We both sat back down and looked at the menus, avoiding conversation. What did we have to talk about? Where would I start?
I can't just come out and ask him where the hell he has been and why he hasn't been there when I needed him. I really don't know what his reaction would be and I may not be prepared for the answers that might be given.

“Son, I just want to say thanks for coming to my rescue.” he said, putting his menu down and focusing on me. “I know I don't call you as much as I should. And I don't come by like I should, but I will get better at it, okay? I promise.” He looked sincere, but so many men in my life were deceivers that I could not be sure if he was telling the truth.
This could just be an empty promise like he has done before.

He continued, “I just want you to know I am proud of you. I know I might not say it like I should more often, but I am. And um . . . I love you, son. I couldn't have asked for a better son than you.” He was smiling a big, beaming smile. I was beginning to believe him. A tear slide out of my eye and I quickly wiped it away, hoping he didn't see it.

“Anytime, Dad,” was all I could blurt out, trying to get past the moment. There was a small pause, so I decided to break it. “Well, Dad, let's get something to eat, because I have to make it to a meeting at work in about forty-five minutes.” Yeah, it was a lie, but I couldn't handle the tension at the table.

We ordered some light breakfast and chitchatted a little bit in between bites. He asked me how I was doing and how the “man in my life” was treating me. That was one thing I could say, he never ever showed judgment or shame because of me being gay. I still couldn't get used to him asking about it either. It was just weird. My sister and mother rarely discussed it, but he was nonchalant about it. I guessed he really did care. I shared with him about my recent breakup and quickly changed the subject. I asked him who he was seeing. He said he had no one special in his life.

After about a half hour of breakfast we went our separate ways. I decided to walk to work since I was already downtown and it was only a few blocks away. It was a bright and sunny day; the breeze was blowing through my dreads. It was late spring and I loved the cool, crisp air. It was good to be alive.

I popped my earphone from my iPod Touch in my ear. Sounds of Whitney Houston's
I Look to You
album played in my ear as I made my way to work. It was one of my favorites.

I was walking at a good pace, enjoying myself and loving the single life. I had a tendency of not watching where I was going and walking into people, which I happened to do as I rounded the corner to my office.

“Excuse me.” I shuffled to the side. I was watching a cutie across the street, too, and was paying no attention to who I had bumped into.

“Yeah, Excuse you,” a familiar voice spoke.

I focused my eyes and they landed on Ronald
. I can't duck dude for nothing!

“Ump . . . ump . . . ump.” He circled me, looking me up and down simultaneously. I took my earplug out of my ear in irritation.

“Damn, you still got it!” He walked up to me and breathed on my neck. “You miss me?” he whispered in my ear. His hot breath eased down the inside of my collar. I looked around, embarrassed. He had on a wife beater and some Capri jeans with tan sandals that showed off some of his taut calf muscles.

“Yeah . . . like I miss having pneumonia.” I laughed and walked past him toward my job. He didn't let it go as he ran up to me a few short feet away.

“How come you didn't call me back?” He softly pushed me up against a wall that was near my building. The look in his eyes was intense and wandering over my face. He always made a scene when he came around. I looked around to see if anyone was looking. As usual, the Baltimoreans were looking, but no one said anything. He could have been beating my ass and no one would have done a thing. At times, I was one of them, so I couldn't really get mad at them for just looking on in anticipation. They were always waiting for something to pop off and spread around the office.
This city is so backward.

“Ronald, what we had was over weeks ago.” I pushed him off and moved toward my office again. I was not for this mess today. “I've moved on.”

“You moved on, huh?” He looked a little hurt. I felt sorry, but not sorry enough to take him back. “It was that easy, huh?”

“No, it wasn't that easy!” I huffed. “It took some time, but I'm over it. I forgave you and then I moved on.”

“So you really over me?” he posed. His hands were stuffed in his pockets. I could have sworn I saw a tear in his eye.

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

“Well, okay then,” he grumbled. “If that's what you want. I'll see you around.” He turned and walked off as fast as he came. I sighed in relief. I was finally rid of him.

I walked into my office building, spoke hello to the building security and then made my way toward the elevator to my floor. My office was on the fourth floor, so on the ride up I took a minute to let out a few needed tears.
Am I really over him?
was what I was really wondering. I hated myself for being so weak.

I walked off the elevator into the lobby before my set of offices. I breathed in and out, and then put on a happy face as I walked in the door leading to my office.

“Good morning, everyone!” I bolstered a cheerfulness I did not feel down deep. Everyone was crowded around Janice's desk, talking.

“Good morning, Mr. Spencer!” a few of them replied.

“Is everything okay?” I asked in concern. It was unusual to have people gathered in one spot and unproductive at this time of day. There was always something to do. I made sure of it, even when I took days off. Janice looked at me with eyes stressing a need of relief. She was all about work at work.

“Yes, sir,” Lewis spoke out with a wicked smile on his face. “I would have to say so. Somebody must have put it down on someone last night.” He laughed loudly.

I looked on with an expressionless face. Everyone else looked at me to see what my reaction was going to be. I was no-nonsense when it came to work. I let him slide, but glared back at him a warning with my eyes.

“What?” He acted as if what he said was not inappropriate for the office. “I was just saying what y'all was thinking. Damn.” He looked at the other workers, huffed, and walked away in his all-about-me sashay.

“Is there no work to be done?” I looked around at the rest of my staff. They scrambled off toward their work stations and left me standing at the front desk with my secretary Janice. “So what was all that about?”

“Sir, you received a very large delivery today and I had to fight off the vultures to keep them out of your office.” She looked around with her glasses hanging on the tip of her nose.

“Do you know who was it from?”

“Sir, I have worked for you since the beginning and you know how I feel about personal business. It is not my place to get into your business, whatever business that it may be.” She smiled, politely, adjusted her glasses and then stood up out of her chair. “Here are your messages for the day. Would you like something to drink?” She looked at me and smiled, again. She was on point most of the time and I loved it.

I smiled too, the first real one since I stepped foot in my office. “Orange juice, please.” I walked into my office to see what could cause such a ruckus.

A fifty-two-inch plasma television, wrapped in a big red bow, was sitting in the middle of my office. I walked around it and surveyed the monstrous gift. I pulled a card that was attached to the top of it, walked around my desk, and sat down. I set the card down and turned on my PC. I was anxious to see who the card was from, even though I already had a clue.

Knock . . . knock . . .

“Come in,” I called out.

Janice walked in with my juice in hand. She darted her eyes at the lavish gift and continued to my desk. The only way she was going to talk about it was if I started the conversation.

“Thank you, Janice.” I set the juice to my left and smiled.

“You're welcome, sir.” She smiled back. She walked out, closing the door behind her, leaving me with the card and my curiosity bubbling.

I looked around my large office to see where I was going to put my gift, and then it dawned on me. I was jumping the gun. I was going against the rules that I set. I didn't even know who it was from and whether I was going to accept it.

I picked up the card and opened it.

Mr. Spencer, it was a pleasure meeting you at my restaurant and then again at your office. This gift is a small token of my appreciation. Just wanted to say thank you, because I know it is going to be a pleasure working with you to promote my businesses. I will also be waiting on the call from you to schedule our personal meeting as well. Until we meet again,