When All Hell Breaks Loose, page 23
I’m crying and depressed like a fool. My speech is slurred and I want to go home. Jamal manages to get me and Eric in the car. He takes us back to his house, where we crash. I’m numb as I play the scene over and over in my mind of Adrian and Carla. My stomach begins to turn. I think about how satisfied Adrian sounded. I think about having to tell everyone what happened. The picture returns to my head. Carla was my competition. A woman took my woman. Damn! My lips exude air in heaves. I feel myself being quickly dragged somewhere, but it’s too late, I throw up in the hall.
“Aw hell, Greg! Couldn’t you wait until I got your drunk ass into the bathroom? I figured you were gon’ pull some shit like this!” It’s Jamal and he’s wiping his shirt. “This shit stinks too!”
I’m thinking an apology, but my lips only quiver and close up. He leans me up against the wall and goes to his room. He comes out with a new shirt on. “Get your ass in the bathroom!” he yells at me. I start laughing and crawling down the hallway as I sing, “IIIII’ve got a riiiiiiight toooooooo siiiiiiing the bluuuuuuuuuuuues.”
Jamal hoists me back into his arms and drags me to the bathroom. He leans me against the floor and removes my shirt. I fall over and Jamal leaves me bare-chested, leaning against the toilet.
“Keep your ass in here and don’t come out until you’re finished,” Jamal says.
“Aw Jaaay maaan, I love you,” I say. “You my dawww-aough!” Before I can get my slurred words out, I throw up again, this time on myself. Jamal laughs and closes the door. “Maybe this shit will teach you a lesson, brother. Alcohol is not the solution.”
I pass out seconds later.
The next morning, I can’t even open my eyes. The sunlight hitting my face from the bathroom window feels like lasers. I try to move but my stomach muscles feel like I’ve been doing situps for days. My throat is burning, my clothes are soiled, and my breath smells like the crack of a horse’s ass.
I can hear someone in the kitchen. I assume it’s Jamal. I look around and notice one of my hands is lodged in the toilet. Wet. Soaking in my own vomit. I remove it slowly and flush. I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom. As I get up to wash my hands and face, I hear a knock on the bathroom door. I try to say something but can’t. My throat is on fire. Eric peeps in and stares at me from the hallway. “You all right, bro?” he asks. I shake my head as I lift some water to my mouth and rinse. “You hit the alcohol pretty hard last night. We didn’t think you’d wake up today.”
“Man, I feel like shit,” I say as I look at myself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes. Crusty, dry, bloodied lip. Soiled shirt.
“Looks like you messed Jamal’s bathroom up. Damn near remodeled it.” Eric winces at the sight. “A little more vomit on the wall and I wouldn’t know where I was.” Eric laughs, trying to cheer me up.
I look around and see the dried upchuck on the floor, in the tub, and on the toilet seat. I’m trying to figure out where did it all come from; then visions from last night begin to reappear. Vaguely, I can see us at the bar, laughing and turning women away. Cussing them out.
“Adrian called over here looking for you.”
The name strikes a nerve as I go further into my aching brain to think about last night. Adrian and Carla. Wrapped together like lovers. Making love. They were loving each other. I lean on the sink and hold my head down.
Jamal joins Eric at the door. “Breakfast is ready.…” He comes in and pats my back. “Greg man, you gon’ be all right?”
“This shit is fucked up,” I croak.
“Fuck her, man. She ain’t worth it.”
“She was my fiancée, man. How can I just take that attitude? I was in love with her.”
“Greg, your girl was a lying, two-faced lesbian. Ill-natured,” Jamal says calmly. “You’re going to have to get over her.”
“Shit.”
“Hey Greg,” Eric interrupts, “she’s no good for you. Who knows where she’s been and who she’s been with?”
I feel my eyes water, but I hold on to the tears. I can’t get the picture of Adrian out of my head. Images of me killing her. Strangling her. Loving … the bitch. My stomach begins to ache as I try to hold back the tears.
“Greg, take a shower, clean yourself up,” Jamal says. “I have some sweats you can borrow.”
“Take all the time you need, man,” Eric’s voice rings in.
Jamal leads me to the other guest bathroom in his house. I turn the shower on and the steam immediately releases the stress from my face and arms. I begin to look forward to having the water against me, like an old friend. I forget about last night and begin to think about tomorrow. I also begin to think about how I will make it through all this. How I will cope. I think about having to tell my family. The different attitudes about Adrian that they all had. I think again. I’ll wait before I tell them. A couple of days to let my anger die down. A couple of days to be a hurt brother trying to bounce back.
23
It’s been four days since I found Adrian and Carla in bed together. Adrian has only called once since it happened, but fuck her! I don’t want to hear her voice or see her face! I’ve finally decided to tell my family that the wedding has been called off. They are on their way over now.
At first I couldn’t even say it. To think the woman you are in love with is bisexual is not the most entertaining of thoughts. Especially for a man, because sometimes we wake up in the morning just to make a woman’s day.
Women can handle shit like this because they talk about it and read about it all the time. Men, on the other hand, are different. We may joke about those kinds of situations, but to actually know your woman cares more about another woman than about a man is unreal. Real men don’t talk about men sleeping with men, or women sleeping with women. We consider women like Adrian as women who can’t handle a good, strong, sexually active man. She’s weak and lacking, in our minds.
That situation with her and Carla would have been fine if I was Phil. See, Phil is crazy. He probably would have jumped in the bed and yelled, “Don’t stop on my account!”
But since I’m not like Phil, things are different. Women like Carla and Adrian are different, is all. Unacceptable. We don’t picture their kind as wives. Asking a woman to marry you is a big step for a man, and the last thing he wants to know is that somebody else is getting what he considers is his pussy. No matter who’s getting it!
Jamal, Eric, and Tim have been supportive like the brothers I never had. Tim was trying to call me and tell me what he knew. He said Carla told him everything one night when he was expressing his feelings to her. He had grown fond of her and was ready to commit. He said before he could even set his lips to say what he had to say to her, Carla came right out and told him she didn’t like men and she could only be his friend. She said she was flattered and all, but life had dealt her too many blows to deal with another man ever. That’s when he asked her about her relationship with Adrian. Carla told him everything.
Adrian and Carla go back as far as fourteen years. They’ve been lovers off and on, but Adrian could never decide what side of the fence she wanted to walk on. Carla became frustrated and moved out of the city. After that, they would see each other every now and then, but Adrian wanted to keep her relationship with Carla a secret, so she introduced Carla to LaShawn. Those two dated for two years. It turned out Carla was too demanding and she wanted LaShawn to have another baby, but LaShawn wasn’t willing. Carla put so much pressure on LaShawn that she eventually suffered a mild breakdown and had to go into therapy. Carla relocated to her hometown of D.C., and was out of the picture right around the time I met Adrian. I guess she was going through her I-love-men stage then. Anyway, Carla told Tim, she came back because she loved Adrian and wanted Adrian with her. Carla still wanted children, so Adrian’s plans with me changed for the worst. Adrian obviously still was weak behind Carla, so I became just a well-off sperm donor to her. Adrian was planning to marry me, have my child, and leave me to be with another woman. That way, she could get alimony and child support from me. Ain’t that a bitch? And on top of that, she probably would have gotten the house because you know the court system don’t care about a brother. When I told Tim what happened he was real upset about the whole situation. The sad part is that none of us had a clue that Adrian was bisexual.
A whole lot of shit fell into place after that explanation. I mean, things like why her parents treated me like royalty. They were happy to see their baby girl with a man. Her choosing to always ride me when we were having sex and her fetish with Nia Long, who I pray to God isn’t a lesbian because I still have hopes that we’ll meet one day! And all the gay friends she had should have been another clue. Like I said, I have nothing against a person being gay as long as I know about it.
Being in the closet hurts more people than just the person hiding in that motherfucker. But it’s over and now comes the toughest part. Telling my family.
The doorbell rings and I’m still trying to clean this pigpen of an apartment. I drop some clothes on the floor and answer anyway.
When Louise and Shreese walk in, they immediately started criticizing my place.
“Gregory Alston, I know your daddy raised you better than this!” Louise says.
Shreese looks at me. “Boy, what is wrong with you? This place is a mess.”
“Come in and sit down,” I say dryly.
“Where? Son, this place looks like World War One.” Louise bends down and picks up the clothes I left on the floor two days ago. She takes them to the bathroom. She hasn’t even taken her coat off. Pops comes in quietly. I guess he’s still mad at me. Shreese sits next to Pops on the couch. She’s looking at me. Concern rises on her face, but she stays quiet. Louise comes back into the living room long enough to take off her coat and put her purse down. She immediately walks into the kitchen and begins cleaning.
“Mom, I really need to talk to you about something. Do you mind?”
“Gregory, whatever you got to say, you can say over running water. I can see that something is wrong, but this kitchen is dirty.”
I let her comment slide. To argue over where I want her to be when I break the news is trivial compared to the reaction. I just hope she doesn’t break any of my plates or glasses when I say what I have to say.
“First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming.”
“You’d do it for us.” Shreese smiles.
“I want to tell you that Adrian and I have broken our engagement.”
Louise never looks up from the dishwater she is running. Pops looks at me in surprise. Shreese is the only person able to talk. “Oh my God, what happened?”
“I caught Adrian in the new house having sex with someone.” A lump of butterflies fills my stomach.
“Lord have mercy. I should have followed my first instincts about that girl,” Shreese says.
“What do you mean, ‘caught her in the house having sex with someone’?” Pops asks. “Did you ask her why she was with someone else?”
I can see now that Pops isn’t taking this as lightly as Louise or Shreese. “No, I left her there and haven’t talked to her since.”
“Well, it serves her right. The Lord don’t like ugly.” Shreese sucks her teeth and leans back onto the sofa.
I look in the kitchen and Louise is still washing the dishes. She looks at me and her eyes tell me she understands.
“When did this happen?” It’s Pops, and he is still looking surprised.
“Friday night.”
“Who was the man? Was he one of your friends?” he asked.
I paused for a second. “No, Pops. I’d never seen this man before.”
“Hmph,” Louise says. She looks up and tries to pass it off with a cough.
“Lord have mercy,” Shreese repeats herself. “So what about the wedding stuff?”
“Jamal and Eric are handling the cancellations of everything. Some of the finances I will have to take as a loss. I haven’t talked to Adrian, so I don’t know what she’s going to do on her end.”
“What about the house, son?” Louise asks from the kitchen.
“I’m keeping it. The mortgage payments are in my name and it’s high time I quit renting anyway.”
“Gregory, I’m so sorry about all this,” Shreese says.
“Son, you sure you two can’t work this out?” Pops says. “People make mistakes.”
“Adolphus, you can’t forget nothing like that. Adrian should have thought about all that before she climbed into bed with somebody other than Gregory. There is nothing to be worked out,” Louise states.
“Mom is right, Daddy. The damage has been done and the Lord has to handle the rest.”
“I guess so, but this is the craziest shit I’ve heard since Miles Davis put out Bitches’ Brew,” Pops mumbles. “Well son, are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I just have some thinking I need to do.”
“And some cleaning too,” Shreese says. She raises from the couch with her coat in her hand. “If you need anything, call me. I have an emergency meeting at the church. We got a new pastor.”
“Is he married?” Pops asks.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good,” he says.
Shreese comes over and gives me a hug. This time, we both feel comfortable. She goes over, kisses Louise, and heads out the door. Pops flicks on the television and watches the news.
I go to my bedroom and start cleaning up. There are hints of Adrian’s presence everywhere. Her clothes, perfumes, things she bought me over the years, her jewelry, and, under my bathroom cabinet, her feminine goods. I feel violated. Like a brother who’s gotten beat down by the police before he’s sent to jail. The phone rings, but I don’t answer it.
I hear the water turn off and Louise picks up the phone in the kitchen. “Gregory, this is Freedom on the phone. She says Jamal is on his way over with the boxes. Do you want to talk to her?” she calls out to me.
“No, tell her thanks,” I answer. I gather Adrian’s things and stack them on my bed. As soon as Jamal gets here, I’m packing them up and sending them to her. Hopefully she’ll have sense enough to get her shit out of the house too.
Pops comes to the back. “Gregory, I have to go back over to the house and take care of some business. Can you bring your mother home for me?”
I look at Pops, and for the first time in a long time, I can see what he means by he has a lot of living to do. He still stands like a newly built building. His hands are strong and his legs are sturdy. I used to be teased when I was younger for having a father who was so much older than everyone else’s in my class, but he has withstood the test of time. Maybe time held still for him and Mom … to be honest, I don’t know, but I see that he’s still as sturdy as he was when Louise left.
“Yeah, I can drop her off,” I say.
“And Gregory, you get over Adrian and move on. You still got grandkids to produce for me, you understand.” He smiles. His eyes still twinkle.
“I understand, Pops.” I give him some dap and he pats me on the back before he leaves out of the room. I hear him say some things to Mom and then he leaves out of the apartment. She’s in the front busying herself with cleaning my place up. I’m actually relieved she’s here. Otherwise, I’d still be carrying on like a depressed snail. She flicks the television off and turns on my stereo.
Music has gotten our family through some hard times, and now I can appreciate the value of why people write lyrics and why they work so hard at getting their songs to have the emotional feeling that songs should have. Surprisingly enough, she put on my Donny Hathaway CD. I used to listen to him in high school. Uncle Bennie turned me on to him. I dig his daughter Lalah Hathaway, too. Her first CD is definitely the lick. As Donny’s voice and piano playing fills the quiet spaces in the apartment, I think about my days in high school, when life was much more simple. I had dedicated his version of “For All We Know” to this girl named Rita Jackson. She was older than me, but I had a crush on her that some thought would never end. I wonder what happened to Rita. Mom’s selection of music was perfect. She just so happened to pick one of the only CDs I have that Adrian never heard. There are fourteen in all she never heard. She didn’t care for Donny Hathaway, and I never tried to force him on her. Mom must know something I don’t know. Mothers are like that. They can always say or do the perfect thing at the most appropriate time.
As I think about my mother, I suppose Pops will be happy with her. He hasn’t been to France in years and I suppose letting him go, with my support, would make him happy. Shit, I may need to join them! After Friday night, I feel like Dallas has just caved in on me. Nah, Pops was right, I’m a grown man now and I don’t need him as much as I used to.
The doorbell rings and Mom lets Jamal in. They greet each other. He’s carrying two well-packed grocery sacks. I help by taking one and carrying it to the kitchen.
“Freedom and her sisters cooked up enough food to get you through the next two weeks, my brother.” He smiles.
“Good,” Louise says. “I’m glad, because it’s going to take him two weeks to get this apartment cleaned.”
I help Jamal get the boxes and as soon as I get them in my room I begin to pack Adrian’s things. We spend the rest of the day cleaning, munching on the food Freedom sent, and packing boxes. My lease is up in one week. This will be the last week in my apartment.
Jamal leaves after we get Adrian’s boxes packed. Mom puts on her coat and grabs her purse and we head out on our way back to the house. Once we’re on the freeway, I begin to talk to her. “Mom, I know you’re taking Pops back to France with you.”
“What do you have to say about it?” she asks.
“At first I wasn’t excited about it. I was against it and I felt like you had come back to split the family up again.”
“What else?”
“Pops means a lot to me, you both do. I just wasn’t prepared for this kind of separation again.”
“So what caused your change of heart? Why aren’t you fighting this anymore?”
