A Cold Piece of Work (17 page)

“You've jumped right into this father thing, man,” his close friend Ray said. “I guess I was wrong. I thought you were the last person who needed to be a father.”

“So did I,” Solomon said. “But you know what? When it's done, it's done. You have to do what you have to do. I think about what my life would be like if I didn't have my father the first seven years of my life. I probably would be a different person. I don't know, but I do know he was there for me, and that meant a lot.

“We used to go to Redskins games and he'd talked to me during the ride about being tough and being responsible. All kinds of stuff, at an early age, that built a bond that carried over all my life. It was my foundation of becoming a man.”

Solomon enrolled Gerald in boxing lessons as a way of broadening his athletic interests. It was not easy, though; Michele
vehemently objected at first. “He doesn't need someone punching him in the face,” she said.

Solomon's retort: “Yes, he does, actually. It'll make him tougher and help him learn how to defend himself. Plus, I'll be there for every lesson.”

Michele relented. “Okay, Solomon. That's my baby.”

“Mine, too,” he said, smiling.

Solomon's most rewarding moment came indirectly through boxing. After a strong showing against a kid two years older and a few pounds heavier at Hitsville Boxing gym in Atlanta, a trainer came over to Gerald when he left the ring.

“Good job, young man,” he said. Solomon was nearby, listening with his chest stretched out with pride.

“Who're you here with?” the man said.

“I'm with my father,” Gerald said. Then he turned and saw Solomon.

“That's my daddy right there,” he said, pointing.

“Daddy,” Gerald said, motioning for his father to come over.

It was the first time Gerald called Solomon “Daddy.” As much as he wanted to come forward, Solomon stood there savoring the moment. It had been three weeks since they had broken the news to Gerald. Solomon had never said a word about wanting to hear his son call him “Daddy.” But the anticipation was there, like a wet sneeze at the tip of your nose.

And when it came, it ran through Solomon's body, through his bloodstream. Daddy. Father. It truly was official. They were father and son.

“Yes, this is my son,” Solomon said to the boxing trainer, his arm draped over Gerald's shoulder. “This is my son.”

Gerald looked up at his dad and Solomon looked down and they smiled at each other.

Leaving the gym, Gerald said it again, “Daddy, can we go to Waffle House?”

“You want Waffle House for dinner?” Solomon said. “You know what? Me, too.”

So they drove to the Waffle House at Panola Road and Covington Highway in Lithonia. They sat at the counter and enjoyed their food. Midway through the meal, Michele called.

“Oh, man,” Solomon said before answering. “I was supposed to call your mom.”

“Hello,” he answered. “How are you?”

“I'm good. What's going on with you guys?” she said.

Solomon covered the phone and said to Gerald, “She's gonna be mad at us. She cooked dinner.” They laughed.

“Uh, we're actually sitting at the counter at Waffle House,” he said.

“Waffle House?” Michele said. “Waffle House? Didn't I tell you that I was cooking tonight?”

She was disappointed and angry, too. It was obvious.

“I'm sorry; you did tell me,” Solomon said. “But you don't understand. Can I explain it to you when we get there?”

“You can explain it now, Solomon,” she said.

“No, I can't, not right now,” he said. “You'll understand when I tell you.”

“Solomon, you all are eating dinner at Waffle House, after I put together a wonderful meal,” she said. “Why would you do that?”

“Hold on,” he said to Michele. “Stay right here, Gerald. I'll be right back.”

When he stepped out of the kid's hearing range, he said, “Listen, I'm sorry. I realized that you were cooking but this is where Gerald wanted to go and I couldn't deny him. Not tonight,” he explained.

“Why not?” Michele asked. “What happened?”

“Because tonight, he called me ‘Daddy.' He told a trainer that I was his father and then he called me ‘Daddy'—more than once. It just happened. I don't know what triggered it. But it made me feel good. It made me feel like his father.

“I figured or was hoping one day it would happen. But to hear it… So when he said, ‘Daddy, can we go to Waffle House?' I just couldn't say ‘no.'”

Michele said, “Oh, wow. I understand that. I do. But you should've at least called me. And look at who is such a softie.”

“I know and I'm sorry,” Solomon said. “I'll make it up to you.”

“Oh, you will? How?” Michele asked.

“I'll bring you a T-bone and eggs with scattered, smothered and covered hash browns.”

Michele laughed her patented uproarious laugh. Then she added: “Don't forget an order of raisin toast,” and they laughed again.

Solomon and Gerald, father and son, finished their meal and took Michele's takeout order with them. On the way to Michele's house, Solomon debated asking Gerald what made him go from “Coach Money” to “Daddy” that night.

Instead, he left it alone. He thought to himself,
It doesn't matter.

At Michele's, she took her Waffle House dinner to the kitchen. “Thank you,” she said. “At least I don't have to cook tomorrow.”

“What did you make?” Solomon asked.

“You have to come back tomorrow to find out,” Michele said as she walked over to Gerald. She asked him about his homework.

“I already did it and Daddy checked it,” he said.

Michele's heart fluttered, and she
really
knew then what Solomon meant. Hearing Gerald say the word was different and powerful, even emotional.

“Great, honey,” she said. “I'm going to eat my food, since I was
waiting on you all while you were eating. But you need to take a bath and get in the bed. It's almost nine o'clock.”

Off Gerald went. “I'll tuck you in before I leave!” Solomon yelled out as his son headed down the hall.

“Okay, Daddy,” he said without looking back.

Solomon and Michele looked at each other.

“What happened?” she said. “I can't believe it. I mean, I can, but it's so sudden. He didn't say anything about it?”

“Nah, he didn't,” Solomon said. “I don't know what happened. He just said it and he hasn't stopped…I feel great.”

“Me, too,” Michele said. “It's all coming together like I want-ed…except…”

“Except? Except what?” asked Solomon, who was sitting at the bar in the kitchen.

“The last three weeks have been great,” she said. She pulled her Waffle House dinner out of the microwave and placed it on the counter, opposite Solomon.

“It's almost unreal that all this has come together,” she added. “I don't want to sound like I'm bitching and moaning; I'm so happy right now that you and Gerald are father and son, together.”

“What is it?” Solomon asked.

“Well, what about us?” Michele said. “I mean, it seems to me that you've been so focused on Gerald that you've let us go, sort of. We haven't done anything together since I told you about Gerald.

“Please trust me on this: I'm really grateful you've taken on the responsibility of being a father to our son. That means everything to me. And now that it seems we're clearly headed in the right direction, I want to know what you think about you and me.”

Solomon smiled because Michele was right. As soon as he had learned that he was a father, his entire focus was on
being
a father. He saw Gerald almost every day after the night that Michele had
given him the news. He had talked to him the days they were not together.

He turned a guest room in his house into Gerald's bedroom so the kid could have a place there that felt like his. He cooked breakfast with his son, played basketball, went to the movies, introduced him to golf, battled him in videogames and just about everything else. Once in a while he included Michele in their activities.

“You know what, Michele?” Solomon started. “You're right. And I'm sorry. I've been consumed with Gerald and building a relationship with him. It's been great. I still can't believe it, really.

“And I guess I was too caught up in that. You're sweet and sexy and it's probably been a good thing I've been distracted. When I do think about you, a lot of times it's about making love to you.”

Michele's body smiled. It had been aching for his touch for weeks; just his words made it blush. Those were the words she wanted to hear. It had been almost four months since they had reunited. Solomon had hinted at intimacy once in that time and Michele had balked, saying they both would know when the time was right.

That night was the right time, she decided. Actually, when Solomon saved her life twice in one night—by fending off carjackers and embracing the news that Gerald was his son— Michele's armor fell. She was his, if he wanted her.

It so happened that was the same time Solomon had become enthralled with learning that he was a father. And while he still wanted Michele, she had become a secondary concern.

“I've been thinking the same thing and for a long time,” Michele said. “I'm a little shocked at how someone's life can turn around in a matter of months. Do you know I thank God every night for everything that has happened?”

“Trust me, I do, too,” Solomon said.

“Come over here,” Michele said in a way that Solomon had not seen or heard in years. She turned her head slightly to the right, squinted her eyes and pursed her lips. Instantly, Solomon was turned on.

He made his way around the counter to Michele's side. “Do you know you haven't kissed me; I mean, really kissed me?” she said.

“You haven't kissed me, either,” he said, smiling. “But I'm here to change all that right now.”

With that, he delicately placed his hands on either side of Michele's face. She looked up at him as if he were something edible. He looked at her the same way.

Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his moist lips against hers and closed his eyes. They kissed deeply, passionately; the kind of kiss that makes you light-headed with anticipation for more.

He moved his hands from her face to her shoulders, to her back and down to her waist. Every move was executed with a firm but caring touch, one that made Michele whimper in pleasure.

She pressed her body up against his to feel his rocket-like erection, and it was then that their mouths separated. Michele became breathless. “Oh, God, Solomon,” she whispered. “Oh, God.”

He did not respond; not with words. He held her even tighter and ran his hand through the hair on the back of her head. She elevated on her tiptoes and kissed him on his neck. The smell of his cologne added to her pleasure.

There was not a false move between them. Each touch made the other gasp. For Solomon, it was the only place he wanted to be. Michele had another place for him to consider, though.

“Please spend the night with me,” she said. “I need to be with you.”

Solomon did not answer, not with words. He leaned in and kissed Michele deeply again, and she understood what that meant.

“We've got to get Gerald situated,” he said. “I should go check on him.”

She looked down at his bulging crotch. “You might want to wait until some air deflates out of that tire in your pants, Daddy,” she said.

They laughed. “You gonna pump some more air back into it?” he said, and they laughed again.

“Why don't you sit down and I'll go check on him,” she said. “Here, have some water.”

Solomon took the glass and downed half of it. Michele fixed her clothes and hair and checked on their son. After a few minutes, she came back to the living room with Gerald, who was wearing Redskins pajamas.

“Look at you,” Solomon said. “Looking good.”

Gerald smiled. “You like the Redskins?”

“Come on, now,” he said. “I thought I told you. The Redskins are my favorite team. Maybe we can go see them play next season.”

“Can I go, too?” Michele asked. “Ya'll always leaving me out.”

“She can go, right?” Solomon said to Gerald.

“Yes, Mommy, you can go. It'll be fun.”

“Okay, good, but right now,” she said, “it's time for bed.”

“You sleepy?” Solomon asked.

“A little bit,” Gerald answered.

“Good,” Solomon said, looking slyly at Michele. “Getting good rest is important.”

Michele smiled and shook her head.

“Come on, son,” Solomon said. “Let's get you tucked in.”

Solomon listened to him say his prayers and was moved. At the end of “As I lay me down to sleep,” Gerald said, “God bless
Mommy. God bless Daddy. God bless the whole wide world. Amen.”

“And God bless you, son,” he said to Gerald. “God bless you.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Goodnight.”

Solomon kneeled down beside the bed and hugged his son and kissed him on the top of his head. “Goodnight.”

He made his way back to the living room to find the lights out, TV off, a Teena Marie CD playing and candles burning. Michele was sitting on the couch with two glasses of wine in her hand, Chardonnay.

“This is nice,” he said, sitting next to her and receiving the drink. “Is it okay for me to refer to times during our first time around?”

“Yes, it's all right; I'm over it. Living in the moment,” she said. “That's what I keep telling myself.”

“Good,” he said. “You remember the time when we went to see Chuck Brown and Rare Essence at the Carter Barron?”

“Do I remember? That's when I learned I could dance on one leg,” she said, laughing.