Abide with Me (20 page)

“Mama, if I told you something, would you keep it to yourself?” Raymond knew he had to come clean now, but deep down, he really needed his mama’s advice.

“Sure, I would, baby. What’s the matter?”

Raymond didn’t answer. He and his mother were silent on the phone for almost a minute, listening to each other breathe. His mother broke the silence.

“Raymond, please tell me what happened.”

Raymond told his mother the information Lisa had uncovered. His voice ranged from sorrow to anger and he was concentrating on not crying, though his eyes ached with tears. When he said the words out loud, they became even more painful, like they were bruising his throat.

“My first response is an easy one. And that’s to tell you, it’s in the past and the past is over. But I got to ask you something.”

“Yeah, Mama,” Raymond said softly.

“Do you still love him?”

After a brief hesitation, Raymond said weakly, “I think so.”

“Then if you’re going to forgive him, you’d better know so,” his mother said firmly.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this ain’t gonna be easy. How does Trent feel?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t know? You haven’t told him about this?”

“No.”

“Raymond Jr., is that fair? What if it’s not true?”

“The information was double-checked, Mama. I know it’s true.”

“But you haven’t heard his explanation.”

“There is no excuse for this, Mama. He shouldn’t have done it,” Raymond said angrily.

“Baby, I don’t mean to sound harsh, and I know this is hurting you. But you at least owe Trent a chance to explain his case. Boy, you’re sounding and acting more like your father with each passing day.”

“No, I’m not.” This comparison made Raymond even more upset. He loved and respected his father, but he didn’t want to be like him on any level. Not because he felt his father had always run their home with an iron-clad fist, but because they were from different times. Somehow, his mother, Kirby, and Raymond had allowed his father to live in the past, without challenge. Raymond did admire the way his father always spoke his mind, not backing down to anyone, and was always loving and respectful of his wife. Raymond had never seen his mother and father arguing, only minor disagreements.

“Whatever you say. But I’m telling you this sounds just like something he would say.”

“I’ve got to go, Mama. Thanks for listening,” Raymond said quickly. He felt he had just made a big mistake by telling her about his personal problem.

“Where you got to go?”

“I promised Jared I would meet him,” Raymond lied.

“But we ain’t finished talking about this.”

“We are for now, Mama. And don’t you worry about me. And please, please don’t tell Pops about this,” Raymond pleaded.

“I’ll try not to. Good night, baby. I’ll pray for you and Trent, but you got to get on your knees too.”

“Night, Ma. I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

When Raymond hung up the phone, he felt uneasy. It was something his mother had said at the end of their conversation, when he had asked her not to worry or to mention his problem to his father. Raymond knew his mother wouldn’t be able to do either.

After about ten minutes of silence and staring at the doctor’s framed degree from Cornell University and a framed photograph of Times Square, Basil finally spoke.

“I did something stupid,” he said quietly.

“How so?” the doctor asked.

“One of my honeys invited me to some model’s party the other night. It was at the bar called Chaos down in the SoHo area. It was a typical Gee-ain’t-I-fabulous party. You know, a lot of models, model groupies, and people who ain’t never had their name on a guest list,” Basil said.

“How did that cause trouble?”

“I’m gettin’ to that. This honey, Valencia, was busy kissing ass to some of the so-called producers and video casting agents. So I went up into this level of the club where they had a cigar and champagne bar. It was real tight with antique chairs and real dark and everybody lookin’ smooth, puffing on cigars, and sipping champagne. So I take a
seat at the end of the bar and this plump but good-lookin’ in the face brother comes over and sits next to me. He offers me a smoke, tells me it’s Cuban, and I take it.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I really don’t, but cigars and a blunt every now and then is cool. Let me get back to my story. So me and this mofo … his name was Dan or something nondescript like that … start talking. I decided to engage him in conversation because he had given me this wonderful-tasting cigar and ’cause I noticed the gold wedding band he was wearing. Big mistake,” Basil sighs.

“Why was that a mistake?”

“I start talking and he seems like a cool brother. Tells me he works on Wall Street as a vice-president for one of the brokerage firms. We talk about the market. I ask him for some stock tips and he grins and tells me he’s not going to jail just because he meets a good-lookin’ brother.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“By then I knew what was up. And that bugle blowing in his pants was a true sign. I had a couple of drinks, and I’m thinking if this mofo is married, then I don’t have to worry about him riding my jock, you know, after I bust the guts and move on.”

“So you were attracted to him?”

“Not really. But he was smart and I like it when a brother got his shit together. We talked about the markets and investments and how long it was going to be before the bull market faltered. He mentioned his loft in SoHo and his beach home in the Virgin Islands. But no mention of a wife. While he was talking, I kept looking down at his finger with the gold band. Just to let him know I wasn’t stupid.”

“Did he notice?”

“Not really. He was one of these mofos who obviously liked the sound of his own voice, so he wasn’t interested in nuthin’ I was saying.”

“So how was this a mistake? You met someone whose conversation you found interesting.”

“I’m gettin’ there, Doc. I’m gonna tell you. I guess I should get to why I’m so mad at myself. Long story, short. After a few more glasses of DP, I end up back at his loft. He tells me he has this awesome sound system, and a computer system that is linked to the foreign markets and some more cigars and vintage brandy. So I decide to check it out. Ole boy’s place was the shit. I mean, you could tell he was doing all right for himself. The walls were covered with expensive artwork and the loft had a view that was all that. Anyway after one drink, I asked Dan to let me check out the markets and he says, ‘Sure.’ So he leads me down this long, dark hallway. About halfway down he suddenly turns and said, ‘I’ve been dying to ask you this all night.’ Then he whispers, ‘Can I taste that love basket I’ve been staring at all night?’ ”

“What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t say fuck. I just whipped it out. He started sucking on it like my dick was pumping life into his ass. He pulls me to this bedroom and the first thing I notice is this big-ass wedding picture, with him and some dumb-ass sister. He pulls off his clothes and the body is kinda plump, but my shit is up so I’m ready to get off. But then …” Basil paused.

“What happened?”

“He whispers to me again. This time he says, ‘Fuck me like a woman.’ ” Basil turned away to the window with a look of disgust.

“How did that make you feel?” the doctor asked after a few minutes.

“Pissed me the fuck off. I pulled my pants up. Pulled my mutherfuckin’ dick out of his face and got the fuck out of his apartment.”

“Why did that upset you?”

“It just made me sick. Here is this married mofo begging for the dick, which I would have given freely, but then he started talking
about treat him like a woman. I want to just bust him up side his head, but I didn’t.” Basil paused and looked at the doctor as if he were waiting for a sign. After a moment of meeting the doctor’s stony stare, Basil said, “So I guess I’m making progress, huh, Doc?”

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah. The fact that I didn’t hit him and that I went home and jerked my own dick off tells me I’m making a whole lot of progress,” Basil said as he got up from the chair and headed for the door.

Raymond had just closed a book on New York real estate law when the phone rang.

“This is Raymond Tyler.” He answered in his best business voice since he was expecting a call from the lawyer of Peaches’s landlord.

“Is this my man? I can’t believe I’m finally talking to you,” Trent said quickly.

“Trent, how you doing?” Raymond asked in a voice that sounded more like he was talking to a distant friend.

“I’m doing a lot better now that I’m talking to you,” he said.

“What time is it over there?”

Trent didn’t answer Raymond’s question. Instead, he started talking at a rapid pace. “Raymond, you have to come over here. This place is beautiful. Now I know why the white folks didn’t want to give up power! But, man, do our brothers need help with some things. The architecture is not that modern. This junior high we’re building will
be one of the most modern pieces of architecture in the village. But the hotel I’m staying at, the Intercontinental, is tight. I mean it’s better than any hotel we’ve stayed in anywhere in the States. And the place where we’re building the school is called the Bopfa King Village. It’s about an hour and a half from Johannesburg and get this, baby, the king of the village graduated from Howard. Make sure you tell your pops that! I know he’ll be proud. And the king invited us to his compound for dinner and a wedding. Can you believe that! I’m going to a real African wedding.”

“That sounds real good, Trent. I’m glad you’re having a great time,” Raymond said. The chill in his voice could have air-conditioned all of South Africa.

“Yeah, boy, it’s just unreal, this place,” Trent said, oblivious to Raymond’s response. “We’re going to Capetown this weekend and I hear it’s even more beautiful than where I’m staying now. So how are you doing? How is Peaches? Jared? Nicole?”

“They’re all doing fine,” Raymond said.

“That’s great. You know what’s crazy? The people over here are the nicest people I’ve ever met and they are so interested in our culture. They seem to love African-Americans. Just the other day I was in this restaurant and they had Dru Hill blasting over the speakers. When I go to Capetown, I’m going to visit the jail at Robben Island where they held Nelson Mandela,” Trent said as he stopped to finally take a breath.

“Have you talked with Trent Jr.?” Raymond wanted to remind Trent about his responsibilities back in the States.

“Yeah, a couple of times. He’s doing fine. I want to bring him over here. And I want to bring you also. When can you come?”

“I don’t know. This thing with Peaches is going to take a little bit longer than I expected. How long do you think you’ll be there?”

“I don’t know. But I can get a trip home whenever I want. And you
know I have to come through New York. Maybe I’ll make a trip to New York in the next week or two. I can’t tell you how much I miss you. Do you miss me?”

A few seconds lapsed before Raymond said, “Yeah, I miss you.”

“The only thing missing from this wonderful experience is not having you next to me when my head hits the pillow. What’s going on with the confirmation? Have they set a date yet?”

“Naw, not yet.”

“What’s going on? There aren’t any problems, are there?”

“No, not really. I’m trying not to worry about it.”

“Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t really sound like yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Raymond asked defensively.

“It’s just your voice. If I was there looking in your eyes, I would be able to tell. You’re sure everything is cool?”

“Not really,” Raymond said. His reply surprised him. He was not ready to talk with Trent about the information Lisa had shared. But he had promised Trent to always be open and honest. Then Raymond thought, Trent had made the same promise. So much for love.

“What’s up?” Trent’s voice was calmer now, finally focused on what Raymond was saying or, rather, not saying.

“I don’t want to go into it right now. But we need to talk real soon and this is a conversation we should have in person,” Raymond said.