Abide with Me (32 page)

“This is the hotel operator. How can I help you, Mr. Tyler?”

“Would you put a ‘do not disturb’ on my phone until further notice?”

“No problem, Mr. Tyler. Would you like a wake-up call in the morning?” Raymond looked at the clock and realized it was almost 10:30. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

When he hung up, the red light on the phone began flashing frantically. As Raymond walked back into the living area, Trent was standing with his arms folded across his chest and gazing out the window at the sea of yellow taxis moving slowly around Columbus Circle. When he heard Raymond walk back into the room, he turned and asked, “So what are we going to do? Are we over?”

Raymond wanted to say, “So you can go out and fuck whoever you want?” but he did not. Instead he just looked at Trent and said, “I don’t know. I’m carrying my ass to bed.”

Raymond felt like he had just returned from a funeral as he undressed and lay on the bed, not even bothering to remove the bedspread. He pulled out a couple of pillows and propped them against the headboard, and then stared at the ceiling as his emotions assailed him from every direction. He felt mad. He felt sad. And he felt totally alone. Who could he talk to? Who would understand the pain of infidelity? Raymond felt the answer was no one.

About a half hour later Trent walked quietly into the bedroom. He had tried to sleep on the sofa, but it was too small. When he walked into the bedroom, he noticed Raymond’s eyes were closed, but sensed he wasn’t asleep. Trent started to ask his partner if it was all right if he slept in the same bed with him, but he did not. He simply removed his yellow polo knit shirt and navy slacks and lay next to Raymond. Trent gazed at the ceiling and noticed the thin slice of light coming from the nearby bathroom. He wanted to hold Raymond and plead for forgiveness. Trent wanted to explain his weakness, and how it hadn’t happened in years. He wanted Raymond to know how deeply he loved him and how he would do anything in the world to take back those moments.

Raymond’s thoughts were more questions. What would he do? Should he leave Trent? He had always told himself that if he was going to be in a relationship with a man … then it had to be perfect. It was clear to him that this relationship wasn’t perfect.

Raymond and Trent had both fallen into an uneasy sleep when the phone rang. They both leaped up, and again Trent asked, “Do you want me to get that?”

Raymond knew it was Basil, but he didn’t want to talk with him. He figured it would suit Trent well to know that other men were interested in him, so he said in a smug tone, “Suit yourself,” as he turned his back on his partner. Trent didn’t answer the phone and turned his back too, away from Raymond. A few moments later the phone rang
again, and this time Raymond jerked it from the cradle and shouted, “What!”

A shaky-voiced operator said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Tyler, but the party has called five times in the last thirty minutes. I told him you had a DND on your phone but he said it’s an emergency. A family emergency,” she said.

“Can you ask who it is?” If it was Basil, then Raymond would give the operator a firm no.

“Sure, I can do that. Hold on, Mr. Tyler.” A few seconds later the operator came back on the line and said, “He says he’s your brother. He said his name was Kirby Tyler.”

Raymond still figured it was Basil and was going to instruct the operator to make him give a middle name. But instead he said, “Put him through.”

“Right away, Mr. Tyler.”

“Ray.” It was Kirby, and for the second time that evening, Raymond heard panic across the phone line.

“Whassup, Kirby?”

“Ray … you need to come to Chicago. We think Pops had a heart attack. You’ve got to come quick, bro, ’cause they don’t think he’s going to make it and Mama’s freakin’,” Kirby said.

“What? When did this happen? Is he still alive?” Raymond sat up in bed as his heart began to race. A warm film of sweat began to dampen his neck.

“We were out eating. He was talking and then he just passed out. I don’t know if he’s still alive. I’m at the hospital now and they’re not letting Mama or me know anything. We need you, Ray,” Kirby said, as though he was near tears. He sounded not like a star football player, but like a little boy suddenly afraid of the dark.

“I’m on the first thing outta here, Kirby. Tell Mama to hold tight.”

“I think this is the first time some shit like this has happened to me,” Basil said. His voice was solemn and deeper than usual.

“How did that make you feel?” the doctor asked.

Basil had predicted this question, so he let off the anger he had felt since the night before.

“How does it make me feel? Is that the only thing you fuckin’ doctors know how to ask? Is that the first thing they teach you in med school? Just ask the patients how it makes them feel? It made me mad as fuck. How dare that mutherfucker stand me up and not even call. And when I call him, his punk-ass boyfriend answers the phone. He never said anything to me about his boyfriend coming to town. That goddamn Raymond wasn’t even man enough to talk to me and tell me he didn’t want to go to dinner with me,” Basil said.

The doctor wanted to ask Basil if it made him think about some of the women he had stood up, but after Basil’s tirade he decided against
it. Instead, he asked, “Why do you give Raymond so much power over your life?”

“That mofo ain’t got no power over me. I’m the one with the mutherfuckin’ power. I just don’t understand why he tried to make a fool out of me. There I am sitting at the bar, drinking beer after beer, and eating stale-ass peanuts. Having to give my don’t-fuck-with-me look to men and women who tried to strike up a conversation with me,” Basil said as he stood up, placed both his large hands on his knees, and bent over, trying to relieve some of the tension in his lower back. After a moment, he straightened up and walked toward the bookcases, his aching back to the doctor.

“How long did you wait?”

“Almost two hours. I called his hotel and he didn’t answer the phone and then I called and the bitch-ass operator tells me, ‘Mr. Tyler has requested a do not disturb.’ Ain’t that some shit?” Basil asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “I carried my ass home and pulled out my phone book and wasn’t nobody home. Couldn’t even get ahold of that faggot-ass Monty. I started to just call a ho.”

“So you wanted to spend the evening with somebody?”

“I wanted to get my jimmie off. That’s what I wanted,” Basil said firmly.

When the doctor asked Basil how could he be certain it was Raymond’s partner who answered the phone, he told the doctor how, when someone finally answered the phone early the next morning, he had said, “Raymond?” and the person on the other end said, “No. Raymond’s not here. This is his partner, Trent.”

“And you still haven’t spoken with Raymond?”

Basil turned and stared menacingly at the doctor. “Do you think I’d be mad as fuck if I’d talked to Raymond?” Basil shouted. “Do you think I’d be talking about this if I’d had the chance to tell that mofo how don’t nobody stand me up?” Basil saw a bit of fear in the doctor’s
eyes and tried to concentrate on keeping his voice under control. He gave a fake laugh that sounded more like a cough when he said, “I guess my father was right when he said love and sex makes strong men into fools.”

Through the smoldering anger in his eyes, the doctor could detect a deep sadness and a crack in Basil’s veneer of toughness. “And which one of those things applies to Raymond?”

“Which what?”

“Is it love? Or is it sex?”

“I don’t know,” Basil said softly.

“You don’t?”

“Maybe I don’t want to know.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Do about what?”

“About your relationship with Raymond. Are you going to try and contact him?”

“You know I’ve got to get him now. And all I gotta say is it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

Raymond arrived at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. He was traveling light, so he went immediately to the ground transportation area and caught a taxi to Northwestern Medical Center, located in downtown Chicago. He was tired, since he had been up since Kirby’s call. Trent had offered to come with him, but Raymond declined his offer, telling Trent he would call as soon as he heard anything, one way or the other. When he left the hotel suite, just before dawn, Trent held him tightly and whispered, “I love you,” and Raymond replied, “I know,” and kissed his cheek. He was relieved that Trent realized that their problems would have to wait.

Raymond’s response to his father’s collapse surprised and confused him. Initially he was scared.

The fear he could understand; he didn’t want his father to die. The love he felt for his father, though uncertain at times, was equally overpowering. This was the man who had nurtured him, sacrificed for
him, meant the world to him. Raymond couldn’t imagine not having his father in his life.

What shocked him were the feelings of anger and betrayal. He felt secretly ashamed and guilty that he was so angry at his father for this crisis. His father’s death, he thought, would be the ultimate betrayal, robbing Raymond of the opportunity to vent his unwanted anger.

Although he struggled to conceal his true emotions, Raymond was overwhelmed when he arrived at the hospital to find his father semicomatose in the intensive care unit.

The front wall and door of the large room were glass, and Raymond could see his mother and Kirby seated on opposite sides of the bed.

Raymond Sr. looked peaceful, like he was enjoying a blissful dream, and didn’t appear to be suffering. When Raymond’s mother saw him standing at the door, she rushed to greet him.

“Oh, Raymond. Baby. Thank God you’re here,” his mother said as she embraced her firstborn son. She cried softly into his shoulder. Raymond held her tightly and felt her body shudder with each tearful sob.

Kirby stood and joined in the embrace. “Me too, bro. I’m glad you’re here.”

Dr. Hector Rodriguez was the cardiologist on call when Raymond Sr. had been admitted to the hospital. He hesitated outside the glass door and decided to allow the family a few minutes before entering. He rapped his knuckles on the door before coming inside. “I’m Dr. Rodriguez,” he said to Raymond. “I’m sure your mother and brother are happy to have you here.”

“How is he, Dr. Rodriguez?” Raymond asked. “Is my father going to be all right?”

“Right now, Mr. Tyler, we don’t know much at this point. He’s stable for the time being, but the next forty-eight hours are critical. Only then will we be able to tell if he’ll survive this episode and what, if any, disabilities he might have. My experience tells me that it is of
the utmost importance that you are all here with him now, loving him, supporting him, and pulling for him. I will be checking in on Mr. Tyler periodically, but feel free to have me paged if you have any questions or concern.” With that, the doctor turned and left the room.

A deep sob rocked Mrs. Tyler’s medium frame. Raymond’s concern now turned to his mother. She was always so strong: the glue that held the family together through tough times. And now she seemed to be falling apart with no pretense even of a solid front.

“Come on, Mama. You know Pops. He’ll pull through. He always comes through in a crunch. Besides, he’s too stubborn to die.” Raymond hugged his mother and tried to believe his own words. It was clear to him that he would have to be the one to put up the strong front. His mother was badly shaken, and Kirby looked like a scared little boy.

Raymond turned toward Kirby and asked what had happened.

“We were having dinner at a steak house not too far from here. And Pops and I got into sorta an argument,” Kirby said, “right before it happened.”

“Now, you know it wasn’t your fault, son,” Raymond’s mother said, resuming her place at her husband’s side. She placed Raymond Sr.’s hand between hers and began to rock quietly back and forth in her chair. “Your father’s stroke had nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.”

“So are they sure it was a stroke and not a heart attack?”

“The doctor said it was a stroke,” Kirby said.

Raymond motioned for Kirby to follow him to the hallway. When the two of them got outside the room, Raymond looked at Kirby and said, “Tell me what you and Pops were arguing about.” Kirby hesitated before he answered Raymond. His eyes appeared bigger, filled with fear. Raymond had seen this look before, but then Kirby had been fourteen years old and caught having sex with a neighborhood
girl in the back of Raymond’s parked car. Finally he spoke. “Whenever your name came up during dinner, Pops would roll his eyes and make this grunting sound. I told him I thought he should lighten up on you, you know? He said you were holding up your own confirmation by not kicking Trent out. And I told him it was none of my business, his business, or the business of the federal government who you choose to live with. Pops went off on me something terrible. If I’d known he was gonna get so upset, I would have kept my mouth shut. But I didn’t, and now we’re all here in this sterile-ass hospital wondering whether he’ll live or die.”