The idea of the Monday blues never registered with Elliott. It was a new day, one to be thankful for and to savor. The start of the week was the day in which he visited the two car dealerships he owned: one in Cobb County and the other near Midtown Atlanta.
He enjoyed his summer experience when he was a kid at that Virginia dealership…until his arrest. When he won his $2.4 million civil suit, he put away $1 million in an interest-bearing account. He used some of the remaining money to purchase real estate and eventually two small auto dealerships, among other things.
Elliott had no financial concerns. He was debt-free after buying his place at the W Residences and paying off his Mercedes-Benz S550. But he was proof that financial freedom did not necessarily translate into complete happiness.
“Your need to date younger women and to keep yourself busy is an attempt to prevent yourself from focusing on the reality of your life,” Dr. Nottingham told him during his session that afternoon.
“Which is?” Elliott asked.
“The reality of your life is that you are unfulfilled because you do not have the family life you expected to have, that you need to have,” she said. “And that’s normal. To not have what you once coveted can be difficult to face.”
“But,” Elliott said. “I know there’s a ‘but’.”
Dr. Nottingham smiled. “But not facing it can be replaced by irrational behavior.”
“What’s my irrational behavior?”
“Irrational behavior is subjective,” she answered. “For me, in your case, it’s pursuing young women less than half your age. It’s going out every chance you can get, to places your peers would not think of going.”
“It doesn’t feel irrational to me, Dr. Nottingham. It feels right. I feel like I’m getting back what was taken from me.”
“Really? That’s what you really think?”
“Okay, well, let me ask you something then,” she said. “I was going to wait to ask this at another time, but this is the perfect time. If you believe dating young girls and frequenting places young people frequent is helping you get back what was taken from you when you were incarcerated, why aren’t you developing friendships with twenty-something young men? Why don’t you go to sports bars with twenty-somethings? Why don’t you go to strip clubs with younger men? Why don’t you dress like you’re their age? That’s what young men do and you missed out on that.”
Elliott looked at her. Then looked away.
“See, Elliott, if you were truly trying to recapture your taken-away youth, why not recapture all of it?” she added. “If you did those other things men in their twenties did, then maybe it could be considered recapturing your lost youth. But you’re only focusing on one aspect of life in your twenties: women. And that says to me that you’re more about avoiding what’s missing in your life than trying to fill it with what you didn’t get to experience.”
Elliott was speechless. What she said made so much sense. He never considered the other aspects of being in his twenties. He had no interest in gaining a friend among young men. There was nothing in common.
With younger women, the common thread was companionship. There was no age limit on companionship and how you get it or from whom you receive it.
“So,” he finally said, “I’m just a dirty old man?”
“Well, I’m older than you, and I don’t consider myself an old woman—so that’s not it,” Dr. Nottingham said. “What you are is a normal man who has been confused about how to move on after losing his family. Your love for your wife is evident. So, you have thought the best way to not think about her is to be involved with people who are not likely to remind you of her.”
“Here’s the thing, though,” he said. “She called me yesterday. She eventually told me that she misses me, always loved me and wants to see me. She asked me to meet her for lunch on Wednesday.”
“How do you feel about that?” the psychiatrist asked.
“I feel great about it,” he said. “But, to be honest, I did think to myself: Why am I so accepting of her after she basically ignored me for three years?’ What does that say?”
“What do you think it says?” Dr. Nottingham offered.
“I need you to figure this one out,” Elliott said.
“You should try first, don’t you think?”
“Well, maybe I was so accepting because I want her approval. When things got ugly at home, she insisted I leave. She rejected me. I want to get past that rejection.”
“You should be sitting in my chair,” she said, smiling. “Very good, Elliott. So, now that you know that, what do you do?”
“My instincts say to do what I need to do to remove feeling rejected.”
“I see,” Dr. Nottingham said. “And how do you do that? How far do you go? At what point is rejection rejected?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m going to have to feel that out. I will know when.”
After his session, Elliott called Lucy, who did not answer. He left a message: “Hey there, how are you? This is Elliott. Do you notice that the kids never leave messages when they call? It must be an age thing. They tell me that I see that they called and that’s enough. Anyway, Wednesday is good for lunch. Let me know when and where and I’m there.”
He jumped in his car with intentions to head toward Midtown from Buckhead. He called Daniel.
“Got a question for you,” he said. “First, how are you?”
“I’m good,” Daniel said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Where’s your shadow—I mean, your sister,” he said, laughing. Daniel laughed with him.
“I’m out on assignment for my internship. Danielle is taking a golf lesson at John A. White Park. What’s going on?”
“First of all, I’m glad you answered the phone; that’s a big deal. Thanks,” Elliott said. “Second, I wasn’t sure whom to call or if I should call you. But I’m going to lunch with your mom on Wednesday. Anything I should know?”
“You’re going to lunch with Ma? Why?”
“I’m not sure. She called me yesterday and—”
“Ma called you? Are you serious?”
“Daniel, can you help me?”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “She never talks about you. She literally never talks about you.”
“Well, what’s been going on in her life? I’m trying to figure out why this is happening,” Elliott said.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Daniel said. “And, no disrespect, but you really expect me to help you if I did know something?”
“Yes, because I’m your father and I’m asking you. That’s why,” Elliott said.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you,” Daniel said. “She has been the same as far as I can tell. She hasn’t been dating anyone. She’s been the same.”
“Okay,” Elliott said. “Maybe she just wants to finally be friends after so long.”
“Come to think of it, something did happen,” Daniel said. “About two weeks ago, I didn’t have to go to work until the afternoon. I came downstairs in the morning and she was dressed up, about to go out. It was a funeral. The mother of one of the families she covers on her job died. Don’t know how, but it was sudden. She was sad. She said, ‘I visited her home that morning. Talked to her. She seemed fine.’
“She was devastated, Dad. She said, ‘I’m supposed to help people as a social worker.’ Maybe she’s thinking if something happened to you and you all didn’t at least become friends again, she’d have regrets.”
“Yeah,” Elliott said. “That could be it.”
“You didn’t think it was a romantic thing, did you?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know what it could be,” he said.
They hung up and Elliott returned Henry’s call from Sunday. Turned out that he was at Lenox Square mall, and Elliott turned around and met him at Bloomingdale’s. He was all right with going to that mall on a Monday, but the word was that Saturday was the day gay men used it as a meeting post.
“If you’re straight, you do not want to go to Lenox on Saturday,” a woman told him. “They are everywhere.”
Elliott was not homophobic, but before Henry’s revelation, he was as close as one could be without officially being one. So, he stayed away from the mall on Saturdays. When he caught up with Henry at the department store, they slapped hands and hugged like men do. Elliott, for all his accepting of Henry’s lifestyle, was not completely comfortable being physically close to a gay man.
He, in fact, was uncomfortable as they walked the length of the mall toward the restaurant Prime. He noticed gay men walking together and straight people looking on as if offended. His mind played tricks on him; he thought people looked at him and Henry as a gay couple. And he started to sweat.
Henry did not notice and tried to carry on a conversation. “How did it go with your kids the other night?”
Elliott heard him but he was too busy trying to act like he was not with Henry.
“Hey, man, did you hear me?” Henry grabbed Elliott by the arm and he pulled away. “What’s wrong?”
“Man, this is crazy.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I mean, I’ll talk about it when we sit down.”
The five-minute walk down the mall and up the escalator to Prime seemed like a marathon to Elliott. He had accepted Henry as his friend, but they had not spent much time together beyond meeting out at a bar.
At the hostess stand, Elliott said, “Can we have a table in the back?”
“Why the back?” Henry asked.
“I don’t know,” Elliot said. “Never mind. I’m good wherever.”
They were seated in a booth in the center of the restaurant, to Elliott’s chagrin.
“What’s up with you?” Henry asked.
“I have to be honest,” Elliott said. “I almost panicked in the mall. I felt like people were looking at us as a couple.”
“What?” Henry was appalled. “How did you get that?”
“I know what this mall is like on Saturdays,” he said. “And I saw some gay men just now. It made me feel like people thought we were gay, too.”
“You are trippin’,” Henry said. “Do I look gay? Do you look gay? What does that even look like? Were we hugged up? So why would anyone think we’re gay?”
“But you are gay,” Elliott said.
“You only know that because I told you. I’m sure you know every gay man does not have feminine traits. Right?”
“Man, this is hard,” Elliott said. “You know how I feel about you. But…”
“But what, Elliott?” Henry asked. “I’m not asking you for sex. I’m asking you to be my friend as we have been for about fifteen years.”
“And I’m that; I want to be that,” Elliott said. “But it’s awkward. It is. I can’t lie to you. You’re the same person you have always been. And maybe we should talk about it now because after your son…passed, we never talked about it. We tried to carry on.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Henry asked.
The server came and they ordered sushi. Elliott ordered a French Connection: Courvoisier and Grand Marnier. The woman hung around, clearing place settings that would not be used, and Elliott waited for her to finish and leave before he continued.
“I’m sorry, man,” he said. “Waiters eavesdrop. Last thing I want is for her to hear our conversation and tell people we’re a gay couple.”
“You have a problem with gays or a problem with your sexuality,” Henry said.
“No, I don’t. Or maybe I do have a problem with gays,” he said. “I admit it. No, wait. Here’s what I have a problem with—and I can say this to you because you’re my boy and you want me to be honest, right?”
Henry looked at him.
“What I don’t like about most or some gay men is that they fake like they’re real men, dating women, fucking women, even marrying like you did and having kids…when they really want dick,” he said. “I’m not trying to be crass or insensitive, but that’s how I feel—and a whole lot of other people, too.”
“Man, you’re a piece of work,” Henry said. “You go around at sixty-one fucking twenty-year-olds and you want to judge somebody?”
“Hold up, don’t get on me and avoid my point,” Elliott said. “I love you like a brother. But I don’t have any respect for you messing with women and even having a child and you really are gay. What the hell is that about?”
Henry fumed. But he believed his friend deserved an answer, if only because Elliott was there to help him cope after his son’s death.
“Listen, it’s hard to explain,” Henry said. “I’m not looking for sympathy when I say this. And it’s no excuse, either. The reality is that I grew up in a family of men. Three brothers. All my first cousins were boys. We played sports and when we got older, chased girls and were basically regular boys. But I always had a different feeling about boys. It wasn’t an attraction, at first. It was weird because I wasn’t sure what was going on.
“Society, the way it is, told me to date girls; that’s what boys or men do. So I did. Around high school, I started identifying the feelings I was having. I knew what was going on with me. It came to me, like the light bulb comes on. There was a guy named Art Procter. I liked him. He wasn’t the best looking guy or the most muscular guy. But in the tenth grade, I felt attracted to him.”
Elliott leaned back with a frown on his face.
“Don’t get squeamish now. You asked. Anyway, it was like Art could read my mind. He knew I was attracted to him and he was attracted to me. One day, he told me as we were leaving the cafeteria: ‘You like me, don’t you?’ And I punched him in the face. I was sent to the principal’s office because a hall monitor saw it.
“The principal asked me why I hit him and I couldn’t say. I wouldn’t say. And he wouldn’t tell what he said to me. I ended up apologizing to him and had some kind of punishment that I can’t remember right now.
“But that was the beginning. But who could I tell? All of my friends were homophobic. They all used slurs and laughed at the guys who they thought were gay. I joined in with them because I was scared that they would think I was gay. Even though I didn’t look it, I felt it, and I walked around feeling like people could see it on or in me, if you know what I mean. To be gay in my family was akin to signing up for a firing squad. My dad was an outright gay basher. We can start right there. And what do you think my brothers were and his brothers and my cousins? My dad passed down to us to be the manliest of men.
“To uphold that expectation, I did all the things straight men do. I had girlfriends. I played sports. I ridiculed gay people. I did every single thing I could to throw off anyone to ever think I could not be straight. I overcompensated. And Elliott, it was the worst thing in the world, the worst feeling. I was trapped inside my own body. You actually might be able to relate to it in this context: When you were in prison for, what, twelve years for a crime you didn’t commit, you told me you had to adopt to the situation and act as a hardened criminal so hardened, crazy criminals would not bother you.
“So, you stabbed a guy and you talked shit and you postured for survival. It was like that for me, sort of.”
“Wait, that’s bullshit,” Elliott said. “I was in prison for something I didn’t do. I did what I had to do to stay alive and, ironically enough, prevent being fucked by a man. That’s different from fooling women into thinking you’re straight and, in one case, having a baby. See, that’s the problem right there. Forget everything else. Forget that people believe it’s unnatural and an act against God and whatever.
“To risk the health of a woman and to play with her feelings like that… Yeah, I have had sex with girls much younger than me. But it was straight up. No lies. No deceit. That’s where you’ll lose any discussion on this. This down-low shit is crazy and wrong. And we probably shouldn’t have even started talking about this because it’s pissing me off and making me feel differently about you.”
“You want to talk about bullshit? That’s bullshit,” Henry said. “You are fishing for an excuse to run. It’s cool. I’m really not surprised. You’re totally insecure about who you are so you fuck around with young girls and you worry you’ll be perceived as being gay by being seen with someone gay…even when nobody sees me as gay. How weak is that?
“Elliott, if you’re my friend, then you’re my friend. My sexuality should not matter. All the things we have done together over the years. The golf trips. The parties. The talks while you were going through your divorce. So much shit. And you’re basically telling me that was all bullshit because I don’t like women?”
“I’m telling you it was bullshit for you to not tell me you like men,” Elliott said. “Look, I know it would have been hard to do, and—”
“And I would have gotten what I got from you when I did tell you: name-calling and disappointment.”
“That was reactionary,” Elliott said. “You gotta give me a pass on that. Not many men have experienced hearing that from their boy. It’s a shock to the system, and, really, a slap in the face. Think about it, Henry: I fucking introduced you to women I knew. Friends. And unless you lied, you slept with at least two of them.”
“I lied,” Henry said. “Give me some credit. I could not, in good conscience, do that to people you knew.”
“Thank God,” Elliott said.
“They wanted me to sleep with them, but I kept coming up with excuses,” Henry said.
“Like what?” Elliott wanted to know.
“With one girl—I believe it was Gloria—I was making tea before we were going to bed,” Henry explained. “She was waiting for me in the bedroom. And then I screamed. She came running in. I was on the floor, holding my crotch, saying I spilled the hot water on myself. I poured water on the floor to make it look legitimate. So, I pretended I had scolded myself so I would be unable to have sex with her.
“And once I got through that situation, I faded away from her. It was the same trick with all of them; I had to do something to keep them away.”
“That’s pathetic,” Elliott said. “Sad. And you didn’t do that all the time because you got someone pregnant. Did your son know you were gay?”
“I was going to tell him,” Henry said. “I was going to tell him to be proud of who he is and to stand tall, whatever his sexuality. We never had that conversation.”
Elliott sipped his drink.
“Well, I don’t know what to think of this conversation, Henry,” Elliott said. “I will always be sorry about your son. No parent should ever have to bury his child. I would be devastated. I know inside you’re still crushed.”
“I will never be the same,” Henry said.
“Does his mother know about your sexuality? Did you tell her?” Elliott asked.
“I told her right after I told you,” Henry said. “She didn’t take it so well. She doesn’t talk to me to this day. Other than around the time of the funeral, I did not exist to her. She’s worried about HIV, but I have been tested time and again. I’m good.”
“Look, Henry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” Elliott said. “I’m just saying that—and I’m sure you probably heard this—the perception of Atlanta as the ‘San Francisco of the South’ because of guys like you who hide your sexuality and bring other people—women—into the mix. That’s just plain wrong.
“Yes, she’s worried about HIV. But it’s the deceit that hurts her the most. I’m sure of that.”
“I apologized to her and that’s all I can do,” Henry said. “I didn’t know what to do. I loved her. But we got to the point of sex because I had to continue the charade.”
“Here’s my public service announcement that you can turn into your own,” Elliott said. “Now that you’re sort of officially in the gay community, why don’t you all call for transparency? Stop with the playing straight roles and getting women involved, getting married. That’s sick.
“My friend, Nia, told me six weeks ago about meeting a guy who was not, you know, so-called ‘gay-looking.’ She’s beautiful and he was a professional, a doctor or stockbroker or something. He invited her out a few times, but he didn’t make a move. Some guy at the restaurant where they met told Nia that the man was gay. She was shocked because she said he didn’t look gay.
“Anyway, she asks the guy and he says ‘Yes.’ And then he proceeds to tell her his boyfriend is a big-time lawyer who is married.”
Henry jumped in. “I know where you’re going with this.”
“Let me finish,” Elliott added. “So, the guy tells her he’s interested in becoming her friend because he needs her to attend events with him and pose as his date around the city to prevent people from thinking he’s gay. She would be his ‘beard’ and he’d pay her to play this role. If I didn’t know her, I would have thought she was lying. That’s some crazy shit.
“So that’s the kind of thing you can be a leader in changing. If you’re gay, be gay. Be proud of it. Nobody cares. Just don’t fuck around with women to try to fool people into thinking you’re not gay. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You make sense, but you’re also being idealistic,” Henry said. “You think men have been in the closet because we wanted to be there? Because it’s fun? No. It’s torture. It’s sad. We live in a country where your sexuality means so much to others that you are not comfortable being who you truly are. You’d rather live in pain and deceit because you know the truth would lead to more pain and hurt to others. No one wants to sign up for that.”
“Well, what happened with you?” Elliott asked. “You told me. What, your conscience got to you?”
“No, my friendship got to me,” he answered. “I owed it to you as my friend. And I haven’t told everyone. I believed you would not be judgmental. I didn’t think you’d high-five me, but I thought you’d eventually appreciate that I was honest with you and even understand and empathize with why I was not up front from the beginning.
“There are a lot of men out here living in pain and fear, Elliott. Some will never come out. They’ll live a married life as a father and love their family to their core. But their sexuality, which is a powerful thing, will drive them to men. It’s not really a secret society anymore.
“You know what? I have a public service announcement job for you, Elliott. Why don’t you announce that you have a good friend who is gay and you’re heterosexual and still his friend? That could make other men feel strong enough to embrace their friend coming out because, trust me on this, almost every man out there has a friend or two who is secretly gay. You can believe that, Elliott.”
That was enough for Elliott to suspend the debate. The sushi came and they enjoyed their food mostly in silence. Finally, Elliott said, “One more question, if I can. How differently do you feel about yourself having told someone?”
“E,” Henry started, “when I say this I am not overdramatizing it, okay? I have never been more at peace in my life. I do my job better. I smile brighter. I feel solid. I miss my son; the anguish of knowing he’s gone leaves a hole in my heart that simply cannot be filled. You know, I learned a lot about him at the funeral and since then. His peers have told me how he tutored them or encouraged them when down. A gay young man told me that my son was his only nongay friend, that he didn’t care about his sexuality or what people would think of him. My son was strong in his convictions and his life hadn’t even really started yet.
“Knowing how he was with people and being honest with myself and you and other people close to me has opened up my world. I lived in fear, Elliott. I was desperate to keep it a secret. I guarded it with everything I had. I know you have been going to therapy, well, I was, too. Talking to someone helped, definitely.
“But getting it off my chest to the people I care about, it was golden. Now, the flip side is the backlash. My brothers and cousins…they are not happy. They looked at me at the family reunion this summer and shook their heads and walked away. One of my country-ass cousins from Louisiana came up to me and said, ‘You don’t look gay.’
“I said, ‘You don’t look straight.’ And his whole weekend was messed up.”
The two friends shared a good laugh.