His life had been something far different from what he imagined when he was twenty. As he sipped his tea and looked out at the Atlanta skyline, Elliott assessed his life as challenging instead of fulfilled.
Less than four hundred men knew what it was to be imprisoned for crimes they did not commit and eventually be exonerated. His world of hopelessness became one of access. The remnants of that dozen years in prison remained in him, though, no matter how far removed he was from it—in time or space.
Moving to Atlanta separated him from where he was wrongly convicted and the passing years made the memories of prison less clear. But whether innocent of the crimes he was convicted or not, Elliott had been an inmate, and with that came trauma that seeped into his soul.
He discussed with Lucy and his therapist and, to a lesser degree, Henry, how it all impacted him. But as transparent as he tried to be, he could not fully convey the pain and suffering and heartache and misery he endured. There were no good days in his life for nearly twelve years. There were days that were better than others, but none of them rewarding.
And as adjusted as he became over the years—completing his degree, serving as somewhat of an ambassador for the Innocence Project, finding the love of his life in Lucy and raising a family—he could not escape his past.
When cancer invaded his prostate, he concluded that his life was destined to be lived in distress. He even questioned God. How can I go to prison for crimes I did not commit, survive that and then get cancer? Why am I being punished this way?
What he learned was that he had a zest for life, and giving up without giving his best was not an option. He beat cancer. And he admitted while sitting on the balcony that beating prison and beating cancer gave him a feeling of invincibility.
Although he survived his divorce, it was devastating. He had beaten prison and beaten cancer and thought he had life made. The divorce, though, was something else for the depth of the disappointment and because it came when he had relaxed and believed only joy was in front of him. And that was the driving force behind living the life he decided he wanted—he needed to distract himself from his pain.
Trying to recapture years gone by seemed to be the sensible way to do it…at that time.
Battered and bruised and alone with his honest thoughts, he regretted so much, starting with not fighting for his marriage. Lucy bullied him into divorce when the decision should have been theirs to make, not hers. But he had an urgent need to support her, to give her what she wanted. He also concluded that he did not want to be married to someone who insisted she did not want to be married to him.
So he chased young women under the guise of catching up on years missed in prison. The reality was that dating younger women was a safe way of not meeting someone who might remind him of Lucy. Elliott admitted that the years after his divorce were full of pain: pain at how the marriage dissolved and pain that it had dissolved.
He and Lucy connected in a spiritual way, a sort of kindred spirits who endured life-altering events when they both were twenty…and came out on the other side scarred, but sane and ready to take on the world.
Many a night he cried with her when she dreamed of being raped or when it became a heavy thought. She could sense any angst in his demeanor and would hug and comfort him before he would express any distress. That’s how connected they were.
Trying to fill the void Lucy left was futile, an attempt by a desperate, disconsolate man to distract himself enough to get over it. It didn’t work.
He forced himself to dismiss ever reconciling, but now there was his life’s only love expressing her desire for him. Elliott could not help but be resistant, though. She took him through hell, refusing to consider not divorcing and limiting her contact with him over the years. He got over being angry with her, but he considered her treatment of him some kind of warped punishment that he did not deserve.
So, while he loved her still, he wondered if he could trust her. He made it through prison, survived cancer and kept his head up after divorce. But to have her lure him back only to shun him again was a prospect that scared him. That’s big, he thought. I admit that I’m scared.
His head began to hurt, and he swore it was about the thoughts running through it and not the concussion. He finished his tea and slid into bed, hoping sleep would alleviate the pain and fear.
It did not work. His head felt okay—and his ribs were better, too—but rejection from Lucy still scared him. He got up and brushed his teeth, and it occurred to him to call on what he felt in prison. He used his fear to become brave. He was so scared of what might happen to him that he became braver than he ever had been to protect himself.
In this case, his bravery led him to call Lucy.
“So how are you feeling?” she asked.
“Not so good.”
“Really? What’s wrong?”
“Physically, I feel fine. But with you, I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we need to talk. But not over the phone. We were supposed to have lunch tomorrow. We should have lunch tomorrow.”
“But your head is wrapped up; you want to go somewhere like that?”
“You can come here or I can come to you.”
They decided on Lucy coming to Elliot. “You shouldn’t be driving or doing much at all,” she said.
They hung up, agreeing to see each other the next day, which seemed like a long time for Elliott since he was stuck in the house. He could not go for his daily walk, could not go to Sutra, a club on Crescent Avenue that was popular on Tuesday nights.
The day picked up when Henry came by for a visit. Elliott was glad he did, for in his quest to get to the other side of the crossroads, resolving his feelings about his friend’s sexuality became a priority.
Henry brought lunch with him from Mango’s Caribbean Restaurant: curry chicken, rice and peas, cabbage and plantains. They sat at his dining room table and chatted about sports. When they were done, Elliott elevated the conversation.
“So, who was this you brought with you to the hospital the other day?”
“Why? Because my son asked me about him. It raised some questions in him that he presented to me.”
“Questions like what?”
“Questions like, ‘Why is Mr. Henry hanging out with a guy who is obviously gay?’ Not exactly like that, but something like that.”
“Look, I don’t have to get your approval for who I spend my time with, Elliott. But for your information, that was a friend and business associate, Harold. You met him before.”
“Yeah, I did. And I recall saying to you that he was suspect. I also recall you blowing it off.”
“That was then, this is now, Elliott,” Henry said. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is my son now questions your sexuality because no straight man would hang out with a gay man,” he answered. “So, since he questions your sexuality, that means he questions mine. And I can’t have that.”
“I can’t believe we’re back at this,” Henry said. “You can tell your son that I’m gay. That’s fine. Or I can tell him. My point is, I don’t care if he knows. Now, as far as him associating you with being gay because I’m gay, that’s something you have to address.
“Look, I’m not trying to be flippant or insensitive. And I definitely don’t want to get into another debate with you about this. Either you’re my friend or you’re not. I would understand if you said you couldn’t handle the association. I wouldn’t like it and I would be hurt by it. But I would get it. You would be like every other guy who was my friend but now isn’t. You’d be too weak to stand by friendship over perception.”
“Dude, you’re here, aren’t you?” Elliott said. “If I was weak and didn’t value your friendship, you wouldn’t be in my house. But if we’re gonna be straight up, let’s be straight up. Maybe it’s not meant for me to understand, but I don’t get the whole gay thing. Two men having sex—I hope I can say this to you because we’re friends—but two men having sex just ain’t right. It ain’t right, Henry. It says so in The Bible and it says so on the street.”
“I can’t and won’t try to justify anything to you,” Henry said. “You’re back to judging me when you have no room to be judgmental. Sex with girls your daughter’s age…something seems really wrong with that to me.”
“I won’t try to say that there’s nothing wrong with that. When you say it out loud, it doesn’t sound so good,” Elliott said. “But they were adults, consenting adults. And it’s not a sin.”
“I can’t believe you’re trying to call on The Bible as moral high ground,” Henry said. “I have to deal with my Maker at that time and He will judge me. Not you. Until then, though, you let me live my life and you live yours.”
Elliott wanted to end the talk, but needed to be clear about something. “This isn’t easy for me. Henry, I’m not worried about people’s assumptions.”
Henry gave him a side-eye look.
“Okay, well, I’m not worried anymore,” Elliott said. “Either I’m in or I’m out. And I’m in. But I can’t promise it will always be comfortable. This conversation isn’t comfortable. But to be honest with myself, I have to go to some uncomfortable places to eventually get comfortable.”
Henry nodded his head.
Then Elliott added, “But I don’t know if I’ll ever get comfortable with this.” He smiled at Henry and Henry smiled back.
“Yeah, I bet you can’t get comfortable with it since you’re probably fighting your own sexuality demons,” Henry said. “You were in prison for twelve years. I’m sure someone got to you.”
“It’s time for you to leave, talking that crazy shit,” Elliott said, laughing.
The men exchanged handshakes and a delicate hug to protect Elliott’s ribs. “Come here, let me squeeze your butt. I bet it’s tight,” Henry said, laughing as he ran toward the door.
“You better get out of here,” Elliott yelled. He and Henry had a tough conversation and were able to joke about it in the end. He hoped the other conversations he had would end the same way.