Basil was feeling talkative and launched into a long narrative moments after taking a seat in the leather chair.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about whether or not this is helping. You know, I still haven’t confronted my father or my uncle about what happened and to tell the truth I don’t think about it until I come into this office. When I do think about it, I keep hoping you’ll have some kinda magic pill that would make everything all right, but we both know that ain’t gonna happen. It’s not like I’m some crazy gonna-shoot-somebody-or-myself mofo. I should just maybe say the shit happened, it’s over, move on.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“I mean, what’s the point? I’m still attracted to dumb-ass women and knucklehead mofos. You ain’t been holding back on me, Doc, have you? You don’t have some kinda magic pill that’s going to stop these desires I have, do you?”
“You know that’s not possible, but let me play the devil’s advocate here for a moment. If there was such a pill, would you take it?”
“Damn straight,” Basil said firmly.
“Then that means your feelings for Raymond are only sexual?”
“I didn’t say that, but I see what you gettin’ at. My thing with Raymond is that if I’m going to have these desires about men, then I want it to be with him or somebody like him. I mean, I still have to keep my shit tight. Even though I’m not playing ball, I can’t be out there just sleeping around with every mofo that looks my way. I mean dudes talk about who they sleep with much more than the honeys, and they lie.”
“So you’re not clear on what you expect from a relationship with Raymond?”
“I’m clear I want to make that mofo pay for ignoring my letter. When I found out he was up for that judgeship, I figure now would be the time to bust his ass. But knowing his honest-Abe ass—that mofo has already told them he was into dudes.”
“You’ve never considered that Raymond didn’t know how to help you?”
“Then he should have said that! Look, I don’t want to talk about Raymond. Let’s talk about something else.”
“What do you want to talk about?” the doctor asked as he scribbled in his notebook that Basil kept changing the subject whenever something bothered him.
“I went out to breakfast with Campbell. We had a nice time, but the conversation was kinda strange.”
“How so?”
“I don’t think she’s interested in me sexually. I think she’s just looking for a friend.”
“What makes you say that?”
“First of all, she showed me these pictures of this white dude she been going out with. I mean, they live together, got a kid, and have a couple of dogs and she seems pretty happy. And I was right about her being mixed, but she didn’t say which one of her parents is white,” Basil said. He didn’t tell the doctor how he had thought about bedding Campbell when she showed up in tight jeans and a yellow sweater that highlighted her breasts and skin tone.
“Does that disappoint you?”
“Not really. Getting close with some honey right now is the last thing I need. I lost my heart not that long ago, and I’m not going down that road again.”
“Not even with Raymond?”
“I was talking about Campbell,” Basil said firmly.
“So are you going to see her again?”
“Yeah, ’cause I really like talking to her,” Basil smiled.
The doctor asked Basil what he was smiling about. At first, Basil started not to answer because it reminded him of the times women and men had asked him what he was thinking about when he became silent. It drove him crazy. But Basil answered the doctor anyway.
“I was thinking if I continue to feel so comfortable talking with Campbell, then I won’t need you. I mean I could just schedule a lunch or a dinner with her once a week and talk to her,” Basil laughed.
“Why do you feel comfortable talking with her?”
“I don’t know, maybe because she makes me think about things I’ve tried not to think about.”
“Like what?”
“She asked me about what kinda ladies I dated.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her I dated all kinds of women. Started to tell her my jimmie didn’t discriminate,” Basil laughed.
“Do you think she’s interested in dating you?”
“Naw, ’cause she went back to that mother shit. Asked me if I’d known my mother, would it make a difference in the type of women I dated.”
“What did you say?”
“I said maybe. I told her there were things I think I missed by not having a mother.”
“Were there things you missed?”
“Yeah, sorta. When I was a little boy and I would see other children with their mothers at school or at a football or baseball game, I knew I was missing a big part of my life. All I had was my aunt and whoever my father was bonin’ trying to take the place of my mother. I mean, maybe if I had a close day-to-day relationship with a mother, then maybe I would have more respect for women.” For a moment, Basil’s mind wandered back to the Little League playing fields in Jacksonville, Florida, where he had first excelled in sports. But now he only saw the faces of the mothers of all his friends and heard his father’s voice shouting, “That’s my boy.”
“Didn’t your father teach you to respect women?” the doctor asked.
Basil didn’t answer immediately. He was thinking about when he was a little boy, and his father would sometimes use his lady friends as live-in baby-sitters for him, while he played cards and chased other women with his buddies. When he couldn’t recall any of the ladies’ names or their faces, he finally broke his silence.
“My father taught me to be a man and to try and do what’s right.”
“And don’t you think treating women with respect is the right thing?”
“You have to earn respect,” Basil said defiantly with a disapproving stare.