Marcus pulled me into a tight hug the minute we got back to their apartment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
André squeezed him, kissed his jaw, then looked at me. “Trace, if this isn’t something you’re comfortable with, I’ll go back down and tell him right now.”
I was grateful for a brother and — what? One day brother-in-law? — who were so concerned about my well-being. Because I was, admittedly, in a state of panic. André knew I’d been questioning my sexuality, but probably not that I’d been doing it for a decade, or that seeing him and Marcus together, realizing he was gay, had sent me into a tailspin. Had spun all the faint and unexplainable attractions I’d felt in the past toward men into a new light.
And yes, I was fully aware of how ridiculous it sounds that I didn’t know, but that’s what happens when you spend your life with your head tucked in books, headphones on, trying to hide from your basic bully of a big brother. Not André, but George, the second one. You miss the genesis of that bullying. Who the hell knew the eldest Ellison son was gay? Apparently, everyone except me.
I ran my hands over my face and blew out long and slow before letting them fall. “No, I’m good. This is something I want to do.”
“You sure about that? I’ve been told, rather brusquely I might add, that you don’t like to be pressured into making a decision,” Marcus said, shooting André a look. André shrugged and looked remarkably unapologetic.
“True,” I said, “but if left to my own devices, I’d still be downstairs with my mouth hanging open.”
André laughed and nodded. “Point taken.” He checked his watch. “All right, I’ve got to get to the office for a few hours. Tomorrow’s closed, so if any clients need me to make transactions, it has to happen today.”
Tomorrow was Fourth of July, and the markets were closing at one today, instead of four. I nodded, watched Marcus lean down and give my brother a firm kiss, then he disappeared.
Marcus waited until André left, then turned and stared at me. “You sure I didn’t fuck up and you’re too nice to say anything in front of your brother?”
I laughed. “No. You’re fine, I promise.”
“If you’re sure.” He didn’t look convinced, but at my nod, walked off toward the bedroom.
They had an…interesting relationship. Despite Marcus having an MBA, from Wharton of all places, he’d decided to stay home and play house-husband to my brother. I didn’t understand it, didn’t come close to comprehending it, but it worked for them. Allegedly, Marcus was still deciding whether he wanted to take on a full-time position at a later date, but after watching them these past few weeks, I strongly doubted he was going anywhere.
I sat on the couch, grateful they’d bought a new queen-sized sleeper, my temporary bedroom during my stay. Like Marcus, I’d recently finished my PhD program in applied physics, and had sent out multiple applications for associate teaching positions. Mom insisted I stay in the Tallahassee area where I’d grown up. And, to make her happy, I’d applied to FAMU and FSU, where I’d gotten my undergrad and graduate degrees. I’d applied to University of Florida and Miami as well, but in her mind, those were too far away.
It would kill her to learn my top choice, if I got accepted, was Howard. At least the other schools were in-state. Howard was over a thousand miles away. André and Marcus weren’t aware, but the days I’d gone out, under the guise of playing tourist, had really been scouting potential homes. Oh, sure, I could probably find a spot here at Crestline, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that close to my brother. Somehow, I figured he’d understand.
For a moment, I let my mind wander to think about what I’d agreed to, if only in the most passive way. Going on a date. With a man. A part of me was overwhelmingly irritated at my earlier inability to respond, to do anything more than stand there and gape when he asked me out. Another part felt some type of way about Marcus’ exhortation to be gentle, which I knew he’d said because I’d confessed that I’d never done anything with a man. But what if I didn’t want that? Oh hell, who was I kidding? I had no clue what the hell I wanted and was grateful someone had stepped in and said something.
My phone rang, the sound more muted than normal, and I scrambled in the couch cushions where it had fallen to retrieve it. I already knew who it was, and had no intention of bearing the brunt of her irritation if I didn’t answer. “Hey, Mom.”
“Have you made a decision yet?”
Straight shot, no chaser. That was Mom. “Not yet. I’m still waiting for a few responses to come in.” Namely, one.
She huffed. “I don’t know why. You know darn good and well where you should be, and you’re just trying to push me into an early grave doing something else.”
Again with the intentional insult to her. I couldn’t make her understand this was about me, not her. Not that I didn’t get it on an intellectual level. After André had up and left without a passing glance, she’d held on tight to the rest of us. But she had two boys living within ten miles of her. She’d be okay, right? I closed my eyes and massaged them with my fingers. “Mom, you know that’s not true. I just want to have the full complement of options available to me.”
She couldn’t even argue with that. I’d been this way since I was four. Refusing to make one choice until literally every option was on the table. I didn’t want to think about the number of schools I’d missed response deadlines to because other ones hadn’t accepted or declined yet. At least in that regard, I’d been an early decision, full scholarship admittee to FAM, and hadn’t been ready at that time to leave home anyway. Now, I was.
I wasn’t getting into all that, so I changed the subject entirely. “How’s Dad? How’s the family?”
She sucked her teeth, like she knew what I was doing but wasn’t in the mood to fight with me anymore than I was with her. “Fine. Missing you. Feels like I don’t have my whole family without you.”
I narrowed my eyes at the phone and dug my feet into the shag area rug under the couch. She hadn’t said that to piss me off, but it did. Ever since André and Marcus had come home, I’d been…sensitive about him. Probably because I was quickly realizing we were more alike than I’d known. “What about André?” My voice stayed calm, but Mom knew she’d struck a nerve.
And now, of all times, there was dead silence on the phone. “I’ve had a long time to get used to André being gone,” she finally said. “And now, more than ever, I understand that he won’t be back any time soon.”
Well, hell, she managed to sound almost sad about that, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. The last time André had been home, for Dad’s seventieth birthday party last year, Mom had fallen right back into her old ways. Basically, treating him like his frustrations were a function of his overly sensitive brain, and not because George was an asshole. Nothing about her behavior, then or now, made me think she’d changed. “Mom,” I started, “when was the last time you spoke to André? Asked him about how things are going, about Marcus, anything?”
“Why are we talking about him instead of you?”
Because I didn’t want to talk about me, and we both knew it. I shifted on the couch and drew my feet up, then grabbed the throw blanket and pulled it around my legs before answering. “Because you mentioned wanting your family back together.”
“Forget I said anything then. And forget I’m so concerned about where my baby wants to spend his teaching years, his career, possibly moving thousands of miles away from me. Forget any of that.” She’d gone from remorseful to indignant in a flash, and I might have groaned if I hadn’t expected it.
“I suppose you have better things to do than talk to dear old mom,” she went on when I didn’t respond, and this time, the groan did slip through.
But she wasn’t wrong, because I had a date tonight. With Courtney. And he was riveting, far more than anything I could have conjured with the limits of my imagination. He was very fair-skinned, much lighter than his parents, and I wondered where down the line that had come from. His eyes were almost green, and with those pointed brows and bright smile, he looked every ounce a male model. One of those ambiguous types people tried to classify as anything other than just Black. I couldn’t fathom a reason he was interested in me, but he’d asked, and Marcus hadn’t let me say no. I owed that guy a drink, even though my nerves told me I was probably better suited to not having one myself.
“Mom, I’ll be home Monday, okay?” Though, if I was lucky, it’d be a short trip, just long enough to set my affairs in order before relocating up here permanently.
That at least seemed to mollify her, and we hung up soon after. I tossed my phone on the glass side table and slouched down. I was twenty-eight years old, too old to let things like this continue to aggravate me.
“Everything okay?”
I jumped at Marcus’ voice behind me, but managed a nod. “Yeah. Mom’s being Mom. I should be happy she wants me to come back home, right?”
“Let me guess. That’s the last thing you want to do.”
“How’d you know?”
He laughed. “Try informing your parents, in a fit of absolute anger, that you don’t want to work at all. See how well that goes over.”
Ouch. Now that I was really thinking about it, I couldn’t actually imagine it. The very idea that I’d tell Leland and Ruth Ellison, without their support, that I wanted to not work, to stay at home and take care of someone? I couldn’t fathom it.
“How’d you smooth that over?”
He shrugged and settled next to me on the couch. “Don’t know, honestly. André had more to do with it than I did. Made them address some long-standing lingering issues.”
“You regret it?”
Marcus smiled. “It’s only been six weeks, so I wouldn’t have started working anyway yet. Makes it kind of hard to say. Ask me again in October or November, if I’m sick of picking up your brother’s dirty laundry and cooking for him every night.”
I laughed. The concept blew my mind, but regardless of what he said, it was impossible to miss the humor in his voice as he talked, or the way his eyes twinkled, or that sappy little look of satisfaction brightening his face. Marcus genuinely wanted this life, and my chest tightened. I craved that same type of joy. With my job, where I lived, all that.
He looked at me. “What do you want to do, Tracey? What’s in your heart?”
I sighed, my feelings still lingering just beneath the surface, but not ready to come out. “To do something…I don’t know, spontaneous. Not dink and dunk and think things to death. To just say yes, and see where the current takes me. Shit I have no clue how to do.”
Marcus grinned. “Oh, so you really are glad I answered for you?”
I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
He patted me on the leg and stood. “You’ll be nervous as hell tonight. Why don’t you rest and I’ll cook you a pregame meal in case you find your appetite conspicuously absent later?”
I nodded. I could get down with that plan.