I’d just thrown some clean clothes in a bag and was on my way out the door, heading back to the Ramada Inn in Petersburg, where Ron was waiting for me. We’d been shacked up there for a couple of weeks, getting reacquainted intimately as we made plans for the future. Fortunately, there seemed to be no repercussions after the fight in the parking lot with Peter: no crazy phone calls, no knock at the door, and, most importantly, no cops looking to arrest Ron for assault. Still, to be safe, Ron pretty much stayed inside our room, and I rarely went out other than to pick up our takeout orders.
I was having the time of my life, and I was really feeling Ron. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but he made me feel young again. The more time I spent with him, the more I could really imagine us making a life together in Europe. There was just one obstacle—and it was standing in front of me now in the form of Big Poppa. Talk about bad timing. I would much rather have had this conversation over the phone.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you day and night for two weeks, and you haven’t returned one call.” He was talking loud, but he looked more hurt than angry. It took me by surprise, because he was usually the one acting nonchalant, and I was the one wanting more.
“I’ve been busy,” I replied, quickly zipping up my bag. I needed to get the hell out of there. Last thing I wanted was for him to start playing on my conscience.
“Too busy for me?” He spoke as if I’d insulted him.
“Yes, too busy for you.”
His mouth hung open for a second, and he looked confused. I can’t say that I blamed him. We’d had our share of spats over the years, but I’d always been the one eager to make up. But not this time; this time I wanted a clean break so I could give an honest effort to pursuing a relationship with Ron.
“Jerome, what’s going on? What did I do?”
He sounded truly hurt, and I could feel my defenses weaken. It was definitely time to go. I tried to walk past him to leave the bedroom, but he blocked my way. His right hand slid around my waist. I took a step back, but it was too late. I’d gotten a whiff of his Polo cologne—yeah, it’s old school, but so am I—and suddenly my heart softened. I tried to offer some explanation, in hopes that we could end this painlessly.
“It’s not what you did; it’s what you won’t do. It’s what you didn’t do.” My eyes traveled to his wedding ring to complete my point.
“This is about my wife? You still want me to leave her?” He was clearly annoyed. “You know I can’t do that.”
“That’s because your marriage is the most important thing in your life.” I tried to avoid his eyes, because they had always been my weakness. He tried to touch my face, but I turned my head to avoid it. “You know from my actions that I wanted to be the most important thing in your life. But that’s just not possible, is it?”
“Look, Jerome, be fair,” he begged. “You knew I was married when we started this thing. How often do I complain about these guys you be seeing?”
“Only reason you don’t complain is because you didn’t want me throwing your marriage in your face. You know what they say about people in glass houses.” I tried to push my way past again, but he stood his ground.
I sighed. “Look, I still care about you, but it’s better we end things now.”
“End things?” His eyebrows shot up in shock. I bet he’d never expected me to be the one to end it. He shook his head vehemently. “Uh-uh. It’s not over yet. You can’t just walk out on me. I love your black ass.”
“You don’t love me. You love what I do for you. Love is a commitment.”
“We are committed,” he said. “Shit, we’ve been together for five years.”
“No, we’re not committed.” I softened my tone. “And for a while, I was okay with that.”
“But you’re not now? What exactly are you saying, Jerome?”
“I’m trying to say it was nice while it lasted, but I’ve found someone. Someone who makes me happy. Someone I can grow old with.”
“What do you mean you found someone? Didn’t you hear me a little while ago? I said I love you.” He exploded, pushing me backward against the wall and grabbing my shirt with both hands. I could have resisted, but at this point, he was his own worst enemy.
“If you love me, leave your wife.” I pointed at the portable house phone on my dresser. “Call her. Tell her you’re leaving her. You don’t even have to tell her you’re leaving her for a man. Just tell her you’re leaving.”
He looked at the phone but didn’t move toward it.
“Come on,” I challenged. “I wanna hear this.”
He looked at the phone again and then back at me, but I knew he’d never make that call. I was issuing an ultimatum that I knew he could never live up to.
He let go of my shirt and turned away from me. “Who is he? Who’s this guy you’re going to be with?”
“You don’t know him. He’s someone from my past. We just reconnected.”
“Is he better-looking than me?”
Oh, God, I’d never heard Big Poppa sound so pathetic.
“You’re both good-looking men. But this isn’t about vanity. This is about me being happy.”
I took a step into the hallway, but he grabbed my arm to stop me.
“Don’t do this, Jerome. I really do love you.”
“If you really love me, be happy for me.” I gave him a smile, but he looked like he was going to cry.
“I can’t. I can’t be happy for you if you’re with some other dude.” He stepped out of the way.
“Okay, then I’ve got to go.”
I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“How about one for the road?” he asked. I know he thought he sounded seductive, but all I heard was desperation.
“No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’m in a relationship now. I’m saving all this good stuff for him.”
“What he don’t know won’t hurt him.”
“You need to give it up, because it’s not happening.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it,” I told him as I picked up my bag and headed for the door.
He followed me outside, but thankfully he was done talking. I was too exhausted to deal with him anymore, not to mention the fact that Ron was probably wondering where the hell I was. My phone had been vibrating in my pocket the whole time I was trying to get rid of Big Poppa.
I pulled out the phone and saw that there had been several missed calls, all from Ron’s number. I tried to call him back, but it went straight to his voice mail. He was probably trying to punish me for not picking up my phone before. It was all right, though, because I knew Ron would let me make it up to him later in the way I knew best.
I left him a message. “Hey, Ron. Sorry about not answering before. I had something to handle over here, but don’t worry about it. Everything’s taken care of, and I’ll be on my way back soon. I’m just gonna stop and get something for us to eat. Maybe Mexican food…and, of course, you know what I’m bringing for dessert.” I got in my car, looking forward to another hot night with my fine young man.