Editorial Review
Maria Moore
J.R. Dewesse’s sophomore book is not only a suspenseful page-turner ... luring me in, keeping me intrigued as the scandal continues to unfold, even up until the final moments of the book. The darkest moments of the novel are so beautifully and artfully portrayed, a quality that many writers have yet to master. The Kiss of Life is indeed controversial ....
Buy the ebook
Buy a hard copy
Prologue:
There comes a time—or times, if we are lucky—that we meet someone and immediately know that the proverbial stars have been aligned so that we would cross paths right at that very moment. It seems as though even our “hellos” have been planned from the beginning of time. Or perhaps we meet someone. They seemingly float into our lives, shape who we are, leave forever footprints on our hearts and make an exit as unexpected as their entrance. All we can do is ask God, "Why?"
From the outside looking in, Jericho Diggs’ life appears to be a tragedy. The lies that have shaped his world, including his down-low sex-capades, have been exposed. He is HIV positive. His wife is in jail. His daughter lives with his brother and sister-in-law, both of which he has never been fond of. And as if this were not enough, the purest love he never allowed himself to embrace in Jordan has made its entrance; it left footprints on his heart, closed its eyes in sad solitude, and after years of neglect, disappeared before he ever opened his eyes.
The untrained eye might call this a tragedy: two lovers kept apart for no other reason than the fact that they were both men. But what if Ms. Badu was onto something when she said, "I guess I'll see you next life time?"
"What if I was supposed to walk on by," a voice whispers. "What if I was only supposed to lead you to something…or someone else?"
Part One:
The Aftermath
“We may never know why things happen, how or when they will, but we can be assured that nothing happens by chance...”
Beautiful Nightmare:
I wonder what his last words were. I wonder if he screamed. I wonder if I was on his mind. Was he was crying out for me?
Flames were now all around him, painless, yet suffocating. But he could see, as clear as day, the beautiful calm in Jordan’s face despite the shattering glass and the metal bending inward. His body was thrown through the opening where the windshield once resided, and he was now strewn on the ground near the scraps of mangled metal that was once his car. Even in the horror, a peaceful disposition rested upon his face.
Inhaling deeply, Jericho lifted himself from the bed. His heart wasn’t pounding, and he wasn’t sweating nor flustered, rather, it was almost as if he had been pushed up like mist from clouds onto cool, silk sheets in a naturally lit room, accompanied by no one. This was not the first time he woke up feeling as blue as the sky beyond his window, just above the trees. He had his reasons. Loneliness had become such a frequent feeling that it had become very familiar—almost like a companion.
Dreaming of something better, he left Jordan’s funeral conjuring up a new life for himself—a life devoid of everything that had left his life in shambles. That meant a life devoid of men, especially since the only one he ever loved was now forever beyond his reach. And in light of what his life had become with her, after all he had lost in the process, if it hadn’t been for his daughter Rorrye, he would have made his life free from his wife, Tasha, too. The reality of it all was that he didn’t know how to move on, or even if he should move on.
Reality struck him when he learned Tasha had not lied; he most definitely wouldn’t be getting his daughter. He no longer had a reason to be in Atlanta. He had no desire to put himself through the pain or temptation to fuck up Tasha’s sister, Nicole, and her punk-ass husband, Reggie. The last place he wanted to be was sitting on their couch with his daughter under their judgmental eyes while he tried to connect with her during one of his supervised visits. He often wondered why society came up with the “supervised visits” system. Did people really make senseless attempts to kidnap their own child? In a world where men were on talk shows everyday denying their children, he just couldn’t understand why the system would refuse one-on-one bonding time with his own child.
As the social service rep had put it, his world was too unstable to insert a child into it. “It wouldn’t be fair,” she said. He was going to argue with her, but he had learned a while ago that in situations like this, it’s better to hold your tongue, so he refrained. For weeks, his world had been an ocean of silence in which ghosts—not fish—swam. These ghosts would forever haunt him during his most restless of nights.
A few weeks later …
Jackson, MS
Jericho really had no true plan. His life at the moment didn’t seem to require one. “Whatever is whatever” is what he tells himself as he walks into the clinic.
He keeps his hood on and his cap pulled down over his eyes, trying to be inconspicuous as he scans the waiting room. He exhales, relieved that he sees no familiar faces. He approaches the reception desk, and with his head tilted, begins forming a story in his mind of what the receptionist must be thinking. She’s probably ashamed of me. She probably thinks ‘another good one gone.’ Jericho’s mind races as he attempts to read her mind. In the midst of his gut wrenching shame, he decides to turn a blind eye to the judgment.
“Hey; I have an appointment with Dr. Carpenter.” Jericho says.
“Is this your first appointment with her?” The receptionist doesn’t look up from her paperwork.
“Yeah.”
“O.K. It looks like we don’t have a file on you. Are you coming—”?
Jericho cuts her off. “Yeah I’m coming from out of town. This is my first time here. I had some files faxed over; they should be coming through any minute now.” A little agitated, Jericho becomes paranoid that he may be becoming the center of attention. As time progresses, he becomes uneasy, afraid that many would become suspicious as to why this young Black man, attempting to be incognito, is taking longer than usual at the front desk.
“I’ll call you when I find out about your files or the doctor is ready to see you, whichever happens first.”
Jericho’s next words come out with a bit of a stutter.
“Uh…could you not call my name? Y’all don’t do a number system or anything?”
“No, I’m sorry. We call by last name.”
Jericho’s heart picks up in pace, and he sits with his head down until a man’s voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Is there a problem?”
Slowly, Jericho lifts his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man’s mouth, still being careful not to show his face. His eyes stop.
It all looks too familiar, and then the eyes… They’re the same ones, only no longer red… and still smoky. Immediately, he checks the nametag. Adrian Frazier, it reads—not that it means anything to him. It only means he has a name to match the face. Shame swallows him, and he forgets the question he has been asked as he all but races from the waiting room, out of the clinic and into the summer heat. Heart throbbing in his chest, he is shocked by the tears threatening to escape his eyes.
By the time he is ready to leave the parking lot, not yet considering how else he will see a doctor and more importantly, get his medicine, his phone rings. The number looks familiar, but doesn’t immediately register. When he finally answers, it is a male’s voice; the same voice that had asked, “Is there a problem?” Everything within him says, hang up… hang up…hang up…but he can’t.
“It’s cool man; don’t leave,” the voice says. “I’m not supposed to do this—be calling you—but come back. Don’t leave.”
Silence fills the phone line.
“Hello? Hello?”
More silence.
“You there?”
“Yeah.”
“Come back man… it’s cool. Come back,” Adrian says.
“Aight,” Jericho says before he hangs up the phone.
Asa
At the time, it was the saddest day of Adrian’s life. Though he had tried to prepare himself for it, he couldn’t. It happened in June, the summer before they were supposed to enter high school. He had found out three weeks earlier that his best friend, Asa Columbus, was moving to California. He had met Asa the first day of Kindergarten. Adrian, who had just moved to Little Rock, had started crying as soon as his mother left him at the door and he walked, alone, into the classroom. Shortly thereafter, he was approached by and was soon under the arm of a little boy with sandy brown hair almost identical to his skin and eyes—eyes that soon made him smile. To this day, though he couldn’t remember much else, Asa said to him, “Don’t cry buddy; I’ll be your friend.” And he had, for the next nine years.
That day gave birth to sleepovers, birthday parties, family trips, Christmas presents, and later the discovery of girls, sex, and brotherhood. In middle school, they referred to each other as “my brother.”
As children often do, Adrian had never considered life any other way. He had assumed that Asa would always be there, that they would get their driver’s licenses together, tryout for the football team together, discuss the non-existence of their first-loves together, graduate together, go to college together, be each other’s best men, and grow old together, but dreams of all this died on this cloudy day in June, a day that gave birth to other things.
They’re men, they both tell themselves. “Men don’t cry” is what they say in their minds, and it is working until Asa walks through Adrian’s bedroom door. Adrian hears a knock at the front door, hears it open and hears his mother greet him as he makes his way down the hall. He doesn’t look at Asa when he walks through the door, but he can feel him in the room, and he knows why he is there. The television fills the void of conversation for a while. Natural, cloud-muffled light lay randomly about the room. Finally, Asa speaks.
“Well dude… I’m… uhh… we’re about to go.” Again, the TV fills the silence between them. He notices that Adrian’s face is now turned down toward the floor. The wind rustles the trees out behind Adrian’s house.
“Adrian,” he calls out gently. Adrian does not look up. Asa studies him for a while, and then calls out to him again.
He leans as if to see Adrian’s face then approaches him.
“Aw man, don’t do me like that.” He pauses briefly.
“Get up man.”
He pulls lightly at Adrian’s arm. Adrian will not look at him and refuses to move.
Adrian continues to look off to the side, and soon wipes his cheek with his free hand. There are many things he wants to say, none of which he can find words for; his mouth will not move.
“Aw, dude. Man, cut that out.” Asa tells him softly, wiping the side of his friend’s face, then his own.
The two are interrupted by a knock on the doorframe.
“Asa, your parents are outside,” Adrian’s mother announces, turning to leave, but quickly doing a double take at what she sees. Two boys resting in each other’s arms…and crying? Adrian and Asa miss this as they slowly release one another. Adrian still will not look him in the eyes.
“Aye dude cut that out, for real. I ain’t dying or nothin’, and you gon’ always be my lil’ brother … you hear me? You hear me?”
The two men perform a secret handshake of sorts, a gesture of endearment they came up with and had been doing since the sixth grade. Asa doesn’t say that he will call; he just disappears behind the wall.
Adrian found out the next day that the phone number his family had had for as long had suddenly been changed, so there was no sense in waiting on a call from Asa. And soon thereafter, his mother all but forbade him to check the mail. He didn’t allow himself to entertain why. All he would ever know was that Asa was gone, leaving his world lonely, cold, and bottomless. Of Asa’s whereabouts, he only knew that he went to Long Beach, California, and that perhaps is all he would ever know.
It had been thirteen years since he had seen or heard from Asa when a man on The Price is Right announced that he was from Long Beach, California and this memory fell like a dream back on him. When he realized he was crying, he closed his office door to gather himself before he went out to receive the next patient for his pre-counseling session. He headed out to the reception desk and noticed a hooded guy wearing a baseball cap talking to the receptionist. Adrian had been working with the receptionist, Jazmine, for two years now and he knew by certain mannerisms that something was wrong. Approaching her from behind, he checked the appointment list for the guy’s name. Jericho Diggs, it read. He hesitated slightly. Something seemed familiar about the name.
“Is there a problem?” Adrian asked, trying to see under Jericho’s cap and recognize the mouth then nose as Jericho raised his head. The mouth and nose did look familiar, and when Jericho turned and walked briskly toward the door, Adrian remembered where he recognized him.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Jazmine asked, flipping her hair out of her eyes with her long fingernails.
“I don’t know,” Adrian said as he headed back to his office.
Daddy’s Lil’ Girl (Several Chapters Later)
As they get closer to Atlanta, Jericho begins to talk again, prepping Adrian for what is sure to happen when they arrive at Tasha’s sister’s house and catching him up on everything he feels he will need to know when they get there. Adrian looks at him, listening attentively. Carl Thomas’ “Summer Rain” plays in the background. It is dark, and the awkwardness of their earlier conversation has long since dissipated.
When Nicole opens the door, Adrian stands off behind Jericho, who looks past her in search of his daughter.
“Well, hello to you too,” she says. “Rorrye!” She yells over her shoulder into the house. Jericho moves past her and into the house. Nicole looks Adrian over as if to determine who he is—not that she cares to know—when Adrian introduces himself.
“Hi, my name’s Adrian.” He nods his head respectfully as he steps forward and offers her his hand. She only moves her eyes toward it then back to his eyes, showing her skepticism.
“O... kay. Well, nice to meet you,” Adrian says, smiling as he withdraws his hand and enters the house. It doesn’t take long for the drama that Jericho anticipates to commence. No sooner than Adrian makes it back to the car does he hear the creak of the glass door and the voice that refused to speak to him before.
“Tell me where you’re taking her,” Nicole says as if she were talking to a child going outside without permission. Jericho looks back into the house with the “You talking to me?” face, and then continues toward the porch steps. He sits on the steps with his daughter, never turning back, as if this gesture is her answer.
“You can’t take her anywhere. You know—“ Jericho cuts her off.
“Look!” Jericho shouts but then catches his tone. “This is my damn daughter. I know what the agreement says, and we’re not about to do this today. We’re not about to do this right now.”
“Well, I was just making sure you know. And you’re not gonna be hollerin’ at me. I’m not a child. Your child is right there,” Nicole adds, fighting to get the last word. “And who the hell are you talkin’ to?” she continues under her breath.
Jericho lets her have it because he has come too far to ruin his trip arguing with her. Jericho turns his attention to his daughter, and the awkwardness that he has dreaded all the way to Atlanta has arrived. It was the awkwardness of not knowing what to say to the daughter he never sees. She’s caught up in the middle of all this, yet will only be left with unpleasant memories of her dad. As Jericho thinks of this and ponders about what the two of them can talk about, he is unaware that Nicole has taken the drama inside the house, and now her husband, who has been waiting for a reason to check Jericho’s “sissy, AIDS spreading ass,” comes outside.
“I’m not gonna have no nigga disrespectin’ my wife,” he says in passing as he heads to his car. Adrian, standing beside Jericho’s car, nods at Reggie, who looks at him as if to ask “and who the hell are you?” as he passes. Adrian smiles to himself, seeing in living color what Jericho has already forewarned him of.
“Can I help you?” The voice catches him off guard in the middle his of trance. When Adrian turns to face it, Reggie asks again.
“Can I help you?”
Adrian knows that this guy knows that he is with Jericho, and can’t believe that he is this determined to start a confrontation. So, as if to answer, he calls out to Jericho.
“J!”
He yells and moves back down the sidewalk toward him.
“Let me hold the keys—” he begins, but is cut off both by Reggie’s words and his hand on his shoulder.
“Hold up, playboy. Can I help you? Don’t just be rolling up in my yard. I don’t even know you!”
“Aw, here we go,” Jericho says under his breath, lightly squeezing his daughter’s hand knowing that the quality time that never really began is about to end abruptly. Adrian hears Reggie and notices the hand on his shoulder, but is focused on Jericho. He has heard all about these people and has learned from experience that the best way to handle people like these is to not give them what they want. He wants him to act a fool.
“Aye, boy; I know you hear me!” Reggie is persistent.
“Yeah man, he hear you,” Jericho interjects. “And I can’t believe you trying to do this in front of my daughter. And they say I’m unfit? Crazy,” Jericho says reaching for his keys.
“Who’s crazy?” Nicole—who Jericho wasn’t aware even came back outside—re-inserts herself into the conversation. It is all very reminiscent of a Tasha episode, confirming for him that as bad as he hates it, that is time to go. He kisses his daughter on her forehead, whispers ‘I love you’ in her ear, hoping it assures her that he’ll rescue her from this hell, and sends her inside. He waits for her to close the door, ignoring everyone around him. After she is gone, he remains determined to be the bigger man and nods Adrian toward the car, walking past Reggie. The nonverbal communication he and Adrian’s have is a safe haven for him, and all is well until…
“That’s right… take yo’ ol’ faggot ass on,” Reggie says, and Jericho isn’t even certain it is intended for him to hear. Nevertheless, it sets him ablaze.
“Motherfucker, what you say?” Jericho turns, his face curled with tension, and begins moving toward Reggie with a piercing look in his eyes. Adrian rushes to the other side of the car to restrain him. And as Adrian has expected, this is all Reggie ever wanted because Reggie only responds with a mere, “You better take yo’ ass on,” in return, never even turning to see that Jericho is approaching as he heads toward his front door.
“Come on man.” Adrian restrains Jericho from behind and talks over his shoulder into his ear.
“Hell naw, man. I drove five hours. This bitch start shit soon as I get out the car. This motherfucker pullin’ this bullshit in front of my daughter, and I don’t even get three minutes with her… Some bullshit happens every time I come here!” Jericho breathes hard and Adrian, still restraining him, tries to be soothing.
“I know man, I know. But let’s go. Let’s go.” He’s learned that emotions are contagious, and he needs Jericho to calm down.
“Cool it down babe.” His words stop him momentarily. They
stop Jericho, too. He can tell because though his breathing is still heavy, his
words have stopped.
“Let’s go man; let’s ride.”
As the door of the house closes, both Reggie and Nicole inside—mission accomplished, perhaps—they leave.
Sunshine at Midnight (Several Chapters later)
The ride back to the hotel room is quiet; not even the radio plays and in the hum of car noise swirls with the both of their thoughts. Jericho and Adrian’s minds are busy and cloudy, so much so that neither knows exactly how the other feels. Luckily, they have already reserved the hotel room and only have to tell the receptionist the name on the room and quietly wait for the key. Neither is in the mood to talk.
When they finally walk into the room, its juxtaposed cool warmth tells them exactly what to do. Had they opened their mouths, it would only have been confirmed, as both know exactly how the other feels, and the both want the same thing. Eventually, they end up on the couch, Jericho’s head in Adrian’s lap, both asleep.
When Adrian awakens, the room is dark and Jericho’s head is still in his lap. For a while, he studies Jericho’s sleeping face—peaceful for once— and his mind begins to drift. He begins, again, to wonder who Jericho really is and how the world looks through his eyes. He begins to imagine all the situations like the one earlier in the day—the episode with Nicole and Reggie—and wonders if Jericho has ever truly been happy. He wonders if there had been happiness when he knew Jordan, or if it had all died away when he did. This thought makes him run his hand softly down Jericho’s face, arousing him, and he turns to meet Adrian’s eyes. And when they do, Adrian lifts Jericho’s head lightly. When he sits up, Adrian heads toward the bathroom. When he returns, he sees that Jericho has gotten up and is now looking through the mini fridge under the entertainment stand.
“You hungry?” Adrian asks in passing. Jericho turns to look at him as if he has been surprised. After a while he
answers.
“Yeah.”
“What time is it? Wanna go to IHOP or Waffle House?”he asks. Jericho doesn’t answer right away, perhaps because he is still a bit sleepy.
“Yeah… we can do that.” He finally responds.
“You okay, man?” Adrian finally asks the question they
both have been avoiding. It is quiet for a
while.
"We’ll talk, man.”
“Cool, man, no pressure; just know I’m here for you…just want you to be—,” Adrian doesn’t get to finish because Jericho cuts him off.
“I know,” he adds, finally closing the refrigerator and standing up.
**********
(Several Chapters later in medias res)
"So you gonna try to get her?” Adrian shocks them both, beginning another conversation they’ve been avoiding all evening. He grabs the salt and begins to prepare his grits.
“Ya’ll need anything else?” the tired, older, white server asks, interrupting the start of Jericho and Adrian’s conversation.
“No, we’re good,” Adrian answers, continuing to prepare his food.
Jericho still has not answered him, and Adrian begins to wish he hadn’t asked when Jericho finally speaks. The thing is, he has thought about getting his daughter before, but has never verbalized it until now, and now he is being asked to deal with both issues right now. Instead of saying “yes,” which is definitely his plan, he says, “I don’t know.” As bad as he wants his daughter, he realizes that Tasha may be right; who is going to give him custody of a child?
“I think you should,” Adrian suggests nonchalantly. “She deserves to have you in her life, and youdeserve to have her in yours, too. You deserve to be happy.” Adrian takes his foot from his flip-flop and nudges Jericho’s bare ankle with his toe, winking at him when he finally looks up.
Jericho blushes blissfully, but of course it doesn’t last forever, and somehow their conversation returns to its previous state—cautious and empty. The silence becomes quite awkward, mostly for Adrian, so he rises and heads to the bathroom. A hand reaches from a booth and grabs his.
“Adrian?” the male voice calls out. Shocked that someone in a restaurant hundreds of miles from home recognizes him, Adrian turns to see the face of the man whose tight grip stopped him in his tracks.
"Adrian!” the man calls again, now with more excitement in his voice.
The stranger stands to hug Adrian, bearing an infectious smile that helps him piece it all together ....
ORDER NOW! to read the rest!
Maria Moore
J.R. Dewesse’s sophomore book is not only a suspenseful page-turner ... luring me in, keeping me intrigued as the scandal continues to unfold, even up until the final moments of the book. The darkest moments of the novel are so beautifully and artfully portrayed, a quality that many writers have yet to master. The Kiss of Life is indeed controversial ....
Buy the ebook
Buy a hard copy
Prologue:
There comes a time—or times, if we are lucky—that we meet someone and immediately know that the proverbial stars have been aligned so that we would cross paths right at that very moment. It seems as though even our “hellos” have been planned from the beginning of time. Or perhaps we meet someone. They seemingly float into our lives, shape who we are, leave forever footprints on our hearts and make an exit as unexpected as their entrance. All we can do is ask God, "Why?"
From the outside looking in, Jericho Diggs’ life appears to be a tragedy. The lies that have shaped his world, including his down-low sex-capades, have been exposed. He is HIV positive. His wife is in jail. His daughter lives with his brother and sister-in-law, both of which he has never been fond of. And as if this were not enough, the purest love he never allowed himself to embrace in Jordan has made its entrance; it left footprints on his heart, closed its eyes in sad solitude, and after years of neglect, disappeared before he ever opened his eyes.
The untrained eye might call this a tragedy: two lovers kept apart for no other reason than the fact that they were both men. But what if Ms. Badu was onto something when she said, "I guess I'll see you next life time?"
"What if I was supposed to walk on by," a voice whispers. "What if I was only supposed to lead you to something…or someone else?"
Part One:
The Aftermath
“We may never know why things happen, how or when they will, but we can be assured that nothing happens by chance...”
Beautiful Nightmare:
I wonder what his last words were. I wonder if he screamed. I wonder if I was on his mind. Was he was crying out for me?
Flames were now all around him, painless, yet suffocating. But he could see, as clear as day, the beautiful calm in Jordan’s face despite the shattering glass and the metal bending inward. His body was thrown through the opening where the windshield once resided, and he was now strewn on the ground near the scraps of mangled metal that was once his car. Even in the horror, a peaceful disposition rested upon his face.
Inhaling deeply, Jericho lifted himself from the bed. His heart wasn’t pounding, and he wasn’t sweating nor flustered, rather, it was almost as if he had been pushed up like mist from clouds onto cool, silk sheets in a naturally lit room, accompanied by no one. This was not the first time he woke up feeling as blue as the sky beyond his window, just above the trees. He had his reasons. Loneliness had become such a frequent feeling that it had become very familiar—almost like a companion.
Dreaming of something better, he left Jordan’s funeral conjuring up a new life for himself—a life devoid of everything that had left his life in shambles. That meant a life devoid of men, especially since the only one he ever loved was now forever beyond his reach. And in light of what his life had become with her, after all he had lost in the process, if it hadn’t been for his daughter Rorrye, he would have made his life free from his wife, Tasha, too. The reality of it all was that he didn’t know how to move on, or even if he should move on.
Reality struck him when he learned Tasha had not lied; he most definitely wouldn’t be getting his daughter. He no longer had a reason to be in Atlanta. He had no desire to put himself through the pain or temptation to fuck up Tasha’s sister, Nicole, and her punk-ass husband, Reggie. The last place he wanted to be was sitting on their couch with his daughter under their judgmental eyes while he tried to connect with her during one of his supervised visits. He often wondered why society came up with the “supervised visits” system. Did people really make senseless attempts to kidnap their own child? In a world where men were on talk shows everyday denying their children, he just couldn’t understand why the system would refuse one-on-one bonding time with his own child.
As the social service rep had put it, his world was too unstable to insert a child into it. “It wouldn’t be fair,” she said. He was going to argue with her, but he had learned a while ago that in situations like this, it’s better to hold your tongue, so he refrained. For weeks, his world had been an ocean of silence in which ghosts—not fish—swam. These ghosts would forever haunt him during his most restless of nights.
A few weeks later …
Jackson, MS
Jericho really had no true plan. His life at the moment didn’t seem to require one. “Whatever is whatever” is what he tells himself as he walks into the clinic.
He keeps his hood on and his cap pulled down over his eyes, trying to be inconspicuous as he scans the waiting room. He exhales, relieved that he sees no familiar faces. He approaches the reception desk, and with his head tilted, begins forming a story in his mind of what the receptionist must be thinking. She’s probably ashamed of me. She probably thinks ‘another good one gone.’ Jericho’s mind races as he attempts to read her mind. In the midst of his gut wrenching shame, he decides to turn a blind eye to the judgment.
“Hey; I have an appointment with Dr. Carpenter.” Jericho says.
“Is this your first appointment with her?” The receptionist doesn’t look up from her paperwork.
“Yeah.”
“O.K. It looks like we don’t have a file on you. Are you coming—”?
Jericho cuts her off. “Yeah I’m coming from out of town. This is my first time here. I had some files faxed over; they should be coming through any minute now.” A little agitated, Jericho becomes paranoid that he may be becoming the center of attention. As time progresses, he becomes uneasy, afraid that many would become suspicious as to why this young Black man, attempting to be incognito, is taking longer than usual at the front desk.
“I’ll call you when I find out about your files or the doctor is ready to see you, whichever happens first.”
Jericho’s next words come out with a bit of a stutter.
“Uh…could you not call my name? Y’all don’t do a number system or anything?”
“No, I’m sorry. We call by last name.”
Jericho’s heart picks up in pace, and he sits with his head down until a man’s voice interrupts his thoughts.
“Is there a problem?”
Slowly, Jericho lifts his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man’s mouth, still being careful not to show his face. His eyes stop.
It all looks too familiar, and then the eyes… They’re the same ones, only no longer red… and still smoky. Immediately, he checks the nametag. Adrian Frazier, it reads—not that it means anything to him. It only means he has a name to match the face. Shame swallows him, and he forgets the question he has been asked as he all but races from the waiting room, out of the clinic and into the summer heat. Heart throbbing in his chest, he is shocked by the tears threatening to escape his eyes.
By the time he is ready to leave the parking lot, not yet considering how else he will see a doctor and more importantly, get his medicine, his phone rings. The number looks familiar, but doesn’t immediately register. When he finally answers, it is a male’s voice; the same voice that had asked, “Is there a problem?” Everything within him says, hang up… hang up…hang up…but he can’t.
“It’s cool man; don’t leave,” the voice says. “I’m not supposed to do this—be calling you—but come back. Don’t leave.”
Silence fills the phone line.
“Hello? Hello?”
More silence.
“You there?”
“Yeah.”
“Come back man… it’s cool. Come back,” Adrian says.
“Aight,” Jericho says before he hangs up the phone.
Asa
At the time, it was the saddest day of Adrian’s life. Though he had tried to prepare himself for it, he couldn’t. It happened in June, the summer before they were supposed to enter high school. He had found out three weeks earlier that his best friend, Asa Columbus, was moving to California. He had met Asa the first day of Kindergarten. Adrian, who had just moved to Little Rock, had started crying as soon as his mother left him at the door and he walked, alone, into the classroom. Shortly thereafter, he was approached by and was soon under the arm of a little boy with sandy brown hair almost identical to his skin and eyes—eyes that soon made him smile. To this day, though he couldn’t remember much else, Asa said to him, “Don’t cry buddy; I’ll be your friend.” And he had, for the next nine years.
That day gave birth to sleepovers, birthday parties, family trips, Christmas presents, and later the discovery of girls, sex, and brotherhood. In middle school, they referred to each other as “my brother.”
As children often do, Adrian had never considered life any other way. He had assumed that Asa would always be there, that they would get their driver’s licenses together, tryout for the football team together, discuss the non-existence of their first-loves together, graduate together, go to college together, be each other’s best men, and grow old together, but dreams of all this died on this cloudy day in June, a day that gave birth to other things.
They’re men, they both tell themselves. “Men don’t cry” is what they say in their minds, and it is working until Asa walks through Adrian’s bedroom door. Adrian hears a knock at the front door, hears it open and hears his mother greet him as he makes his way down the hall. He doesn’t look at Asa when he walks through the door, but he can feel him in the room, and he knows why he is there. The television fills the void of conversation for a while. Natural, cloud-muffled light lay randomly about the room. Finally, Asa speaks.
“Well dude… I’m… uhh… we’re about to go.” Again, the TV fills the silence between them. He notices that Adrian’s face is now turned down toward the floor. The wind rustles the trees out behind Adrian’s house.
“Adrian,” he calls out gently. Adrian does not look up. Asa studies him for a while, and then calls out to him again.
He leans as if to see Adrian’s face then approaches him.
“Aw man, don’t do me like that.” He pauses briefly.
“Get up man.”
He pulls lightly at Adrian’s arm. Adrian will not look at him and refuses to move.
Adrian continues to look off to the side, and soon wipes his cheek with his free hand. There are many things he wants to say, none of which he can find words for; his mouth will not move.
“Aw, dude. Man, cut that out.” Asa tells him softly, wiping the side of his friend’s face, then his own.
The two are interrupted by a knock on the doorframe.
“Asa, your parents are outside,” Adrian’s mother announces, turning to leave, but quickly doing a double take at what she sees. Two boys resting in each other’s arms…and crying? Adrian and Asa miss this as they slowly release one another. Adrian still will not look him in the eyes.
“Aye dude cut that out, for real. I ain’t dying or nothin’, and you gon’ always be my lil’ brother … you hear me? You hear me?”
The two men perform a secret handshake of sorts, a gesture of endearment they came up with and had been doing since the sixth grade. Asa doesn’t say that he will call; he just disappears behind the wall.
Adrian found out the next day that the phone number his family had had for as long had suddenly been changed, so there was no sense in waiting on a call from Asa. And soon thereafter, his mother all but forbade him to check the mail. He didn’t allow himself to entertain why. All he would ever know was that Asa was gone, leaving his world lonely, cold, and bottomless. Of Asa’s whereabouts, he only knew that he went to Long Beach, California, and that perhaps is all he would ever know.
It had been thirteen years since he had seen or heard from Asa when a man on The Price is Right announced that he was from Long Beach, California and this memory fell like a dream back on him. When he realized he was crying, he closed his office door to gather himself before he went out to receive the next patient for his pre-counseling session. He headed out to the reception desk and noticed a hooded guy wearing a baseball cap talking to the receptionist. Adrian had been working with the receptionist, Jazmine, for two years now and he knew by certain mannerisms that something was wrong. Approaching her from behind, he checked the appointment list for the guy’s name. Jericho Diggs, it read. He hesitated slightly. Something seemed familiar about the name.
“Is there a problem?” Adrian asked, trying to see under Jericho’s cap and recognize the mouth then nose as Jericho raised his head. The mouth and nose did look familiar, and when Jericho turned and walked briskly toward the door, Adrian remembered where he recognized him.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Jazmine asked, flipping her hair out of her eyes with her long fingernails.
“I don’t know,” Adrian said as he headed back to his office.
Daddy’s Lil’ Girl (Several Chapters Later)
As they get closer to Atlanta, Jericho begins to talk again, prepping Adrian for what is sure to happen when they arrive at Tasha’s sister’s house and catching him up on everything he feels he will need to know when they get there. Adrian looks at him, listening attentively. Carl Thomas’ “Summer Rain” plays in the background. It is dark, and the awkwardness of their earlier conversation has long since dissipated.
When Nicole opens the door, Adrian stands off behind Jericho, who looks past her in search of his daughter.
“Well, hello to you too,” she says. “Rorrye!” She yells over her shoulder into the house. Jericho moves past her and into the house. Nicole looks Adrian over as if to determine who he is—not that she cares to know—when Adrian introduces himself.
“Hi, my name’s Adrian.” He nods his head respectfully as he steps forward and offers her his hand. She only moves her eyes toward it then back to his eyes, showing her skepticism.
“O... kay. Well, nice to meet you,” Adrian says, smiling as he withdraws his hand and enters the house. It doesn’t take long for the drama that Jericho anticipates to commence. No sooner than Adrian makes it back to the car does he hear the creak of the glass door and the voice that refused to speak to him before.
“Tell me where you’re taking her,” Nicole says as if she were talking to a child going outside without permission. Jericho looks back into the house with the “You talking to me?” face, and then continues toward the porch steps. He sits on the steps with his daughter, never turning back, as if this gesture is her answer.
“You can’t take her anywhere. You know—“ Jericho cuts her off.
“Look!” Jericho shouts but then catches his tone. “This is my damn daughter. I know what the agreement says, and we’re not about to do this today. We’re not about to do this right now.”
“Well, I was just making sure you know. And you’re not gonna be hollerin’ at me. I’m not a child. Your child is right there,” Nicole adds, fighting to get the last word. “And who the hell are you talkin’ to?” she continues under her breath.
Jericho lets her have it because he has come too far to ruin his trip arguing with her. Jericho turns his attention to his daughter, and the awkwardness that he has dreaded all the way to Atlanta has arrived. It was the awkwardness of not knowing what to say to the daughter he never sees. She’s caught up in the middle of all this, yet will only be left with unpleasant memories of her dad. As Jericho thinks of this and ponders about what the two of them can talk about, he is unaware that Nicole has taken the drama inside the house, and now her husband, who has been waiting for a reason to check Jericho’s “sissy, AIDS spreading ass,” comes outside.
“I’m not gonna have no nigga disrespectin’ my wife,” he says in passing as he heads to his car. Adrian, standing beside Jericho’s car, nods at Reggie, who looks at him as if to ask “and who the hell are you?” as he passes. Adrian smiles to himself, seeing in living color what Jericho has already forewarned him of.
“Can I help you?” The voice catches him off guard in the middle his of trance. When Adrian turns to face it, Reggie asks again.
“Can I help you?”
Adrian knows that this guy knows that he is with Jericho, and can’t believe that he is this determined to start a confrontation. So, as if to answer, he calls out to Jericho.
“J!”
He yells and moves back down the sidewalk toward him.
“Let me hold the keys—” he begins, but is cut off both by Reggie’s words and his hand on his shoulder.
“Hold up, playboy. Can I help you? Don’t just be rolling up in my yard. I don’t even know you!”
“Aw, here we go,” Jericho says under his breath, lightly squeezing his daughter’s hand knowing that the quality time that never really began is about to end abruptly. Adrian hears Reggie and notices the hand on his shoulder, but is focused on Jericho. He has heard all about these people and has learned from experience that the best way to handle people like these is to not give them what they want. He wants him to act a fool.
“Aye, boy; I know you hear me!” Reggie is persistent.
“Yeah man, he hear you,” Jericho interjects. “And I can’t believe you trying to do this in front of my daughter. And they say I’m unfit? Crazy,” Jericho says reaching for his keys.
“Who’s crazy?” Nicole—who Jericho wasn’t aware even came back outside—re-inserts herself into the conversation. It is all very reminiscent of a Tasha episode, confirming for him that as bad as he hates it, that is time to go. He kisses his daughter on her forehead, whispers ‘I love you’ in her ear, hoping it assures her that he’ll rescue her from this hell, and sends her inside. He waits for her to close the door, ignoring everyone around him. After she is gone, he remains determined to be the bigger man and nods Adrian toward the car, walking past Reggie. The nonverbal communication he and Adrian’s have is a safe haven for him, and all is well until…
“That’s right… take yo’ ol’ faggot ass on,” Reggie says, and Jericho isn’t even certain it is intended for him to hear. Nevertheless, it sets him ablaze.
“Motherfucker, what you say?” Jericho turns, his face curled with tension, and begins moving toward Reggie with a piercing look in his eyes. Adrian rushes to the other side of the car to restrain him. And as Adrian has expected, this is all Reggie ever wanted because Reggie only responds with a mere, “You better take yo’ ass on,” in return, never even turning to see that Jericho is approaching as he heads toward his front door.
“Come on man.” Adrian restrains Jericho from behind and talks over his shoulder into his ear.
“Hell naw, man. I drove five hours. This bitch start shit soon as I get out the car. This motherfucker pullin’ this bullshit in front of my daughter, and I don’t even get three minutes with her… Some bullshit happens every time I come here!” Jericho breathes hard and Adrian, still restraining him, tries to be soothing.
“I know man, I know. But let’s go. Let’s go.” He’s learned that emotions are contagious, and he needs Jericho to calm down.
“Cool it down babe.” His words stop him momentarily. They
stop Jericho, too. He can tell because though his breathing is still heavy, his
words have stopped.
“Let’s go man; let’s ride.”
As the door of the house closes, both Reggie and Nicole inside—mission accomplished, perhaps—they leave.
Sunshine at Midnight (Several Chapters later)
The ride back to the hotel room is quiet; not even the radio plays and in the hum of car noise swirls with the both of their thoughts. Jericho and Adrian’s minds are busy and cloudy, so much so that neither knows exactly how the other feels. Luckily, they have already reserved the hotel room and only have to tell the receptionist the name on the room and quietly wait for the key. Neither is in the mood to talk.
When they finally walk into the room, its juxtaposed cool warmth tells them exactly what to do. Had they opened their mouths, it would only have been confirmed, as both know exactly how the other feels, and the both want the same thing. Eventually, they end up on the couch, Jericho’s head in Adrian’s lap, both asleep.
When Adrian awakens, the room is dark and Jericho’s head is still in his lap. For a while, he studies Jericho’s sleeping face—peaceful for once— and his mind begins to drift. He begins, again, to wonder who Jericho really is and how the world looks through his eyes. He begins to imagine all the situations like the one earlier in the day—the episode with Nicole and Reggie—and wonders if Jericho has ever truly been happy. He wonders if there had been happiness when he knew Jordan, or if it had all died away when he did. This thought makes him run his hand softly down Jericho’s face, arousing him, and he turns to meet Adrian’s eyes. And when they do, Adrian lifts Jericho’s head lightly. When he sits up, Adrian heads toward the bathroom. When he returns, he sees that Jericho has gotten up and is now looking through the mini fridge under the entertainment stand.
“You hungry?” Adrian asks in passing. Jericho turns to look at him as if he has been surprised. After a while he
answers.
“Yeah.”
“What time is it? Wanna go to IHOP or Waffle House?”he asks. Jericho doesn’t answer right away, perhaps because he is still a bit sleepy.
“Yeah… we can do that.” He finally responds.
“You okay, man?” Adrian finally asks the question they
both have been avoiding. It is quiet for a
while.
"We’ll talk, man.”
“Cool, man, no pressure; just know I’m here for you…just want you to be—,” Adrian doesn’t get to finish because Jericho cuts him off.
“I know,” he adds, finally closing the refrigerator and standing up.
**********
(Several Chapters later in medias res)
"So you gonna try to get her?” Adrian shocks them both, beginning another conversation they’ve been avoiding all evening. He grabs the salt and begins to prepare his grits.
“Ya’ll need anything else?” the tired, older, white server asks, interrupting the start of Jericho and Adrian’s conversation.
“No, we’re good,” Adrian answers, continuing to prepare his food.
Jericho still has not answered him, and Adrian begins to wish he hadn’t asked when Jericho finally speaks. The thing is, he has thought about getting his daughter before, but has never verbalized it until now, and now he is being asked to deal with both issues right now. Instead of saying “yes,” which is definitely his plan, he says, “I don’t know.” As bad as he wants his daughter, he realizes that Tasha may be right; who is going to give him custody of a child?
“I think you should,” Adrian suggests nonchalantly. “She deserves to have you in her life, and youdeserve to have her in yours, too. You deserve to be happy.” Adrian takes his foot from his flip-flop and nudges Jericho’s bare ankle with his toe, winking at him when he finally looks up.
Jericho blushes blissfully, but of course it doesn’t last forever, and somehow their conversation returns to its previous state—cautious and empty. The silence becomes quite awkward, mostly for Adrian, so he rises and heads to the bathroom. A hand reaches from a booth and grabs his.
“Adrian?” the male voice calls out. Shocked that someone in a restaurant hundreds of miles from home recognizes him, Adrian turns to see the face of the man whose tight grip stopped him in his tracks.
"Adrian!” the man calls again, now with more excitement in his voice.
The stranger stands to hug Adrian, bearing an infectious smile that helps him piece it all together ....
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