Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [96]
“Yeah, I hear you, but that works for you,” I said.
“And it can work for you.”
“All I know is it makes me realize that there are two kinds of men I don’t know whether to envy or hate,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and not let my anger creep in. I knew Raymond was only trying to help.
“Two kinds?”
“Yeah, men like yourself, who have accepted their fate in life and still found a way to love themselves and find love. And mofos, like most of the men I know, who have never ever spent a second thinking about hittin’ it with another hardhead.”
“I have my days of doubt,” Raymond said; his voice was deep and soothing as a massage.
“And there is one type of mofo I most certainly hate—mofos like that fucked-up Bart. Those type of niggahs needed to be destroyed.”
“Why? Because he’s not ashamed of being gay?” Raymond asked.
“No, because he’s a mutherfuckin’ evil asshole,” I said.
“So you’re determined to get revenge. Sounds like you and that girl you were going to marry were a perfect match.”
“You don’t understand people like Yancey and myself. We had tough childhoods, and it made us tough. We didn’t have a Father Knows Best life like you and your brother. Your father would never turn his back on you. He’s too proud of you,” I said.
“And your Pops wouldn’t turn his back on you. He’s just as proud of you. What’s the worst thing he could say or do?”
Silence chased Raymond’s question and a heavy emotional weight covered the room for a few minutes. Finally I said, “He would probably ask me how can I bring this kind of shit into our family. He would tell me I’m not the son he raised. Alone.”
“And he could say what my mother said: ‘You’re my son and I love you no matter what.’ Have you thought about him saying that? Besides, if he knew what your uncle did, and I believe deep in his heart he knows, he would have to accept you. I mean, why else would he take Bart’s words so seriously?”
“I will never tell him what Mac did to me,” I said firmly.
“Why?”
“Because it would hurt him. I have never brought pain to my father, and I never will. I can still remember his face the first time I scored a touchdown in Pop Warner football. I saw that same face in junior high, high school, college and in the pros. It’s the only look I ever want to see on his face.”
“That’s joy for him, but what about some joy for you? Think of all the pain you’ve gone through. Think how your uncle made you feel nasty about your sexuality. It’s like you’re still trying to purge him from you. I think that’s why you have to sleep with all those women and even the men. Why you’re never able to say ‘I’m gay’ or ‘I’m bisexual.’ And Basil, as sure as I’m sitting here, it won’t get any easier. There will be more Barts and Yanceys,” Raymond said.
“Why can’t there be more Raymonds and Yolandas?” I asked Raymond, reminding him of the woman I loved before Yancey.
“You have to be ready when they show up. And as much as I love you as a friend, I can tell that right now, you’d chase them away if they landed on your doorstep.”
“Why do you say that? Are you saying I’m not good enough to have love in my life?”
“Not when you’re consumed with lust and willing to do any- and everything to protect your secrets.”
“Were you ever in love with me?”
“I take the Fifth.” Raymond smiled.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Basil, I know you. If we got together, I know that one day I could come home and find you in our bed with either a hot-looking lady or a guy. Being in a relationship with you would mean that I would have to accept your shit, even though it goes against everything I believe about love. Some nights I look at Trent and I ask myself, Who is this man I am in love with? Does he love me? Or does he love who he thinks I am? And when I don’t really know the answer, it makes me sad.”
“What do you do?”
“I keep breathing. I keep believing in love, no matter what the world tells me. I have my own standards for love. I don’t depend on anyone else to love me just because I say I love them. I have to feel it here,” Raymond