Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [51]
I called Malcolm after I dropped Emerald off at school. He seemed elated that I had come to my senses. I asked him to meet me by the running track at Seaview Park within the hour. That would be the first of two meetings. As I drove, I thought about my life and the direction in which it was headed. Was I shaping my destiny or was my destiny shaping me?
I was no longer lost within the comfortable confines of a woman’s vagina. I had ventured out as we all do in our lives. I was learning to survive as I went along, with ordinary people like myself being the teachers. There I was about to pull off one of the biggest heists in New York and planning my departure with blood on my hands. Over the past few weeks I had become much stronger. Whether it was a good or bad thing, only time would tell.
I parked my car on Seaview Avenue and walked into the park with my sweats on. The neighborhood had undergone drastic changes since the early nineties, like most of the neighborhoods in Brooklyn. With the infusion of the West Indian homeowners, the Whites had scattered. People have said that if you wanted to find a misplaced stone on a street, ask a West Indian because they are the nosiest fucking people around. Whenever I would kid around with Rashaun about that, he would always laugh. “We’re good for terrorism,” he would tell me.
As expected, Malcolm was already in the park when I arrived. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he had on blue and white sweats. In the five years I had known Malcolm, this was only the second time I had seen him without a business suit on. I was positive he had his licensed gun on him, even though, according to him, I posed no physical threat.
“I always knew that you were a smart boy,” Malcolm said as I approached.
I walked up to him and looked him directly in the eyes. “You won.”
He stepped back a bit before he spoke. “What do you want?”
I looked away from him. “I’ve thought about it and I’m not the best thing for my son. He’d be much better off if he belonged to you. I have nothing to give him. My lifestyle isn’t conducive to being a father. Women are my comfort and I need a lot of them. One day I’m certain a woman will be the main reason for my demise.” I spoke, not certain that Malcolm even cared about my issues, but I continued anyway. “To pursue my passion, I need money; lots of money. I only ask two things of you.”
“What two things?” he asked.
“I want three million dollars and I want Annette out of the house.”
I watched his reaction.
He looked away from me, toward the soccer field. “I expected the money but Annette’s removal will be difficult.”
I wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. “Make it happen.”
“I’ve never forgiven my daughter for becoming a lesbian; whether it’s nature calling or by her own design. I’m sure she told you about the horrors of growing up, once I found out. I make no apologies for my actions and, if I had to do it again, I’d do the same. My daughter was my lifeline and when it was being taken away from me, I had to fight.” He spoke in a hushed tone, as if afraid that the grass would somehow record his conversation. “Think of Emerald, your only son, coming home with a man.”
“I’d rather not,” I said.
“Then you understand.”
“I’m not here to take your confession,” I said. It was my way of dealing with my son’s future; a future I had no control over. “I don’t care what you have to do, but get her out.”
“My daughter might do that by herself because Annette is totally against her having another child for you.”
I laughed