In Too Deep (14 page)

M
onique was in my arms crying softly, while I sat stoic and in shock. Travis was dead. Shot and killed by his lover.

I'd gotten the call from Officer Frank Krebbs from the Miami police department, because I was listed as Travis's emergency contact. He told me with little to no emotion, although his voiced was laced with a
he got what he deserved
tone. Travis was dead and he was HIV positive. Though he probably didn't want to, the officer told me how it all went down, as told to him by Brian's wife.

“Apparently, your brother found out that he was HIV positive and went to confront Mr. Wilson. As you've probably guessed by now, Mr. Wilson was in the closet about his . . . ah . . . preference, which is a damn shame really, considering the fact that Mrs. Wilson is such a beautiful woman. Most guys only wish to have someone that attractive. I'll never understand how a man could go for another man. It's just not natural. I mean—”

“Just tell me the rest of the story, Officer,” I said, cutting him off.

“Ah yeah. Anyway, your brother went to confront him and when he did, they started arguing. Mrs. Wilson became involved after her husband had already broken your brother's nose. Ha ha. I didn't even know they could fight. Anyway, after a whole bunch of shouting, Mr. Wilson pulled a gun from his waistband and pulled the trigger, killing your brother. Then he turned it on himself.”

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. Monique and I were supposed to have been making love. Jalisa was visiting my mother, and the plan was to take advantage of the alone time. When the call came through, Monique told me to let the call go to the answering machine, but just in case it was Jalisa, I hadn't. Now I almost wished I had.

I told her what had been told to me, and as her tears fell from her eyes I stared blankly with my hands balled tightly.

Damn Travis.

I took another deep breath, closed and squeezed my eyes tightly, and massaged my temples. I'd finally managed to get the stress from Tina off my back, and now I had to deal with this.

“I have to call my mom,” I said quietly. “I have to tell her what happened.”

Monique sniffled and looked up at me through swollen, red eyes. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don't know,” I answered honestly. “I guess I always knew that a call like this could come, especially given the lifestyle he'd lived, but it was always just a thought. This is real. My little brother is dead.”

“I'm sorry, baby.”

“I want to shed tears, but for some reason I can't. And I don't know why. Maybe I'm too angry to cry. Why couldn't he have just taken my advice? Why did he have to keep going back to him?”

Rubbing my shoulders, Monique said, “Baby, he was an adult. He had to do what made him happy.”

“So being somebody's punching bag made him happy?”

“Baby, that was his choice.”

“Some choice,” I snapped. I stood up and walked to our dressing table and stared at my reflection in the glass; Travis stared back at me. “Why did he have to be gay, Monique? I mean, he grew up in the same house as Abe and I did. He saw how our parents interacted with one another. Why did he decide to be gay? No one ever showed him that.”

“Randy, you know that it wasn't his choice. That's how he was born.”

I gritted my teeth. “How could it not have been his choice? We all have a choice.”

“Randy, why are you talking like Abe? You know that Travis was gay since he was a child. He didn't choose anything. It's just who he was.”

“Then why couldn't he have been someone else?” I asked, pounding my fist on the top of the dresser.

“Baby, if he would have been, then there'd be no Travis.”

“Yeah well, being Travis got him killed.”

“Randy, you know that isn't true. His being gay is not what got him killed. I'm surprised that you would even say that.”

I turned and looked at Monique. “It wasn't?”

Monique stood and approached me. “No, it wasn't. Travis fell in love, plain and simple. His choice of partners got him killed.”

My shoulders slumped as Monique's words, which I knew were true, sunk in. “Why couldn't he have just taken my advice?” I asked again, a lump rising in my throat. “Why didn't he listen?”

Monique reached out and took me in her arms as tears of anger, regret, and grief erupted from my eyes.

Her hand going around in slow circles on my back, Monique said, “Baby, he had his path to follow.”

Unable to reply, I just wrapped my arms around her and let out my pain. A few minutes later, I lifted my head from Monique's shoulder and looked at her. “I love you,” I said.

“I love you back.” She kissed me softly. “Make your calls, baby.”

I inhaled deeply and let out the air slowly and nodded. “I'm worried about how my mother's going to take the news.”

“Randy, your mother is a strong woman. She'll be okay.”

We kissed again and then I moved to the phone. As I reluctantly pressed the buttons for my mother's number, Monique, who was walking out of the bedroom, said, “Randy, promise me that you'll call Abe and tell him what happened.”

“What for? To hear the pleasure in his voice?”

“Travis was his brother too, whether he liked it or not. He has a right to know.”

“He won't care.”

“Promise me.”

“It will fall on deaf ears.”

“Promise me,” she insisted with her hands on her hips.

I sighed. “I promise.”

Monique gave me a half-smile and left the room. I finished dialing my mother's phone number. When she answered, I didn't bother beating around the bush. “Ma, Travis is dead.”

Silence answered me, and then ten seconds later my mother said, “Sweet Jesus. It was Paul, wasn't it?”

“Yes it was.”

“I always knew he would be the death of my boy. How did it happen?”

“He shot him,” I said evenly.

“Lord,” my mother whispered.

I continued with my straightforwardness. “He gave Travis HIV, and Travis went to confront him about it. Paul, whose first name is actually Brian, was married and his wife was there when he killed Travis and eventually shot himself.”

“Sweet Jesus. He gave my boy HIV and he was married . . . That poor woman.”

“I have to go and identify Travis's body, Ma. I'll be flying to Florida today.”

“Florida? What's his body doing there?”

“That's where Brian lived.”

“Did you tell your brother yet?”

“No.”

“Make sure you do.”

“I will. Are you going to tell Dad?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I?”

“Because he wouldn't care.”

“Well, whether he wants to accept it or not, Travis was his son.”

That was a hard word to hear.

I was silent for a few seconds and then said, “I can't believe he's dead, Ma.”

“It . . . it was his time to go, baby,” my mother responded, her voice quivering as she began to cry softly.

“I'm going to call Abe.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to buy you a plane ticket?”

Silence again took over and as I sat waiting for my mother's response, I listened to her break down and sob. It hurt my heart to tell her that her youngest son, my baby brother, was dead.

“Randy,” my mother said after a few minutes passed. “You go without me, okay?”

“Okay, Ma. I'll call when I get back. And do me a favor and don't tell Jalisa, okay. I'll tell her when I come home.”

“Okay, baby.”

I was about to hang up when my mother called me. “Yeah, Ma?”

“I have a favor to ask also.”

“What's that?”

“Stop by Brian's home and pay your respect to his wife. Travis did her wrong, and she needs an apology.”

“Do you really think that would be a good idea?”

“Baby, Travis's actions have changed her life forever. It's the least that we can do.”

“Okay, Ma. I will.”

“Thank you, baby.”

I hung up the phone without saying good-bye, because it just seemed inappropriate. I waited about a half hour before I called Abe. I just needed some time to sit and digest what had happened. I never had the time to let the fact that Travis was messing around with a married man sink in. My mother was right. Travis's selfishness did change Brian's wife's world forever. I couldn't even begin to imagine the betrayal, anger, and pain that she must have been feeling. I sighed and closed my eyes. My brother and a married man; he was a mistress. It was an odd thing to think.

I shook my head and picked up the phone again. Calling Abe was not something I was looking forward to, because there was no doubt in my mind that Travis's death would do nothing more than please him, and that pissed me off, which was not a good thing considering the fact that I knew we were going to get into a heated argument. It was something that couldn't be avoided, though. Not when the subject was Travis. I just hoped that the argument wouldn't escalate into something ugly and full of regret. Unfortunately, as I dialed his number, I had a feeling that things between us would never be the same.

“Hello?”

“Abe, it's Randy.”

“Hey, what's up, big brother? How are things going on the home front? You finally put Tina in check?”

“Abe, Travis is dead,” I said, getting straight to the point.

There was a slight moment of silence before Abe said, “So how's my niece doing?”

“Abe, did you just hear what I said? Travis was shot and killed.”

“So what the hell are you telling me for?” Abe asked angrily.

I stood up, no longer able to stay seated, and paced around my bedroom. “What do you mean, why am I telling you? Travis was your brother.”

“Randy, how many times do I have to tell you that faggot was not my brother.”

“Goddamn, Abe!” I yelled.

“Goddamn, Abe, what?” my brother yelled back. “What, you want me to actually give a shit that the homo is dead? You want me to shed tears and lose sleep? Fuck that! I said it years ago, I said it two minutes ago, and I'll say it now . . . that faggot was not my brother! I don't know why you constantly waste your breath and my time by talking to me about him. So he's dead. So the fuck what! He probably deserved what he got.”

I kicked the hell out of my bedroom door, putting a hole in it, as I had reached the boiling point. “You are a fucking piece of shit, Abe. How the fuck can you disrespect your own flesh and blood like that? How can you say that your own baby brother deserved to die?”

“Shut the fuck up with that bullshit you're spitting, Randy. Live or die, I don't give a shit about Travis's ass.”

“So it's like that?” I asked, seething.

“It's been like that,” Abe responded callously.

I shook my head and pounded my fist against the wall. “I can't believe you are that selfish, man. He was your brother. Fuck his lifestyle. It was his, not yours.”

“Yeah, well, he could have that.”

“What the fuck were you so afraid of, man, that you disowned your own blood? What the hell are you so afraid of now that you can't pay him any respect in his death? Are you not comfortable with yourself? Was Travis being gay hitting a little too close to home for you? Do you have secrets that you're trying to hide?”

“Fuck you, Randy!”

I snapped back. “No, fuck you, Abe, and your insecurities and your selfishness! You want to be a goddamned homophobic bitch, you go ahead. You can be an ass all you want.”

“So what are you saying?” Abe asked.

“I'm saying that I've had it with your shit. Travis is dead, man, and all you can do is stand over his grave and smile. You are a true piece of work, and you know what, since it was so easy to forget about Travis, you can forget about me too.”

I slammed the phone down, without waiting for a response from him, and threw the phone against the wall, causing it to shatter. Monique, who'd been standing by the bedroom door the whole time, walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. I didn't say a word as she kissed me softly on the back of my neck. I was breathing heavily. I bit down on my bottom lip and exhaled loudly. Frustration, rage, and sadness oozed from my pores, and I still had the trip to Florida to make. I looked at the hole I'd made and the phone I'd broken. The broken mess could have just as easily been Abe. Brother or no brother, he was lucky that we had states in-between us, because had we been in the same room, I wouldn't have hesitated to give him a beat down. I leaned my head back and took a moment to enjoy Monique's tender pecks. I knew that would be my only moment of peace for a while.

I
slammed the phone down and looked away from Nakyia, who'd been sitting silent, glaring at me during my entire conversation with Randy.

“Are you really that selfish?” she asked in a disgusted tone.

I groaned. “Nakyia, don't start anything with me, okay. I'm not in the mood.”

Nakyia stood up, rested her hands on her hips, and curled her lips into an ugly snarl. “I don't care what you're in the mood for, Abe. Your brother is dead. How could you disrespect him the way you just did?”

I clasped my hands above my head. “Jesus Christ! How many times do I have to say that I don't give a damn about Travis? I don't care that he's dead. He meant nothing to me!”

“He was your brother! His being gay shouldn't have made him anything less than that.”

“It did in my book,” I said bluntly.

“That's really narrow-minded. His being gay had nothing to do with the type of person that he was. His sexuality didn't make him any less of a person. What he did in the bedroom wasn't any business of yours, and it really sucks that you can't look past that now to pay him some damned respect. He was your brother!”

“I am so tired of hearing everyone talk about respecting Travis!” I yelled out. “Was he respecting our father when he announced that he was gay?” I didn't wait for an answer. “No, he wasn't. My father felt like a failure because of him.”

“Oh, please, Abe. Travis's coming out had nothing to do with what your father did or didn't do.”

“Nakyia, Travis's lifestyle was a damn sin. Doesn't that matter? Doesn't it matter that he brought shame to the whole family?”

“Get it right, Abe. He brought shame to you and your father.”

“Whatever. Look, let's just end this now. Travis is dead and life goes on. I'm not wasting any more time, and I'm certainly not wasting any tears on him.”

“Is it really that simple?”

“Yes it is,” I answered honestly. “What are you so upset for, anyway? You never even met him. Why the hell should you care if he lived or died?”

“I care because he was your family. And that made him mine. I'm upset because your ignorance kept both of us from getting to know someone that we could have loved. He was a man, Abe. A gay man. A human being. You better hope and pray that when your time comes God doesn't judge you the way you've judged Travis all these years.”

“Whatever, Nakyia. Like I said, in the Bible Travis's lifestyle was a sin. If anyone should worry at the pearly gates, it should be him.”

Nakyia slit her eyes at me. “Go to hell, Abe.” She stormed out of the living room angrily without another word.

I sat down on my sofa and closed my eyes. My head was beginning to throb. I needed aspirin. I was about to get up and get some when Nakyia came back into the living room with her car keys and purse in hand.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To get the hell away from you,” she said irritably. “But before I go, I just wanted to say that I have no doubt in my mind that you will never be half the man that I'm sure Travis was.”

Before I could respond to her comment, Nakyia walked out the door, got in her car, and drove off. It was a good thing she did, because nothing but ugliness was going to come from my mouth. I cursed out loud and went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. I was heated. The argument with Randy, the argument with Nakyia; why the hell couldn't Travis have been the brother that he was supposed to?

I cursed out loud, downed the beer as if I hadn't had anything to drink for days and then grabbed another one. My hands were shaking I was so angry.

I was halfway through my second beer when my cell phone went off. I picked it up from the counter and looked at the caller ID. For the first time in a long while I was actually happy to see Taki's number displayed on the fluorescent green screen, because the only time she called my cell was when she wanted some, which didn't bother me because I was in dire need of some hardcore fucking at that moment. With Taki going through her own drama at home, there was no doubt in my mind that hardcore would be her pleasure for the day. I hit my talk button.

“What's up, Taki?”

“Abe . . . did . . .” Taki paused and sniffled. I could tell that she was crying. Immediately I thought about Whilice, and wondered if he had hit her again.

“What's wrong, Taki? Are you okay?”

Taki sniffed again. “Did you hear the news about Brian?”

“What news?”

Another sniffle. “Bri—Brian's dead.”

“What?” I asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “What do you mean, he's dead?”

“He . . . shot himself yesterday,” she said in a whisper.

“Come on, Taki, Brian wouldn't do something like that. Who told you that? Someone's playing a cruel joke on you.”

“It's no joke, Abe. It was on the news last night. Brian shot and killed himself after . . . after . . .” she paused again, leaving me hanging in shock.

“After what, Taki?”

“Abe . . . Brian was gay. He shot and killed his lover in front of his home, with Natalie there.”

I nearly fell, as my legs became rubber. Gay? Brian was gay? “What do you mean, he was gay? What do you mean, he shot his lover? Taki, this shit isn't funny.”

“I'm not joking!” Taki yelled. “It was on the news. Brian was gay and his lover came to confront him. Brian shot him and then turned the gun on himself.”

I shook my head. I couldn't believe it. Not Brian. Not the man with the raging temper on the golf course. He couldn't have been. I thought about the times I met Brian and a few other guys from work for happy-hour drinks. We'd all sit around and crack jokes, and stare at women.

No way.

Brian was a man's man.

A cigar-smoking, beer-drinking, sport-loving man.

“Taki . . . there's just no way,” I said, still denying it. “Absolutely no way.”

“Abe, it's true. I saw it on the news today. I even drove by his house to see if they were talking about the same Brian. There are candles and crosses sitting in his front lawn, Abe.”

I shook my head again. Gay. Brian was gay.

And then a terrible thought hit me with the force of a cannonball. I took a slow, deep breath and let it out painfully slow as I spoke into the phone. “Taki . . . he . . . the person Brian shot . . . Did they release his name?” I clenched my jaws and waited for an answer that I prayed would not be the one I suspected.

Taki sniffled. “I . . . I think his name was Trevor or Travis. Something like that. Why?”

The phone fell from my hand before I could even think to answer her.

Travis. Dead. Shot and killed.

Brian. Gay. Shot and killed his lover.

It had to be a coincidence. A cruel, sick, unbelievable coincidence. I stumbled out of the kitchen, leaving my cell phone on the floor. I think I faintly heard Taki yelling out my name as I reached for the phone in the living room. My hands shook as I dialed Randy's phone number.

Brian was gay. Brian was gay. The sentence kept repeating in my mind over and over like a scratch on a CD.

“What do you want, Abe?” Randy said, answering the phone angrily.

I took a deep breath. “Who was the person that killed Travis?” My heart was racing as though I'd just done an hour's worth of cardio as I waited for Randy's answer.

“What the hell do you want to know for?”

“I need to know, Randy,” I said my voice and hands trembling. “I need to know.”

“You need to know? What do you care?”

“Look, just tell me, okay.” I could feel myself ticking, about to go off.

“Why?”

I snapped. “Goddamn it, Randy! Just answer the fucking question! Who the fuck killed Travis? Was it someone named Brian? That's all I want to know. Was it someone named Brian?” I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth.

“Why the hell are you asking me if you already know the answer, Abe?”

I never answered my brother. Instead I threw the phone across the room and cursed out loud as it shattered against the wall. I yelled out loud again and swung out at a table lamp, sending it shattering on the ground. I staggered as my entire body felt as though I were burning inside.

Travis and Brian.

Brian and Travis.

That combination spun around and around, blurring my vision, making my knees weaker and weaker.

Travis and Brian.

Brian and Travis.

Then I blacked out.