The Old Man in the Club (17 page)

“Sundays during the NFL season would be crazy because nobody wanted their team to lose. It's hard for me to call any time fun in there because of where I was. But after so many years, most guys get used to it. Institutionalized. It's a way of life. And, to be honest, I fought it like crazy. I didn't want it to become a part of who I was. I fought it. But certain things were such a routine that it became a part of your life.”

“Like what?” Daniel asked.

“Well, I'll give you one example,” Elliott said. “I might have told you this before. We had to eat every day at a certain time and we only had fifteen minutes to do it. So, to eat all your food, you would rush, eat fast, stuff food in your mouth. It took me almost fifteen years to stop doing that. It drove your mother crazy.”

“I remember her saying at the dinner table: ‘Slow down,' but I always thought she was talking to me,” Daniel said.

“No, it was me,” Elliott said. “She noticed it the first time we went out to eat. I remember the look on her face. She was mortified. And she said, ‘Uh, why are you eating like that? You're going to choke to death.' That was my opening to tell her my story. I was always hesitant to tell my story because I was afraid it could turn a woman off and she'd run and never look back.”

“Knowing Mom, she probably wanted to know the whole story,” Danielle said.

“You're right about that,” Elliott said. “We finished dinner and talked right there in the restaurant until the place closed.”

“In prison, you also become paranoid about your surroundings,” Elliott added. “I'm always aware of who's around me, especially behind me. There's a paranoia about someone coming up from behind me to do me harm. I can't shake that feeling.”

The dinner was ready and Danielle and Daniel marveled at their father's cooking. The food was delicious. But best for Elliott was that he sat at the dining room table with his children and had a nice meal and fun conversation. He felt like a full man.

“How's your cooking, Danielle?” he asked his daughter. His son answered.

“Terrible,” Daniel said, laughing.

“Look who's talking,” Danielle said. “He boiled eggs one morning and burned them. All the water evaporated and the eggs cracked open.”

“What about that fish you cooked that was so dry that we choked on it?” Daniel said.

“So neither of you know what you're doing? That's what I get from this,” Elliott said. “Well, you're going to London, where they say the food is bland. So, you should come here at least once a week and we can work on it. Same with you, Daniel. You'll be in your apartment. Can't eat out every night. And there's nothing more impressive to a woman than a man cooking a great meal for her.”

“I don't have time for that,” Daniel said. “It's easier to take them out.”

“But all guys take women out,” Elliott advised his son. “You want to stand out. You have a woman over for a meal that you prepared with your own hands…you're making a statement. That's not the norm of what they get from a man. That's a way to distinguish yourself.

“Plus, the money spent taking out women adds up. You can cook a great meal at home for less than half of a restaurant meal.”

“That's true, because once they start adding on taxes and tip…that's why I don't tip much,” Daniel said.

“Daniel, don't be cheap; leave a proper tip. Please,” Elliott said. “Do right by people and it will come back to you. I truly believe that. And in the case of eating, learn how to cook so you don't have to worry about leaving a tip.”

Daniel was too busy stuffing his mouth with mac and cheese to respond. So he nodded his head. Elliott glanced to his left at Danielle, and she was chomping down on the Cornish hen. Elliott was euphoric.

There was not much talking over the next ten minutes, as they all devoured the meal, with Daniel going back for seconds and thirds. “What?” he said, smiling. “Told you I was hungry. And this food is good.”

“I miss eating your food, Daddy,” Danielle said.

“I must admit,” Daniel said, “I do, too.”

“I miss spending time with you both,” Elliott said. “If it has to be around dinner, so be it. But I'd like to see you more. Maybe we could go bowling next weekend. Or to a concert at Chastain Park. I believe Diana Ross is coming.”

“Dad, we're here, but it's not like there isn't an issue between us,” Daniel said as he cleared his plate and placed it in the sink. “We got to this place because you broke Mom's heart, which broke up the family. You want me to be honest, so I'm just saying. I've been angry about that for a long time. And I'm still angry. You're probably right about me feeling bad about Danielle moving to London. That does bother me. But before she got accepted it was you.”

“Let's go in the living room and have some of this cheesecake,” Elliott said. There, he refreshed everyone's drink. As they enjoyed the dessert, he made his case.

“I'm sorry you've been angry all that time and I'm sorry you feel like I broke up the family,” he said. “I don't know how you could get that because I've never spoken to you about it, and neither has your mother. Anyway, my point is, your sister asked me what I did for entertainment when I was in prison. Probably the number one thing I did was read. I read more than two hundred books.

“Somewhere I read that ‘Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.' You get the point?”

“I get the point,” Danielle said. “Being angry is poison—especially being angry with your father. You get that, Daniel?”

“I get it, but it's not that simple,” Daniel said. “We had a perfect family. And then it wasn't. It's not like getting a beating and getting over it.”

“I know more than you that it was a big deal,” Elliott said. “I probably should have said this a long time ago. I love your mother. Your mother is the love of my friggin' life. I still love her. In a lot of ways she's still the only woman for me.”

No one said anything. Finally, Elliott continued. “A marriage ending is never as simple as it seems,” he said. “It's far more complicated than you could ever imagine. When your mom and I came to this decision, we cried about it. We cried about it because we thought of you and how it would impact you. Moving out of our house was the hardest thing I've ever done, and you know I have been through some stuff in my life.”

“What happened, Daddy?” Danielle said. “If you loved Mommy so much, how could you…you know?”

“What I will say about that is this: It's more complicated than it
seems,” he said. “Infidelity sometimes happens, and it has nothing to do with love or how much you love your spouse or your family. That might sound crazy to you right now. It took me a while to come to grips with it, to understand how it could happen. Nevertheless, it's damaging.

“But if you ask your mother how she feels about me, three years later, she'll say she loves me.”

“Well, if you love her and she loves you, then why does she live in Southwest Atlanta and you live here? Why aren't you together?” Daniel asked. “Why did our family break up?”

“The family doesn't have to be broken up,” Elliott said. “Lots of couples divorce. Most marriages end in divorce. But it's how you stick together after a divorce that determines if the family breaks up. We don't have to be under one roof to be a family. Look at us right now. We've had dinner, finishing dessert, had some wine, some laughs, some disagreements, some revelations. We're a family.”

“But how is Mom supposed to forgive you for what you did? How are we supposed to forgive you?” Daniel asked.

“How?” Elliott said. “If I can forgive a jury for sending me to prison for twelve years for crimes I didn't commit, you can certainly forgive your father who loves you and who has done all he could for you.”

Neither of his kids said anything.

“Plus,” he added, “to not forgive is a sin.”

“A sin?” Daniel said, laughing.

“Yes,” Elliott said, smiling. “It's in The Bible. John, chapter six, I think.”

“Daddy!” Danielle yelled. “You need to stop.”

“You want to go to hell?” Elliott said. “If you don't forgive your parent, who loves you more than anyone, then I'm sorry to say
that you've punched an express ticket to hell while wearing gasoline drawers.”

His kids did not want to, but they laughed. They were used to him making them crack up, and it felt good to them to feel that again.

But there was a major issue hovering above the occasion, one that Elliott actually wished was addressed earlier, to get it out of the way. He wondered why they had not raised the question. He also was somewhat relieved because he had not figured out a way to answer it without lying.

The evening went on without drama. Danielle placed the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen. Daniel said, “Since Dad cooked and you cleaned up, the least I can do is drink some more wine.”

Elliott laughed, but switched quickly to father mode. “I'm assuming you all rode together and that your sister is driving.”

“Don't try to play daddy now,” Daniel said.

Elliott did not ignore him. “I
am
your father and don't you ever think I won't play my role or that you're too big for me to put you in your place.”

“Wait a minute,” Danielle yelled from the kitchen. “We're having a nice time. Let's keep it that way.”

“If you were around the last few years, then maybe it'd be okay for you to talk to me like that,” Daniel said. “But let's keep it real: You haven't been a father to either of us lately.”

“I haven't been a father or you haven't been a son?” Elliott asked. “Which is it? 'Cause from my view this is what I see: I see me always reaching out to check on you, to offer you whatever you need. I see me paying for your college room and board. I see me praying for you and for us to get past the anger. That's what I see.

“Oh, and I also see you accepting the money but not accepting my phone calls or returning them. I see you benefiting from all I—and your mother—have instilled in you. And I see you blaming me for breaking up the family when it doesn't have to be broken up. That's what I see. What do you see? What do
you
see, Danielle?”

“I see a family coming back together,” Danielle said. “Daniel has been drinking wine all night, so his tongue is loose. We have talked about it—”

“Danielle, don't,” her brother yelled.

“No, it's time to stop all this now,” she said. “We have talked about it, Daddy, and we're sorry. From the beginning, you have tried to be there for us and we have been really mean to you. And disrespectful, too, which we are really sorry about. I don't want to miss my father anymore. Daniel doesn't either, whether he says it to you or not. Being mad about the divorce is not helping anyone, especially us. And you're right: Anything we've felt lately has been about me leaving for London. I don't want to leave my family, and especially Daniel. We're like each other's right hand. We've had trouble grasping the fact that we're going to be separated. And we've probably taken some of that out on you.”

“I'm an easy target, I know,” Elliott said. “But I'm about moving forward. Holding on to stuff does no one any good. You guys are my kids. There is no room for animosity or anger…not lingering animosity or anger. As your parent, I'm unconditional. I love you when you make me mad or disappoint me or make me happy and proud. There's no wavering.”

“I want to hug you, Daddy,” Danielle said, and they embraced.

“I don't have to go that far,” Daniel said. “But…I do love you, Dad.”

“That's enough for me,” Elliott said. “I love you both. More than you could ever know.”

Daniel excused himself and went into the bathroom. He ran the water and flushed the toilet to drown out his tears. He was a Momma's boy but Dad's pride and joy. The relief he experienced in telling his father that he loved him overflowed. To say the words released three years of anguish.

He gathered his emotions and wiped his face. After using the bathroom, he rejoined his sister and father.

“We should be leaving, right, Danielle?” he said.

“I guess so,” she said. “We're supposed to go to a party on Peter Street.”

Elliott was tempted to bring up Tamara. He was surprised they were about to leave without asking why he was at a club with their college friend. If he had an answer that would continue the good feelings they created, he would have. But Elliott was not silly.

“Well, I had hopes for tonight and it turned out better than I could have imagined,” he told Danielle and Daniel before they headed out. “I feel so much better about everything.”

“Me, too,” Danielle said. “I can't wait to tell Mommy.”

“Well,” Daniel said, “I guess we have something to build on now.”

Before Elliott could speak, his doorbell rang. Not once, but three times in succession.

“Who the hell is that?” he said.

“I thought you had to have a key to get up here,” Daniel said.

“You do,” Elliott responded. “Let me see who the hell this is.”

His kids followed him to the door.
“Who is it?”
Elliott said in a booming, aggressive voice.

“Tamara,” the voice came back. Danielle and Daniel looked at each other. Elliott's heart dropped.

“What the hell?” Elliott said, looking back at his children.

“Did she say ‘Tamara'?” Daniel said.

“What is she doing here?” Danielle wanted to know.

Elliott didn't answer. He unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” he said in an angry tone to Tamara, who stood there wearing a cleavage-exposing top and an I-caught-you expression.