When All Hell Breaks Loose (30 page)

Louise notices my attempt to appear happy for her, but I can’t fool her. I envy what she and my father have. I don’t think I will ever be able to get back on my feet and be in love like that. “Child, don’t let this mess with Adrian get the best of you. I can assure you, she will be back. Women like her always feel the need to explain themselves and their actions.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gregory, that girl had more tragic flaws than just getting caught in bed with some woman.”

“How did you know it was a woman? Who told you? I never said it was a woman.”

“Well,
was
it a woman?”

I keep my eyes on the road. “Yeah. It was Carla Perrone, the maid of honor.”

Louise sucks her teeth. “The one Tim left with at the New Year’s party? I figured as much.”

“How did you know?”

Louise laughs. It’s one of those laughs mothers do when they know that they know what they know. “Child, I have seen it all my travels.
I can spot one of those rascals a mile away. But to tell you the truth, I thought something was funny with Adrian and I couldn’t put my finger on it, until I heard her and Carla arguing in the room the night of the New Year’s party. Them two rascals was going at it about Carla leaving with your friend Tim.”

“They’re called lesbians,” I say to correct her.

“Rascals. Lesbians. Thrill seekers, you name it. I can spot them a mile away. The woman who wrote the lyrics to one of my songs is a lesbian, and we’ve been friends a long time. I’ve seen her bring famous jazz and soul singers around, who I never thought in a million years were like that. Adrian may be your first rascal, but she won’t be your last. You just have to be real careful, Gregory. Sleeping with folks is serious and deadly business. It always has been. AIDS didn’t start nothing new but awareness.”

“Oh yes she will be my last,” I say emphatically. “I’m doing police checks from here on out.”

We laugh together.

“You think a woman’s sexual orientation is on a police report? You ’bout as bad as that sister of yours. Maybe me and ’Dolphus need to stay right here and help you two along into your old age.”

“No, we’ll be fine.” I chuckle. “Speaking of which, have you found anyone to rent the house to yet?”

“No, but we aren’t leaving until the first of April. Why?”

“I was thinking Shreese could stay in the house. That way all of the family stuff can stay where it is. She can stay in Winnetka Heights with me until you leave.”

“I don’t mind. Your daddy could definitely quit worrying about that piano if she did move in, but we’ll see. I have to talk to him first.”

We exit off the freeway into the neighborhood and I pull to a halt in front of the house. Mom kisses me and hugs me tightly.

“Stay strong, Gregory. Troubles don’t last always.”

“Okay.” I hug her back and watch her get out of the car. She waves to me as I pull out of the driveway and head back to my place. I dread going to work tomorrow, but I have to.

When I get back to my place there is a note on my door. It’s
Adrian’s handwriting. I zip my jacket to keep the nip of the air away from my body. I open the letter and read:

I crumple the letter up in my hands and toss it across the parking lot. The wind blows it behind the wheel of a car, where it’s wavering when I walk away. I grab my keys from my pocket and head to my apartment. “Bitch” is all I can say as I go inside. Tomorrow will be a new day for me. I’m going back to work to face the world.

T
he office is quiet today. Everyone seems extra quiet and they all have these comforting smiles on their faces as if a great loss has occurred. Sympathy for me, the brokenhearted bachelor. I’m assuming it’s because Eric and Tim let everyone know that my wedding has been canceled. I’m calm about it. As a matter of fact, I’m glad everyone knows. The quicker they know, the quicker I can move on with my life. My secretary, Dorothy, hands me my phone messages from the past two days.

“We missed you, Greg.” She smiles.

“Thanks, Dorothy,” I say warmly.

“You know we got some new employees this week?”

“No I didn’t,” I say. “I suppose you’re going to tell me about them?”

“You know I will, but not right now. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

“You’re right, Dorothy.”

“Greg, are you going to be okay? I mean, I know you don’t want to talk about the breakoff, but if you need to I’m here.”

“I know, but I’ve got some good people supporting me. Thanks anyway.” I head to my office. When I get inside, I leave the door open. I don’t want people to think I’m taking this as bad as I am. See, being a man is a hard job. How a man handles a crisis says a lot about his character. By leaving my office door open the third day after my crisis (two days don’t count because Saturday and Sunday were weekend days), I show that I’m strong and able to bounce back. I know the brothers have my back on this one. It’s plain and simple, a man who dwells on the loss of a woman for too long is not going to be the same in the eyes of his fellow brothers. They treat him differently after that. As long as Jamal keeps quiet about how I cried like a bitch the night I found out and got sloppy drunk, I may be moved into the Real Man Hall of Fame.

It’s hard for me to deal with what happened. These past few days, I’ve just put it in my mind that my fiancée was killed in an accident. That makes more sense. I miss holding Adrian. I miss her laugh and her kisses. I can’t believe she chooses to give all that to a woman. Women can’t appreciate women sexually! What ever happened to missing strong hands, a deep voice, and penetration? I look on my desk and notice that one of the guys has removed all the pictures of Adrian. It’s good to have thoughtful friends around. Seeing Adrian anyplace other than my mind would really piss me off right about now.

There are several folders on my desk and I’m tempted to assign them out to my group members, but I need something to keep me busy, so I start working. There’s a knock on my door. I look up and Tim is standing at the door with a woman. I stand up.

“What’s up, my man?” I say smiling.

He walks in with the woman. “Hey G.” He grins. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

“How you holding up?”

“Like a champion, man. Thanks for the help this weekend.”

We give each other dap.

“No problem. Anytime. I wanted to introduce you to our new head of finance, Lisa Carter.”

The woman smiles and extends her hand to me. Her most noticeable
feature is her hazel eyes against her dark skin. “Hi, Mr. Alston. It’s nice to meet you.”

I take her hand and return the favor. “Welcome aboard.”

“Lisa has a master’s in finance. She was able to jump right in and get all the paperwork cleared up in no time,” Tim adds.

“That’s good. It’s good to know we have some people in the workforce who are self-motivated.”

“Thanks. Maybe we-all can do lunch sometime,” she suggests. She smiles again and leaves the office. Tim watches her walk down the hall.

He looks at me, smiling, back to his old self. “So what do you think?”

“What do you mean, what do I think?”

“She’s beautiful. She’s a beautiful sister, man, didn’t you notice?”

I pull back from my desk. “Tim, I just got out of a fucked-up situation. What makes you think I want to go into another one? For all we know, Lisa could be an ax murderer. Shit, with my luck, she probably is.” I laugh.

“I don’t think so. All I can say is, consider getting to know her.”

Just as Tim finishes his sentence, Phillip comes running into my office with his small portable television. “Where’s a plug!? Where’s a plug?!”

“Damn, Phil, if I didn’t know you, I’d be calling 911 right now to report a theft,” Tim says, laughing. I point to the empty socket near my desk. Phil runs over and places the television on my desk. “Greg, you got to see this shit, man!”

I look over at Tim. I know they told Phil that Adrian was in bed with another man, and I’m hoping he hasn’t found out the truth. Phil is one brother in my crew who would not be able to handle what really went down. When he flips the television on, the picture has not faded in, but a newscaster’s voice can be clearly heard.

“We are standing at the Lew Sterrett Justice Center in downtown Dallas, where the members of Mount Cannon Baptist Church are assembled.…” The picture begins to fade in. A news reporter is standing in front of a building with several black people standing around her. They are all holding Bibles and dressed up in fashionable
church attire. To my surprise the person standing right next to the reporter, about to be interviewed, is my sister, Shreese. I turn the volume up to hear what the newscaster is saying.

“Live on the scene where Reverend Ulan Dixon has just been brought in from Madison, Wisconsin, where he was captured this morning. He was taken into custody along with his eighteen-year-old girlfriend, whose name has not been released at this time. Here we have with us one of the Mount Cannon Baptist Church members who had money taken from her by Reverend Dixon. Her name is Shreese Alston.” The news reporter turns to my sister, who has a serious look on her face. I do notice she’s wearing her hair down and she has lip gloss on. Phil lets out a long whistle. “Greg, your sister is fine-looking.”

“Phil, she’s off limits,” Tim says loudly.

“Shhh man, chill out.”

“Ms. Alston, why are you here today?” the reporter asks.

“I’m here because Pastor Dixon took money from me along with some of the other church members assembled here today and we want to see him get what he deserves,” Shreese answered. “We want justice!”

“Ma’am, how much money did he take from you?”

“I don’t want to disclose the amount. But it was my life savings.”

“What do you hope to get from this protest today?”

“I want Ulan Dixon to know that playing with God’s people is not the answer. Romans twelve and nineteen reads, ‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord,’ and vengeance is now upon the head of Ulan Dixon!” Several members of the church begin to clap and cheer. Phil is laughing and Tim is shaking his head. The phone rings on my desk and I know it’s one of my parents. “I’ll leave this in here for you to watch,” Phil says.

“Let me know what else happens,” Tim asks. They both leave as I pick up the line. “Hello?”

“Hey Gregory Bean! This is your Uncle Bennie!”

“Oh, hey Unc,” I say, surprised.

“I was sitting up here watching
The Price Is Right
and the news interrupted
the show. Have you seen your sister on here talking about that preacher boyfriend of hers?”

“Yeah, I’m looking at it now, Uncle Bennie.”

“Oh you is? Well, good. Your mama should be calling shortly.”

Uncle Bennie hangs up quickly. In a matter of seconds, my phone rings again. I pick up.

“This is Greg.”

“Gregory, your sister is on television.” It’s my mother, and she sounds disturbed by what Shreese is doing on television. “Why is she on television singing church songs and cursing the devil?”

“I know. I’m watching her.”

“Gregory, what is going on with Shreese and this church? Why is she carrying on like this?”

“Like what? Shreese has been like this since she was twelve. Haven’t you noticed?”

“No I didn’t notice! Shreese never talked about her church life to me. Not once did she give me any indication that she had become some Bible-thumpin’, finger-pointin’ holy roller. Did that Ulan Dixon man do this to her?”

“Mom, Shreese began going to church praying for you to come home. I don’t know why she never told you about her life, but it’s extreme and it stemmed from you leaving.”

“So this is my fault.” Louise sniffs into the phone. “I never meant to—”

“Mom, Shreese has done this herself. At some point she probably realized that Pastor Dixon wasn’t any good, but she’s a woman.”

“But Gregory, I just wish someone would have told me. I didn’t like the way she treated you when that man was around and I didn’t like the way she treated Adrian with her comments, but I was too busy trying not to interfere in your lives because I’d been gone. I ignored being her mother.”

“The church has been her mother for sixteen years, don’t you understand that?”

Mom sniffles and her voice begins to quiver. “I didn’t mean to do this to my kids. Lord knows I wanted what was best for you.”

“Mom, don’t cry. We just have some issues to work through, that’s all. Shreese will be okay. I will look after her. I can handle it.”

“No Gregory! You spend your life dating all kinds of women and end up engaged to a lesbian, your sister gets used and abused by a no-good pastor, and your father didn’t play his piano until I returned. I did all of this! I made these things happen!” She’s sobbing heavily.

I lean over my desk and turn the television off. “Mom, at some point we had to take the blame for hindering ourselves. At some point in each of our lives, we were responsible for our actions and they no longer had anything to do with you. What has happened to me, Shreese, and Pops became our fault a long time ago.”

Louise is still crying. She’s crying like I’ve never imagined her cry before.