anticipated his next question.
“So, are you going to tell me what he went to jail for.”
“Man, you won’t believe me if you were there yourself.”
“Try me.”
“He raped me,” I divulged quickly, giving Jacoby no time to prepare.
I wasn’t ready for my quick response, and I knew damn well he wasn’t ready, either. But, hell, I’ve had over ten years to prepare, and several sessions with Dr. Kendrick. I was blunt about anything that had to do with that man. My hatred for him was ripe.
“What the hell do you mean your father went to jail for raping you?”
“That’s what I mean, Jacoby. Please don’t make me repeat it.”
“I’ve heard some unbelievable shit in my life, but Patrick, are you serious?”
“Trust me. I couldn’t make up something like this. Not even for an Oscar-winning movie. I was asleep the first time it happened. Man, at first I thought I was dreaming, and when I realized it was my reality, it was too late. I remember saying to myself, this motherfucker is not climbing on top of me. But that sick-ass bastard was. He’d turned on the lights and demanded that I look at him. I stiffened to prevent him from entering me, but I soon grew tired and gave in. I couldn’t do anything else, Jacoby.”
For the first time since taking the stand to testify against my father, I’d allowed myself to really cry.
“I couldn’t. I lay there with my knees forced back towards my armpits, and with every thrust he cursed me. ‘Isn’t this what you want? Isn’t this what faggots do?’ I wanted to answer him. Fuck, I didn’t know. My fucking father was my first sexual experience. When he was finished I lay there, still, with pain in the pit of my stomach, and tears falling from both eyes to either side of my face.”
“Damn, Patrick. I wish you had told me this in person.”
He paused as if he were organizing his thoughts.
“Are you there alone, and will you be for the rest of the night? Wait! You don’t have to answer that?”
“Yes and Yes.”
It sounded like Coby was asking the latter part of that question for good measure.
“If that’s your way of asking about Dexter, what we had ended shortly after you left. And Devaan…”
“Devaan? I’m not even going to ask.”
“Man, you kinda just did,” I said. “Anyway, she doesn’t live with me, and like I said, I’m in Atlanta…alone. And before you ask, no, I haven’t told her.”
“Not even about what went down with your father?”
“I haven’t told her anything, and that’s how it has to be until I’m ready.”
When I hung up from my three-hour conversation with Jacoby, the rain that had been falling hard for three days now was starting to fall silently outside the large living room window. I had received a text message from Devaan. We’ve done more texting recently, which I blamed on her busy schedule and me keeping so much from her. I’d noticed us drifting, but if us drifting meant keeping her in the dark, then I wasn’t bothered. Since it was late, I promised to text her first thing in the morning instead of interrupting her sleep. Damn! As much as that hurt to relive the moment, I actually enjoyed talking with Jacoby. I remembered how we would often talk late into the night before heading to sleep. Of course, all that changed after I met Dexter. Then, instead of spending late nights in conversation with him, I was spending late nights with Dexter, in Dexter, while Jacoby spent those same nights probably wishing he’d never met me.
I walked around the Amarello Bamboo colored counter to the sink and emptied the remaining remnants of red wine. I dimmed the lights in the kitchen to off and walked up the back steps on the far side of the kitchen to the second floor. In my room, I sat on the sofa in the small sitting space outside my master bedroom and turned on my 52” 3D LED HDTV. I sat listening to a repeat of Rachel Maddow’s discussion and analysis of politics and pop culture. After a few moments,
“So, are you going to tell me what he went to jail for.”
“Man, you won’t believe me if you were there yourself.”
“Try me.”
“He raped me,” I divulged quickly, giving Jacoby no time to prepare.
I wasn’t ready for my quick response, and I knew damn well he wasn’t ready, either. But, hell, I’ve had over ten years to prepare, and several sessions with Dr. Kendrick. I was blunt about anything that had to do with that man. My hatred for him was ripe.
“What the hell do you mean your father went to jail for raping you?”
“That’s what I mean, Jacoby. Please don’t make me repeat it.”
“I’ve heard some unbelievable shit in my life, but Patrick, are you serious?”
“Trust me. I couldn’t make up something like this. Not even for an Oscar-winning movie. I was asleep the first time it happened. Man, at first I thought I was dreaming, and when I realized it was my reality, it was too late. I remember saying to myself, this motherfucker is not climbing on top of me. But that sick-ass bastard was. He’d turned on the lights and demanded that I look at him. I stiffened to prevent him from entering me, but I soon grew tired and gave in. I couldn’t do anything else, Jacoby.”
For the first time since taking the stand to testify against my father, I’d allowed myself to really cry.
“I couldn’t. I lay there with my knees forced back towards my armpits, and with every thrust he cursed me. ‘Isn’t this what you want? Isn’t this what faggots do?’ I wanted to answer him. Fuck, I didn’t know. My fucking father was my first sexual experience. When he was finished I lay there, still, with pain in the pit of my stomach, and tears falling from both eyes to either side of my face.”
“Damn, Patrick. I wish you had told me this in person.”
He paused as if he were organizing his thoughts.
“Are you there alone, and will you be for the rest of the night? Wait! You don’t have to answer that?”
“Yes and Yes.”
It sounded like Coby was asking the latter part of that question for good measure.
“If that’s your way of asking about Dexter, what we had ended shortly after you left. And Devaan…”
“Devaan? I’m not even going to ask.”
“Man, you kinda just did,” I said. “Anyway, she doesn’t live with me, and like I said, I’m in Atlanta…alone. And before you ask, no, I haven’t told her.”
“Not even about what went down with your father?”
“I haven’t told her anything, and that’s how it has to be until I’m ready.”
When I hung up from my three-hour conversation with Jacoby, the rain that had been falling hard for three days now was starting to fall silently outside the large living room window. I had received a text message from Devaan. We’ve done more texting recently, which I blamed on her busy schedule and me keeping so much from her. I’d noticed us drifting, but if us drifting meant keeping her in the dark, then I wasn’t bothered. Since it was late, I promised to text her first thing in the morning instead of interrupting her sleep. Damn! As much as that hurt to relive the moment, I actually enjoyed talking with Jacoby. I remembered how we would often talk late into the night before heading to sleep. Of course, all that changed after I met Dexter. Then, instead of spending late nights in conversation with him, I was spending late nights with Dexter, in Dexter, while Jacoby spent those same nights probably wishing he’d never met me.
I walked around the Amarello Bamboo colored counter to the sink and emptied the remaining remnants of red wine. I dimmed the lights in the kitchen to off and walked up the back steps on the far side of the kitchen to the second floor. In my room, I sat on the sofa in the small sitting space outside my master bedroom and turned on my 52” 3D LED HDTV. I sat listening to a repeat of Rachel Maddow’s discussion and analysis of politics and pop culture. After a few moments,
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