A Cold Piece of Work Page 11

  Solomon hugged the crying Michele. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, my God.”

  He hugged her tightly, as much to comfort her as to conceal the tears that ran down his face. They were not tears of fear. They were tears of relief and anger. Neither of them said anything for a minute. They just embraced in the empty parking lot on Moreland Avenue and Hosea Williams Drive.

  Solomon wiped his face. “You’re okay, Michele,” he said. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

  He reached in his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and called 9-1-1. “I can’t believe this shit,” he said. “I’m glad I took my laptop out of my car. If my laptop was in there, they would’ve had to shoot me.”

  “Don’t even play like that,” Michele said. “I’m so scared. They might come back… Where’s the police?”

  A few seconds later, the cops arrived, lights flashing, sirens blaring. Michele sat in the police car and watched Solomon as he described what happened to the officers. He was poised, as if he were reporting stolen fruit from a stand and not a carjacking where two young men had guns to their heads.

  She watched him closely. She rehashed the drama. She opened her heart. That was the moment. She loved Solomon Singletary again, but maybe even more this time. He saved her life twice in one night, first by accepting that he was Gerald’s father and then by talking some criminals out of shooting them.

  The officers waited with them until the taxi arrived to take them to Sonya’s house. In the cab, Michele said, “I’m still shaking. I feel like I was this close to death. I can’t believe you started lecturing them. That was incredible. You…”

  “You know what?” Solomon jumped in, “somehow, even in my fear, the most important things came to me and I just hoped they would listen. I guess even the most evil person has a conscience that can be tapped into.”

  Michele reached over and grabbed Solomon’s hand. It was not lost on them that they had endured a harrowing experience together. It cemented their bond.

  “Some night, huh?” Solomon said. “I like excitement as much as the next guy. But this…”

  “I know, right?” Michele said. “I needed to get out for a drink. It turned out to be one of the most important nights of my life in a lot of ways.”

  “Mine, too,” Solomon said, as he handed the driver $30 for the fare. When they approached Sonya’s door, she opened it.

  “What took you so long?” she said. “And why are you in a cab? What’s going on?”

  Michele and Solomon looked at each other. “What’s wrong?” Sonya asked. “I thought you all would be smiling and happy.”

  He extended his arms and hugged Sonya. “Good to see you; it’s been a long time.”

  “Same here. Come on in. Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”

  “You have anything to drink?” Michele asked.

  “Yeah, some juice and water,” Sonya answered.

  “No, some alcohol,” Michele said.

  “I thought you just came from having drinks. What’s going on, Michele? Solomon?”

  “Can I see…my son?” he answered. “Michele, please tell her what happened before her head explodes.”

  “Come this way, Solomon,” Sonya said, leading him to her spare bedroom, where Gerald slept. “Michele, I’ll be right back.”

  At the bedroom door, Sonya slowly opened it so as to not awaken the child. “There’s your boy.” Her and Solomon’s eyes met. He smiled and she went back to the living room.

  Solomon stood in the doorway for a moment. He went from a single man responsible only for himself to a father of a soon-to-be eight-year-old…in an instant.

  He left the door open so the hallway light could illuminate the room enough for him to see Gerald. All the obvious physical features he did not notice before were as blatant as a flashing neon sign then: his complexion, his nose, the shape of his lips. Even the way he slept—on his right side with a pillow between his knees—was the way Solomon often rested.

  He was his son, all right, and to see him as such raised emotions in Solomon he never experienced. And pride, too. That’s my son, he thought to himself. He leaned over and kissed Gerald on his forehead. Then he just stood there staring at him.

  Meanwhile, Michele was giving Sonya the details of the evening. “So, you’re telling me you had guns pointing at you and Solomon started talking about being a father to them?”

  “That’s what he did,” Michele answered, sipping the vodka and cranberry her cousin quickly made for her. “I couldn’t do anything but cry. I’m not being dramatic—they acted like they were going to kill us. It was like a dream. It’s still a dream. The whole night is. But Solomon basically said he just learned he is a father and he wanted to see his child. Then he told them to look at me, that I represented their mother. You believe that? But I don’t know how or why, but it worked.

  “One guy acted like he didn’t care; he wanted to shoot us. But the other one…something Solomon said registered with him. I don’t know what, but after a while, he told us to get out of the car. And even then, I was so shaken I couldn’t even undo the seatbelt. Solomon had to come around and let me out.”

  “Oh, my God,” Sonya said. “I can’t even believe this.”

  “Me, either,” Michele said. “This has been a crazy night. A great night and a scary night all at the same time.”

  Solomon reentered the living room just then.

  “I could use a drink, too,” he said. “A big one.”

  CHAPTER 12

  SONNY DAYS

  Sonya had to go into her secret stash of liquor in the far reaches under her kitchen sink. She was so thrown by the events of the night that she started drinking, too, and they killed the half-empty bottle of Grey Goose.

  “I have a question,” Solomon said, his speech slightly slurred, his eyes reddening by the minute. “Who in their right mind hides liquor under the kitchen sink? That’s some country stuff right there.”

  Sonya and Michele burst into laughter.

  “And,” he added, “who you hiding it from?”

  “Forget you, Solomon,” Sonya said, feigning anger. “I got that from my grandmother. She used to put her corn liquor under the sink, surrounded by mothballs. She said my late grandfather hated the smell of mothballs, so she knew he wouldn’t go under there to look for the liquor.”

  “Okay, I get it. I mean,” Solomon said, “I see why that worked for your grandmother. But your grandfather has passed on to glory, right? You expecting him to come back here?”

  They all laughed again.

  “Like I said, forget you, Solomon. I like it there. It’s out of the way down there,” she said.

  The humor was a much-needed distraction—if only for a few minutes—from the serious matters that consumed them.

  It was 1:50 a.m. “Cuz, we gonna have to stay here and drink all your liquor and take your car in the morning,” Michele said. “I don’t think we need to be on the road tonight smelling like a distillery.”

  “Hey,” Solomon said rather loudly, alarming the women, “don’t y’all get too loud and wake up my son.”

  The room went silent. The three of them looked at each other for what seemed like several moments, but, in reality, was about five seconds. Clearly, the liquor had kicked in with Solomon, who had a lot to say and the vodka made it come out easier.

  “That’s my son in there,” he said, pointing toward the back of the house. His voice suddenly was low and serious, like he was revealing a long-kept secret. He spilled some of his drink on his shirt but did not bother to wipe it off.

  “I feel like more of a man knowing I’m a father,” he went on. “It probably doesn’t make sense to you. And It probably doesn’t make me more of a man, but it makes me feel like more of a man, like I have given more to the world—or that I had not given enough.

  “I’m the same person, but it feels like—I don’t know—like I have a bigger purpose in life now. I grew up in the last eight years, Michele. I feel like I’ve got some more g
rowing up to do, but I’m more motivated now to do that. I gotta figure out…we gotta figure out…how to tell Gerald that I’m his dad—and that I’m not ‘no good’ or some loser who didn’t want to be his father.”

  “Solomon, I’m so glad to hear you say that,” Sonya said. “Michele probably will get mad at me for saying this, but, hell, the rat’s out of the bag now…”

  “Damn, girl,” Michele said, “I know you’re drunk because you’re messing up clichés.”

  “Wow, did I say ‘rat’? I meant to say…‘hat,’” Sonya responded.

  “Hat is wrong, too,” Michele said. “It’s cat—let the cat out of the bag.”

  “Oh, is it? Well,” Sonya said, “anyway, Solomon, since the cat’s out of the thing, I can tell you that this is a dream come true for Michele.”

  “Sonya!” Michele jumped in.

  “What? It’s true, girl,” Sonya shot back. “No need in trying to keep it a secret now.”

  “Well, can you be clear about what you’re trying to say?” Michele said.

  “Okay, okay,” Sonya told her. “Solomon, what I was saying was about Gerald, not her. Having you back is not her dream come true. It’s a dream come true for her that you know he’s your son and that you’re willing to be a father to him. She’s been obsessed with that.”

  “No, I haven’t been obsessed with it,” Michele said. “But I always knew it would be better for my son if his father helped raise him. I knew that. I would always become jealous when I saw a father playing sports with his son or at the grocery store, the mall, wherever. And I would be sad about it, too…almost feel sorry for Gerald.”

  “Well, you can let all that go now,” Solomon said. He wanted to ask her why she did not try harder to find him years before, if all that mattered so much. Why didn’t she tell him the deal when they first saw each other at the banquet?

  Women’s intuition was as reliable as a wet tissue, but in this case, Michele could sense some angst in Solomon. So she tried to appease him before he asked.

  “I wish this moment would’ve happened years ago, Solomon. I really do,” she said. “Even if we weren’t together, I wanted you to be in his life. I hope you can focus on what you can be to him now and not what could’ve happened.”

  “Honestly, I’m not good with how everything happened, but, in the end, it was my fault,” he said. “So, if you’re not mad at me, I’m not mad at you. Trust me, I’m focused on Gerald.”

  Pretty soon, they all drifted off in the living room. Deep into his sleep, Solomon had a dream that he was being chased by women of his past and present: Michele, Marie, Cathy, Dionne and Evelyn—the five women in his life. When he hurried inside and slammed the door behind him to keep them out, he turned around and was struck in the head with a golf club.

  He jumped up from his sleep and decided then that he had to make peace with those women.

  Marie, Evelyn, Cathy and Dionne were good women who were caught up in Solomon’s web of indecision and selfishness. They accepted his terms, but they abandoned their pride and, in some cases, morals to do it. Solomon actually liked it when he broke a woman’s will or made her succumb to his.

  But those thoughts, while on his mind, were secondary. He had a son he had to get to know as a father. He had to tell his parents. He had to tell his friends, including Ray, who once told Solomon, “We’ll know if God has a sense of humor if He allows you to have a kid.”

  Before he could gather himself and get off of the couch, little Gerald came sleepy-eyed into the living room. “Coach Money,” he said to Solomon, who was taken aback.

  Solomon was taken off guard. “Oh, hey buddy. What are you doing up?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  “Gerald, hi, honey,” Michele said as she rose from the loveseat she had slept on. “Come here.”

  “I’m thirsty, Mommy. Can I have something to drink?”

  “I’ll get it for him,” Solomon volunteered. “If that’s all right.”

  Michele smiled at Solomon. “Sure.”

  “Come on, Gerald.” Solomon put his arm around Gerald and father and son walked together to the kitchen.

  Michele’s heart was full.

  As Gerald downed the orange juice, Solomon told him: “It’s five-thirty. I’m going to take you back to bed, okay? Then we’re going to get together later today. I have some good news to tell you.”

  “What is it?” Gerald asked.

  “I’ll tell you later. We’ll go to lunch. What’s your favorite place?”

  “Pizza Hut.”

  “Pizza Hut? Ah, man,” Solomon said. “We’ll find somewhere better than that.”

  “Okay,” Gerald said.

  “Come on. Let’s go back to bed,” he told the kid and walked him back to his bedroom.

  When Solomon returned to the living room, Sonya and Michele stared at him.

  “What?” he said.

  “How do you feel?” Sonya said.

  He smiled. “Great,” he said. “A little awkward, too, though. I guess those were my first acts as a father with my son—or knowing I was a father.”

  “It was a sweet moment,” Michele said. “Very sweet.”

  Solomon did not respond. He just lay back on the couch, with his arms folded behind his head.

  Michele came over and kneeled down beside him. “I could’ve cried, seeing you and him together like that. It’s going to work out. It’s going to be great.”

  Then she leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips and rested her head on his chest. He hugged her and rubbed her back.

  “I need you to help me through this,” he said. “I’m on board, no doubt. But we’re talking about a complete lifestyle change for me—and him and you, too. For me, it’s completely different. Everything changes.”

  “I know,” Michele said, still lying on his chest. “I’m sorry this is happening like this. But I’ll be there for you. It’s going to take some time for you and Gerald to get comfortable with it, but it’ll happen.”

  “What about you?” Solomon asked.

  Michele pulled herself off his chest and looked into his eyes.

  “This has been a reality in my mind for seven years. This is all I ever wanted. So, I don’t have to adjust. I’ve lived it every day for a long time, in my mind.”

  Solomon moved the cushions on the couch to the floor to make room for Michele. She pulled herself up and they hugged. They dozed off on the couch until close to 7 a.m.

  When they awoke, they freshened up and took Sonya’s car to Michele’s. Solomon kept going to his house, where he showered and shaved. The plan was to meet back at Sonya’s at noon. Then, they would take Gerald to lunch and tell him the news.

  After showering and getting dressed, Solomon got comfortable and called his mom.

  He followed the requisite small talk with the bombshell. “Ma, I’ve got to tell you something incredible,” he started.

  “Something good or bad, Solomon.”

  “Shocking, but good. You ready for this?”

  He took a deep breath. “Ma, I told you that I reconnected with Michele a few months ago. I—”

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting married already?” she jumped in.

  “Ma, no. That’s not it,” he said. “Michele’s son—”

  “Oh, no. Don’t tell me something happened to him,” she jumped in again.

  “Ma…” Solomon whined as if he were a kid. “Gerald is fine. The thing is, he’s my son.”

  Nothing came back from the other end of the phone.

  “Ma, did you hear me? You’re a grandmother.”

  “Solomon, what are you talking about?” she said, finally. “Where are you getting this from?”

  “I had a talk last night with Michelle,” he explained. “She gave me the whole spiel on what happened. And it all adds up.”

  “Are you sure? You know what happened to your cousin, don’t you?”

  “I do, Ma. But this is a different case. Plus, I already told Michele we needed to do t
he parental testing or whatever it’s called.”

  “My goodness, Solomon. My goodness,” she said. “All this time you had your offspring out there? You had no idea? What’s his name?”

  “I didn’t have any idea. But I know him; I was his basketball coach. Gerald, remember?”

  “The one you said reminded you of you? That’s your son?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you feel about all this?” she asked. “I don’t know what to feel. It’s not the same as knowing the child is coming and waiting for the birth. It’s just all of a sudden he’s here—and he’s seven years old… My goodness.”

  “I know. It’s strange for me, too, Ma,” Solomon said. “I just found out last night. So I’m still dealing with the shock of it all. But, overall, I’m excited. The facts are the facts. He’s my son and I have to be a father to him.”

  “I would expect nothing less from you,” she said. “But you make sure you get that DNA test before you start getting attached to him.”

  “Ma…”

  “I’m just saying,” she said. “And I guess I could say ‘congratulations,’ too, huh? My son is a father? I always hoped that would be the case because I always wanted a grandchild to spoil. Now I have one that I don’t even know.”

  “Well, we’re going to change that, Ma,” Solomon said. “I’m going to bring him up there for a visit sometime soon. He has an entire family that he has to meet.”

  “The good thing about children is that they adjust to things much quicker and better than adults,” his mom said. “So he’ll probably feel better about all this before I will. Or you.”

  “I hope so,” he said.

  Solomon did not tell his mother about the carjacking, figuring the news of Gerald was more than enough for one day. He next called his father.

  “Son, you telling me I have a grandson?” his dad said. “There’s a little you out there? Well, damn. All of a sudden I feel like I’m getting old.”

  “Dad, you’re just as old as you were the second before I told you,” Solomon said.

  “I have a question for you,” his father said. “Is he the only one out there?”