Whenever he arrived back in New York from any other location, Raff realized how much he loved his hometown. Sure, it could be busy and too hot or too cold, sometimes dirty and smelly, and it cost an arm and a leg to live there, but it was home. He loved how they could get Vietnamese food or Jamaican food or Ethiopian on a whim—none of those cuisines were readily available in Stellar or even Fairbanks—the art and music scenes were incomparable, and he enjoyed the weird and wonderful people that they saw every day.
As much as he enjoyed working at the rehab center in Stellar, his heart belonged to the center in Brooklyn, where he had worked for years side by side with the same counselors that had helped him as a kid. There was Doctor Melnick, who’d prescribed exercise and good books to sixteen-year-old Raff, and Ms. Sondra, the occupational therapist who somehow saw something inside him and set him on the path to helping others. They were still there, older but none the worse for wear. There were also many other medical professionals, administrators and operations staff that he respected and considered friends. They greeted Raff after his extended vacation with open arms.
But the one thing that New York City couldn’t give him were the long, winding bike rides that he enjoyed in Alaska. It just wasn’t possible in the City. His bike stayed mostly in the garage, and he had to resort to subway, taxi, or Uber.
It was less than a week since they returned from Stellar. Raff told the driver that they were going to an address upstate, as he strapped Elizabeth’s seat securely into the backseat. He looked at his watch as the car took off and figured that they would be back at least an hour before Chris got home from work. Cutting it close but it would have to do.
“Don’t tell Daddy, okay, Bizzy?”
The little girl just smiled and said “Dad?” She was too young to understand and, even if she did, she didn’t have the words to tell.
Raff tried to quell the anxiety he felt for hiding something from his husband. Secrets were poison to a relationship. In the same way that the skyscrapers and endless gray gave way to winding roads on green hills, his lie had gone on for so long that he barely noticed it anymore. It was suddenly eight years later and Chris did not know about a huge part of Raff’s history. Perhaps it would have been okay if Raff had waited just a few months into their relationship to broach such a tender topic, but almost a decade? Raff could not deny that this was deception. Chris would be devastated by the lies.
Elizabeth was singing a non-melody, pointing out things she recognized: tree, cow, man. She was advanced for sixteen months, and Raff felt some pride in that. He spoke to her constantly, read to her and sung to her, to make sure that her little brain was growing and her world was full. He watched her now in profile and noticed that her little nose had begun to take the same shape as her omega-father’s, and her bottom lip had the same pout.
Why did I risk all this?
Perhaps if Raff would have known eight years ago that he was going to marry Chris, that they would be blessed with Elizabeth, and then another child, he would not have. What good did that do now?
The car turned a corner and Raff immediately knew where they were. It wasn’t the wealthiest neighborhood in Jericho, New York, but the small yards were all well-manicured and the ranch homes that stood side by side all had fresh coats of paint. At this time of morning, most people were at work and kids were in school, but the occasional older person could be seen pruning a flower bed, and a few young mothers with jogging strollers were making their rounds, trying to lose the weight they put on when they were pregnant. It was a normal, nice suburban neighborhood.
At the end of the street, the car made a left into a cul-de-sac and pulled in front of an attractive one-story house with a long ramp, framed with hydrangea bushes covered in fluffy pink blooms. A tricycle sat on the sidewalk, and chalk drawings faded in the late morning sun.
Raff tipped the driver and pulled Elizabeth’s seat out before unbuckling her. He stood there for a moment after the driver left, absorbing the sight. It was like the setting of some sit-com about a happy middle class family.
“Raff Rivera, is that you?”
The loud, cheerful voice snapped Raff out of his reverie.
“Sam Carlyle, my man!” Raff called.
A man in his late thirties rolled down the ramp in his wheelchair, his arms pitched out in greeting. He looked as if he might take flight.
Raff took a knee and greeted the man with a powerful hug.
“And look at this princess! Elizabeth!” Sam cried. “You’re so big! Look at you!”
The little girl gave him a toothy grin and then, without an invitation, climbed up onto his lap.
“I think she wants a ride, Uncle Sam.”
“Then she shall have one! Ready, Bizzy? Come on in, Raff. Vanessa is so excited to see you. Vanessa!” Sam yelled as he flung open the front door, “Your boyfriend is here!”
Raff blushed but knew it was all in fun, so he loped up the ramp after Sam and Elizabeth. Just inside the door, Raff barely caught a beautiful woman as she threw herself into his arms.
“Rafael!” she squealed. “It is so good to see you! How are you? It feels like ages!”
“Only since May, Van,” her husband playfully chided. “But somehow this baby turned into a little girl overnight.”
Vanessa called toward the back of the house and soon two young boys came tearing out and, like their mama, threw themselves into Raff’s arms. Raff wrestled with the tykes, and pretended not to know who was whom though, since one was a year older than the other, it wasn’t actually that hard. It was clear the boys thought the world of Raff.
An outside observer might think that Raff and Sam were family, perhaps cousins if not brothers—since Sam was African-American—because their bond was so obviously very strong. There was a physical comfort between them, lots of arms hanging around shoulders and playful punches to biceps. Sam’s sons climbed onto Raff’s back and received bucking-bronco rides, and Raff’s daughter nestled into Sam’s arm when she needed to get away from the horseplay. Vanessa brought down a shopping bag filled with little gifts for Elizabeth—a few dresses and barrettes—and she had a gift for Raff; a shirt which she said was perfect for him and she couldn’t pass up.
It was all very familiar and comfortable.
As Vanessa poured coffee, Sam asked how Chris was.
“He’s great. Really determined to make it work as a private practice, here and in Alaska, and he’s already got some clients lined up. That’s part of why I’m here, actually.”
They congratulated Raff on Chris’s new business venture, and Raff almost said “I’ll pass that along,” but stopped himself. Instead, he asked about Sam’s job and the promotion he received not long ago, then he asked about Vanessa’s job as a nurse. It was like he had suddenly made the conversation awkward.
After a while, it was time for the twins to take a nap and Elizabeth was already zonked. Vanessa took her sons to their room and left the men to talk.
“Something’s on your mind, brother. Spill it,” Sam said. In Raff’s experience, he’d never been one to mince words.
Raff looked down at his hands, trying to find the guts to ask the question that had brought him here. He decided to give Sam the same respect and just be forthright.
“How were you ever able to forgive me, Sam?”
Sam shot him a dirty look. “Not this again. At least once a damn year.”
Raff shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. It’s just that, every once in a while, it all resurfaces.”
“Man, I’m getting sick of rehashing this for your sorry ass, but let’s do it one more time. Ready?” Sam’s tone was playful but there was an undercurrent of sincerity.
“Yeah. Hit me.”
“No pun intended?”
The two laughed soundlessly, but then Sam began.
“You were a child. Do you know that the front of the brain and the back of the brain aren’t even connected until age twenty-six or so? That’s why parents protect their kids and guard their kids . . . but you didn’t have any parents. You were scared and lonely and stupid. And, as you know, at first I was pissed because your stupid ass caused me to lose the ability to walk.”
“I remember,” Raff replied, quietly.
They’d been in the hospital at the same time. Raff was fine, considering. He had a mild concussion but his helmet had prevented any severe head injuries. His arm was badly broken and required immediate surgery to prevent long-term nerve damage. The doctor released him only thirty-six hours after he arrived.
As soon as Raff found out that he hit someone, he tried to find out the details, but he was treated like a child. No one would tell him anything, as if he couldn’t handle it. At one point, he tried to sneak out to see how the man was doing, but the hospital was a maze and Raff went back to his own room, defeated.
From the moment the ambulance arrived at the hospital, during his post-op wait, and even as his close friend Buzz checked him out, Raff expected the police to barge in and drag him to jail, but it didn’t happen.
The cops never showed up, but a detective called two days after the fact. He told Raff that he knew he was drunk, but the only proof he had was observational—the bartender and another patron of the bar said he was stumbling as he left. The detective said it was enough, said Raff was going to prison, said he was going to ruin his life unless he turned himself in.
Despite the roommate practically screaming at him to deny everything and get a lawyer, Raff delivered himself to the police station that day, his arm still in a cast and his head still aching from the concussion. His guilt was overwhelming.
Raff got lucky. The judge looked at his file and decided that, despite Raff being declared a legal adult, he would not be treated as one in that courtroom. Raff was assigned community service, Alcoholics Anonymous, and a social worker. He would work his ass off but, provided there were no more fuck-ups, his record would be sealed.
And finally, Raff had to spend 8-hours a day for one year with the victim of his actions.
“You remember that first time we met?” Sam asked him.
“I do. You were in the hospital. You were angry. When I asked how I could help you, you told me I could go fuck myself.”
“Mmhm. And what happened then?”
“The nurse told you to watch your mouth.”
“Mmhm. That fine-ass nurse with the curves.” Sam licked his lips and made the shape of an hourglass with his hands. “All I wanted was to get my hands on her.”
Raff chuckled. “Hey man, that’s your wife you’re talking about.”
“She wasn’t my wife back then. She was just my fine-ass nurse. Do you think I would have met a beautiful woman like that on my own? I was a PE teacher. She wouldn’t have given me the time of day. But because I was a poor little invalid,” Sam made two fists and rubbed his eyes like a crying baby, “she spent time talking to me. I was able to woo her with my charm and intellect.”
Raff smiled at the memory of many days spent sitting at Sam’s bedside, listening to him alternately curse Raff and praise Vanessa.
“And look around you, at this home.”
“It’s a beautiful home.”
“In a beautiful neighborhood. Not a lot of brothers get to live in Jericho.”
“I know.”
“Not a lot of PE teachers out here either. Can’t afford it.”
“I know.”
“Because your drunk-ass hit me with your motorcycle, I was forced to go back to school, and I learned to be a software developer. I made a lot of money. And then I bought this house. And then I bought a fucking rock of an engagement ring and proposed to that fine-ass nurse. And then that fine-ass nurse, that queen, gave me three beautiful children.”
“I know.”
“Man, I would have given up my legs and my arms for all that. But fortunately, I still have my arms.”
It was a sick joke that Raff had heard many times before, but he still laughed, despite a lump in his throat.
“Raff, you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself over this. Forgive yourself. Stop asking me to. I did it a long time ago, and you’re pissing me off. You hear me? Forgive yourself.”
Raff simply nodded. He knew his voice would fail him right then.
Finally, he told Sam about the blackmail.
“I don’t know what to say, man. I understand why you feel shame and why you don’t want Chris to know. But look at what you’ve accomplished since then. I don’t know Chris, but if he’s as wonderful as you claim he is, he won’t want you to suffer like this. Tell that fucker Trick to do his worst.”
It wasn’t the first time that Sam had been the voice of reason for Raff. He was the one who convinced Raff to propose to Chris, who’d help calm his nerves before Elizabeth was born, and had been a sounding board more times than Raff could count.
“Hey, babe?” Sam called, hearing his wife in the kitchen. “I think we might get to meet Chris soon.”
Vanessa reacted as expected, with squeals and jumps. She was an adorably loud and happy woman, an excellent complement to her sarcastic, straight-shooter husband.
“Oh, please, Raff! We’ve just been dying to meet the man that won your heart. I’ll make dinner! It will be a dinner party!” She went on for a few minutes.
“I’ll do what I can,” Raff promised her, and then it was time to head back to town.
“Sarah’s going to miss you,” Vanessa said about their oldest daughter. “She doesn’t get home from school until 3:30.”
Raff asked them to give Sarah and the boys his love, and then he gave big hugs to his friends just as the Uber pulled up to the curb. Elizabeth was holding a new doll and a bag of cookies, and blew kisses goodbye. Raff tried to thank his friend, but his voice cracked, and Sam told him to stop being a pussy.
“You better watch your mouth, Sam,” Vanessa said, and then was surprised when the two men burst into laughter.
It wasn’t until they were turning the corner that Raff realized he forgot to mention the pregnancy. He was about to call Sam, but then decided he and Chris could tell him and Vanessa the news together. Raff was excited that two of the most important people in his life would finally meet.