“Probability is expectation founded upon partial knowledge.”
~George Boole
“Don’t make assumptions and predictions when you only know half of the story.”
~Julius Shepherd
“I’m not listening to any classical crap for ten hours,” Marcus said after getting in my car late Sunday morning. I’d stopped by to pick him up for the drive to Lexington, Kentucky, to see our paternal grandparents.
“It’s only an hour and twenty minutes from here each way. That’s nowhere near ten hours.”
“It feels like it,” he groused, sounding grouchier than normal.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Nothing I feel like talking about anyway.” Marcus released a frustrated groan. “I’ve met a girl, and I care about her a lot.”
“That’s great, bro. Why do you sound like it’s such a bad thing? Does she not return your feelings?”
Marcus scoffed. “Return my feelings? You sound older than Gram and Gramps. She’s into me too, that’s not the problem.”
“Than what is the problem, Marc?”
“I’m getting a lot of blowback from the team and coach, okay? They think I’m getting in over my head.”
“I’m confused,” I said. “Coach isn’t in a relationship, and no other players have girlfriends or boyfriends?”
“Coach is married and most of the guys on the team are dating.”
“Then why are you being held to a higher standard?”
“Things with Camilla are complicated,” Marc said with a shrug. Talking to him was like pulling teeth sometimes. He preferred to work through things on his own, and I knew he’d come to me if he needed me, so I was prepared to let the subject drop. “She has a kid.”
“Camilla does?”
“Yeah.” His voice had gone soft, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “He’s named Manuel after Camilla’s dad, but they all call him Manny. I call him my little man. I love her, J. I love Manny too. They make me happy.”
“Bro, I consider myself to have an analytical mind, but I’m just not computing here. She loves you too?” I asked. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Marc nod. “And you love her. What is the problem? Why does anyone care about you dating Camilla?”
“They said Camilla’s just using me for a free ride out of poverty. That’s not true, J. I met her at the diner where she works. Camilla had no idea who I was. She just called me peanut butter pie guy. I’m a good judge of character, right?” he asked.
“You are, Marc. If you say that Camilla cares about you, then I believe you.”
He blew out a relieved breath. “I haven’t told Mom about Camilla and Manny yet. How do you think she’ll react?”
“Mom loves who we love; no questions asked. She’d told us both that a thousand times at least. Tell her when you’re ready.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m letting outside influences mess with my mind. I’ve never caved to that kind of pressure, and now isn’t the time to start.” He turned his head and studied me silently for a few seconds. “What’s different about you? You look more relaxed than the last time I saw you.”
“Nothing,” I said with a casual shrug.
He sucked in a quick breath, almost gasping. “You got laid.”
“No, I didn’t.” Well, not the way he was thinking. I spent hours making out with a gorgeous man with an equally beautiful soul until my body throbbed and my cock ached. I’d gone home and relieved the tension while reliving the feel of Rome’s lips on mine and imagining other places on my body he could kiss.
“You’ve met someone then,” Marcus persisted.
“Why don’t we talk about your stellar football game yesterday,” I suggested. “I didn’t find you afterward to talk since we had plans today.”
“Bullshit. That’s never stopped you. You didn’t find me because you had plans with some dude. What’s his name? Where’d you meet?”
“You sound as bad as Mom,” I chided my younger brother, but I couldn’t keep the goofy grin off my face. “I have met a guy, and he’s really special.” A kaleidoscope of images crossed my mind. Rome listening to the music I wrote for the play with so much awe in his expression, his awkward attempts at conversation the nights before, and the way he melted in my arms on the sofa in his library.
“Where’d you meet?”
“He’s the superintendent of schools.”
“In Whereville?” Marcus asked, making fun of the town I’d chosen to teach and live in.
“You know damn well the town is called Blissville, and yes, Rome is the superintendent of schools there.” I could see Marcus fiddling around with his phone and knew he was doing the same thing Mom did when I told her about Rome.
“Dr. Romeo Bradley,” Marcus said then blew out a whistle. “His mother must’ve been a fan of Shakespeare.”
“I didn’t ask.” I might the next time we chatted though.
“He looks like he’s quite a bit older than you.”
“I think he probably started to turn silver early like a lot of dark-haired men do. He’s only forty-five.”
“Our mother is fifty,” Marcus pointed out. “That doesn’t bother you?”
My kneejerk response would’ve been “of course not” but I gave it some thought. Julius’s age didn’t bother me, but I was acutely aware that his experiences were vastly different than mine. I didn’t think experience was necessarily a bad thing though. Before I could answer, Marcus was speaking again.
“And why is a handsome, successful guy like him still single? Is he divorced or just a player? You’re not the one-and-done kind of guy, Jules. You practically live like a monk.”
“He’s not a player,” I responded, or at least I didn’t get the impression he was by the clumsy way he handled the beginning of our date. “He’s a widower.”
“Oh,” Marcus said then got quiet as he thought about that. “Is that weird?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s weird, but it’s different dating a man who shared an entire lifetime with someone else.”
“Someone they’d still be with if given a choice,” Marcus added, earning a glare from me. “Sorry.”
I recalled the conversation I had with Rome the previous night. I’d told him I trusted him to know his heart and mind. Only time would tell if I was making a mistake.
“Have you been dating long?”
“Last night was our first official date.”
“I hope it works out for you, Jules. No one deserves happiness like you do.”
“Thanks, bub,” I said, reaching over to mess up his hair. “Rome told me to pass along his congratulations for breaking the school record in career interceptions.”
“Are we back to football again?” Marcus asked, sounding hesitant to discuss something he used to love so much.
“We don’t have to talk about football, but we usually do. What’s going on?”
“Just tired, I guess,” he replied, sliding down lower in his seat. “There are just a lot of expectations and people wanting me to make some tough decisions.”
“Such as?”
“Whether or not I plan to enter the draft.”
He meant the NFL draft. “What’s the deadline?”
“I have to commit by January fifteenth.”
“It’s only September and the season has just begun,” I reminded him. “The first response that comes to my mind is that you tell people you’re focused on winning football games and the conference championship. Anything beyond this season isn’t relevant right now.”
“That’s the approach I’ve taken with coaches and reporters, but I can’t seem to get my brain to agree with that logic.”
“Marc, what do your coaches think?”
“Let’s put it this way,” he said, turning to look out the window, “my coaches have already been contacted by scouts who are interested in seeing what I can do at the combines in February.”
“There’s obvious interest on their part, but are you interested in playing football professionally?”
“Depends on the day of the week,” Marcus said with a snort. “When I’m playing, I can’t see myself doing anything else. When I’m tired and sore after a grueling practice or physical game, I can’t imagine putting my body through this for any longer than I have to. It just depends which Marcus Shepherd shows up.”
“You have plenty of time,” I told him. “I have every confidence you’ll make the best decision for yourself.”
“Thanks, J. It means a lot to hear you say that. Can we talk about you now?”
“I composed music for the school play the drama club is going to put on next spring. The play and songs were written by three of the kids in the school. It’s called Inside Out, and it’s similar to The Outsiders, except the students don’t just explore the difference between social classes. They look at race, gender, and orientation. I’m telling you, Marc, these kids are so ahead of their time. The lyrics this boy started writing in eighth grade are just…stunning and heartbreaking at the same time. No kid should know that kind of hurt and rejection.”
“He’s in a good place now?” Marcus asked. I liked that he cared about a kid he didn’t even know. Maybe it was because of the shit we heard growing up. We were too black, not black enough, too white, or not white enough. We didn’t fit in any of the molds people wanted to shove us in. Or maybe it was because our parents taught us to be compassionate and giving people, even when we weren’t on the receiving end of it ourselves.
“It seems that way. I haven’t met his parents yet, but he seems happy unless it’s time to take a test. I’m sure I’ll get to know him better once the play gets started. I’m nervous for him to hear the music, but I’m going to play it for him during his lunch period tomorrow.”
“I bet he’s going to be blown away by your talent. Is the music on your phone? I want to listen to it.”
“I thought you didn’t like that classical crap?”
“I do when it’s something you play, bro,” Marcus said.
I handed my phone to Marcus and instructed him where to find it so I could keep my attention on the road. It wasn’t long before the first song with its haunting melody began to play. When the songs finished, I glanced over to see Marcus wiping his eyes.
“I don’t even know the lyrics to these songs and I’m moved to tears. That’s so powerful and beautiful.”
“I hope Curtis likes it.”
“How could he not?” Marcus asked.
“It might not be what he had in mind, but I’ll find out soon enough.”
Marcus replayed the songs a few more times before we reached Gram and Gramp’s house. Our father’s parents wouldn’t be considered wealthy, but they were a bracket or two higher than middle class. The lived in an older neighborhood with bigger yards and well-maintained brick homes, unlike the new subdivisions where the houses were practically built on top of one another and you could mow the back yard in three passes. It was a lovely, safe neighborhood to raise a kid, and the photos adorning the walls showed our dad had a happy childhood. He carried that same infectious smile into adulthood, and it was often followed by a booming laugh. God, how I missed his smile, his laughter, and his hugs.
“You okay?” Marcus asked.
“Yeah, bub. I’m good.”
Gram was already waiting for us on the front porch by the time we got out and rounded the hood. Marcus reached the porch first and scooped her up in a hug. “Hello, Gram.”
Gram held Marcus tight then pulled back to look into his eyes. “How’s school going?” I gave her credit. She didn’t start every conversation with football like everyone else did with Marcus. She was more interested in his grades and the things going on in his personal life. Later, she’d get around to talking about football, but not until she established that Marcus was more to her than a standout athlete.
“It’s going pretty good so far. I’m going to have some tough classes this year, but I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
“You sound just like your father. He never shied away from something because it was tough.”
“We learned it from our mother too,” I said softly.
“Of course you did,” Gram said. “How is Sherice?”
“Mama is doing well.” I stepped forward and reached for her, opening my arms.
She smile warmly and closed the distance between us, resting her forehead on my shoulder as I hugged her gently. “I’m so happy when you boys come for a visit. It’s like having your father alive all over again.”
“We’ll try to get here more often once Marcus’s season is over.”
“Quit hogging the boys,” Gramps said from the doorway. I lifted my head and met his joyful gaze.
“Hi, Gramps,” I said, stepping back from Gram’s embrace. “It’s good to see you.” I hugged him too.
“It’s been too long. I hope you guys are in the mood for smoked beef brisket, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, and homemade peach cobbler,” Gramps said eagerly.
“I thought I smelled smoked meat when we got out of the car,” Marcus said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
“I got a smoker for my birthday,” Gramps responded excitedly. “This is his maiden voyage.”
“Smells delicious,” I said, following him inside with Marcus and Gram behind me.
“We’ll have every stray cat and dog in a five-mile radius prowling and howling in our back yard before the day is through,” Gram teased.
“It’ll be worth it,” Gramps said.
His smoked brisket was every bit as good as it smelled, and the side dishes Gram made were delicious. During the meal, Marcus talked about the game from the day before and was pleased to hear they had watched the game online. I noticed he didn’t discuss the turmoil he felt about committing to the draft nor did he bring up Camilla or Manny. I told our grandparents I loved my new town and job but didn’t say anything about Rome. It was still too new.
I offered to help Gram clean up just as I had with Rome the night before, but unlike him, she didn’t refuse. Gramps and Marcus went into the living room to watch the Bengals game while I followed Gram into the kitchen. I could tell she had a system down. Her movements were fluid and graceful as she pulled down the plastic containers and lids from the cabinets. I started rinsing dishes and stacking them in the dishwasher while Gram stored the leftovers in the refrigerator. We worked quietly until we finished our tasks and the only dishes left to wash were the ones that wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.
“I’ll wash, and you dry?” she suggested.
“Sure,” I agreed then watched as she filled the sink with soapy water. I wouldn’t say she was stiff and uncomfortable, but I could tell something was on her mind. She sank her hands in the sink and silently looked out the window for at least a minute or maybe two. “Something wrong?” I asked her.
“Wrong? No. I do my best thinking when I have my hands down in the soapy water washing dishes. I start mentally planning for things I need to do the next day, but I don’t want to waste our precious moments together. It sounds like you’re having a great season coaching tennis. I saw where Blissville is in line to win their league title for the first time. You must be so proud of the kids.”
I nodded. “I certainly am. I had no clue what to expect when I accepted the job. I just knew they had one hell of a science program that I wanted to be a part of. There were some things I didn’t plan for.”
“Such as?” she gently prodded while washing a serving dish.
“I was asked to compose music for the school play this year.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. What production will they perform?”
“It’s called Inside Out, and it was written by three of the senior kids. They began writing it when they were in eighth grade. Over time, they’ve updated and fine-tuned it. One of the kids, his name is Curtis, wrote the lyrics for the songs, but needed help coming up with the melodies. These kids are really special, Gram.”
“What’s the play about?” She listened as I gave her the overview, shared parts of scenes, and even quoted some of the lyrics. “Oh my,” she tearfully said, placing a soapy hand over her heart. “It sounds so powerful and to think kids wrote it.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to be an amazing production.”
We rejoined Marcus and Gramps in the living room after the kitchen was spotless once more, but we didn’t stay long. Marcus had studying to do, and I needed to do laundry and grade papers. We hugged our grandparents goodbye and promised we would be back soon.
We kept our conversation light on the way home and even sang along with the radio. I’d had enough thinking for one day and just wanted to enjoy the time with my little brother. Instead of driving him back to his dorm, he asked if I would drop him off at the diner where Camilla was working.
“I want you to meet her,” Marc said. “Her shift ends soon, and if you’re lucky, her mom will be there with Manny and you can meet them too.”
My brother was over the moon for this girl and her kid. The logical part of my brain that focused on equations, formulas, and problem-solving worried Marc was taking on too much for his age. He had big decisions he had to make about his future. He’d already applied and was accepted to several law schools, and there was the allure of playing professional football. On top of that, there was his obvious affection for this young lady and her little boy. I feared it was just too much all at once.
Then we walked into the diner, and I saw the way Camilla looked at my brother. I didn’t need to read the name tag on her uniform to know which of the waitresses had snagged Marc’s heart because the huge smile on her face told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t looking at a meal ticket or an escape from an unhappy life; she was looking at the man she loved. Her heart was in her dark, shining eyes. And Marc? His entire demeanor changed right before my very eyes. He wasn’t the swaggering football hero or the smart-ass kid brother I knew and adored, he was a man who was in love. It softened his edges and gave him a completely different kind of confidence than playing football did. He was wise beyond his years because he had already realized what was important in life.
Camilla came around the counter, and Marc picked her up and twirled her around like some rom-com movie I’d never admit to watching on Hallmark. The gesture was more poignant when Marc did it instead of some movie heartthrob because it was a move we’d seen our dad make with our mom. Our life hadn’t always been easy, but we’d had each other.
“I’ve missed you, love,” Dad said after he set Mom down.
“I just went to the grocery store for ice cream and Chips Ahoy,” Mom countered, blushing happily. “I was gone twenty minutes tops.”
“Twenty minutes too long.”
My musician’s soul saw what my logical brain struggled to comprehend. Marc had found harmony in his life, even if it wasn’t what any of us had imagined for him.
“Mar! Mar!”
Marcus set Camilla down and turned in time to catch the toddler who ran by me as fast as his little legs could carry him. Manny had a head full of dark, black curls that bounced when Marc hoisted him in the air. I guessed he was two years old.
“How’s my little man today?” Marc asked. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”
“Mar! Mar!” It almost sounded like he said more instead of Mar.
Marcus kissed Manny’s forehead then lifted his head to look at me. I saw it then, his need for my approval. After we lost Dad, my role as his big brother shifted a bit. I felt even more pressure to set a good example for Marc. I tried to be the guy who never let my little brother down, and I asked myself what our father would do in any given situation. I didn’t have to think very hard that day in the diner; the answer was as obvious as the love in front of me.
I gave Marcus the smile I reserved for big moments in his life, the one that said I love you and I’m incredibly proud of you. He visibly relaxed then nestled Manny closer while slipping his free arm around Camilla.
“Jules, this is my best girl, Camilla,” he said. “Kitten, this is my big brother. He’s the best man I know. It’s past time I introduced the two of you. And this little guy is Manny.”
“I’m so happy to meet you, Camilla.” She was as tiny and delicate as a bird, so I tried not to crush her when I hugged her. “It’s good to see Marcus so happy.”
“I’m the happy one,” she said, smiling up at me. “Let me introduce you to my mother. We’ve heard so many stories about you from Marc. Mama,” Camilla said, waving her hand for her mother to come over. “This is Julius, Mama.” I smiled at the shy woman and extended my hand. “This is my mother, Isabella Álvarez.”
She took both my hands between hers. “Nice to meet you.” She rose on her tiptoes which was my cue to lower my head so she could kiss my cheek. “Marcus is a good boy.”
“The best,” I agreed. “Introduce me to your little man.”
“Manny, can you say hello to Julius?”
Manny turned and watched me with cautious eyes as I approached him. “Hello, Manny.”
“Hi.” Manny opened and closed his chubby fist in the toddler’s wave. “Manny,” he said, patting his chest.
“Julius,” I said, patting mine.
Instead of rushing off like I’d planned, I sat with Marcus for a while and got to know Mrs. Álvarez and Manny while Camilla finished her shift. She treated all of us with a piece of Marc’s favorite peanut butter pie. Well, Manny didn’t get his own piece, but he sure got plenty of Marcus’s, which told me just how much he loved the little boy. Marc didn’t share his peanut butter pie with anyone.
“I need to get home and get some things done,” I told them. “It was lovely meeting you all.” I ruffled Manny’s hair, making him laugh. “Especially you, cutie.” Manny giggled and buried his head in Marc’s neck. I hugged the ladies then turned to my brother. “Walk me out?”
“Sure.” He handed Manny to Mrs. Álvarez and followed me outside to my car. I caught Camilla’s nervous expression through the big window and winked to let her know everything was good.
“Marc,” I said, placing my hands on his shoulders, “I think you know what path you really want to choose for your future. There’s really not much of a decision to make, is there?”
“No, there isn’t.”
“You’ve already been accepted to some wonderful law schools, including the University of Cincinnati. It won’t be easy going to law school while working to support a young family, but you can do it. Camilla’s family is here, Gram and Gramps are close, and I’m only forty-five minutes away. You’re not alone. Choose your dreams, Marc. Follow your heart.”
“I love you, Jules,” Marc said, throwing his arms around me.
“I love you too, little brother. Now turn loose of me and get back in the diner so I can leave before we both become blubbering messes.”
“Okay,” Marc said, grinning broadly as he wiped tears from his eyes. “I’m going to ask you to follow your heart too, big brother. And don’t look at me like I’m clueless either. You want something then you go get it. Or should I say someone?” he asked, walking backwards. “Drive safe.”
“Always.”
My thoughts turned to Rome as soon as I drove away. I knew he had a family dinner in Columbus and wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, which gave me plenty of time to do laundry, grade papers, and maybe lure my silver fox over for a drink.
Once I got home, I typed out a text message to Rome. I miss your lips. How about a drink at my place when you get back to town? I felt dizzy and realized I’d been holding my breath while staring at my screen. My finger hovered over the send arrow. To send or not to send? That was the question. I could analyze everything I knew about Rome and myself and try to determine whether a relationship could succeed between us, or I could just hit send and see what happened. The scientist in me wanted more data to make a decision, but the musician wanted more of the melody I heard when I’d held the man in my arms the previous night.
I took a deep breath and hit send.