Read A House Is Not a Home Online
Authors: James Earl Hardy
A House Is Not a Home (27 page)
“Welcome back to
Midnight After Dark
. I'm your host, Mr. Magic, and here's Luther's new one, âDance with My Father.' The CD of the same name hits stores next week . . .”
Mitchell grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. “Oh. Have you heard it yet?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
After the first verse and chorus, Mitchell began to cry. But Raheim saw it comin'âhe had Mitchell's glass out of his hands and back on the tray, and had Mitchell wrapped up in his right arm before the first tear fell. He held him as he continued to cry after the song went off.
Mitchell lifted his head, which had been buried in Raheim's chest. “Thanks.”
Raheim thumbed away the tracks of his tears. “You don't have to thank me.
I'm
the one that should be thankin'
you
.”
“Thanking me? Why?”
“For lovin' E. like he's your own. For bein' there for me when I didn't deserve it. For just bein' you.”
Mitchell sniffled. He looked down. “I've gotten your father's shirt all wet.”
“It'll dry.”
As René Moore began the first verse to “You Don't Have to Cry,” Mitchell returned his head to
his
spot on Raheim's chest and Raheim's arm, which had dropped to Mitchell's waist when he sat up, clutched him tighter
there
and pulled him in closer.
They breathed together as the songs told their story: Chaka Khan's “Love Me Still”; Patti LaBelle's “Love and Learn”; Miles Jaye's “Next Time”; Chante Moore & Kenny Lattimore's “Still”; Wendy Moten's “Come In Out of the Rain”; Jeffrey Osbourne's “We're Going All The Way”; Aretha and the Four Tops' “If Ever a Love There Was”; and Luther's “A House Is Not a Home.”
After Luther's final
“Still in love . . . wi-i-i-i-ith me-e-e . . . yea-ea-eaaaa-aaaah,”
Raheim broke their silence. “Uh . . . Mitchell?”
Mitchell said nothing. He just breathed.
“Little Bit?” Raheim whispered.
Mitchell only shifted, pushing and snuggling in closer. He'd gotten less than eight hours of sleep since Friday, and not only was he going to catch up, he was going to do it in the arms he longed for, dreamed of being in again. And Raheim had no intention of interrupting that sleep.
For him, it was like being home again, too.
June 9, 2003
Chapter 21
W
hen Mitchell opened his eyes, he didn't hear Errol walking down the hall. Or closing the bathroom door. Or flushing the toilet. Or running the faucet or the shower. Or walking past his door to venture upstairs.
Why is it so quiet?
He looked over at the clock on the nightstand (something he never does in the morning) . . .
Eight o'clock!
He jumped out of bed, sprinting out of his room and down the hall. He didn't notice that he was still in his clothes from the day beforeâand that the only way he could've gotten upstairs is if Raheim had carried him.
He stopped at Destiny's bedroom door; it was open and her bed was made.
Even more surprising: Errol's bedroom door was openâand
his
bed was made!
Mitchell raced downstairs and followed the laughter coming from the breakfast nook. He stood in the foyer outside the kitchen.
“Jood morning, Daddy!” Destiny was seated at the breakfast table with Errol on her right and Raheim on her left.
“Well, jood morning.” He approached them. “How come you all didn't wake me?”
Raheim rose. “I figured you could use the extra hours.”
“Uncle Raheim cooked us breakfast.”
“He did?” Mitchell knew it had to be a joke; Raheim had never cooked breakfast for him, and the one time he tried to make dinner it was a disaster.
“Yeah. I saved a plate for you.” Raheim took it out of the top oven. He removed a tinfoil cover. He placed it on the table.
Mitchell looked at the dish. He looked at Raheim. “
You
cooked this?”
Raheim chuckled. “Yeah,
I
cooked this.”
Mitchell eyed him suspiciously. “You sure this wasn't delivered courtesy of the twenty-four-hour diner on Flatbush Avenue?”
“They can't make home fries like these,” promised Errol, wolfing his down.
Mitchell said a silent prayer over his food. The home fries
were
fabulous.
“Isn't it jood, Daddy?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Mitchell's eyes flickered over to Raheim. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“My pops.”
“Mmm . . .”
Errol popped up, taking his and Destiny's dishes over to the sink, rinsing them off, and placing them in the dishwasher.
Enjoying the breakfast, Mitchell realized they were about to leave. “Your lunch!”
Destiny stood up. “Uncle Raheim already made it.” She took her lunch box from Raheim.
“He did?”
“Uh-huh. I got a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, Oreo cookies, a apple, and raisins.”
“Ah. I'm sure you can't wait for lunchtime to come.”
Raheim knelt down on his left knee in front of her. “Bye, Baby Doll.”
“Bye.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, times two!”
They hugged.
“Are you gonna be here when I get home from school?”
“Uh, I don't know.”
She frowned.
“But if I can't be, I'll call you, okay?”
Her face lit up. “Okay. Make sure you call before
Dora the Explorer
is on.”
“What time does she come on?”
“Three-thirty.”
“I'll call you at three-twenty.”
“Jood!”
Mitchell got up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Bye, Sugar Plum.”
“Bye, Daddy.”
He pinched her nose. “I love you.”
She pinched his. “And I love you, too, times two!”
They embraced.
“Later, Dad.” Errol raised his fist.
Raheim raised his and they “shook.” “A'ight, son.” He handed Errol his lunch (he has three PB&J sandwiches).
Errol turned to Mitchell. Mitchell once again aimed to pinch his noseâbut for the first time in almost three years, Errol didn't flinch or move away. Instead of a pinch, Mitchell tapped it with his middle knuckle. Errol's smile said he approved of the new send-off.
Mitchell and Raheim followed them as they exited the front door. “You two have a jood day,” they wished in unison. They glanced at each other. They blushed.
“We will,” Destiny and Errol replied together, grinning back at them.
As she and Errol walked out the front gate, Destiny waved good-bye; her father and uncle waved back. She then took Errol's right hand and they made their way to the corner. Raheim and Mitchell stood in the doorway watching them. Mitchell leaned back, brushing Raheim's chest; Raheim leaned forward, gently settling against Mitchell. They exhaled as their children crossed the street and headed up the block.
JAMES EARL HARDY
has written for
Essence, Newsweek, Entertainment Weekly
, the
Washington Post
, the
Advocate
, and the
Source
. The recipient of many prestigious honors and awards, he lives in Atlanta, Georgia.
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www.AuthorTracker.com
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Cover design by Laura Klynstra
Top cover photograph © Camille Tokerud/Getty Images
Bottom, left cover photograph © Brad Wilson/Photonica
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A hardcover edition of this book was published in 2005 by Amistad, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
A
HOUSE IS NOT A HOME
. Copyright © 2005 by James Earl Hardy. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
First Amistad paperback edition published 2006.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Hardy, James Earl.
A house is not a home : a B-boy blues novel / James Earl Hardy.â1st ed.
p.   cm.
ISBN 0-06-621249-9
1. African American gaysâFiction. 2. African American menâFiction. 3. New York (N.Y.)âFiction. 4. Gay menâFiction. I. Title.
PS3558.A62375H68 2005Â Â Â Â Â 2004062774
813'.54âdc22
ISBN-13 978-0-06-093660-0 (pbk.)
ISBN-10 0-06-093660-6
EPub Edition March 2013 ISBN 9780062284471
06 07 08 09 10
BVG
/
RRD
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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