American Silhouettes: A Tale of Anguish Volume Ii

By Christian Beres Calmejane

This is Volume II of two volumes.

American Silhouettes is primarily a study in human character in its dealing with the adversity of life. The setting is America during the last quarter of the twentieth century. More specifically it focuses on the struggle of two generations of a small African American family whose destiny encounters more than its share of horrific tribulations. It is a window on life, love, happiness, suffering, and death of the members of this small vulnerable resilient family from the South, that moves to Washington, D.C. for a better life, only to find a very short interlude of happiness, followed by a deep plunge into another cycle of trauma and despair; not death though, that would be too easy; and when death finally does come, it is a liberation of the body and soul. The saga continues with the cycle of misfortune repeating itself in a new age, a new generation with the same finality as if their destiny had been wickedly predefined. From Bridgeville SC to Washington DC, and from Rome to Dakar, their saga brings to light the evil and virtuousness of man in its most natural occurrence, as a part of daily life. The story brings together various individuals of different and sometimes opposite background and describes either the passions of their encounters or the clashes resulting from their conflicts. It analyses the most wonderful passions of love, beauty and happiness, and juxtaposes the horrible ugliness of hate and abuse. It incorporates the duty and responsibility of man within the context of our society and dwells into the aberrations of its marginal sector. It is an interweaved matrix of emotional extremes. It demonstrates that evil has no color, no race, no religion, and that it transcends the social fabric of our society.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 20, 2009
• ISBN: 9781467843058

Christian Beres Calmejane

Christian Beres Calmejane was born in southern France during the last years of World War II. He moved to the United States as a teen in the late fifties when his father was assigned to the French Embassy in Washington. He obtained an engineering degree from a local college and worked in Manufacturing and at the Transit agency for the last forty years. Mr. Beres Calmejane has lived in and around Washington, D.C. all along. He currently resides on the west shore of the Chesapeake Bay, in North Beach. This is his first book.

Book preview

© 2009 Christian Beres Calmejane. All rights reserved.

This book or any part thereof may not be translated or reproduced, in any form whatsoever, mechanical, photographic, or electronically, or in the form of a recording of any type whatsoever, nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise copied for public or private use without the prior written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 4/14/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4389-5996-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-5997-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-4305-8 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

Acknowledgments: 

Prologue 

Chapter 1 - Esther - College - Cocaine 

Chapter 2 - Calypso, Tony, and Helen - Cynthia’s Suicide Attempt 

Chapter 3 - African Journey - Death in the Sky 

Chapter 4 - Palestinians Demise - The Edwards Return Home 

Chapter 5 - Prostitution and AIDS 

Chapter 6 - Calypso’s Professional Debut 

Chapter 7 - Tyrone meets Calypso 

Chapter 8 - Cynthia’s Death 

Chapter 9 - Caribbean Vacation - Revelations 

Chapter 10 - Calypso’s Reaction - Subsequent Breakup 

Chapter 11 - Back Home in DC 

Chapter 12 - Manuel in Colombia 

Chapter 13 - Manuel in Haiti 

Chapter 14 - Tyrone’s Coma - Youssef finds Rachel 

Chapter 15 - Tyrone wakes up - Calypso finds Youssef 

Chapter 16 - Tyrone & Calypso - Husband & Wife 

Chapter 17 - Death 

Acknowledgments 

La mort n’est pas l’obscurité.

C’est une lampe qui s’éteint car le jour se lève.

Auteur inconnu

Death is not obscurity.

It is a lamp that extinguishes itself at dawn.

Unknown author

To

Natacha and Alexandre

With all the love that we thrive to convey in spite of the hurdles of

daily life.

Acknowledgments:  

I want to offer my sincere thanks to Patricia Sylla for her Emergency/Trauma medical advice, Tom Crone for his technical guidance, George Burns of the WMATA Police Dept., and Paula Lee, Pat Brooks, Charmaine Fauntelroy, Laverne Mathews, and LaShawn Wolfe-Clark for sharing their personal thoughts.

Special appreciation to Diana Washington (Chouchou) for the difficult job of typing the manuscript and coping with the cryptic dictation.

In Memory of

Lisa

I knew your dear Mom,

I knew your beautiful daughter,

I never met you …

But in the empty void of space,

In the darkness of night,

I heard your cry,

I felt your pain.

C. B. C.

Prologue  

Foreword: This volume is a continuation of American Silhouettes, Volume I. The reader must read Volume I in advance of reading Volume II.

In Volume I the reader was able to follow the life of Tyrone and Cynthia Beauregard along with the many characters that crisscrossed their path. The astute reader surely understood that this piece of realistic fiction is primarily a study in human character in its dealing with the adversity of life.

While this small African American family encounters more than the normal share of horrific tribulations, their destiny is representative of the events that affect a substantial portion of our society.

In Volume II the reader will have the opportunity to partake in the blossoming of Tyrone and Calypso’s relationship and note that she brings to the narrative another depth of strength, beauty, sensitivity, and intelligence. The reader will appreciate the convergence of the main characters and the power of their intimate relationship. The reader will further note that regardless of the honest and pure convictions of Calypso’s beliefs, she becomes entangled in an overwhelming fatal destiny thru no fault of her own.

It is a window on life, love, happiness, suffering, and death. When death finally does come, it is a liberation of the body and soul. In volume II the saga continues with the cycle of misfortune repeating itself in a new age, a new generation with the same finality as if their destiny had been wickedly predefined.

As in Volume I the second part of the story brings together various individuals of different and sometimes opposite background and describes either the passions of their encounters or the clashes resulting from their conflicts. It analyses the most wonderful passions of love, beauty and happiness, and juxtaposes the horrible ugliness of hate and abuse. It incorporates the duty and responsibility of man within the context of our society and dwells into the aberrations of its marginal sector. It is an interweaved matrix of emotional extremes.

It demonstrates that evil has no color, no race, no religion, and that it transcends the social fabric of our society.

It superimposes the strength of character of the participants against their often hostile environment, and outlines their strengths and weaknesses providing an understanding of their choices and decisions which unfortunately are not necessarily always the right ones.

It is a lesson of life; it is the reality of life. It is the reality of the path that we follow inexorably from the day of our birth until the day we die, the day to day routine, and the hurdles that we encounter along the way.

Chapter 1 - Esther - College - Cocaine  

On or about the second month anniversary of Tupac’s death, Tyrone called Esther and invited her out to dinner. He emphasized it would be his treat. A surprised Esther just could not refuse. She gave him instructions to get to her home in Silver Spring, and suggested they go to an Italian restaurant which served exquisite Northern Italian dishes located at the corner of Georgia Avenue and Bonifant Street. She told him she would wait for him in the lobby of her building and that he could pick her up at 6:00 P.M. That would give him ample time to eat, talk, and get to work. He never bothered to ask her if she was married or had kids that required her attention. He figured rightfully so that if she had any obligations she would not hesitate to let him know, thus was their relationship. Tyrone’s purpose in inviting Esther was not mundane. He needed advice regarding his future, and decisions that would guide him in the right direction. That Saturday evening, the light grey station wagon stopped in front of the building as planned and Tyrone alighted to fetch his escort for the evening. He found Esther sitting on a couch in the lobby reading the newspaper. He cleared his throat; when she looked up, it wasn’t an adolescent Tyrone that she found staring at her, but a very good looking young man dressed for the occasion. Tupac’s wardrobe had provided some assistance in the metamorphosis. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw her cavalier, and got up to join him.

My! My! she said, you sure are good looking.

It was the first time Esther had ever complimented him in such a way; feeling somewhat embarrassed, Tyrone was at a loss for words. He knew he had grown up a lot in the last year and matured in an adult kind of way. When she got up from the couch, he found himself looking over her anatomy, something he had never done before. While Esther was nothing like the babes at the club, she was in great physical shape and had maintained her form, even at the age of forty-one. For the first time, in the lobby of the building, he noticed her large breasts, well molded by a cashmere sweater, and couldn’t help but watch the curves of her derriere through the thin material of the designer slacks. Esther put her coat on and they walked outside. A gentleman, Tyrone held the door open as she got into the car and closed it softly before walking around to the driver seat. The drive to Bonifant Street took less than five minutes and very little was said during the short skip. For the first time, both of them had become aware of their mutual sexuality which somehow put a damper on the normalcy of their previous eclectic relationship. They both tried to fight it and act normal, with Esther wondering what the heck was happening to her. After all these years in the foster care system dealing with the adversity that befell an important segment of American youth, she was exhibiting impulses of a barely past puberty teenager with one of her longtime charges. Even if Tyrone was technically no longer part of the foster care system and she had no further responsibilities or obligations, what lay ahead if she allowed her impulses to come to fruition was morally reprehensible.

The restaurant was less than one third full and they were escorted to a table in the far corner, away from the windows, away from the occupied tables, away from the kitchen entrance. For a split second, Esther toyed with the idea of asking for a table smack in the middle of the crowd but feeling silly, she let go of the weird notion. They always got a table away from the crowd so they could talk at their leisure without disturbing anyone or being disturbed themselves. They each ordered a glass of Chardonnay and Esther scanned the extensive menu while Tyrone analyzed his new discovery.

Esther was no longer concentrating on the dishes in the menu, feeling the burning stare that somehow disrobed the portion of her anatomy that protruded above the table. She looked down to her breasts to make sure everything was all right, and looked up in time to notice Tyrone’s intense gaze.

Is something wrong? he asked when he saw a reddish tint on her face.

No, I just feel a little flushed she replied trying to sound normal.

So, what am I eating tonight? he continued with a lingering smile on his lips.

I think you should try the Veal Piccata for the main course, and I’ll have the Sole Meuniere. For appetizer, I suggest that we share a dish of mussels sauteed in garlic and butter. Is that OK?

Yes, that will be fine; you’re the expert, answered Tyrone not letting go of the smile.

She smiled back, but their intimacy was broken when the waiter returned with the two glasses of wine, and stayed long enough to take their order. When he finally left, she raised her glass across the table.

Cheers, she said; here is to your future and your happiness.

Their two glasses rang as they touched.

To you Esther, my favorite person in the whole world! Tyrone added without any hidden meaning, but placing Esther again in a somewhat defensive position. They each took a sip and after setting the glasses back down, Tyrone began to tell her about his job at the club and how much he enjoyed it. He unintentionally put her at ease when he reminded her he had not forgotten her words of caution when he moved into the rooming house. As he talked, Esther took more sips of wine and when the waiter returned with the mussels, Tyrone ordered another glass on her behalf. The mussels were excellent along with the garlic bread that they both dipped in the tasty buttery sauce. As they waited for the main course, Tyrone brought up the subject that had been bothering him for a while now. He wanted to go to school to learn a trade he would enjoy. He knew that he wanted to work in the medical field so he could help people in need. He had some money and could go to school during the day while he worked at night. Esther listened attentively, all the while eating garlic bread and sipping on the Chardonnay. When the main course was finally served Tyrone realized that there was something wrong, actually not something wrong but something different. Esther, who usually took the lead in conversation while allowing ample time for his own expression or opinion, had said very little. A little confused and guilty, he thought that the fault was his own and he had rambled all evening not giving her the opportunity to respond. After the waiter left Tyrone noticed that Esther’s second glass of wine had less than a finger of liquid at the bottom. He looked up at her and finally realized that maybe she had a little too much to drink. After working at the club all these weeks, he had many opportunities to observe the symptoms. He also remembered that she very seldom drank wine, and when she did, she never emptied a single glass. There was a certain sparkle in her eyes as their gaze connected.

You are a beautiful woman! Tyrone said out of the blue, wondering himself what had triggered the statement.

She smiled.

Thank you Tyrone, that is such a nice compliment. It’s been a long time since anyone said this to me.

It dawned on Tyrone that in spite of her appearance, an inner strength that always radiated through her behavior and personality, she probably was a very lonely person, something that he would never have expected.

Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold! she added, mostly to change the subject when she saw Tyrone’s pensive expression.

They both dug into their plates and exchanged comments about the tasty dishes. The thin cut veal with the lemon juice and capers tasted out of this world and the fresh sole was succulent. They didn’t talk much during dinner, and it wasn’t until Esther finished her plate that she explained a variety of options relating to Tyrone’s professional interests. She explained that she would have to do more research to find a good match for his goals. Her glass of wine was empty again and she attempted unsuccessfully to get the waiter’s attention on the other side of the restaurant where he was attending to other customers. Tyrone got up and signaled that their table needed some attention. They took that opportunity to order dessert and changed the subject of discussion.

Isn’t it a little dangerous to work this late and drive around at night in that area of Washington? she asked about the job at the club, concerned.

I guess it is, but you get used to looking around and watching for unsavory characters. You just have to be cautious.

Dessert was served and they shared a flan which was out of this world. Tyrone’s newly awakened curiosity drove him to watch her, observe her movements as she ate, as she brought the food to her mouth and swallowed it. There was something sensual that attracted him. After three glasses of wine, Esther, who knew she was being scrutinized, no longer had any shame, and wondered what it would be like to make love to her cavalier. She smiled to herself imagining the act. Tyrone, who noticed the pleasurable smile asked, What are you thinking about?

How could she respond? Was she that obvious? Could he read her mind? She blushed at the thought.

I was just fantasizing.

Truly curious, he inquired, What about?

Teasingly she continued, I don’t think I should tell you.

Why?

Because it’s intimately personal.

I am sorry!

Don’t be, there is nothing to be sorry about. As a matter of fact, under different circumstances, I would share these thoughts with you.

Esther was tantalizing her young escort, and young Tyrone just couldn’t figure out how to get the upper hand in this truly mysterious exchange.

But I think we ran out of time; you have to take me home and go to work.

Tyrone looked at his watch and acquiesced. He summoned the waiter and paid the check. Esther insisted on leaving the tip and they got up to leave. It was only when she stood up that Esther realized the three glasses of Chardonnay had compromised her ability to walk normally.

Oops, she said as she held on to the table.

Are you all right? Tyrone asked, concerned.

Yes, but I think I had a little too much wine. I am not used to it!

Come on, give me your arm, I’ll walk you out. You can lean against me.

There were no options; Esther grabbed Tyrone’s left arm and let him lead her out. The waiter bid them goodnight and they exited the restaurant searching for the car. He helped her get in and she plopped on the seat without adding another word. Tyrone drove off noticing that Esther had closed her eyes for the short ride. He pulled the car into one of the empty guest parking spaces next to the entrance of her building and opened the door. Esther was not moving.

Esther, we are here.

It’s OK. I’ll manage on my own.

Tyrone ignored her and helped her out of the car. She tried a couple of steps on her own but couldn’t manage. Tyrone held on to her as they walked to the building, through the lobby, and reached the bank of elevators.

What floor are you on?

Her response was a muffled laugh that she tried to hide by placing her hand in front of her mouth in embarrassment.

This is silly … she added. I am in apartment 901; it’s on the ninth floor, I think!

And she burst out laughing again. The night security guard sitting behind the desk in the lobby watched them curiously, and they were saved by the elevator whose door opened to their intention.

If Tyrone had his way, he would have wanted that elevator ride to last for an eternity. Esther held on to his arm, her head resting on his shoulder, and he could smell her perfume mixed with her unmistaken scent. Similarly, Esther was in la-la land, shamelessly taking advantage of her youthful but virile companion, enjoying the attention and proximity of the young man. Unfortunately, the elevator eventually reached the ninth floor, breaking up the magic harmony. Tyrone followed the signs until he found himself in front of the apartment.

I need the keys! he whispered in her ear, brushing his lips in her hair barely caressing the sensitive erogenous lobe. She shuddered for an instant coming closer against him. Subconsciously or otherwise, instead of searching for the keys, she passed her other arm around his waist and kissed him on the lips. The unexpected soft, warm, and lingering contact woke up an unknown erotic passion that triggered all of his senses. He returned the embrace, kissing her back, not expertly mind you, but with an honest passionate desire that reflected a true voluptuous yearning. The kiss would probably have lasted a lifetime if it wasn’t for the doors of the elevator which once again interrupted the burgeoning intimacy of their relationship. Having regained some of her senses, she fumbled in her purse searching hurriedly for the keys. While their lips had separated the physical contact of their bodies had not and their coalescent panting and breathing kept the passion alive by more than a thread. She handed the key ring to Tyrone who in turn fumbled to find the right key. The couple who had alighted from the elevator looked at them, a little bewildered at the unusual scene in the 9th floor corridor of one of Silver Spring most prestigious residential buildings. The man’s sardonic smile was eclipsed when his wife suggested that the place was going to pots, even if subconsciously she herself wished to trade places with Esther. The door finally gave way and the incongruous couple managed to move inside without dissolving the tumultuous embrace. They resumed their passionate kiss in the privacy of the apartment as Tyrone feverishly caressed her back, traveling down under her top only to feel the vulnerable naked skin. She quivered some more as she reached a paroxysm of excitement under the powerful contact of Tyrone’s searching hands. She regained a moment of sanity long enough to suggest that they go to the bedroom. There were no objections, and in the darkened apartment, Esther maneuvered through the hallway and around the various pieces of exotic furniture, dragging her soon-to-be-lover into a new labyrinth of ecstasy. She flipped a switch as they walked into the bedroom and a small lamp covered by a multicolor shade turned on, providing a veiled illumination, enough though to discern shapes and human form. Standing by the bed, she fumbled with the pant’s zipper. Tyrone pulled it down and adroitly slid the pants down her legs revealing scanty string panties. Except for the unfulfilled episode with Stephanie quite a while back, this was the first time that Tyrone was with a woman, a real woman. He dropped to his knees to remove the pants and found his face directly facing the triangle of desire, attempting to hide behind the four square inches of silky material. If a dream had ever come true, this was the real McCoy. Tyrone let go of his initial concern and instead wrapped his arms around her naked buttocks, simultaneously embracing her sex through the thin layer. Still standing up, Esther moaned out loudly as she held onto Tyrone’s head, nervously caressing his curls. Instead of pushing him away though, she softly directed his head toward her, in the unmistaken indication of her great desire. Tyrone nibbled through the material as his hands massaged her firm buttocks. He freed one hand and brought it around to push aside the panties which were now wet with her natural juices and his saliva. Of her own volition, she removed one of her legs out of the panties and pushed them down her other leg. Tyrone extended his discovery, burrowing deeper into her inviting moist sex. Amidst the jolts of pleasure, she let go of Tyrone’s head to remove her top and undo her bra, releasing two large bell-shaped breasts displaying two proud and obnoxious pink nipples. Tyrone took the opportunity to barely stand up and tilt her on top of the bed where he admired the naked body of a sensuous Esther driven by spasms of pleasure and maddening desire in anticipation of their upcoming sexual interlude. Left alone on the mattress, naked, vulnerable, and in dire need of love, Esther’s hands searched for her most sensual intimacy, pinching her own nipple and caressing her breast with one hand, reaching down to her moist sex with the other, caressing her excited clitoris and rubbing the tips of her vaginal lips. Still dressed, Tyrone watched the totally phantasmal erotic figure laying there at his mercy. It’s not that at age nineteen Tyrone Beauregard knew exactly what to do to fully enjoy the moment and further give his mate utmost fulfilment, but he sensed that the enjoyment of the act of love included the basic ingredients of giving, sharing, and not rushing. He wasn’t sure where he picked up that notion but he suspected that a few volumes in Victoria’s library had left their indelible mark. He slowly removed his clothes until he was as naked as Esther and kneeled on the bed where he could lean over and caress any and all parts of her body. He softly kissed her on the lips, a kiss that she returned with intense passion as if it were the last kiss that she would ever bestow. Simultaneously, his hand found the free breast that he proceeded to massage, rubbing the erect nipple to subdue its insolence. He left her mouth, kissing her cheeks softly, her eyes, moving down to her ears, nibbling and licking the sensitive lobe, feeling her response to his stimuli, and acting accordingly. He lowered himself along her body, kissing, licking, sucking every square inch, from her neck to her breasts, nipples, and her tender belly, until he reached again her triangle of desire which lay there open, waiting for him to take her, waiting for him to penetrate, and finally waiting for him to titillate. He lifted her milky white thighs apart and swallowed her sex whole, ignoring her moans of ecstasy and her subtle cries of pleasure. He nibbled her clitoris and slowly but repeatedly rubbed his tongue along her lips until he sensed a natural rhythmic response, knowing that the reciprocal pleasure would result in an orgasm. When it eventually exploded, Esther pulled Tyrone on top of her and clawed his back as he penetrated her pulsating sex. Her desperate moans filled the room as Tyrone plowed softly into her womanhood, penetrating its depth, awakening sensations that neither one of them had ever felt before. She wrapped her legs around him as he devoured her hungry lips. He held back as long as he could and when he finally let go, the pleasure that overwhelmed him was so powerful that it erased any other sensations that he had ever felt. Minutes after his orgasm, he could feel deep inside her, the rhythmic spasms that still rocked her insides. She wouldn’t let him go and held him with her arms and legs as if in a vise. It didn’t take long until he felt a second surge of sexual excitement wake him again. He began to rock inside her and continued for the longest time until he exploded a second time sending her reeling in another extended orgasm. A feeling of total bliss enveloped both of them as they lay on the bed in a tight embrace, fearing perhaps to lose each other, holding on, extending somehow their love making. They laid there for about half an hour when Tyrone looked up, saw the digital clock, and realized that he would not make it to work on time.

Shit, he said.

Esther awoke. What is it darling?

It was the first time she had called him ‘darling.’ It felt weird.

I am going to be late for work. I have to call them! Where is the phone? he whispered in an attempt to maintain the intimate moment.

She pointed to the night table on the other side of the bed as she loosened her embrace. He kissed her on the lips, crawled toward the phone, and dialed the club. The conversation was short. His boss told him that it would be all right as long as he got to work before midnight when the place got really crowded. He thanked him profusely.

I am sorry, Tyrone, Esther said as he hung up the phone.

Instead of responding, he just kissed her again, returning both of them to the prior ecstatic limbo. He sat next to her on the bed and softly caressed her naked body, trying to absorb the memory of the moment for future recollection, suspecting subconsciously, that this interlude would not repeat itself. Esther laid there, her eyes closed, appreciating the soft and languorous caresses of her lover. Her nipples hardened again as Tyrone ran his finger around her breasts and massaged her flesh. He sensed her heart beating faster as his hands slowly made their way to her stomach, and hesitated when they reached her belly button, meandering further along her flat belly. He reached her mound of Venus and cupped it, feeling the softness of her blond pubic curls. Subconsciously, Esther spread her legs slightly apart in an inviting gesture. With one hand he caressed her breast and the other spread her sex discovering again the sweet pleasures of lust and desire. He could not believe that caressing a woman’s naked body could yield such ferociously exquisite reactions. Not only was the stimulation physical but it totally overwhelmed his psyche. Esther’s close to perfect body was there at his mercy. He had a hard time believing that throughout all these years he hadn’t given a single thought to any sexual desire with her, let alone an encounter such as what had happened this night. He kissed her breasts and ran his mouth along her body. He softly but firmly turned her around so that he might admire the curvature of her back. She accommodated the change of position, giving herself to him without inhibitions, without restriction, entirely. He caressed her from the back of the neck as she shuddered again under the natural contact of Tyrone’s fingers, and proceeded down her spine to the curvature of her lower back, caressing her buttocks, and continuing around her thighs, searching the hidden secret areas that aroused her desire and triggered an evident reaction. He climbed on top of her as she raised her derriere to receive him. Half kneeling on the bed he entered her womanhood once again, instinctively grabbing her breasts as he penetrated deeply in her entrails, renewing the evanescing pleasures of the previous hours. They rocked slowly, out of phase, embodied in unison, savoring their mutual pleasures, consciously making them last as long as they could. When they both eventually exploded in a simultaneous orgasm, Tyrone was kneeling up on the bed, sexually joined to his partner who herself kneeled back against him with his left hand groping her right breast and the right hand having found her mound of Venus, holding it, feeling the pulsations.

Tyrone fumbled in the darkness until he found the hallway light switch and walked into the bathroom where he took a quick shower. The pulsating shower head ejected a powerful burst of hot water that slowly pushed away the memories of the last three hours. His mind was blank when he finally turned the water off and dried his body. He looked into the mirror and saw a different man. He felt like a different person. For a moment he thought that he had dreamed the whole episode except that he was here, in Esther’s apartment; he could smell her perfume on the towels. A three dimensional picture frame filled with seashells hung against the wall; he could sense her presence through the objects and decorations. It was her home, a home that reflected her personality, taste, and desires. When he returned to the bedroom he saw her naked body on the bed laying where he had left her. An overwhelming desire to join her again ran through his soul as he concentrated with all his energy to push it away. He barely could discern her soft breathing as he searched around the bed for his clothes. Once dressed, he approached her and kissed her on the side of the nape. She moaned and shivered searching for his contact in the semidarkness.

I got to go to work, he whispered, I am already late.

She turned to kiss him, and they exchanged a languorous last embrace. Tyrone turned the bedroom light off after looking at Esther’s inert body on he bed thinking as to how fortunate he was to have been able to enjoy making love to this wonderful, beautiful woman.

When he left work late that morning, he debated whether to call Esther or go directly to her place, but concluded that it would be somewhat presumptuous for him to take her for granted. Instead, he went home to the rooming house. It’s funny how the mind works, but after just one night at Esther’s, actually no more than an enterprising three hours, when Tyrone walked into his room he decided right here and then that he would be moving out soon. He didn’t formulate the reasons for his decision; maybe it was the sense of home that he felt at Esther’s; or maybe it was that he had evolved another notch, and wanted to pursue his destiny. He looked at Tupac’s phone that he had not disconnected or changed the name on the account, he just paid the bills, and thought again of calling Esther.

No, I’ll call her tonight.

What he didn’t know was that Esther herself, behaving like an immature teenager, still under the impact of the previous evening of obsessive love making, was having the same thoughts, hoping Tyrone would come straight to her place from work or at least call her. Her first appointment was at eleven that morning; she had ample time and had even prepared breakfast for two in anticipation. Their mutual consideration effectively served to keep them apart that morning, and as time would prove, forever. When Tyrone eventually called after he woke up she had not returned. He listened to her ‘silly’ voice on the answering machine, an adjective which would have had no meaning twenty four hours earlier, but didn’t leave a message. Two hours later, when Esther got home, her heart skipped a beat when she saw the flashing light on the answering machine and was disappointed not to find a coherent message. She dared call him but the phone rang off the hook. Tyrone had gone out to dinner. He needed to get some fresh air. Instead of sleeping peacefully as he usually did when he returned from work, and the rooming house tenants had gone off either to work or school, he was not able to find the peace or rest that he sought and needed. He didn’t dream of Esther, nor did his subconscious dwell on the luscious events of the prior evening; in spite of his fatigue his mind wandered to the various events that had left their mark. He woke up every twenty minutes or so, his heart racing, unable to find a furtive peaceful escape. When he returned from dinner, he called Esther. Their usual affinity for discussion had disappeared and they could only exchange brief and superficial greetings that contrasted so terribly from their past conversations and the prior evening’s intimate rumpus. It’s not that they didn’t try; there was a sort of disconnect. When they hung up the phone they both were upset not to have been able to renew or just bring back to life just a semblance of rapprochement.

It was after that phone call when Esther’s guilt materialized.

How could I ever have done that? Seducing one of my charges! How could I be so stupid, so insensitive, so immoral? I can’t believe I actually did all this, my standards, my obligations; what derisiveness? What happened to my morality, my duty, my commitments?

She could no longer accept what had happened, what she had done. The immense pleasure of the three hours of debauchery was so reprehensible that she shut it out of her mind. She swallowed two sleeping pills, drank a glass of Stolichnaya, and went to bed with the TV blaring in the background.

Tyrone, on the other hand, couldn’t figure what was going on. At first he thought that he had displeased her; maybe he had said the wrong thing. As he recollected the conversation, he couldn’t put his finger on it, and he concluded rightfully so, that after the fact, Esther might just regret what she had done. He couldn’t figure out why though. He found it so natural.

The next day, Esther made a drastic, terminal kind of decision. She resigned her position with the DC Child Welfare Services effective immediately using as an excuse that her mother in Montana was gravely ill. She canceled and transferred all her appointments, made arrangements to move her furnishings to her hometown, and wrote a long letter to Tyrone expressing her frustration with regards to the events of that fateful night and her decision to leave. But still, she addressed at length the questions related to his future, and his quest for professional training and schooling. She further provided the names of contacts that could help him advance his professional ambitions. The last sentence might have betrayed her genuine feeling, but engrossed with the focus of her decision, Tyrone’s pain and disappointment did not allow him to try and understand her own anguish.

…I apologize if I gave you false hopes, or caused you pain. You are and always have been very special to me on a personal level. Maybe if we were of the same age, we could have built a future together, but that cannot be. Do remember Tyrone that I will always love you … Esther.

Tyrone already knew something was amiss when he called two days later and the phone had been disconnected. He was disheartened. The breakup of this short term amorous interlude coupled with a years-long absolute relationship that included a genuine friendship and dependency, perturbed him greatly. Not only was he upset but he was also angry, not at Esther, but at the world, a world that kept on showing him only its ugly face.

A few days later Tyrone went to the cemetery to visit Kim’s grave and checked to see if Tupac’s marker had been installed. The marker wasn’t there yet, and Tyrone spent a few minutes reflecting on his friend’s memory. He suddenly realized that he, Tyrone Beauregard, in spite of the malchance of the people around him, was in good health. He had prospered, he had a reasonably good job, and he had the sense to know that to a large extent he controlled his future, that he could better it through his own focus and his own hard work. After a while he walked over to Kim’s grave. He found interesting that the feelings he felt when he walked from one grave to the other were so different. While Kim never had the opportunity to suffer like he did, or to see the downfall of their mother, neither did she have the pleasure of growing up and enjoy the burgeoning effervescence of adolescence, the joys of being there and sharing life with her brother. He felt sorry they never had the opportunity to partake in that evolution, to lean on each other for support in bad times and laugh and carry on in good times.

Was his destiny any different from other folks? he asked himself.

He had observed other people, and the few he had talked to didn’t seem to have suffered similar setbacks. On the other hand though, Tyrone didn’t share the events that had molded his life, and similarly it’s quite possible that they themselves didn’t share their own misfortune. Except for Tupac, he was the only one that had opened his heart and shared his pain. There were so many resemblances to their respective destinies. Maybe the reason he saw the depth of suffering and unfairness in his own life was because he had a chance to live the good life. Consequently he was able to juxtapose both, gauge with certainty their conflicting existence, and appreciate the great schism that kept them so far away.

How could he, Tyrone Beauregard, shift to the pleasant side, remain there, and just be happy? He asked that question sarcastically, no longer believing that he personally, could affect all the events around him. The first ten years of his life had disappeared in the cloudy abyss of infantile memory, and the two years with Victoria were so out of tune with everything else that they seemed abnormal. His norm was in front of him: the foster homes, the rooming house, his long gone mother, and the two graves at his feet. There was no mistake about that; he could touch the ground that covered his loved ones.

When he left the cemetery, he picked up the newspaper and looked for apartment rentals in South West Washington along M Street, between the Potomac River and South Capitol Street. He made a few calls once he got home and located a one bedroom apartment. One of the real estate agents was available to meet him that same day, and they made an appointment for one hour later. In the same building there was an efficiency, an apartment for rent, and a second apartment for sale. The real estate agent, an exotic young woman with green eyes named Grace showed him the two rentals and suggested that he buy instead of rent. If he rented he would in fact be paying somebody else’s mortgage and not getting the tax break. While Tyrone understood what she said, he had difficulty grasping the complex concept. He remembered a discussion he had with Victoria long ago, when she held the same rationale.

Let’s go to the office and I’ll explain what’s involved and figure out the cost.

How much is the apartment? Tyrone asked incredulously.

Ninety thousand, she said as a matter of fact.

Whoa!

Don’t worry, she quipped, the mortgage payment won’t be much more than the rental payment.

They took the elevator down to the office and for the following two hours Grace explained the mechanics of the purchase and convinced him that in the long run after the tax breaks, the monthly cost would be no more than the rent, and he would actually own it. When he asked her how much down payment was required, she answered with the obvious response.

The more the down payment the less the financed amount, and the lower the mortgage payment. How much can you put down? she continued.

I don’t know, how about five thousand.

She performed some calculations on the computer and showed him the monthly payment.

PITI, she said.

She explained that the amount included taxes and insurance, costs that everyone needed to pay to protect the bank, should something happen to the apartment, like a fire. Tyrone was a little scared to commit to such a huge obligation. Grace sensed his hesitation and she suggested they go visit it. As they returned upstairs, she tried to explain the concept of equity, but Tyrone had difficulty grasping the meaning. One aspect of the purchase that Tyrone appreciated was that it would allow him to place a good portion of Tupac’s money in a safe and secure investment, and he wouldn’t be tempted to spend it. He figured that he could put up to ten thousand dollars down including closing costs, and still have ten grand for the schooling. He wished that Esther was around, but she would have asked embarrassing questions, such as the source of his cash. She surely would have had a problem with any explanations.

Trust me! Grace said as they reached the ninth floor landing.

He looked into her beautiful imposing green eyes, allowing his gaze to follow the outline of her body as she walked out of the elevator. Her derriere stretched the skirt material delineating the outline of the triangular upper portion of her underwear which triggered a feeling of sexual desire in his mind as he walked behind her, watching her sensual gait. Apartment 901 had a great view of the Potomac River over the roofs of South West Washington. Beyond, you could see the Virginia river bank. Tyrone was taken by the view as he carefully approached the large picture window, having never had the opportunity to be so far up. It was a spacious one bedroom unit which faced south. Grace opened the sliding door to a sizeable balcony and asked him to follow her outside.

Apartment 901! That was Esther’s apartment number! What a coincidence!

Tyrone just realized that the apartment numbers were the same, and saw this as an unmistakable omen. They walked around the apartment as Grace explained that it was one of the best situated apartments in the building.

What’s the lowest offer acceptable to the seller?

The question came straight out of Victoria’s mouth through Tyrone’s, who almost apologized after he let it out. Grace’s pretty green eyes lost their brilliance for a solid second as she formulated an answer. Tyrone didn’t give her time to reply.

How long has this apartment been on the market? And how many similar apartments were sold in the last year and how much did they sell for?

Victoria was at it again, and Tyrone looked over his shoulder to see if she was in fact just standing there behind him. Tyrone wanted the apartment; he just knew he had to have it. Grace on the other hand didn’t realize it yet, and was more preoccupied about minimizing the fact that the sales of properties in South West were at best ‘depressed,’ and that properties didn’t move as quickly as in other parts of the city or the closed-in ‘burbs.’ Not that Tyrone knew any of that, but the answer to the questions that he asked might drive him away as it had many an astute mature buyer. Grace was now cautious.

Let’s go downstairs now and I’ll check the file, if it’s OK with you!

Sure!

They returned to the office as Tyrone thanked his lucky stars for the find, and Victoria for the right questions. Only two apartments had been sold in the past year in this building, one on the 8th floor for seventy-five thousand and one on the third floor for sixty-seven thousand.

I would like to offer eighty thousand, Tyrone stated after patiently listening to Grace’s explanation as to the reasons for the higher price of this particular unit.

I don’t think the owner will accept this offer, Grace stated with some fatality, as if a similar offer had previously been submitted.

How long has it been on the market? Tyrone repeated.Thank you Victoria!

About eight months, Grace answered with some difficulty.

Stay the course, said a little voice deep inside Tyrone’s brain.

This is the best I can do Grace, Tyrone insisted.

You said the closing costs were about three thousand?"

Yes.

I am willing to put down seven thousand dollars cash.

I don’t think the owner will accept a contract less than eighty-four thousand. The difference will be minimal on the monthly payment, Grace insisted.

Tyrone thought about it for a few minutes as Grace looked into his dark eyes.

I am sorry, I really like the apartment, but I can’t afford any more than what I offered.

He pushed the chair back as he made the last statement in an unmistaken sign that the conversation was over and that the deal was off.

Wait a minute; we’ll write a contract for eighty thousand and see what happens.

Tyrone sat back down as she drafted the contract. He handed his driver’s license over and she asked him to write a check for the deposit.

How much? he asked.

Twenty-five hundred will be sufficient.

I’ll get it back if the owner does not accept the contract?

Yes, you will.

Grace completed filling in the blanks and slid the contract across the desk for Tyrone’s signature. He slowly read it over, asked a couple of relevant questions, and signed the document.

When will you find out if it is accepted?

Well, I’ll call the owner after you leave and hook up with her tonight if she agrees in principle. You also have to fill out the financial sheet.

Why?

It shows the seller that your financial condition meets the minimum requirements and that the bank will not have any problems lending you the money.

He pushed the form across the desk after completing it and Grace made sure that all the blank spaces were filled and the information coincided with what Tyrone had told her earlier.

Grace was unhappy because the owner had refused a contract for the same amount soon after the apartment had gone on the market, and while that event had taken place quite some time ago, the seller had warned her not to waste her time with frivolous offers. The listing contract had expired a couple of months before and the seller had refused to extend it in an unmistaken indication of her displeasure. Consequently, Grace felt some apprehension in presenting Tyrone’s offer. Tyrone left the building and drove on to the wharf thinking that after he moved in he would come here to buy fish to cook the way his mother used to. A feeling of great sadness overtook him right there standing on the wharf in front of the stalls filled with all sorts of fishes, eels, and shell fish. He remembered the last time they had come here with Miss Holly and indulged in a binge of fish buying, something that did not happen very often. Here he was, ready to purchase a home; he had a car; he had a job; he could take care of his mother, and she was not there to partake in the happiness and stability that he could provide for her. It was so unfair. He would have to find her. He decided that he would call Detective Tippit to see if he could help.

Three days later Grace called to inform him that the owner had accepted the offer and ratified the contract. What seemed to be an unlikely eventuality suddenly turned into reality. A sense of fear suddenly overwhelmed him when he realized that he was soon going to be a homeowner with some serious responsibility. Getting approved by the bank was still a hurdle, as Grace had forewarned. What he didn’t know was that the owner worked at a bank, and would see to it that the deal didn’t fall thru. Forty-five days later, Mr. Tyrone Beauregard walked into the closing attorney’s office, somewhat unsteady on his young legs, ready to affix his signature and become the proud owner of a beautiful apartment in downtown Washington, D.C. Everything panned out as planned; in exchange for a certified check in the amount of $7,500, and a signed promissory note which included both interest and capital, he was given a set of keys and a stack of documents. When the owner met him across the table at the lawyer’s office, her attitude changed when she realized that the purchaser was such a nice young man.

Halfway through the closing session she blurted out: Mr. Beauregard, if you need furniture for your new apartment, I can give you some.

Everyone stopped talking and looked in her direction.

My grandson lived there and he won’t be needing it anymore, she added with a sort of fatality.

Yes, I could use a few pieces, Tyrone hesitated to answer.

Here is my card. Call me after all of this is over, and bring a truck.

Thank you, Ma’am!

Can we get back to business? interjected the Principal lawyer, annoyed by the interruption, and further not caring to know the specifics of the seller’s grandson’s misfortune.

It turns out that the grandson, some twelve months back, high on PCP and a mix of other potent drugs had either jumped out, or fallen from the ninth floor balcony. The only one who had any knowledge of the event was Grace who had been directed to not mention the unfortunate event to any prospective buyer. The seller who felt that the apartment was jinxed had wanted to get rid of it right away to help push away the painful memories of her tormented grandson, but was not willing to take an excessive financial loss. The closing concluded and after bidding goodbye to the seller, promising to call her the next weekend, Tyrone ran so to speak to his new apartment. He couldn’t believe how easy the whole process had been and he thanked his buddy Tupac for everything he had done. The resident manager of the rooming house did not appreciate his departure at all and told him that he could not take the furniture with him. Initially, Tyrone was upset, and the coined term of ‘easy come, easy go,’ no longer rang right. He called Detective Tippit who told him there was little he could do, that the arrangement was a verbal contract, and while it might be enforceable in a court of law he questioned whether the value of the furniture was worth it.

Can’t you just come over and threaten him? Tyrone asked exasperated.

No, Tyrone, I cannot threaten him, but I can talk to him if you really want me to.

Tyrone told the detective about the initial arrangement and how the manager had taken the stereo system and the TV.

Ha! I am sure that Tupac didn’t give it to him, and if he had been able to give something away before he died, he probably would have given it to you!

That’s right!

Tyrone had never thought of claiming any of the property and he suddenly remembered the early morning conversation before the beating when Tupac told him that all his belongings were his to take if he didn’t come back.

On the other hand, if the resident manager is willing to let you take the furniture that he originally promised to let you have, you will be happy with the original arrangement!

Yes, sir, Tyrone responded.

OK, I’ll drop by tonight and we will set this thing straight.

Thanks a lot Detective Tippit.

It’s not done yet.

That evening the detective stopped by and disrupted the manager’s usually quiet dinner hour. He asked him where he purchased the stereo system and the TV, that it was stolen property. The manager almost suffered a seizure when he realized that not only was he going to have to give up the fancy equipment, but he also risked losing his license to run the rooming house. He did not initially suspect a stratagem orchestrated by young Tyrone. It wasn’t until Tippit suggested he honor the deal he had with Tyrone regarding Tupac’s furniture, that he concluded his double-cross had been a bad deal.

I don’t want to hear from Tyrone again or I’ll come down on you like flies on shit, and you’ll be a sorry son of a bitch!

Detective Tippit slammed the door and walked out leaving a long-lasting impression on the nasty man.

The same day Tyrone moved out of the rooming house, helped by a couple of bouncers from the club, one of which had a large pick up truck. He also met with the previous owner of the apartment and selected a few pieces of furniture that would compliment the apartment and not unduly overwhelm it. After they unloaded the truck and guzzled down a couple of ice cold beers, his friends went home and Tyrone was left to enjoy his palace. Between Tupac’s furniture and the unique pieces from the previous owner’s grandson, the place really looked elegant. The only thing he would have to do eventually is repaint the apartment with something else besides the dull flat washed-out yellowish-beige finish. He probably could do without the ceiling sparkles from Tupac’s room. In addition to the furniture the previous owner had given him three cardboard boxes that she had prepared to his attention, and had insisted that he would need the contents. Tyrone had taken them mostly to please her without too much thought, and when he finally opened them that evening to see what was inside, he was delighted to find a complete set of bedding including pillows and a comforter, a whole bunch of bath towels of various sizes, and a complete set of kitchen utensils, dinner plates, glasses, and silverware. He was set. The only things he had to buy were food and cleaning supplies. He put the newlywed picture of his mother and father on the dresser and kneeled down in front of it deep in meditation, thanking the Lord for having given him all he had, asking him to take care of Tupac and his little sister, further imploring that he help him find his lost mother.

The following early morning when he returned home from work, he found himself at the rooming house trying to get in. It wasn’t until he tried to insert the key in the lock that he realized his mistake. He felt a little silly and returned to the car to head home.

Among the contacts that Esther had given him was a man by the name of Roy Franklin. Dr. Franklin taught various technical courses at George Washington University and volunteered his time with the DC Welfare System to provide counseling to young men and women who badly needed guidance to match their limited skills with either additional schooling or training so as to be able to go out there and compete in a world that was not always hospitable. Dr. Franklin scheduled Tyrone for a number of aptitude tests and set up an appointment a couple of weeks hence, after he had the time to review the test results. Dr. Franklin lived at 22nd and P Streets near Dupont Circle and they met at his apartment one weekday afternoon. The balding gray hair septuagenarian invited Tyrone to sit at his dining room table which was cluttered with piles of paperwork. As a matter of fact, the whole apartment was littered with books, periodicals, and documents of all sort, extending beyond the filled bookshelves against the wall, substantiating without a doubt a lifetime of research and study. As he looked around, Tyrone could not believe that someone, anyone, could live in such a messy environment. The well-intended affable Dr. Franklin was oblivious to the surroundings and concentrated on the folders in his hands as he sat across from Tyrone and began to ask him a battery of questions. During that first meeting they talked for about two hours during which Dr. Franklin attempted to identify Tyrone’s long term interests, and further investigate if he was willing to pursue professional schooling to eventually open a door that would give him viable opportunities. Dr. Franklin was perplexed by Tyrone’s job at the club since this kind of job was contrary to the conclusions he had drawn both from the testing material and the interview with the young man. He sensed some unsettling rebellious streak and tried to gauge why it existed and how it might ultimately affect his future. While he was not a trained psychiatrist, Dr. Franklin had a chance to appreciate the idiosyncrasies of human nature over fifty some years in dealing with the diversity of human behavior in often adverse conditions. Further quizzing did not elucidate the subject, but when he asked Tyrone what he wanted to do with his life, everything fell into place. The young man specifically answered that he wanted a job where he could help people.

So you want to work in the health care field? It’s a noble desire.

He couldn’t help but comment. Dr. Franklin suggested Tyrone go into computers, that this field was truly the field of the future, and even though Tyrone’s performance in math and a couple of computer courses in high school had demonstrated a finite propensity for the subject, the young man clearly stated that he wasn’t interested. He had pulled a C in Biology and gotten B’s in science lab which left the doctor skeptical.

Well you could get an Associate Degree and work as a Radiology Technician. It’s repetitive as a job but it requires technical and social skills and over time you’ll learn a lot. Further, with the expanding technology, CAT Scanners, MRI Scanners, and a multitude of new applications and technological breakthroughs there are many opportunities. As we try to develop more non-intrusive machines to penetrate deeper into the human body without doing it any damage, our ability to detect minute abnormalities before they become harmful will improve. There will always be growth in the field that will in turn give you new opportunities.

Tyrone listened attentively as Dr. Franklin elaborated on what might turn out to be his professional future.

Do you understand what I am trying to explain Mr. Tyrone?

Yes, sir, Dr. Franklin, I understand.

Two weeks later Tyrone had applied at three Colleges in the Washington area, and the first step into his professional life was locked in. All three colleges accepted his application and a few days later he received invitations to visit the campuses and interview with admission officials. He went to all three campuses who offered similar curriculums, and selected ARI in Arlington, primarily because of the proximity to his apartment and the recommendation by Dr. Franklin who had an old college buddy working there. He signed up for the first quarter with a full-time credit load even though he worked full time at the club. The first few weeks were tough as he fought not to fall asleep in class, and it wasn’t until a couple of months had passed that he was able to balance his busy schedule.

Tyrone was now used to his heavy work load and had time for little else. One factor that made it relatively easy to bear was