Ayame's

anthropomorphic erotic art with emotion... and heart.

Vanity and Vexation

by Ayame c. 2006
Ogun has a heap of troubles... M/M sex.

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Man! What a day! The sky was clear and blue, the air was crispy in that way it got as summer started to slide into autumn. Ogun took a deep breath and ground the hard baseball into the leather of his glove. He watched his sons drop into ready stances, half crouches, and tense, waiting for him to throw.

Ogun reached back and threw the ball up into a high, narrow arc. “Come on, it’s a pop fly; get under it! Hustle!” He called and watched as his oldest son Andrew ran with his glove open, eyes on the ball. Ogun glanced to the right, and saw his other son, Mark, running for the ball too. Neither of them had called it.

“Watch out!” Ogun shouted. But it was too late. The two kids collided and fell into a tangled mess. The ball landed two feet in front of both of them.

“Hey, you fag!” Andrew said and pushed Mark.

“No, you’re the fag!” Mark said petulantly, shoving back and knocking Andrew’s red hat onto the ground.

Ogun trotted over. “Hey! Enough!” He took off his glove and picked up the ball. “I’ve never heard the two of you talk like that! Your mother is going to be upset when she hears about this. We’re going home. Right now.” He helped Mark up first. He was the smallest and took after his mother. He was wolfish and had blue eyes. Andrew took after Ogun and was an okapi, too.

“Mom’s not going to care,” Andrew said. He got up on his own and was brushing grass clippings and dirt off of his pants. They both started following their dad out of the baseball diamond.

“Yeah,” Mark said. “God hates fags.”

Ogun was so stunned he stopped walking. “Where did you learn something like that?”

“It’s in the Bible. That’s why God destroyed that city.”

“Are you talking about Sodom?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Andrew answered for Mark. “One of our teachers said that homosexuality was an abomination.”

“Really. What else are they teaching you at school?” They’d reached the car, a silver luxury sedan, and Ogun opened the doors and made sure that Mark was strapped in properly. Andrew, at 12, could buckle his own seatbelt.

Andrew scowled into the rearview mirror. “You know, Dad, if you spent less time at work, you’d know.”

Ogun clamped his mouth shut on his reply. Instead he said, deliberately calm, “Well, I want to know now. What else are you learning?”

“We learn about the Bible a lot,” Mark said cheerfully.

“Well, it is a Private Christian school. I expected that. I didn’t think they were teaching you to hate. What about in science class? Do they teach creationism?”

“No way, Dad,” Andrew said. “That’s not science. They teach Intelligent Design.”

It was worse than Ogun thought. He didn’t know what to say so he drove in silence for awhile and then turned on the radio. Another perfect day ruined. Just before they pulled into the drive, Andrew asked, “Are you still going to tell Mom?”

“About your language? Yes. Now go upstairs to your rooms, both of you. Don’t come out until dinner.”

“Yes Dad.” They left, looking as dejected as they possibly could. Ogun watched them leave. He loved them very much, but he didn’t always understand them. He shook his head and went to speak to his wife.

Sally was in her bedroom brushing out her long hair. Her hair was long and black. Her fur was glossy and a light gray. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. It was this quality that had brought Ogun and Sally together, although not in the traditional way. Her beauty attracted men and Sally didn’t want their kind of attention: she didn’t believe in sex. She didn’t like it. She didn’t even like to kiss—maybe she’d give a peck on the cheek every now and then, but mostly, she didn’t do anything even remotely intimate. She had just wanted kids, but she didn’t want any kind of physical relationship. Ogun had wanted kids, too, so they’d married for the sake of convenience. Generally, they liked one another, but in other ways, they constantly were at odds. Ogun knew with a sinking feeling that this was going to be one of those times.

“Ogun,” she said, looking up at him in the mirror. She didn’t turn around, but her mirror image caught Ogun’s eyes. “What’s wrong? You’re back early.”

“Our kids were using foul language at the park. That’s why we left,” he said and sat down on the bed. He smoothed the bedspread with his hands and looked back up. “They were calling each other fags.”

Sally turned around. “Did you tell them?”

“About me? No. I didn’t tell them about me. Did you know that they are learning at school that homosexuals are bad?”

“What do you mean?”

Ogun took a deep breath. “Their teachers have told them that the Bible says that homosexuality is an abomination.”

“It is.”

Ogun took another deep breath. They didn’t agree on this. Sally knew about him and about the men he still slept with. She chose to ignore it. She had told him more than once, ‘hate the sin, love the sinner.’ It was condescending crap. “Look, I’m not going to debate the morality of being gay with you—“

“Good, because you would lose. Not only am I a lawyer, but God is on my side.” She turned away and kept brushing her hair.

Ogun bit his lip, took another breath—the kind a physical therapist would call a cleansing breath—and said, “They are also not being taught evolution.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“You don’t see the problem?”

“No, I don’t. They are getting a good education. They are learning valuable lessons and their scores are great.” She turned around and looked at him, then stood up and put away the brush. She went to the closet to pick out something to wear at dinner.

Ogun felt a deep, dark anger stirring inside of him. It was a feeling that he carried with him everywhere, but he usually clamped down tightly. He felt it clawing its way out, wanting to shout and rant at the stupidity of the situation. Instead, he said, “Evolution is a key theory that explains nearly every biological discovery of the century. Many things do not make sense without using natural selection to explain them.” He realized he was gripping the covers so hard, his hands hurt. He released the bedspread and smoothed it out again.

“Intelligent Design could explain those things.”

“Yeah, right: ‘And Poof!’ A miracle happened.”

Sally ignored his sarcasm and said, “Exactly. Anyway, we’re getting off-topic.”

“No,” Ogun said, “we’re not. They learned to say fag at school, probably from classmates. And it’s no wonder they learned to use that word: their teachers reinforce the idea that homosexuality is bad. People can’t help being gay. Many scientific studies support this.”

“Yes they can. It’s a choice. You made yours long ago.”

Ogun narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, like you made yours, to be a frigid, cold bitch.”

Sally looked at him and sniffed, like she was above such comments. “I will talk to them about their use of language. But I’m not going to tell them something that I don’t believe is true. Homosexuality is wrong, Ogun. I like you as a person, and you’re a good father, but if you ever tell our sons that you are gay, I am divorcing you. They don’t need to know and it will hurt them to find out.”

“Fuck you, Sally. I’m not a fucking leper,” he stood and started to walk out of the room.

Sally called after him, “Remember our pre-nup, dear.”

Ogun clenched his fists and didn’t want to eat dinner anymore. He stalked over to his bedroom, entered his private bath and showered. The hot water running down his short fur and through his long hair felt good. He was glad he’d grown his hair out: Sally did not approve.

He went to dinner only because he wanted to spend time with his kids. They were right: he didn’t get to be around enough. He was a surgeon and was often called in on his days off. He worked long shifts because he worked in the ER. It wasn’t easy, but it was what he liked to do. It was the one useful thing he was really good at.

Later that night, when he was tucking Mark into bed, his son looked up at him and said, “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to say bad words.”

“Hm. It’s not the bad words I was mostly concerned about, although I don’t like you using language like that. It was your attitude. Gay people are…well they’re people, too. Just because you may not agree with them, doesn’t mean they’re bad. God doesn’t hate anyone. He’s supposed to be loving,” Ogun said. He reached over and brushed a stray hair out of Mark’s eyes.

“I know. I mean, I know that God loves everyone. But we also learned about that other stuff.”

“I suppose it’s confusing.”

“How come you don’t come to church with us?”

Ogun rubbed his jaw. He usually said that he had to work, but that wasn’t always true. “I’m not like you, your mother and your brother: I don’t believe in God.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a lot of reasons,” Ogun said. But the two big ones had to do with his childhood and a small bat named Vince who had once been his boyfriend. “I just don’t.”

“Daddy! That’s scary! It means you’re going to go to Hell.”

“Don’t think such things.” Ogun sighed. He didn’t know what to say anymore. So he kissed Mark on the head and went to get ready for bed.

Ogun and Sally each had their own bedroom. But Ogun didn’t go to his. As he passed Sally’s room, he decided to stop in. She was sitting in bed with a reading light, going over casework. Her job kept her busy, too.

Ogun crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sally, I think we should consider sending our kids to public school.”

She looked up. “Oh? Just because you don’t agree with some of the things they’re learning doesn’t mean they aren’t getting a good education.”

“I disagree. I don’t want our sons to grow up to hate people just because they’re different.”

Sally waved her hand. “They will learn as they get older to hate the sin—“

“Not the sinner. Whatever. Goodnight.”

Ogun shook his head. He didn’t like what was going on, but a long time ago, he had agreed to let Sally choose the schools they went to. Ogun hadn’t felt confident about raising kids. His life as a child had been difficult and strange. He grew up in a war-zone. He had never felt like a normal child. He thought Sally would make better choices. Now he was regretting this. He was regretting, too, that he had let Sally teach them about religion. Ogun had been raised with faith, but he’d abandoned it a long time ago. He figured that his kids could do the same, but their faith seemed so much more dogmatic than Ogun ever remembered his being.

He stared into the bathroom mirror for a long time, not doing anything, not even really looking at himself. He just couldn’t make himself move.

Then he heard the phone ring. At this time of night, there was only one conclusion: the hospital needed him. He answered the phone and confirmed it. An accident had taken place downtown. They needed all the surgeons and ER doctors they had.

Ogun ran downstairs, grabbed his car keys and left. He was glad to be doing something. He was glad he could be useful.

* * *

It was a particularly difficult night. After he washed the blood off his hands and even a little blood that had splashed onto his hooves, he sat down in the doctor’s lounge. The crisis was over and a few others were sitting there staring into space or drinking coffee. The director stuck his head into the lounge and said, “Ogun! I need you to sign some paperwork.”

As bleary-eyed and as tired as Ogun was, he was glad to see the director. He stood up, wobbly for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

“Here,” the director said, “Drink some coffee.” He shoved a hot paper cup into Ogun’s hands and walked out, confident that Ogun would follow.

The director’s name was Yancy Gray. He was very tall, even taller than Ogun, lean and feline. His fur was a dark black and his eyes were green. He was middle-aged, but still very sexy. When the director unlocked his private office door, Ogun followed.

“Finish your coffee,” Yancy said, locking the door behind them.

Ogun sat and sipped at the black coffee. It was good and even though he knew it was just his imagination, since it would take approximately fifteen minutes for the caffeine to work its way into his bloodstream, he felt much more awake.

“You look worse for wear,” Yancy said.

“Yeah, it was a tough night. I saw that you were down there, too.”

“Just helping to triage. I’m not the doctor I used to be,” Yancy said, glancing at his own dark hands. He had lost some of his nerve endings in a car accident. His hands had been badly burned.

“Well, it helped,” Ogun said.

“I mean, though, that you seem more… tired than is warranted. Like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Ogun nodded and pushed his long hair out of his eyes. “I do,” he said, and told Yancy about his boys, and Sally’s reaction to it all.

Yancy clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, I hate living a lie to them… They should know that I’m different.” He finished the coffee and crumpled the cup up in his hands.

Yancy watched Ogun toss the cup in the trash. “You’re not different, Ogun. There’s lots of people that are gay. There’s no such thing as just plain gay or plain straight, anyway.”

“I know: the spectrum of sexuality. I want to tell my kids, but Sally says she’ll divorce me.”

Yancy shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I do think your kids have the right to know the real you.”

Ogun blinked at Yancy. “I don’t want to lose my kids.”

“You don’t know that will happen,” Yancy said, coming around to the front of his desk. He tilted Ogun’s head up and kissed him.

Ogun responded. They’d been fucking in Yancy’s office ever since Ogun first started working at the hospital over 5 years ago. They didn’t have a relationship, per se, they just liked to fuck, and sometimes talk a little. Yancy lived alone and liked it that way. Ogun had never been to his house, but he’d been in this office many times.

They began to peel off one another’s clothes, Yancy pressing kisses to Ogun’s chest and belly. Ogun moaned, loving the feel of Yancy’s sandpapery tongue along his sensitive abdomen. Yancy pulled Ogun to his couch, and lay back, letting Ogun settle in on top. Ogun reached back and opened a drawer next to the couch that was full of condoms. He slipped one on and pushed roughly inside of his lover. Yancy liked it rough and Ogun was happy to give it to him.

He thrust hard and deep, looking down to see the black cat writhing underneath him. Yancy arched his back and Ogun reached down to grip Yancy’s cock. He rubbed his thumb over the top and pressed hard, making Yancy moan. He reached down to grip his hips so that he could push deeper. He pulled Yancy close, pounding his body, feeling even his own bones and muscles take a beating from the harshness of the sex. He let Yancy come first, feeling his claws rake down his chest, pulling his red-brown fur out and leaving light-colored lines on the dark skin underneath. When Ogun came, he wanted to shout, to scream, but he bit his lip and moaned quietly, pumping hot seed into the condom, feeling it hot and sticky all around him.

He removed the condom and tossed it into the trash, and then he collapsed on top of Yancy, who didn’t move either. They fell asleep like that until Yancy’s beeper went off two hours later. Then they had to hustle and get dressed.

“I’ll sign that paperwork later,” Ogun said, leaving.

“There’s always paperwork. See you later.”

“Yeah,” Ogun replied. He opened the door and wandered unsteadily into the hallway. It was night again and the corridors were empty. He smelled of sex. He didn’t mind for once. Usually he was very fastidious. But today, he felt like it was way too much effort to worry about how he smelled or how he looked.

He made his way to the ER and checked the schedule. He was supposed to be on duty in four hours. He sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. They smelled like Yancy. He found an empty room and after setting his beeper to wake him, curled up and fell asleep.

* * *

“I’m going to tell them,” Ogun said to Sally when he came home. The kids were still at school and Sally was organizing files on their computer.

She looked up and fixed him with her blue eyes. They were the color of the sky. He actually really loved her eyes. She could do a lot with them. They could be warm or smiling. But often, they were flinty and penetrating. They were cold today. “I don’t think you should.”

“Would you really divorce me over that? Don’t you want our kids to grow up with a father as well as a mother? Isn’t that important to you?”

She folded her arms and leaned back. “Yes. It’s important. I just think it’s a big mistake. They think you’re a different person than you really are.”

Ogun snorted. “I should never have let it get this far. I was raised as a Catholic. I even wanted to be a priest when I was a kid. Then I started really studying the Bible, and that began to fuel my doubts.”

Sally snorted back. “Catholicism is hardly Christian. Catholics worship saints and Mary. That’s not right.”

“They do not “worship” them. They pray to them to intercede on their behalf…” He stopped. “Never mind. That’s not the point! The point is I never thought that our kids would become so closed minded.”

Sally shifted drawing her knees to her chest. “I think you’re close minded. You won’t even consider that it’s important to give a fair and equal treatment of the theory of life in school. You’ve already closed your mind to the possibility that you could be cured of your homosexuality.”

Ogun laughed bitterly. This was why they never talked about religion, politics or their feelings. In fact, they usually only talked about their kids and what was going on in the news. “I’m not close-minded. I’m open minded, but that doesn’t mean that my brains have fallen out, either!”

“Ogun, I don’t know what to say. We have a marriage of convenience. But it is not convenient to you if I make sure that our children get a moral upbringing—please, don’t interrupt.”

Ogun shut his mouth and was amazed at how much power she projected even with her legs drawn close to her, with her body made as compactly small as possible. She continued, “If you tell our boys what you really are, they will be afraid of you. That’s what will happen. You shouldn’t do it. You should just let things go as they are.”

“But you won’t divorce me?”

“No, I really can’t just on those grounds, can I?”

Ogun stared at her. The only reason she existed in his life was because he wanted children. Well, to be completely honest, he wanted children and he wanted his student loans all paid off. Vince had only been able to support him so much when they had been together and he was pre-med.

He took a breath and said, “This marriage is a sham.”

“Do you want a divorce? I will get custody of our children,” she said, giving him her flintiest eye.

“No. I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want. Goodnight.”

He walked to his room and lay down, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until he woke with joints stiff and his heart heavy.

* * *

Ogun recounted his conversation with Sally to Yancy. It had been a week or so since he’d talked to her. He said to Yancy, “You know, ever since I told my littlest one that I did not believe in God, he acts like something terrible is going to happen to me. He gives me the strangest looks. I think Sally is right.”

“You can’t go on like this. I don’t know how you went on so long with it anyway,” Yancy said. He was sitting at his desk. This was a rare time that they weren’t trying to rip off each other’s clothes.

Ogun shrugged. “I work a lot. I’m hardly home. That made it easy.”

“I suppose. You know, you need to get out—not just like one or two nights, I think you should take a trip.”

Ogun narrowed his eyes. “I know that tone! What are you trying to get me to do now?”

“There is a position in the World Health Taskforce. They need a surgeon in the region near West Swenlan. I know you have family there.”

Ogun nodded. “I do. It’s an area that is in constant unrest. Rebels are against the government and the government thinks everyone is a rebel. I saw my first dead body when I was five. It’s a terrible place.”

Yancy nodded and there was a space of silence. He cleared his throat finally and said, “They do need a good surgeon, someone who can work with the lo—ah, er…“

“You were going to say ‘locals,’” Ogun said smugly. Teasing Yancy lifted his spirits considerably.

“I was not. That would obviously not be PC, right? But you know what I mean.”

“I do. Let me think about it. When do you need to know?”

“In a month. Otherwise I’m going to recommend someone else.”

“Hm. I’ll let you know in a month. I’ve gotta run, Yance. I’m on shift in fifteen.”

Yancy nodded. “Shoo.”

Ogun felt the ghost of a smile play along his lips. It was only a whisper of emotion and easily pushed away again. Even the good emotions were better pushed down. He didn’t want to feel too many of them: they promised things he could not have. He felt trapped in the world he had created for himself. As free as his wife seemed to let him be, he was truly trapped because she held his children hostage. Not in a literal sense, Ogun thought, but figuratively—keeping their hearts and minds closed to him because he did not fit their view of the world. Even though they didn’t know the true him, Ogun knew already they would not love him. They would turn away and hate him, revile him, abjure him. There were some sins that were too deep for others to forgive.

He leaned against the wall and watched the second hand on his watch move once around the dial. He took a deep breath and plunged into work.

* * *

Yancy’s suggestion kept working through Ogun’s mind. As difficult as his childhood had been, it was still a time in his life that he managed to have good memories of. He thought about the small town they lived in. It was nothing more than a few small buildings and a lot of ramshackle houses. But he remembered that their house had been painted electric blue and the house next to them was sunshine yellow: brave colors defying the sadness that surrounded them.

He had a small “remote-control” car made of wire. The car was a spare framework attached to a wire that ended with a “steering wheel.” It was really clever, because you could walk behind the car and turn the front wheels with the steering wheel. It really worked.

His shoes were made of old tires. They were sandals and also really cleverly fashioned. They looked like real shoes, not like something made from unwanted trash. He remembered his father buying him those shoes and a pair for his brother, too.

He hadn’t seen any of them since he left for the States. He sent them money at their new address in a safer area, but he hadn’t seen them. He wished he could bring them all to the States, but they actually wanted to stay. He didn’t understand why.

Predictably, when he spoke to Sally about the possibility of working in Africa, she was indifferent. She did seem glad that he’d be making more money. She mentioned that he should speak to the kids about it and see what they say.

So he sat down with the two of them. “I’m thinking of going to work in Africa, to help the people there.”

Mark blinked. “Will you be able to come home?”

Andrew snorted. “He’s going to Africa! Remember where that is?”

Ogun frowned. “I will be gone a long time, but I can write you and talk to you on the phone. We could even video conference. Will you guys be OK with that?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said, “It’s not like we see you much anyway.”

That comment stung, but Ogun looked to Mark to see what he was thinking. Mark said, “Maybe you will find God there. Our teacher says a lot of missionaries go to Africa.”

Ogun realized he didn’t know what to say or how to respond. But in that moment, he was certain he would tell Yancy “yes.”

* * *

Preparation for his new assignment to the World Health Taskforce involved getting many physicals, much testing and a lot of vaccinations. He had to sit through educational briefings designed by the Taskforce about various African illnesses and parasites, all of which he was already very familiar with. As a child, he had contracted a few of these and even had encephalitis as a result of Southern Nile Virus as a teenager.

It was the encephalitis that made him want to become a doctor. Various people in his village had wanted to try anything from folk remedies to praying for him. His father, a proud and stout man, had refused their help and walked ten miles to Faraji city and found a doctor willing to treat him in exchange for trade goods. The doctor saved his life. He was a young man then. Ogun wondered if he was still in Africa.

He spent a lot of these briefings daydreaming about his home. He was glad to be going back, he realized. Sadly, he wasn’t going to miss his children, because he didn’t know them anymore. He didn’t want to think about Mark and Andrew: he’d failed them and he was afraid it was already too late for them. He felt like Sally, their school and church had brainwashed them.

His mind wandered to other failings in his life. His mind was a whirl of negative feelings. He knew there was only one way to deal with the negativity before he left: he’d have to rectify some of the terrible things he’d done.

* * *

A little bell rang as he entered the bookstore. It was a small place flanked by a health food store and an empty storefront. When Ogun had seen the empty storefront a week ago, an idea had been kindled and he meant to see it through.

He had to walk around a few displays to reach the counter. While it was located so that whoever was at the counter could see the door, the person at the counter, a small bat, didn’t turn around when the bell rang. He was reading with his back against the cash register and his feet propped up on some shelves behind him.

From what Ogun could see, Vince was much the same as he remembered. He hadn’t seen him in years. He watched Vince for a moment as he brushed his black hair back and turned the page.

Someone came out of the back room. Ogun almost didn’t recognize him because he looked so much healthier than the last time he saw him. It was Cody, another of Ogun’s former lovers.

Cody stood still for a moment. His tan fur was glossy and his hair shone. He was a truly beautiful man. His eyes, though, looked old and were shaded underneath with purple from his years of addiction. They would probably always look like that.

Cody walked to the counter and slammed the books he was carrying on the top. “Get out!” He said, quietly, but forcefully.

Vince turned around, startled by the noise and Cody’s tone of voice. He was wearing glasses: that was new. And he was also much heavier than Ogun remembered. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. This was something he envied in Vince: the bat was almost always calm. Cody walked behind Vince and put his hands on his shoulders. “Get out,” he said again.

“No, no. It’s alright, Cody. Let’s hear what he has to say,” he folded his arms with their black vestigial wings over his belly. Damn, he’d really gotten fat. Ogun almost said this out loud, but bit his tongue. He was getting better at thinking before he spoke.

Ogun gathered himself and walked to the counter. He placed his hands on top and looked Vince straight in the eyes. “I treated you badly, Vince. You too, Cody.”

Cody snorted, but didn’t say anything. Vince said, “I knew who you were when I met you and got to know you. I didn’t expect anything else.”

Damn, that dug deep. Vince had said things like that before, but hearing it again hurt all over. Vince had never expected anything. “But you should have, Vince.”

“Are you saying that it’s Vince’s fault that you left him? That he should have done more for you? He put you through medical school! You were never faithful to him! He is the kindest, most giving person in the world. Not to mention that he’s also the best fu—“

Vince reached back and took Cody’s hand. Ogun could see that Cody was blushing. He squeezed Vince’s hand back and fled into the back room.

Vince smiled. “Cody just says what he feels. At least, most of the time he does.” He smiled like that should mean something. But Ogun was lost. “I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“I owe you.”

“No, I made it clear: I wanted to help you with school. You still had a lot of student loans even with my help. I don’t think I helped that much.” He shifted and adjusted his glasses.

Ogun felt like he was going to cry. Cody was right: how could he have given up such an honest, true person? The answer was that he wasn’t attracted to Vince. He was a shallow person, he knew he was, but Vince had always been too soft for his tastes. Especially this much fatter Vince.

“No, I owe you. Not just for the money you helped me with. Money is…well, it’s money. I know you gave it freely out of love. But I am still going to make it up to you. It’s also the way you helped me think. I was never as good at it as you were: but you helped me see the truth.”

Vince flashed him a real smile. “You mean: I helped ‘convert’ you to a complete godless heathen.”

Ogun had to smile back. “Yes. When I met you, I said I was an atheist.”

“But you were angry at God.”

“Yes, and that’s a contradiction. You helped me see how impossible it is that there is a God. It’s helped me so much. It makes me appreciate every day that I am alive. Knowing there is only this life makes me a better doctor. I wanted to thank you for that.” Ogun wiped tears away and had to wipe off his own glasses.

Vince came around the counter and looked up at his old lover. Ogun was nearly a foot and half taller so Vince really had to look up. “It is a joy to help others,” Vince said. And he hugged Ogun. When they parted, he said, “I’m still not taking any money.”

“No? Well I thought you would feel that way. I bought the store next door to you. But since I’m leaving for Africa in a few days, I won’t be able to put it to good use. I’m hoping that you can help me out.” He smiled down at Vince, who was smiling crookedly back up at him.

“You damn bastard,” he said fondly. “You know me too well.”

“In some ways. Please, say you forgive me.”

“I always have.”

Ogun looked over to the backroom door and saw Cody standing in the doorway. “Yeah, I forgive you too, but only because you did such a cool thing for Vince.” He turned around and disappeared again.

“You’re in love?” Ogun asked Vince.

Vince nodded. “Very much,” he said. “I love him completely.”

Ogun nodded. “Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ll have my lawyer drop off the forms you’ll need to sign to take over the space during my absence.”

“Hm. What are you doing in Africa? Visiting family?”

“Well, I will get to see them. But I’m working for the World Health Taskforce.”

“You’re going to miss your kids, aren’t you?”

“No, actually. They don’t seem to think much of me anymore. They’re Christians like Sally and they think I’m going to Hell.” He tried to laugh, but it came out kind of choked. “I’ve got to go. I have another briefing in a half an hour.”

“OK. Well, take my card. Please write me if you feel up to it.”

“Won’t you feel weird about it?”

“Because you’re my ex? Nah, just write me.” He smiled and handed him his card.

“Thanks, Vince.”

“My pleasure,” he said. He smiled again and walked back behind the counter.

Ogun let himself out.

He looked at the card when he got into his sedan. He tucked it into his wallet and wondered if he would use it. He also wondered if he felt better. He was glad he could do something for Vince, but he also felt a sharp sense of loss: like he could have had a better life than the one he’d settled for.

* * *

The trip on the plane went quickly because since Ogun did not like to fly, he always doped himself with sedatives. He got the prescription from Yancy and was able to sleep the entire trip. When he woke, the plane was taxi-ing into the airport in Eka Lago, his mouth felt like it was full of sandpaper and it was evening.

He would be catching a bus to his father’s village in Oka-Ni late tomorrow morning. Until then, he would just have to find a hotel. Still a little groggy, he retrieved his luggage and made his way out of the terminal.

Even though it was late evening in the summer, the air was hot and the terminal was busy. It took a few minutes for Ogun to locate a cab. The cabby, a dusky-furred cat who wore a small kufi skull cap helped Ogun get his two suitcases into the trunk. “Tourist?”

Ogun shook his head and adjusted his glasses. “No. I grew up in Semba.”

“Oh,” the cab driver said. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah,” Ogun said. Semba had been destroyed during a civil uprising when Ogun was a teenager. That wasn’t the first violence his village had seen, but it was the worst. “So, if I were to tell you that I used to visit the Moffie district, would you know any hotels a man like me might enjoy?”

“You see that I’m Muslim, yes? I wouldn’t know any, although I’ve heard that Hotel Em-bek is both very nice and accommodating.”

Ogun leaned back. “Good. Take me there. And please, I want to stop at a Tasty Chicken on the way.”

The cab driver smiled. “Miss the tastes of home?”

“Not usually, but now, seeing Eka Lago again, it makes me nostalgic.”

“You’re an American now?”

“Yes. I received my citizenship a few years ago.”

“How is it there?”

“Good, but I will tell you, Jambek,” he said, reading the cabby’s name off his tag, “it is not a good place for Muslims right now.”

Jambek nodded without taking his eyes off the road. He weaved around a stopped car that spewed black clouds into the air. Everywhere, people were moving quickly. Jambek was speeding, but so was everyone else. Eka Lago was always rushing, always busy, everyone always in a hurry. It would make a New Yorker look slow in comparison.

“Yah, yah, I had heard as much from a cousin of mine. Too bad. Most of us aren’t like the fanatics that crashed into your towers and Pentagon.”

“I know. Religious fanatics are the worst.”

“Too right. Ah, here’s Tasty Chicken. What you want?”

----------------------------------------

Ogun tipped Jambek the cabby heavily. Jambek winked and wished him a good trip and then sped back into the stream of traffic. The hotel was large, with a large plaza on the outside and a small fountain in the middle of the plaza. A number of handsome young men sat on the edge of the fountain, chatting and laughing. They all looked idle, but Ogun would bet that many of them were actually working. He hoped a few were.

He had a bucket of Tasty Chicken and two suitcases. While he was perfectly capable of managing everything himself, he waved to the men. A tall white horse looked up and nodded at Ogun. He trotted over.

Ogun took a good look at the fellow. He was mostly white, with a dark gray nose, mane and tail. He was dressed like an American Hippie tourist: the kind that collects native garb and jewelry and wears a lot of it. He had a number of bracelets, many of them made of hemp, around his wrists and two necklaces. A few reminded Ogun of crafts made by cousins of his: they used cowry shells laced together on leather in many different patterns. The horse was taller than Ogun by an inch or two and older than Ogun had thought at first. He may have been Ogun’s own age.

The horse stuck out his hand, “Christian. You need help with your stuff?” He flashed a look over Ogun’s body that Ogun could only interpret as desire.

“Ogun” he said shaking Christian’s hand. I was a firm shake. “Yeah, I could use a hand, and I have too much chicken. Maybe you’d join me for dinner.”

“Tasty Chicken?” Christian grinned and picked up one of Ogun’s suitcases. “Are you trying to come on to me with Tasty Chicken?” He fixed Ogun with such a look that Ogun started to laugh.

“Well, I *was* but now I see you have much higher standards.” They walked into the hotel together.

“No, actually I don’t. Forget about checking in. You can stay with me.” He gave Ogun a sly look.

“Are you an American?”

“Born and bred. Texan, actually. That’s almost like being from another country, though.” He smiled at Ogun as they waited for the elevator. “You? You’ve sort of got a weird tone in your accent. It’s American enough, but not quite.”

“I’m visiting my family, but I’m from Semba.”

“The village that the Army blew up twenty years ago?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you know about that.”

“Being an American? Yeah, I know.” He smiled and the two of them got into the elevator together. “I’m kinda more aware of the world than other Americans. I’m assuming your family lives somewhere else now.”

“Yeah. Most of them got through OK.”  The doors opened and Ogun followed Christian down the hall. He was glad they weren’t talking anymore. He didn’t want to talk. He had nothing to say, really.

Christian’s room was average sized and the air conditioner was turned on so high, the room was very artificially chilly. Ogun shivered at the change in temperature. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s kind of broken, they said. They offered to move me, but I wanted to stay close to the rest of the group.”

“Yeah,” Ogun said quietly. He watched Christian move over to the curtains and pull them shut. He was lithe and graceful—almost like a ballet dancer, but Ogun could imagine him better dancing to the Grateful Dead. Christian seemed to enjoy being watched. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a lean chest and a flat stomach. He had the body of a runner, with no fat to be seen anywhere.

He sat down at the little table in the room, across from Ogun. He grinned and reached for a chicken leg. “Tasty Chicken’s not bad. I like it almost as much as my Mom’s fried chicken. Almost.” He grinned at Ogun who found himself grinning back. This was turning out better than expected: he’d wanted a quick fuck before he started his journey, but this was even better than a quick fuck. He’d always remember Christian, he knew. He was far from being anonymous. When Ogun finally returned to his dull life back home in the States, he would always be able to remember Christian, shirtless, eating chicken.

They ate in a companionable silence. Ogun rarely felt this way with anyone anymore, except maybe for Yancy. Although, they rarely had time for silence. The chicken was so good. The tastes slid around his mouth and jump-started many good memories. He thought about him and his brother eating at Tasty Chicken. He thought of his Dad, who was a big guy and loved Tasty Chicken only next to hamburgers. He realized he was smiling and Christian was watching him.

Christian pointed a drumstick at Ogun. “You’re lost in memories.”

“Yeah.”

“You look cute like that,” he said. He finished pulling meat off the bone and smiled. “I am glad you showed up. I expected to freeze to death in this room alone, but now we can freeze to death together.”

Ogun grinned. “You’re brave for taking off your shirt.”

“Did it for you: a preview.”

“I suppose I should have returned the favor.”

“Maybe. But better late than never.” He folded his arms and looked like he was challenging Ogun.

Ogun smirked and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, teasing Christian with just inches of chest at first, then all of his red-brown stomach.

“Nice,” Christian said. He stood up and leaned over Ogun from behind, his hands on his shoulders. His muzzle was so close to Ogun’s face: Ogun could feel his breath, hot against his mouth and nose. Ogun turned and found himself being kissed. He twisted around to get into a better angle and Christian wrapped his arms around him, their mouths tasting each other: Tasty Chicken.

“You’re a good kisser,” Christian said. “What else are you good at?” He backed towards the bed.

Ogun smirked. “Everything,” he said. He slid onto the bed next to Christian and traced a pattern along his sides and belly. Christian shivered from desire. His eyes were blue, but more than that, his pupils were wide, wide open. Ogun pushed him down, his bracelets clinked together as he fell back onto the bed.

Ogun kissed along the short fur on his belly and then attacked the buttons on his torn and worn hippie-jeans. When he had Christian’s organ out, he looked at it for a moment: it was dark brown like Ogun’s. Just when he was about to put his mouth around it, Christian sat up and pushed Ogun back this time. He moved like a panther!

He took Ogun’s pants off. “Stripes. I love stripes,” he said looking at Ogun’s bare legs. He rubbed the inside of Ogun’s thighs and lifted his legs into the air. Then Christian leaned down and licked Ogun’s balls, down the pleasure patch and let his tongue probe Ogun’s opening. Ogun was startled, but excited. He looked over his own body and saw Christian wink at him. He watched Christian reach for a condom, slip it on and push inside.

At first, there was nothing special about Christian at all in the way that he fucked. But slowly, Ogun saw his brilliance: it was in teasing. Christian was so good at making Ogun think he was doing something and then at the last minute, change everything. Each time he changed things, Ogun felt better than he did before. It was brilliant, it was beautiful.

Christian leaned forward bonelessly so that the soft fur of his stomach pressed against Ogun’s cock. Ogun rocked his hips into it, pushing himself against the soft white fur. “Hey! You’re going to make me come,” Christian breathed out. He grinned for a brief moment, though, until his face was again wrapped completely with pleasure. He moaned and cried out, his cock throbbing inside of Ogun’s body, feeling hotter and bigger than before.

Ogun came quickly after and felt dazed as Christian got up and disposed of the condom. He tossed a towel at Ogun. Ogun sat up just a little, wiped himself off and smiled. “Christian, that was simply the best fuck I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, you say that to all the boys,” he said and grinned back. He drank something out of a sports bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re pretty good yourself.” He walked over to the bed and Ogun noticed his cock and balls swinging still low between his legs. They were beginning to shrink in the cold already, though. He smiled. “I loved watching you thrash around, your head moving side to side. Look, you scratched my back pretty deep.”

“Really? I don’t remember doing that. I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Well, you did,” he said, grinning again. He was a happy guy. “I hope you’re up to a little more. I think I deserve to feel your cock up my ass.” He said and winked.

“Oh yeah? How about now?” he asked and nodded at his organ, which was growing long again already.

“Nice. Sounds like a plan,” he said and went to Ogun, kissing him deeply, their erections brushing up against each other. Ogun was in Paradise and wished he could stay.

----------------------------------------

The next morning, Ogun woke up alone. Christian’s bags were gone and a little note was on the table next to a fresh-brewed pot of coffee. It read:

My Fuck-toy:

I will never forget you and your stripes. Please dream of me and think of me anytime you need to jerk off.

Your Dream Lover,
Christian

Ogun smiled grimly and folded the letter up and tucked it into his wallet. He drank the coffee gratefully and then took a shower. The hot water ran down his fur and he felt empty and sad. Christian was interesting and he was really lonely. He thought about Vince again for a moment. Vince was the last person he’d ever really invested any emotion into. He hadn’t even given everything he had, but he’d given as much as he could.

He liked Vince; he just couldn’t completely love him.

He liked Christian, he realized, and was surprised at how deeply he felt it. He didn’t do that. He didn’t have feelings for people he’d just met.

But he had with Vince when he first met him. He’d loved Vince right away, but he couldn’t sustain the love. He remembered how cute Vince was at the club: his clumsy dancing, his nerdy alien UFO t-shirt that was so old it was gray where it had once been black. He couldn’t even sustain liking him. He was too shallow for Vince. He could see that now. He was a shallow, shallow person.

Ogun grabbed his head in the shower and pulled hard on his long hair. The pain centered him.  He began to think of the little details he needed to attend to: dressing, packing, finding breakfast and then hailing a cab to the Bluebird Bus Terminal. He had to take care of all of those things in the next hour. That’s what mattered and he would finally see his brother and father again. It had been too long, and one thing Ogun knew how to love, it was his first family.

---------------------------------

Ogun dreamt on the bus. He’d taken some more sedatives (he disliked riding as a passenger in cars and buses almost as much as he hated flying) and fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t remember his dreams, but when he woke up, he had a hard-on and there were two girls in jilbabs giggling and pointing at him. He crossed his legs and his arms and looked out the window.

The bus was on a dirt road, winding through a forest of dark trees. Every so often, the forest was replaced by pastures for cattle and farmland. He knew they were close when small, brightly colored houses began to appear along the road. When they pulled into Oka-Ni, Ogun felt close to tears. He had spent most of his adolescence here and was overwhelmed by the sameness of the village.

He spotted his father and brother right away. They both stood out: his father because of his sheer size and his brother because he was a priest and was the only person wearing a long white cassock. Everyone else wore light clothing. Ogun knew tears were running into his fur, but he didn’t care. Ajani and his father were here, waiting for him. Nothing was more beautiful to him than seeing both of them.

He was sitting near the back of the bus, so had to wait for a few minutes. Ajani had seen him and was waving and trying to show his father where Ogun was sitting. Ogun waved back. His father wore glasses, khaki shorts and a garish Hawaiian style shirt. It made him look bigger than he was. His father, named Ekon, was taller than both his boys and weighed a good 300 pounds. Ogun noticed that he was crying too, and had taken off his glasses to wipe them on his red and yellow shirt.

When Ogun finally reached them, his dad grabbed him and squeezed him in a huge, strong hug. He may have been a fat man, but he was a strong, strong fat man. Ogun buried his face against his father’s chest and smelled the sweet smell of pipe tobacco and the stronger smell of cigarettes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and when his father released him, Ajani hugged him next. Ajani was five years older than Ogun and just as slim. They took after their mother more than their father.

Ogun stepped back to look at the two of them again. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! I wish I’d come to visit years ago!”

“Me too, ya old Moffie!” Ajani said, clapping him on the back. “Still mad at old Baba God?”

“You know me, Ajani,” Ogun said and glanced up at his father, who winked. His father was a strange man who managed to be both a good Catholic and agnostic at the same time.

Ajani and his dad both grabbed a suitcase, even though Ogun protested. “No go, Ogun! Fashi, fashi! We are so happy you are here!”

“I’m happy, too.”

“So, you’ll be staying a week, no?” his dad asked.

“Yes. I’m not needed south until next week. I arranged it so I could visit.”

“Well, you not be far,” Ajani said, “Tull village only 20 klicks from here. I been around Tull a lot, ministering and praying for folk there.”

“Yeah, you should come and see me if you’re in Tull.”

Ajani beamed. “You know I will.”

They reached the house, this one painted a bright, screaming pink. His father opened the door, which was painted turquoise blue and Ogun was overwhelmed all over again. He smelled the good things his father liked to cook and knew he had made foo-foo and was glad. He hadn’t had foo-foo in forever Sure enough, his father made him sit down and pulled some pans out of the over where he’d put them to keep warm and keep the flies off.

He spooned out some mashed cassava and then poured spicy foo-foo over the top. “Eat, lepa shandy!”

Ajani pulled a face. “What, none for me? I be your son, too.”

Ekon laughed a deep, hearty sound. “You be a father now.”

“Ha ha. Put some foo-foo in the bowl.”

Ekon made two more bowls and put one in front of Ajani. “So, you’ll probably be wanting to see Ajani’s church and the Catholic hospital. Ajani works there too.”

Ogun smirked. “You’re so reformed, Ajani.” His brother had once been a serious thug and was constantly in trouble. He barely made it through school and Ogun had never figured out what made him want to become a priest. From his letters, which were written in better English than Ajani spoke, Ogun could tell that he loved being a priest.

“Ya. I’m pretty reformed, is true.” He stood up and got three grape sodas out of the refrigerator. “I like it. People they look up to me, like I am someone. Like I mean something. It be a very nice experience.”

“I knew you were in it for yourself,” Ogun said, smirking again.

“Ah, little bro always with the sharp tongue and all overzee and know book,” he was grinning while he said it. “You’ll like the church, even if you still mad at Baba God.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ogun replied.

“You will,” Ekon said. “Whenever you sent us kishi, I mean money, half I kept and half I give to Ajani. Ajani used his money to fix the church and help people in need and distress. He’s a very giving father.”

Ajani said something quickly in another language, and while Ogun recognized it as Yoruban, he didn’t remember enough to keep up with the words. He watched his father’s expression and then Ekon nodded. “You’re right, Ajani. After lunch, you can see the church and see where Ajani lives. I finally have the house to myself and painted it the color I always wanted.”

“Yah, it be a right sore spot in the village.”

Ekon punched Ajani playfully in the arm. “Watch it, priests are supposed to be somber and thoughtful, not be all Amebo with their Yankee brothers.”

Ogun grinned and was glad to be home. They were all so different from one another, but he loved them and knew they loved him just as he was. He listened as his father and brother said something again in Yoruban.

Ekon turned to Ogun and said, “You will be visiting your mother’s tombstone and Akanke’s too, right?”

Ogun had thought about this a little. He didn’t see the point in talking to a headstone, but he wanted to anyway. “Yeah. I’ll be going. It’s in the same place, right?”

Ajani nodded. “Right near the church. You done yet?”

“Yeah. I’ll take my pop with me.”

“Pop?”

“You know: soda, I mean.”

“Ya, ya, you be speaking some kolo opats English there, bro,” and he slapped Ogun on the back, hard and laughed. “We be on dey way then. Pupsi! I bring Ogun home late, OK?”

“Go, have fun!” Ekon called.

Ogun hugged his dad one more. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too. Now go! I have dishes to wash.”

Ogun followed his brother outside into the heat and the sun.

“How can you stand wearing that?”

“Baba God, he give me all kinds of strength and mental air-conditioning. I don think about it, really. You get used to it. You never notice when we were boys.”

“That’s true.”

Ajani stepped ahead of him and turned around, walking backwards. “You sound all Yankee now, Ogun. Not a bad thing, just different.”

“I worked really hard on it—speaking like they do. Americans are very judgmental and if you don’t sound just like them, they think you’re stupid. It is hard enough to be an African in a place where they once enslaved other Africans and then if they think you’re stupid too…”

“I didn’t know it was still like that. I thought Martin Luther King and all. I don pay attention to US news. I only care about this village. Nothing else.”

Ogun nodded. “I understand. Hey, watch out!”

But Ajani had already seen the root and hopped over it backwards, turning mid air so that he and Ogun were facing the same direction again. Ogun said, “I missed you. But I never thought you’d be a priest.”

“I told you! In my letters I even send pictures!”

“You know what I mean.”

Ajani grinned. “I do, but I like to be dan kolo with you.”

“Nice dress you got there.”

“Issa cassock!” But Ajani did a mock-curtsy like a girl anyway. “I tell you a secret, brother, if I was not here, in this village, I don think I make it as a priest. They all be too serious. But religion is not serious: it is happy. I make the Catholic people here feel that way. Wait to see the church! Is a very happy church. No stupid things happen here. Everyone know I have a Moffie brother. No one care.”

“Everyone knows about me?”

“Ya, I use you in a sermon. Say how God make us all different, all the way we are. Who we to say God wrong when he make a man love another man? Love is good!”

“But the Bible condemns homosexuality.”

“Ya, and it says not to sit on a chair after a women who is on her time of the month sits there. No one worries about that. I say, why there be priests if scripture always right? Bible is a book, but God is not in the Bible. Baba God be in our hearts all the time. I tell everyone look in your heart first, Bible second.”

Ogun mulled that over. This was religion as he remembered it: the way his mother and father taught it. The way the old priest used to teach it, too. Ajani turned around and began walking backwards again in front of Ogun. The church was close: he could see the large cross shining on top.

“Hey, is Father Jerry still here?”

“Old Bastifolly?”

“You call him that to his face?”

“No. But he know I think it,” Ajani laughed. “I love Father Jerry. He is a good man. He is a big man! Beat Pupsi out no contest.”

They walked through some gardens around the church. They were beautiful and well-kept. Some patches grew vegetables and herbs, others were purely ornamental. Ogun knew his brother had a hand in that. He’d always been good with growing things.

As they got closer, Ogun saw that the church was bigger than he thought. There was a main building for worship, but flanking it were many smaller buildings. Ajani pointed them out as they passed. “School, shelter for refugees…we still get some coming in from northern villages. That’s a gymnasium and I want to build a tennis court next year. He led Ogun into the church.

As Ajani walked in, he dipped his fingers into a bowl of holy water and crossed himself as he genuflected. Ogun copied his actions, but felt awkward and stiff. It didn’t mean anything to him, but he could tell that Ajani had a deep respect for the place.

As Ogun passed through the wooden pews and got a look at the art inside, he found respect for it, too. The stained glass didn’t depict the usual gruesome scenes of the crucifixion, but rather showed people helping each other. There were nurses tending the sick, men giving coins to beggars, women holding children, teachers reading to kids and Ogun’s favorite: a family that looked just like theirs before they lost their mother and sister.

“You like it.”

“I do. It looks just like us.”

“The artist I tell to make Akanke like she would have been if she got to grow up.”

“I think that’s just what she would have looked like.” He felt tears stirring in his eyes and he blinked them away. “I miss her.”

“Everyone misses Akanke. But enough, you need to see the rest.”

“OK,” Ogun said. He looked at the glass window for another moment, fixing the family portrait firmly in his memory. His brother had made the church a monument not only to the good things that people do for one another, but also to their family as things should have turned out. “Lead on, big brother.”

Ajani smiled. “Happily.”

-----------------------------------------

Ajani and Ogun had toured the entire church. It was huge. What had once been a very tiny building had been built over the years (partly with Ogun’s money) into what was now less a church and more of a social complex. There were quarters for the three parish priests: Ajani, Father Jerry and another that Ogun had not met. There was a convent nearby with several nuns who liked to work on the large gardens and vegetable patches surrounding the church. There was a workshop for artisans, places for kids to play and a library with books in English, French and many different Native languages. There were even a few written in a strange Arabic script. Ogun was truly amazed and knew that Ajani had been instrumental in creating this. He was proud of his brother and his heart swelled with such pride that it felt like it was going to explode.

They walked away from the church towards the graveyard. This was situated on high ground to avoid flooding from the small river that snaked its way past the village. They climbed up the steep pathways and under lush tropical trees with chattering birds. It wasn’t a peaceful place: it was full of life. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of trees and nearly every headstone had flowers planted all around.

“I plant the first flowers around Mother’s and Akanke’s,” Ajani said. “Other folk copy me.”

The flowers around the two headstones were tall. They were roses, which required a lot of care in this part of the world to grow so well. They were in perfect health, with shiny leaves and fat white flowers. “It’s beautiful,” Ogun said. They had moved their sister’s grave so that she could rest next to her mother years ago. Akanke had died when Ogun was just a boy and when they still lived in Semba

“I let you be alone,” Ajani said. He took several long, careful steps and disappeared into a patch of native plants.

Ogun stared at the headstones for a long time without saying anything. It was so sad that two people who were so full of life could end up here, in the ground. He touched his mother’s headstone. It was cold. The roses behind the headstones moved in a breeze, the heavy flowers straining on their skinny stems. Some of the older flowers dropped white petals along the ground, leaving only a hard, and round rose-hip. Ogun sighed. He had nothing to say. His mother and his big sister were gone. That was it. He’d never see them again.

He turned away to look for Ajani.

-----------------------------------

The rest of the week went by so quickly. He spent time with his father, helping him make repairs around the house, touching up the awful pink on the outside where it had been scratched or rubbed off. He helped Ajani fix things around the church and even did a few volunteer hours in the nearby clinic.

Mostly though, he just relaxed with his father and Ajani. He drank his father’s awful home-made liquor and chatted about his life: his children and his wife, being a doctor, how the States were. It was easy to talk about them in a general way, and Ekon picked up pretty quickly that Ogun wasn’t telling him everything. But as was his way, he said nothing, waiting for Ogun to sort it out for himself.

When it was time to leave, Ogun almost didn’t want to go. He did love being a doctor, but for the moment, it had been even better to just be a son and a brother. The three of them were all crying when Ogun boarded the bus and he turned around and watched them wave until they were lost from his sight.

Again, he took his sedatives. He didn’t want to feel anything: he just wanted to drown out everything in sleep. Tull was very close, so when he arrived, he was still fast asleep.

Several doctors boarded the bus and helped him off and into the room reserved for him. One of the doctors said, “I can’t believe he’s the bloody brilliant surgeon from the states. What you think, Christian?”

“I can’t believe it either,” the tall white horse said. He stared at Ogun’s sleeping body a little too long and turned away. “Well,” he said after rifling through Ogun’s suitcase for a moment, “he took a few of these.” He rattled the bottle of sedatives and tossed them to Sid, the doctor from Australia. “I imagine he’ll be out until this evening. I’ve gotta run to church. Have Kifa keep an eye on him.”

Kifa waved from the doorway. “I’m here, Chris. No problem. He’s a fine sight to keep an eye on, isn’t he?” She winked at him and Christian felt his nose heat up with embarrassment. He fled out of the room and into the hot air.

He leaned against the wall for a moment and caught his breath. He never expected to see Ogun again. Since Ogun was a common name in the region, he never connected him to the new surgeon they were getting from the States. He shook his head and started the walk to church. He had so much in his heart that he needed to share with God: he hoped God was listening and he hoped as always, that God forgave him.

-----------------------------------------------------

 

Ogun woke with a headache and in unfamiliar surroundings. He could have sworn he hadn’t taken enough sedatives to knock him out so strongly that he didn’t remember getting off the bus and into this bed. He also didn’t remember the meercat girl who was sitting on the edge of a desk and watching him.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty wakes,” she said and hopped down. She was wearing jeans and a tank-top. Her hair was short and her ears pierced in multiple places. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

“I don’t like to travel,” Ogun said. His mouth was dry and his tongue hurt. “Water?”

“Oh, we have plenty right now. Oh, you’d like some water!” She said teasingly. “Here you go.”

She passed him a bottle. Ogun sat up and drained it completely. It tasted sweet.

“Am I in the World Health Taskforce?”

“Yes. You’re our new surgeon, right?” She cocked her head and moved into the light that was still coming in from outside. The light was orange, so Ogun knew the sun was setting.

“Yeah,” Ogun said and stood up, stretching. “I’m sorry to arrive like this. I didn’t expect that I’d be out so long. I really don’t like to travel.”

“Ne, ne,” she said. “It’s nothing. So you’re from Ohio City?”

“No, a small town near Ohio City: Kent Township.”

“Ah. I’m from the Rubber Capital myself,” she said. “Small world. My name is Kifa, I’m an OB-GYN.”

“Ah. Ogun Trabahandi.”

“I know. But everyone calls you Dr. Ogun, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Easier to say than my last name. Is this my room?”

“Yes. Hey, can I ask a personal question?”

“Maybe.”

“Ok. Well, we got another group of doctors last week. And earlier, when we brought you here, it seemed like one of them knew you.”

“Hm. What’s the name?”

Kifa shifted. “Dr. Christian Uri.”

Ogun’s ears swiveled forward, then flattened back. “Is he a horse?”

“Yes,” she said, and seemed like she was fishing for some particularly juicy gossip.

“We’ve met,” Ogun said carefully.

“Hm. I see. Well, just curious. If you need anything, let me know. Dinner’s over, but you can get some leftovers in the mess hall. It’s kinda like M.A.S.H. around here, you know?”

Ogun nodded. “Thanks Kifa.”

She left and shut the door behind her. Ogun flopped backwards onto the mattress. The Christian he’d hooked up with was a doctor here? He felt his heart beat faster and desire fill his head and heart. He wanted to find him, to go to him, to hear him laugh, to feel his touch. He had believed he’d never see him again except in his memory. Now he knew he was here. It was too much.

Ogun opened his suitcase and took out his personal hygiene bag. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair and wiped off his glasses. Then he found the key to the room on the bed side table and after pocketing it, ventured into the hall.

He had to find Christian. He felt so much desire he could barely think straight. His vision was hazy at the edges and pretty soon he was lost. He found a door leading outside. It was dark now and crickets and frogs sang in the night. He saw a figure in the distance, a ghostly silhouette that reflected the light of the full moon. Ogun broke into a run and crashed into Christian.

They fell down on the grass behind the hill Christian was standing on. “What the hell?” Christian asked, but his expression softened when he saw it was Ogun.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Ogun said. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I thought you were visiting your family.”

“I was. I did.” Ogun kissed Christian deeply and Christian responded. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Christian grinned. “You already said that.” His bracelets clinked together as he brought his arms up and around Ogun’s back, pulling him closer. Their stomachs pressed together and Ogun ground his hips against Christian’s, feeling the hardness under his loose pants. He was desperate to climb inside of him, to take and be taken. The feelings were overwhelming and consuming.

Christian seemed to feel the same way. He slid his hands under Ogun’s shirt and then slipped it over his head. He found the button to Ogun’s pants and fumbled them loose and pulled his erection out of his boxers. The air felt cool against his hot skin. He moaned as Christian handled him, delicate touches that maddened him and made him want more.

Christian sat up, still straddling Ogun and pulled his shirt off. His body practically glowed in the moonlight. Ogun was in awe, his heart beating fast. Christian leaned in to kiss him again, and then rolled over. He undid his pants and was naked, lying next to Ogun.

“I uh, I don’t have any condoms,” Ogun said.

Christian grinned. “I do. Always prepared, is my motto.”

“That’s the boy scout motto,” Ogun said.

“Well, it’s a good one, isn’t it?” He rolled back on top of Ogun, their erections rubbing against one another. Ogun pushed his face into Christian’s neck, smelling sandalwood and fire smoke. He nipped him gently and they rolled over again, Ogun on top.

Christian reached for his wallet and opened it, pulling out a condom.

“You know that’s not a good place to keep them, right?”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?”

Ogun shook his head.

“Good. Put it on.”

He did, and gently pushed into Christian, going slowly deeper and deeper until he was completely inside of him. He looked down and saw Christian lying underneath him, his arms thrown back in the grass, one eye closed, the other watching him. He was smiling a soft, almost secret smile: like the Mona Lisa. He looked so completely comfortable and disheveled and sexy at the same time that Ogun almost couldn’t take it. He wanted to feel everything at once: to know everything, to experience everything.

The moment melted away and Ogun strived to get it back again, but it never returned. The sex was frenzied and over too fast.

Christian lay beside him when they were finished and they looked up at the stars. Ogun felt ashamed, somehow, like he’d done something wrong. He looked over at Christian and Christian smiled. Then he did something that surprised Ogun: he reached for his hand and held it. He said, “I like you.”

Ogun felt tears in his eyes. “I like you, too.”
-----------------------------------------

Work at the Taskforce was difficult and the place was always busy. Since Ogun was a surgeon, he stayed at the main complex. People who were very badly hurt or who needed complex surgery were sent here, sometimes by helicopter or car, but more often than not, carried in by frightened relatives. He worked hard and found himself exhausted more often than not.

He saw Christian whenever he could over the year. They spent most of their time fucking or fooling around. He wanted to talk to him, to share himself completely mind and body, but they were too tired to talk most of the time. They were also often separated since Christian tended to travel with a team of epidemiologists and specialists of vector diseases. They usually went from village to village and treated people on the spot. Christian was a specialist in environmental causes of disease. He was often gone and so when he would come back to the “main base” as they called it, in Tull, all he and Ogun cared about were the physical comforts.

Nevertheless, Ogun found himself falling for Christian in the same way he had once fallen for Vince. He found himself feeling love and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t know how to deal with it, so he finally got out Vince’s business card and wrote him a letter.

Dear Vince,
I hope you don’t mind me writing about this. I have found someone here that I think I like, maybe love. My problem is, I don’t know how to be a normal person about it. We fool around a lot, but don’t get to talk very much. But yet, I would say I know him very well. I know his emotional self, at least.

Damn, I feel kind of stupid writing this to you. You must think I’m a complete asshole.

Ogun

He looked at the letter over and over, but finally sealed it and put in the outgoing mailbox which was next to the coffee in the mess hall. He stared at the little metal box for a moment and then left the building.

He took a few steps towards his “dorm” and saw that the Epidemiology Team was getting back. He watched Christian hop off the back of the truck, moving easily and fluidly. He flashed a grin at Ogun and in front of everyone, dropped his bags and trotted over to hug him. Ogun clasped him tightly.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said.

“Me too. Damn depressing working out there sometimes. But this is why I got into being a doctor in the first place.”

Ogun followed him back to his bags and took one, letting Christian take the other. Ogun said, “I wanted to be a doctor after I almost died when I was a teenager. I had encephalitis. It was pretty bad. Everyone in town thought my father should just pray over me, but he knew better.”

Christian rubbed his chin. “Well, prayer never hurt,” he said.

“On the contrary,” Ogun replied bitterly, “it’s a waste of time.”

The reached Christian’s room and he opened the door, letting Ogun go in first. “You really think that?”

“Yes, I do. I’m an atheist. I thought you knew.”

Christian sat down on his bed. “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever met an atheist.”

Ogun sat next to him, but not as close as he usually would have. “I’m sure you’ve met plenty. We’re not exactly a vocal minority, though.”

“Yeah, I guess. So why are you angry at God?”

Ogun narrowed his eyes. “I’m not. I was, but now I just don’t believe. I have no faith. It’s actually a good thing.”

Christian shrugged.

“You’re a believer,” Ogun said.

“Yeah, I am,” Christian replied. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Is it a problem for you that I’m an atheist?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I mean, I try to be a good Christian…” he grinned lopsidedly, “No pun intended. But still, there are so many things that don’t always make sense or that trouble me. I wonder about how Lot could be a good man when he wanted to give his daughters to the crowd to have their way with them. I wonder why the people who wrote the Bible hated gay people so much and women too. But all the same, I really can’t not have faith. I just can’t.”

“I just can’t have any. So you think I’m going to Hell?”

He met Christian’s eyes and thought he would see hatred or contempt. Instead, he saw love. “No. I could never think that about you.”

Ogun sagged with relief until Christian said, “There is one thing I’d like to know. Kifa said that you have a wife and kids back home. Is this true?”

Ogun felt panic shoot through his body. He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. He just stared into Christian’s eyes and watched the love in them replaced with concern. Ogun stood up and walked across the room.

“I have a marriage of convenience.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It never came up! I married my wife because I wanted kids. And she was rich. She paid off all my student loans. We had two kids. I thought that was what I wanted. But my kids hate me. They think being gay is a sin against God. They hate me and think I’m going to Hell. I was offered the job here and I took it to get away from them. To start something new.”

“Why don’t you get divorced?”

“I don’t want to lose my kids.”

Christian nodded. “I understand. But I’m really uncomfortable being with you now that I know you’re married. I’m not a very good Christian, but I do try to follow the Commandments.”

Ogun was furious. “The Commandments are bullshit! You religious people are all the same: you pick and choose what you want to follow!”

Christian put his hands out in front of him, palms forward, like a policeman. “Hey, back up now! I do not pick and choose what I want to follow. I see what is good and right and I work with it. It’s not right cheating on your wife.”

“She doesn’t care!” Ogun had lost his composure. He was shouting.

“I care. Please, get out.”

Ogun did, and slammed the door behind him.

--------------------------------------

Ogun was allowed some time off before Christmas. No one was allowed leave during Christmas, because it was often a busy time for the taskforce. Ogun took the leave and visited his father and brother again.

He sat with Ajani in his room attached to the church. Ogun had brought some local wine with him and the two of them shared it and listened to Ajani’s jazz collection. Ogun told him about Christian.

“Sound like you mess up real bad, little bro,” Ajani said. He was getting tipsy since he rarely drank.

Ogun could feel a buzz coming on, too. “I guess I did.”

“E no go beta for you, unless you divorce.”

“Ajani! Speak English!”

“I am! I mean, you won be able to be wit him unless you get right.”

Ogun shot him a withering look. “Since when do Catholic priests advocate divorce?”

“I be progressive,” Ajani said. “You do not love your wife. Pupsi and I can tell. You maybe love your kids, but there be something wrong there also. You not happy and you can not stay happy in Limbo, Ogun. You in Limbo. You between people you want. You make a decision, you be happy. You already know what you want.”

Ogun poured more wine into his glass. “I don’t want to lose my kids.”

“Then you fight, brother. You fight.”

---------------------------------

Ogun left Oka-Ni early in order to talk to the director at the Taskforce Headquarters. He had to travel to Eka-Lago and wait a day, since it was a Sunday and she wasn’t working.

All Sunday evening, he wandered the streets, the only slow-moving person in a swift stream of bodies. He drank American beer at the bars and momentarily thought about picking up some of the hot guys he saw. He wanted to lose himself. He wanted to forget his pain. But he couldn’t. He remembered what he’d done to Vince. It was wrong. Even if Christian didn’t ever want him again, he needed to behave like he might again someday. He couldn’t say why it was important to him to do so, but it was.

He woke with a hangover on Monday morning. He showered, a hot, long shower and drank almost a pot of coffee. By the time he reached the director’s office, he was moving at Eka-Lago speed.

He knocked and a polite, mellifluous voice answered: “Come in.”

She was a very full-figured lioness. Ogun would have said she was fat, but there was something very pretty about her, so he decided she was full-figured. She was dressed in a Western Style women’s business suit and her eyes were green and sharp. Ogun almost fled.

“Sit down, Dr. Ogun. How can I help you?”
“Dr. Shale, I need to take a leave of absence to attend to some family matters. I would however, like to return once I’ve resolved them.”

The director steepled her fingers. “Really? Please explain further.”

Ogun was afraid of that. “I’m getting divorced.”

She sat back and seemed to be thinking about it. “How long do you need?”

He couldn’t help it: he sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I can have a better idea for you once I speak to my lawyer.”

“You are a very good surgeon. You have been a blessing to our Main Hospital. I have heard good things about you from my cousin, Dr. Uri.”

Ogun tried not to let the surprise register on his face, but he was sure it had. He wondered how much she knew. I was his experience that directors knew more than they let on.

She continued. “I will have to let you go for the time being, since that position is an important one and we cannot leave it unfilled. But when you are ready to return, let me know and we will reactivate you.”

“When can I leave?”

“A month or so should be enough time for me to find your replacement.”

“Thank you.”

--------------------------

Ogun spent his last month working as hard as possible. He didn’t see Christian, but not because they were avoiding one another (maybe they were), but because Christian was on the road.

On Christmas Eve, Ogun was able to call home and speak to his children. He said a perfunctory hello to Sally. She seemed indifferent that he was calling. Mark got on the phone first.

“Daddy! This is the best Christmas present ever!” Ogun could feel his love even across the miles and miles that separated them. He smiled, listening to Mark talk about the toys he’d already gotten from Sally’s parents. Ogun’s father and brother always sent little local things that reflected the culture of the region. Ogun had always known that they did not think much of their gifts. But Mark loved his new race car and couldn’t wait to show Ogun.

When Andrew got on the phone, he heard the same bitterness that made him want to leave in the first place. Andrew said, “How is Africa?”

“Usually very hot,” Ogun said. “I am working a lot…”

“Like that’s new,” Andrew said. “Did you see anyone get killed?”

Ogun heard Sally say in the background, “Andrew!”

To Ogun, Andrew said, “Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s alright. I have seen people killed, but not recently. Most of the victims brought into the hospital here are victims of gang wars and border disputes. They usually make it through.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Andrew said. Then he lowered his voice and asked, “Dad, some of the kids I know were saying that you used to be, you know, gay.”

“Who told you this?”

“One of my friends said that you used to be lovers with Cody Spectre. We know the Spectres, well, mom does. I know one of Cody’s cousins from Soccer.”

“Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say, Dad?”

Ogun sighed. “I don’t know that it’s any of your business. Why are you listening to gossip anyway?”

“It’s not gossip. He says it’s true.”

“Well, it is true.”

“Are you still, you know, gay?”

Ogun debated what to say for a moment, then said, “Yes. I always have been. I always will be. I hope you can accept that.”

Ogun heard the phone drop to the ground. Mark picked it up and babbled some more about his toys and the TV shows he was watching this year and a little about school. Ogun listened patiently, trying to let Mark’s happy world drown out his own.

-----------------------------

It was New Year’s Eve and three days before Ogun was going to leave. Christian’s team had arrived and there was a small party in the Mess Hall. Ogun stayed in his room. He sat and read medical journals and flipped the pages angrily. He couldn’t believe it when he heard a knock on his door.

He jumped up and ran to the door, opening it to reveal Christian. He ran forward and put his arms around him, pressing him close. He was relieved to feel Christian hug him back.

“Come in, please,” Ogun said, stepping back.

“Well, I was going to invite you to the party, but maybe we can have a party of our own.” He held up a bottle of rum and another of coke.

Ogun grinned and Christian walked past him to sit on the bed. Strangely, things weren’t awkward, the way that Ogun imagined they would be. It felt right having Christian come in here, smiling and handsome.

Ogun went to get some glasses and poured them both a mixture of rum and coke, heavy on the rum. He handed one to Christian and their fingers brushed against one another. Ogun tried to turn away, but Christian grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bed so that they were sitting next to each other.

“I’m so sorry, Ogun.”

“For what? I’m the one who didn’t tell the truth.”

“You didn’t lie to me either and I pushed you away. I hope that you forgive me.”

Ogun narrowed his eyes. “Did you hear about me leaving to get divorced?”

“Nope. But I can’t say I’m not happy to hear about it. Maybe after you’re divorced you’ll make an honest man of me, instead?”

Ogun laughed so hard, rum and coke came out of his nose. “Ow!”

Christian took Ogun’s face in his hands and kissed the end of his nose. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away. I really love you, Ogun. I know our relationship is new, even though it’s been almost year now, but I just feel it and can’t help it.”

Ogun blinked and said what he’d really wanted to say: “I love you, too.”

“And I can’t wait to meet your kids.”

“Huh?”

“Once you’ve won, and you have custody, bring them to Africa. It will open their minds.”

“I will.”

The rest of the night, they drank, talked about their lives and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

------------------------------------------

For once, Ogun did not take his sedatives on the flight. He sat back in his seat and turned on his CD player. He listened to African flavored jazz, a gift from Ajani. He thought about the last day he spent in Tull, walking with Christian, holding his hand sometimes when they were alone. He thought about what they talked about and he almost prayed a silent prayer that Christian was being completely truthful with him.

Christian said he’d wait for Ogun, that he’d write when he could and that Ogun would always be his “Fuck Toy.”

Ogun’s mouth quirked up thinking of how stupid that all sounded objectively, but to him, those were the sweetest words to ever come out of anyone’s mouth since he’d first left Africa.

He thought about his decision to become a doctor and how hard his mother and father worked to save money to help him get to the States and get into a good school. He hadn’t been able to go to the most expensive school, but it was a good one. He’d done his share, too, studying hard all the time.

It was because he was studying at the library that he survived the attack in Semba.

In fact, all of them except his mother were out of town. His father worked at a foreign-owned oil refinery and was away for training on the new equipment. His brother, Ajani, wasn’t in Semba because he was always away those days, stealing, cheating, lying. Ajani told Ogun that when Semba was attacked, he had been in Swezi, the rich man’s town, only five kilometers from Semba. He was stealing a stereo. It saved his life. Ogun had traveled to the larger village of West Moreland, which had a library.

His mother was home. She wasn’t doing anything special, he was sure. She was probably cleaning the house, singing softly to herself in her musical voice. She might have looked out the window and seen the military jeeps drive into the town, guns mounted, people shouting. She probably ran out of the house like many people did and, like many people, was accused of collaborating with the rebels. She was gunned down. She never had a chance.

He would have been killed with her. He remembered thinking so many things at the time, but the strangest memory he had was when his brother came rushing into the library and told him about Semba. He knew his mother had been killed. He just knew it. And he was looking at a picture on the page of his open book. It was a picture of a golden field of grain in the summer with yellow light everywhere. And that picture is the best memory he had of that day. He could still remember clearly every detail of that stupid picture, but if anyone had asked him to describe his mother’s face, he was at a loss.

He wiped tears away and changed his CD. It was another of Ajani’s CD’s, but this was all ska, bouncy and cheerful. It reminded him of Ajani and his father. It amazed him how living in a country that was so completely messed up and backwards, they could still be so happy. That their lives still meant something to them.

For a moment, he wondered if it was religion that helped them keep going. But he remembered that his father was really an agnostic. He thought about the house he’d painted bright, screaming pink, about the foo-foo and the pipe tobacco. He thought about the home-brewed liquor. He thought, too, about Ajani’s flowers and the art in the church.

No matter what they believed in, they lived for something. His father lived for the simple pleasures in life and Ajani for beauty and art. Ogun wondered what he lived for. He had no answers. He looked at his hands and imagined them wrist-deep in someone’s chest. He was always cutting people up, sewing them back together. It was what he did, but not what he lived for.

He closed his eyes and leaned back. The ska was so bouncy and jaunty. It reminded him of Mark and of Andrew before he’d become so sullen. He imagined a world where he, Christian and his kids were all playing baseball out at the park. Christian was throwing a pop-fly and his kids were running to catch the ball. They’d all practice until they were tired and dusty, with grass-stains on their knees and elbows. Then the four of them would get ice cream. At the table, Christian would hold his hand, and they would talk about sports and school and whatever else the kids wanted to talk about. Mark and Andrew would like Christian very much. They’d call him Dad, too.

Ogun smiled at the fantasy. He wanted to live there. He wanted that. He had to have it, and he was going to fight with everything he had to get it.

---------------------------------------

The first thing Ogun did when he was ready to leave the airport was to take a cab out to his lawyer’s office. The ride was a long one, and he spent the entire trip staring out the window, finding the scenery alien and strange where it had once been very familiar.

He had only brought one suitcase with him, so he didn’t mind lugging it and his carryon up to his lawyer’s office. He walked in and spoke to the secretary. The secretary, a large, handsome leopard called out to the back: “Yo! Ogun is here!”

Keenan Hobbs stepped out from the back room wearing an old gray suit and frowned at his secretary. “You know, we do have interoffice phones.”

The secretary tilted his head in a cute way and said, “Yeah, but we only have two rooms. This one and your office. Easier to yell at you.” He smirked, like this was a long-standing fight, but one that Keenan didn’t seem eager or able to press. Ogun stifled a laugh at the two of them: the tall leopard and the tall palomino staring each other down. Keenan was bisexual, so the secretary may have been more than just a secretary.

Keenan smiled at Ogun and shook his hand, “Hey man! Nice to have you back! Just so you know, Vince and Cody are doing super well at the storefront you had them take over for you. I had them sign the new paperwork with your divorce and all. You’ll have to sign it too, to be official.”

“I’m glad you talked him into taking it for himself for real. My wife my try to take it away just to be spiteful. So he’s having good business?”

“Hell yes. They’re running a specialty bookstore there: The Happy Atheist. They sell all kinds of philosophy, religious books, religious criticism, apologetics…”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Vince said he wanted people to be able to come in and decide for themselves what they wanted to believe, but I know he’s hoping they’ll stop believing, you know,” Keenan smiled. He had gone to college with Vince, Cody and Ogun. That was the main reason Ogun retained him. He could probably retain a lawyer at some big firm, but he’d always liked Keenan.

Keenan indicated a comfy chair for Ogun to sit in and he sat down across from him on his desk. “So, you’re getting divorced and you want me to represent you?”

“Yes.”

“Ogun, you’ve been really awesome to retain me all these years. I’m not the best lawyer though. You’re going to be going up against the best family practice folks when you divorce Sally. She’s going to have the best. Her firm will see to it. I’m not the best.”

Ogun liked his honesty and said so. “I don’t care what you think. You are the best for the job. You’re one of the few people that actually likes me,” he said, trying to make it a joke.

Keenan rubbed his jaw. “Well, I do like you just fine, Ogun, but that’s not a great qualification for choosing a lawyer. Can I ask? What made you want to get divorced?”

Ogun ducked his head for a moment. He looked back up and said, “I fell in love.”

Keenan nodded. “Nice. Well, it’s not really going to help us. You know this is a “fault” state and if Sally can show that you’ve been unfaithful…”

“It’s in our pre nup.”

“What is?”

“That I could be unfaithful. She said it was only fair since she refused to have sexual relations with me outside of procreative functions.”

“Really? Dude! You really had that written in? Nice.”

Ogun smiled, then narrowed his eyes, “You don’t talk like that in trial, do you?”

“Oh hell, yes. Juries eat it up. Makes them feel like I’m a normal guy, one of them, you know, instead of some hot-shot corporate lawyer. It’s a jury thing,” he said, smiling. “However, since we won’t be facing a jury, I will make sure to use nothing but the best English possible.”

“Thanks. I’ve had enough slang and Pidgin English to last me a lifetime. I used to talk Pidgin myself, but now I can hardly understand it.”

Keenan nodded. “I know whatcha mean. I’m all out of touch with slang today. I feel like a fossil, y’know? So, to get to business: I did draw up your paperwork and you just need to sign by the little stickies.”

Keenan watched Ogun said, then said, “Are you sure you want to serve her the papers yourself? I could save you a buttload of trouble and have my courier do it.”

Ogun frowned. “Who’s your courier?”

“You met him,” he grinned.

“Thanks. I’ll take my chances.”

“Well, call me later and let me know how it turns out, OK? And if you need a place to stay, which you probably will, call me.” He picked up the paperwork and checked over it to make sure Ogun had signed everywhere he needed to sign. He nodded to himself and then put the papers into a cardboard folder and handed the folder to Ogun. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I need it, I know.”

--------------------------------------------------

 

Ogun stepped out of yet another cab and looked over the façade of his house. It had four Greek-style columns in the front and a bright red door. He rang the bell and Sally answered. “Ogun,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know.”

They stood and stared at each other for a moment. And suddenly, in a flood of memory, he thought about the first time he kissed her, and the way she’d pushed him away, saying kissing wasn’t necessary for procreation. He realized he was gripping the folder with the papers in it a little too tightly and brought them up to her.

“Divorce?” She said, and tilted her head, like it was a joke. “You’re divorcing me?”

“I am. We have irreconcilable differences.”

She gave him her flintiest eye: “You know that I am going to make sure I have complete custody of our children.” She flipped through Keenan’s paperwork. “Hobbs is your lawyer?” She laughed out loud. “Well, come in, I’ll sign these and I’ll be happy to see you in court. The kids are home, you may as well tell them everything.”

Ogun felt a lump of fear rise in his throat and tried to swallow it. He was unable to, and coughed as he followed Sally into the house. He knew, too, that as part of the Pre-Nup, the house would be hers following the divorce. So much of the divorce would be very straightforward. Ogun would leave with only what he brought into the marriage. The Pre-Nup was clear on that.

He dreaded seeing Andrew, but the first one of Ogun’s children to greet him was Mark. Mark smiled his wide, wolfish smile and took Ogun’s hand, dragging him over to a video game system.

Ogun was terrible at playing, but he tried his best. He was happy to banter with Mark, even though he could feel Sally’s eyes on his back. When Andrew came into the room, he stared at Ogun for a moment, then left, not saying anything. Ogun didn’t tell Mark yet, because he didn’t know what to say. He hoped that whatever Sally said wouldn’t be too upsetting.

Later, as Ogun was leaving, Sally said, “You shouldn’t have told Andrew the truth about your homosexuality.”

“What should I have done? Lied?”

“Why not? Let’s see, you’re an atheist and a gay. Why not add liar to the list?”

Ogun chose not to say anything about it. He said instead, “Will we work out some kind of interim arrangement for me to see the kids?”

“I don’t know, Ogun. We’ll see.” She turned around and shut the door behind him. Ogun had several suitcases filled with belongings he’d left at the house. He put them into the trunk of his car and drove aimlessly for awhile. When he finally stopped, he was in front of the hospital where he used to work. He got out and went to find Yancy.

-------------------------------   

After spending most of the day in the doctor’s lounge and drinking coffee laced with vodka one of the orderlies gave him, Ogun was stiff, angry and bored. He let Yancy drive since he was drunk and couldn’t see straight. Yancy didn’t say much. He’d listened to Ogun tell him everything.

And Ogun did tell him everything. He told him about first meeting Christian in Eka-Lago. He told him about spending time with his family. He told him about the way his relationship progressed with Christian. In some ways, Yancy said, his relationship with Christian was much like theirs had been.

“Are you jealous? Should I call Keenan? You know, he’s a former lover of mine, too. Fuck, I’ve slept my way through all the gay guys in this town, Yancy. What am I supposed to do? Find a nice fag-hag?”

Yancy had frowned. “No, that’s not what I mean. I’m just saying that you fall into things without thinking about them. That’s what happened with you and Christian.”

“Yeah,” Ogun said. “That’s true. But it went further than that. I learned to fall in love with him.”

“Listen, I know you’re drunk, but I also know you well enough to know that you’re not so far gone that you don’t understand me. I’m saying: is it just physical? Is it the way it was with us?”

“Is that all we were?”

Yancy stared at the road, “Mostly, yes. I’d say you’re my friend, too, Ogun. One of the few friends I have. But I can’t say it wasn’t mostly physical.”

“Well, I never fell in love with you, Yance.”

“I know. And that’s the way I wanted it. Why then, did you fall in love with Christian? Why another religious person? He goes to church, he has faith. Isn’t that what is wrecking things with you and your family now?”

Ogun brushed his hair out of his eyes. It was really long now, curling down to his shoulders. “Yeah, but he’s not a religious idiot. He has faith. So what. I don’t care if he believes in flying pink unicorns, as long as he loves me the way I am. He’s a good person. He’s easy going, he’s kind. I don’t know. I was in love once, and I messed it up. I’m not going to ruin it again.”

“Sally?” Yancy asked. It was started to rain so he flicked on the wipers.

Ogun laughed and looked outside. He was glad it was raining. “You know I never loved her. It was Vince.”

“You’ve mentioned Vince. I didn’t know you loved him.”

“I did, once. I fucked it up. I couldn’t keep on loving him. I don’t want that to happen again.”

Yancy sighed. “Well, you don’t know it won’t happen again.”

“I won’t let it. I’m fighting. I’m fighting for my kids and I’m fighting for Christian.”

Yancy was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “I think you love him, too. I respect that. You and I used to be lovers, but now things have changed. I respect that too.” He smiled and caught Ogun’s eye for a moment. “I can’t say that I’m not sorry. I’ll miss our ‘meetings.’ You’re the only person who ever gave me exactly what I needed.”

“What was that?”

“Pain, and no questions asked,” Yancy said. “You never tried to pry into my life or make things more than they needed to be. You just gave me what I needed, every time, exactly what I asked for.”

Ogun watched him drive and when they got out and Yancy helped him walk into the house, he realized through is fuzzy brain that Yancy had loved him. He still loved him, but now in a different way, Ogun hoped.

Inside, he watched Yancy dry off his fur and felt a sense of loss. All of the love that had been around him and just now he was realizing he had so much when he thought there was none. He caught the towel Yancy threw at him and said, “I love you, Yancy. You’re a true friend.”

Yancy flashed a brilliant smile at Ogun and he realized he judged his love correctly. He dried his hair and his glasses, and then rubbed down his fur. When he was drier, he let Yancy lead him to the guest bedroom.

Even though Ogun fell asleep by himself, he felt like he wasn’t alone. He was under the roof of someone who was a true friend. Miles away, there was a man who loved him. In a village a few kilometers north of Tull, he had a brother and father who loved him, too. And Ogun nursed the hope that his children still loved him and that he could win that love back.

----------------------------------------

Ogun was in the law library at Kent U and had a pile of law books surrounding him. Keenan sat across from him, flipping through another heavy, probably useless book. Ogun’s case was not going well. Dividing the assets had been easy, just as he predicted, but deciding what to do with their children was another matter. At this point, Ogun felt that he was fighting just to be able to see them at all. Sally refused to budge on full custody. Ogun was trying to get custody during summer vacations. He’d wanted to have full custody too, but with the judge being so conservative and so much of Ogun’s past dredged up, it was looking impossible, so he was settling for summers.

But Sally wouldn’t even give him summers. She didn’t want him to have anything to do with them anymore. Keenan and Ogun hit the law books hoping to find precedent that would help them. Keenan’s specialty wasn’t family practice.

Ogun was so tired that the letters in front of him moved like the waves on an ocean. He put his head down and had begun to doze off when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up, expecting it to be Keenan, but the palomino was still sitting across from him tipping back in his chair. Keenan was looking over Ogun to someone behind him.

Ogun looked back and saw Vince and Cody. They had two large bags full of books with them. Vince smiled. “Hi Keenan. Hi Ogun. Cody and I think we can help. We went through our collection and found a number of books that describe scientific studies on homosexuality.”

Cody sat down and dumped his bag out. “Yeah, see, here is one that is a longitudinal study of a hundred families where the children were all raised by homosexual couples. The study found that there is no correlation between being raised by a gay couple and the children becoming gay too. There is also no increase in psychological problems for the kids, nor are they more likely to be bullied.”

“Really?” Ogun asked and sat up. He adjusted his skewed glasses and looked at what Cody had brought. It was a recent study and from his cursory scan, very thorough.

“And I found a ton of books that describe how homosexuality is not something learned, but rather, something innate. A person is born gay. You could conceivably argue that since you were made that way by ‘God,’” and here, Vince made little quotes in the air with his fingers, “Then there can be nothing wrong with it. It’s not fair to single out homosexuality as a wrong in the Bible when people ignore all the other things that are supposed to be wrong too, like creating graven images and such.”

“Thanks Vince! My brother, Ajani, was telling me the same sort of thing. I think these books will really help.” He smiled at Cody and Vince. They stood close to one another and seemed comfortable and happy. Ogun stood up and hugged them both at the same time. “I don’t deserve you two.”

“Yeah,” Cody said, “But Vince thought you did, so I guess you do.” He smiled lopsidedly and put his hand on Vince’s back.

Vince said, “Oh, and I got your letter, too. It took forever to reach me!”

“Yeah, mail’s not a strong point in the economy.”

Vince smiled. “You know, you are a normal person. It’s not easy to say the things you want to say or express your feelings. Be yourself.”

“I’m not always sure if myself is such a good self.”

Cody said, “Vince saw a lot of good in you and he still speaks well of you.”

“Really? Fuck, Vince, I never deserved you.”

“Yeah,” Cody answered, “But I’m glad you didn’t, so I could get him.”

Keenan smiled, “You two are giving me a fucking toothache.”

Cody beamed and squeezed Vince’s hand. They were sweet together. “So, we have to get going, but if you need anything…”

“…You know where our store is,” Vince finished.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks guys!” Keenan shouted after them. He received a number of dirty looks and a lot of shushing.

Ogun was excited too. “You think this will help?”

Keenan grinned, “Can’t hurt, can it?”

-------------------------------------------

That evening, he lay on Yancy’s couch in the deserted house. Yancy was working. It was a little lonely, so he was watching TV. He watched some doctors on the surgery channel perform computer-aided neurosurgery. It wasn’t the best work he’d seen, but it was interesting enough.

The phone rang and Ogun jumped up to get it. He found it on the third ring. “Ogun,” the voice said. It was Christian.

“Yeah, it’s me. You have no idea how good your voice sounds.”

“Yours too. How are things going?”

“Lousy. Really lousy,” he said, and gave Christian a brief rundown.

“Man, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m constantly praying. Every free thought I have goes out to you.”

Ogun smiled. “I don’t think prayer does anything, but it makes me feel good to know you’re thinking about me. I wish I could say the same: my mind is so full of worry and anxiety, I can hardly think at all.”

“You’ll be OK, Ogun. You’ll win. You’re going to fight, aren’t you? You’re not going to give up.”

“No, I’m not,” he said and realized he meant it.

To be continued… feedback? :)

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