Dead Fit - 9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Trevor met me at the gym first thing in the morning on Thursday. We went through a pretty rigorous workout and when the hour was through, Trevor asked if he could extend his session for another half hour.

“I was really inspired by your pep talk last week, about changing my diet up a little for better results. I’ve been sticking to your recommendations all week and I’m feeling pretty good.”

“That’s great, Trevor. You’re in luck; I don’t have an appointment for another hour, so we can continue working out for thirty minutes or so. Then we can weigh you in, too.”

I taught Trevor a few total body lifts that incorporated multiple muscle groups, something new and challenging to his routine. Surprisingly, he maintained the same level of intensity as he did during our first hour. I guess he wasn’t kidding; he really was committed to losing the final few pounds before the wedding. When Trevor looked like he was about ready to pass out, we quit for the day and returned to my desk to weigh him in.

“Two pounds, that’s all I lost,” Trevor asked. He was clearly disappointed.

“Trevor, you just changed your diet last week,” I reminded him.

“Yea, I know, but at this rate, it’ll be the end of the year before I get down to 150.”

“It’s not that bad, really. You’ve just got to stick to your diet and exercise routine. You’ll reach your goal, I have faith in you.”

“At least one of us does,” Trevor said.

I walked him to the door and gave him a pat on the back. “You’re making me proud, Trevor. Don't give up.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you next week.”

When I got back to my desk, I wondered if Trevor was going to reach his goal. He was doing everything right, but time was running out and he wasn't making progress like we expected. I just hoped I hadn't built him up so much that the fall, if it happened, would be extra painful.

The rest of my Thursday morning was busy with three more appointments, back-to-back-to-back. While I was sitting down with my final client for the morning, charting her progress in her file, I heard my phone vibrate in my backpack. I let it go to voicemail and when my client left, I listened to my new message. The call I missed was from my fraternity brother, Derek Moore. When I first joined the fraternity, Derek was assigned to be my Pledge Brother. Three years older than me in age and a lifetime more mature, Derek was the first person I ever came out to. Having been the only African-American member of our fraternity, Derek could empathize with me feeling like I never quite fit in with the other fraternity brothers. That and having a gay sister made him a perfect mentor in my life.

When Derek graduated from college, he joined the Long Beach Police Department. All of us who knew him were surprised. Derek had always talked about going to Law School. When asked about the change in his career path, Derek attributed it to his desire to stand for truth and justice. Coming from anyone else, it would have just been a cheesy anecdote. But coming Derek, I could hear truth in his statement. He really was one of those rare souls who always looked out for the interests of others over his own.

During his time in the police academy and his first year on patrol, Derek kept in regular contact with me. By that time, I had learned the ropes of being a college student and found myself switching roles with Derek. I became the one to listen to his challenges and tried to give him impartial advice.

Over time, we saw each other in-person less and less. Thankfully, email, text messages, and cell phone calls helped us stay in touch at least every few months. The last time I heard from Derek was at my college graduation, when he sent me a card and a Barnes & Noble gift card. His call today was an unexpected surprise and I hoped it wasn't to deliver bad news.

During my lunch break, I called Derek's cell number. The line rang twice and then Derek answered, "Marshall, it's been too long!" This whole caller ID thing really ruins the element of surprise.

"Hi, Officer Moore, what's going on?"

"Nothing, Marshall, just wanted to catch up with you. I haven't heard from you in a while. I sent you a little something-something in the mail for your graduation. Did you ever receive it?”

Great, Derek just called me out on my poor manners. "It has been busy with the new job. I haven't even had a chance to thank you for sending me a graduation gift."

Derek could pick up on the embarrassment in my voice. "Well you can make it up to me by meeting me for dinner."

We settled on Village Cafe on Pine Avenue right after work.

* * * * *

When I got to the restaurant, Derek was already sitting in a booth. He looked great. As usual, his hair was buzz cut, the standard look of young police officers. We made small talk until the waitress took our order. I settled for a club sandwich and fries. Derek picked a grilled chicken salad.

“How's the dating going,” I asked.

Derek sighed. “Not well. I met a woman online last year. Keisha, a science teacher at Polytechnic High School. She was fantastic. Smart, beautiful, and a great heart.”

“What happened?”

“Three months after I met Keisha, things were going well with us. She started introducing me to her friends and they all seemed to like me. Then the Department assigned me to an undercover investigation case. Typical. Young rookies, particularly single ones, always get undercover assignments.

“When I told Keisha that work would require me to keep a low profile for a while, she grew cynical on me. Just wanted to end the relationship. Guess she assumed it was a brother's way of seeing a woman on the side.”

“Is the assignment over?”

“Yea, but when you successfully complete one assignment, they just roll you right back on another one. Especially if you did a good job.”

“Can't you ask to be put back on patrol?” I was feeling a little out of my league asking questions based on watching episodes of Law & Order.

“It's not that easy. Patrol would be a step in different direction for me. For now, I'm just going to keep my mouth shut, take the undercover assignments as they come along. It won't be too long before I have a say in what’s given to me. I'll manage in the meantime."

The waitress brought out our food. She detected that we were in the middle of a good conversation and scurried off as quickly as she came.

Derek helped himself to one my fries and said, “Enough of my whining, Marshall. How are things going for you?”

“My life is pretty dull compared to yours. Unlike you, I’m no longer undercover, if you know what I mean.”

Derek smiled at my reference to coming out. "Did you ever tell anyone else in the house that you're gay?”

I took a bite out of my sandwich. "I never told anyone else in the fraternity after you. If anyone would have asked, I would have told them. But I just wasn't ready to volunteer the information. I think most of the guys suspected that I was probably gay. I never had a girlfriend. I never bragged about getting lucky after a party. I mean, come on, it couldn't have been that hard to figure out."

"You'd be surprised, Marshall. If someone asked me who in the house I thought was gay, you would have been pretty low on my list."

"Really," I asked.

"Right or wrong, most people have an image of how a gay man acts. It's no different than how people think a black man acts. You certainly don't fit your stereotypes and neither do I," Derek explained.

"You know, if you would have told me four years ago that I didn't have a gay vibe, I probably would have been proud. For the longest time, I wanted to distance myself from the gay cliché, both the positive and negative attributes. I guess deep down inside, I was embarrassed. But now as I'm getting more comfortable in my own skin, I'm also becoming aware of judgments I make of other gay men. It makes me uneasy to think I may have prejudices against my own.”

"I can't tell you what's going on in your mind, Marshall, because I’m not you. But I can tell you I don’t think what you’re feeling is all that unusual. I can relate to a lot of what you’re saying. When I was a kid, some of the images I saw of black men on television and in films were awful – we were portrayed as boisterous, chauvinistic, and bitter. It made me embarrassed to be black. And when I saw a black man exhibiting these characteristics in real life, I felt like disassociating myself from the black community. Just like you, I found myself judging my own.

“The older I got, the more I realized that I was honing in on just stuff that bothered me. In reality, every segment of the population, whether based on race, gender, age or sexual orientation, has some of the same characteristics as every other segment. There are plenty of white, brown, red, and yellow men that are boisterous, chauvinistic, and bitter, too. It just happens that since I'm a black man, I felt I had to carry the responsibility of answering for all actions of black men, particularly the negative ones. But when I figured out the only person I’m responsible for is myself, it was a big weight off my shoulders. I found myself being less judgmental of other black men. And then, I found myself being less judgmental of others, too. Personally, I'm glad to hear that you're becoming more aware of your judgments. It tells me you're maturing.”

This conversation with Derek reminded me of why I was so fond of him. He had a remarkable perspective of human nature and I found his insight could often help me better understand myself and others.

When he was almost finished with his dinner, Derek dug around his salad, searching for any bits of remaining chicken. He seemed satisfied that only scraps of iceberg lettuce remained, put down his fork and asked, "So, how's the job going?"

"So far, so good. I've been with the gym for a little over two months now. I'm making decent money, learning a lot. My boss can be a jerk, but hey, isn't that the complaint we all have?"

"Are you happy with your career choice?"

"Happy is relative. I'm glad to be out of school, I'll tell you that much. I like what I do for a living. I really do feel like I am helping people achieve their fitness goals. Can I see myself doing this forever? Probably not, but this job does help me pay the bills until I figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life."

“You still live at home,” he asked.

“Yea, that's the one thing I need to change pretty soon, Derek. I like my parents and all, but I’m feeling the need for a little independence. I've lived with them all my life. And dating is also tougher when you can't bring anyone home.”

“Are you dating now?”

“I'm not really sure how to answer that question. I met a guy and we've gone out a few times. He's seems really cool, but I'm not holding my breath. He's rich and very good looking. I can't figure out why he would date me.”

“Don't sell yourself short,” Derek said. “It's not attractive. Tell me about him.”

I told Derek about Brian, including our fortuitous encounter at the gym. I gave him a pretty accurate account of our two dates; however, I did leave out details of the intimacy. Not that there was much to tell, but as open-minded as Derek was, he was still a straight man and I didn’t think he wanted to hear about the romantic aspects of gay relationships.

When I finished telling Derek about Brian, he said, “So, at least it sounds like it's going good for one of us in the dating category. I'm happy for you.”

I could tell Derek meant what he said. It felt great to be able to finally talk to someone about a relationship that I was in. For my whole life, it was always the other way around.

When the check arrived, we split the bill and headed out. I walked Derek to his unmarked patrol car. He got in and said, “Let's try to stay in better touch, Marshall.”

“You got it, Derek.”

Little did I know the next time we would speak, I’d want to end my friendship with Derek.