Chapter 22
“Eye for an Eye, Part II” 

Detective Barr walked over and handed me another drink.  I took the cup and turned it up to my lips as I began to feel rage—pure, unadulterated rage—boiling within me.

“I’ll run get them,” he said as he exited.  I turned and changed my computer so that it was playing a song that tended to calm me down a little bit, “Reggaeton Latino,” by Don Omar.

Images and emotions intermixed as my heart raced so heavily in my chest.

“Lord, give me strength,” I said as I closed my eyes for a second.

As I stood there, the door clicked open.  I could feel another presence coming into the room.  The door clicked shut once more, and I took a deep breath with my arms crossed in front of my chest.

“Hi,” he said.

“Sit,” I ordered.  He pulled a chair from beneath the table and positioned himself to take a seat.

After a moment, I opened my eyes.  I looked out over the city for a second.  It was a remarkably beautiful day.  The sun was shining; everyone appeared to be in a great mood as they walked past the building in which I found myself.

I reached up and took my hat off, throwing it back onto the table.  “In front of you, there is a white binder.  Open it.”

“Okay,” he said as he slid the binder to him.  “It’s just a bunch of pictures.”

“It’s not just a bunch of pictures,” I said as I turned around, turning the music off and shutting the laptop.  “This is what your actions almost cost me.  Do you see the old people yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Those are my grandparents.  The brown ones are my Uelo and Uela from Puerto Rico.  My mom’s parents.  The others are my Dad’s parents, Grandmama and Granddaddy.”

“Okay.”

“My maternal grandparents lived in a part of San Juan called La Perla for the first three years they were married.  Their house was broken into twenty four times.  When my grandmother got pregnant with my mother, my grandfather started walking across the island trying to find any odd job.  When he reached Fajardo, on the eastern side of the island, he got a really good job for the times, with an American company on the island.  They moved there as soon as my grandfather found a house that they could afford to buy on his very modest salary.  My Mom, my uncles, and my aunt were all raised in a three room house.  My grandparents sent them all to college.  My Mom is a Master Chef who teaches home economics because she likes to share her passion for cooking,” I explained.  “My other grandparents came to Alabama from North Carolina in the fifties so that my grandfather could spend the next forty-seven years of his life working for U.S. Steel.  When he finally retired, he was a line supervisor, but he still worked twelve hour days to support my grandmother and their three children.”

“So they worked hard.  My family…”

“Contrary to what you might think, this is NOT about you,” I said as I looked into his eyes.  “This is about me.  It was about me the night you beat the shit out of me, and it’s about me now.  The difference is that I hold the power now.  Turn the page.”

He turned the page to see the pictures of my paternal family.

“This is stupid,” he said.  He stood from his chair and looked at me.

“Fine.  If that’s the way you feel about it, I will have you arrested before you reach the first floor.  And I really don’t think you’ll like prison.  There are men bigger than you that will make you their bitch.  Prison, Mr. Rodgers, would change you.  You wouldn’t be the same person that you are right now, with the nice, good-looking girlfriend.  You’ll have a girlfriend, though.  His name will be Buster or something equally as dumb sounding.  You know, on second thought, go.  You might like prison.”

“Look here…” he said as he pointed his finger at me.  He actually thought that I was going to budge.

“Say it.”

“No.”

“You know you want to.  You want to call me a faggot, just like you did the night that you beat me in the parking lot.  Or maybe a ‘wetback.’”  I crossed my arms and stood there resolutely.  I was not going to be budged by him anymore.

“Yeah!  You’re a faggot,” he said, his eyes laced with hatred.

“Yes.  I am,” I said.  “Thank you for noticing.”  His blood was boiling.  “Now...  You can either have a seat and let me finish with this, or you can leave.  It really doesn’t make a damned bit of difference to me.”

He sat back down and started looking at the pictures in the book.  “So, who is this?”

“This would be my cousin, Noelle.  This is her first birthday party.  That’s me and her sister in the background,” I explained.

“And who is this?” he asked, pointing to a picture a couple of pages later.

“That would be my brother, Justin,” I answered.  “Justin was in my apartment the morning you attacked me. He was wiping dried blood from my face.  He’s also gay, and the funny thing about him is that, a few weeks ago, there was another gay kid at his school that was getting picked on.  Justin came to his defense when the guy pushed this other guy to the ground.  He beat this kid to a pulp.  Imagine the way that kid felt when he had to start telling people that he got his ass kicked by a faggot.  Doesn’t that just sound… odd to you?”

“Yeah,” he answered, unable to look at me.

“You know what he told me after it was finished,” I said as I leaned over the table, getting into his personal space.

“What?” he asked.

“He said,” I whispered, “that he wished that it had been you.”

He looked up at me, directly into my eyes.  His rage had been tempered by fear.  “I could have him brought up on assault charges.”

“No, you can’t.  He didn’t do it to you.  Hearing it from me would be hearsay.  No court would admit it,” I assured him.  “This,” I said pointing to another picture, “is Parker.  Parker was a football champ in high school and still works out three to four times a week.  Justin’s got two alibis if he needs them,” I explained.  I might have been the long and lean type of muscular, but I could see in his eyes that he was scared of my brothers, and he’d never seen them in person.

I turned a couple of pages until I came to the pictures that I really wanted him to see: the pictures of the girls.  “These are my nieces,” I explained.  “Aren’t they precious?”

“Yeah…”

“As precious as yours?” I asked.

“How do you know I have a niece?”

“I make it a point to know everything about someone.  For example, I know that your girlfriend’s name is Gina.  I know you have Hispanic relatives.  I know that you have LESBIAN aunts.”

He looked up at me again.  “This isn’t what I thought I was coming for.”

“Good.  You nervous?”

“No.  I’m getting pissed,” he said as he stood once more from the chair.

“Then do something about it.  Throw a punch.  But keep in mind that I’m sober, and I will fight back this time.  You don’t stand a chance,” I said, externally confident of my abilities.

“This is dumb, showing me pictures of your family and stalking me to the point where you know about my family.”

“It’s not dumb.  It’s smart.  Never walk into something not knowing your adversary,” I stated calmly.

“Dude...  When I hit you, it was because I felt threatened.”

“By what?  A drunk guy who was just trying to walk to his apartment after a really heavy night on the town.”

“You lured me there with that rumor that there was a keg party.”

“No.  I never started any such rumor.  If I’d wanted you there, I would have asked you.  Did I?”

“Did you what?”

“Did I ever ask you to come home with me?”

“No.”

“So, you heard this rumor about a party and you just happened to follow me home?  You just happened to feel threatened by the fact that I was just trying to walk to my apartment?  You felt threatened by the fact that I’m gay, that I’m Hispanic, that my penis is probably twice the size of yours?  In case you’re wondering, it is.  I’m Puerto Rican from the waist down.”

“You’re fucking sick!” he yelled.

“No.  You’re fucking sick.  You and the two people that were with you followed… me… home.  You took something from your truck and struck me once in the head, to knock me to the ground.  You then proceeded to take said object and hit me with such force that it caused the scar that I will always have above my left eye.  You left me to bleed in that parking lot.  You left me… to die!” I said, rage filling my face while fear filled his.  I walked around the table and blocked the door so that he couldn’t get out.  “You left me,” I screamed, just to make sure that he heard me, “to DIE!”  I took one step toward him, and he took one backwards toward the wall behind him. 

He was afraid of what I’d do to him, and with just cause.  “Do you know the hell that you have put me through in the last six months?  Do you have any idea the thoughts and the pain that I have lived with BECAUSE OF YOU!?  For a month after the attack, I didn’t leave my parents’ house because the one time I tried, I felt people staring at me, staring at my mark, wondering what kind of freak I was.  With the exception of my nieces, I have no patience for children anymore.  There have been so many times that I have gone to sleep, wishing that God would take me from the earth so that I wouldn’t be in pain, physical or mental, anymore.  Your actions have affected my family.  Justin beat someone to a pulp because of what you’d done to me.  Parker guards his children now like there’s no tomorrow.  My sister-in-law had to sit with me for almost two weeks after the attack to make sure that I wouldn’t do anything to myself because my father was afraid that I would.  For months after the attack, the only reason I got out of bed in the morning was because I had weed to smoke; I used drugs because of you, motherfucker.”  I looked at him for a second.  He was staring in the blankness of his mind as I stood there, staring at him.  “LOOK AT ME!” I ordered as he complied.  He was about to bawl like a baby and beg for his life.  I could feel it.  If he had decided to throw a punch at me, I probably would have killed him right then.  I would have hit him until he was unconscious, and then I would have banged his head against the wall until either he woke up or his skull popped open, whichever came first.

“Please don’t,” he said as I took another step in his direction.  He threw up his hand, as if he were going to try to push me away.

“Please don’t what?”

“Please don’t hurt me?” he asked as he looked away from me.

“When I begged for my life, did you hear it?” I asked, my rage forcing tears to start flowing from my eyes.  There was no answer, just this look on his face.  “ANSWER ME!”

“Yes,” he answered meekly, through his own tears.

“And it didn’t register that I didn’t do anything to you, and that you were hurting an innocent… human… being?”

“I’m sorry,” he meekly stated as his back went up against the wall.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said a little more loudly.

“For what?  You did this in self-defense?”

“I got pissed because you said something to Gina that I didn’t like,” he explained.  “My friends Sam and Karl convinced me that you were trying to hit on her, and I just did it to defend her honor.”

“LIAR!” I screamed into his face.  He was crying, like a baby who needed to be cuddled by its mother.  “If you’re going to fucking apologize, be a man and not a spineless coward and tell me the fucking truth.”

“Back away,” he said, knocking on the window.  He didn’t know that Detective Barr wasn’t in there.  He and I had arranged that this meeting would be private.  There was an active video monitor, though, that was playing through to his office.  I remember hoping that he’d taken the guy’s parents and girlfriend in his office to watch what was going on.

I took a step back anyway.

“Dude...  I am so sorry,” he said again.  He was still crying, but something, I could tell, had switched inside him.  “I was just gonna let it all slide as drunken conversation, but my friends convinced me that you were going to try something with me, and I was drunk… I couldn’t let that happen.  I felt justified when it was all going on.”
“And in the next bar you went to?”

“What?”

“You should know that I know people everywhere in this town.  One of them overheard that you were bragging about beating me up.”

“It was just because of them.  Ryan…” he started, standing up, away from the wall.  “I’m so sorry.”

“You are a coward, more than I thought.  Letting your friends convince you that I needed to be dealt with.  That’s probably the lowest thing that I’ve ever heard of anyone doing.”

I looked at him.  He regretted having done it, in that moment at least, and that was all I needed.  I needed to know that he regretted what he’d done.  I needed to know that he felt remorse for his actions.  I stepped away from him.  I gave him a little bit of room.

“Thank you,” I said as I began packing my things.

“Wait.  That’s it?”

“No.  I forgive you,” I said, looking at the confusion in his eyes.  “I forgive you for what you’ve done to me, and I will pray that God also forgives you.”  I shut down my computer and put it back in my bag.  I took the copy of my thesis and the photo album and packed them in as well.  I put my book bag on my back and walked toward the door.

As it opened, I saw three people standing there.  The old man looked just like him; the other one was a shorter woman.  Then there was Gina.  If looks could kill, she’d have killed me right there.  I smiled at them and walked right past.

“Excuse me,” the older man said.

“Yes sir?” I asked.

“Is all of what you said he did true?”

“Yes,” I answered.  The old woman walked up next to him and took his hand.

“Ryan.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“I beg you to forgive us.  We had no idea that this had happened to you.  We tried to teach him better than to do things like this.  We’re very sorry that he did this to you.”

“Mrs. Rodgers...  I’ve forgiven him.”

“Are you going to press charges?” his father asked.

“Mr. Rodgers...  It’s my understanding that I have until April 13^th to file charges against him.  I honestly haven’t decided if I am going to or not.”

“That’s fair.  If there’s anything we can do for you, please let us know,” he said.

“Thank you.  I appreciate that.”

Kyle walked from the interview room and took Gina’s hand.  The two of them proceeded down the hall, excusing themselves as they walked past us.

“Kyle Matthew Rodgers,” his mother stated.

He turned and looked.  “Your bad day’s just started, buddy,” his dad said.  “Get back in that room.”

Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers smiled at me; I returned the gesture as I turned and walked past Kyle and Gina.  I smiled at them as well, but it wasn’t because he was nice.  It was because his hell was just beginning, and I found no better solace than that.  I stopped by Detective Barr’s office, who was sitting there quietly looking at the picture that had been on his desk the last time I was in there.  We exchanged momentary pleasantries, and then I was off.

I took the elevator to the main floor of the building.  The door opened, and I walked around the corner to find every single person that meant something to me in the world standing in the lobby of that small building.  I looked at them, surprised but so very happy that they were there.

“RYRY!” Heidi yelled as she ran toward me.  I reached down and picked her up, hugging her so tightly.  I was relishing that moment as if it would be the last time I hugged her.  Chloe was hot on her tail, though, tugging at the bottom of my trousers.  I set Heidi down and picked up my youngest niece.

“RyRy!” she said as I giggled.  She’d said everyone’s name but mine.

“Hey, baby,” Brand said as he came up and kissed me gently on the lips.  “I have a confession to make.”

“Uh huh,” I said.

“We couldn’t let you do this all by yourself.  It just wasn’t right.  So, I got on the phone with your Mom, and we started calling people.  Eventually, there were so many people here that the police had to come and move a lot of them outside.”

“I love you, Brand.”

“I love you, too,” he said as he took my free hand and walked with me out into the lobby.

My parents were there; my brothers and their significant others were there.  My grandparents were there; all my aunts were all there: Debra, Lilly, and Lourdes.  Uela and Titi Lourdes had flown from San Juan the night before just for this.  Armando and Noelle were there, with Efran and Carmen.  Catherine had come from Auburn once more, just for me; Val and Steve were there, with Victoria.  Matt was there; Kristina and Savvy where there.  My only gay friends, Austin, Jason, Gerald, and David were there.  Mary and Tiffany had left a Daniel Skinner and Lauren Ash concert with the Alabama Symphony Orchestra in Linn Park just to be there with me.  Brand’s best friend, Reezy, a popular comedian we’d seen the weekend before, was also there.  Dr. Lekkas had brought Drs. Gutiérrez and Muñoz, from my department.  Ms. Loretta wouldn’t have been anywhere else, nor would Michele, the school’s counselor.  Paula was there, as were Nate and Mike from Justin’s team.  Jen and Donna were there, holding hands and smiling at me.  Brian and Melissa, along with her husband Scott and all the regulars from the bar, were inside as well.  Laura’s parents, Teresa and Michael, along with Laura’s brother and his wife were also there for me.  I didn’t know them very well, but they were there for me, speaking volumes as to how Laura was raised.

Then, there was a ding from the elevator.  Into the lobby popped Kyle, Gina, and Kyle’s parents.

“Watch it, Mom,” Parker said as he held back the diminutive Latina.

“RyRy,” Heidi whispered, forcing me to bend down as everyone watched them on their walk of shame past my family.  “Is that the guy that beat you up?”

“Yes,” I answered, fearing the worst and holding on to her arm.

“MEANIE!” she yelled out, louder than everyone else in the place.  It was kind of funny to see him flinch the way he did at the words of a four-year-old.  The four of them walked from the building, climbed into his car, and departed… quickly.

“PRIVATE PARTY AT THE BAR!” Scott yelled as everyone cheered.

I feel like my voice resonated louder than anyone else’s in the place.  I was back.  I was in control once more.  I wanted to celebrate my newly re-found liberation with some libation and music.
“STARTS AT SEVEN!” Scott said as we all started walking outside.

Standing outside, the sun had never felt so good.  The wind had never felt as soothing as it did right then.  I was free, and happy. 

At the party that night, Melissa and Scott pulled out the karaoke machine.  Chris and Kim, Laura’s brother and sister-in-law, had taken the kids back home, including Victoria, Heidi, and Chloe.  Other than them, though, everyone else was there.  I loved seeing both of my grandmothers standing on the stage singing songs that they both loved.  It was a joy to watch all my cousins having fun.  It moved me when Brand got on stage and dedicated “Dude Looks Like a Lady” to me.

The final event of the evening, though, at around midnight, was to see my cousin Edgardo, who’d come up a little later than everyone else, climb on stage.

“I need someone up here for the song I’m going to do,” he called.  “RYAN!”

“Y’all know I don’t dance or sing!” I protested as all my family and friends, including Brand, started taunting me.

“COME ON!” Edgardo yelled into the microphone.  Reluctantly, I stood from the booth where I was sitting and walked up to the stage.  “Sing the chorus!” he instructed as the music started.

Music began to play for T.I.’s “Live Your Life”.  “You’re gonna be / a shining star / with fancy clothes / and fancy cars / then you see / you’re gonna go far / cause everyone knows who you are … / So live your life / You steady chasin’ that paper / Just live your life / Ain’t got no time for no haters / Just live your life / No telling where it will take you / Just live your life…” I sang before Edgardo went into the first verse.  He drove the crowd wild, even my grandparents were getting into it.

As he sang, I looked out over the crowd.  The reason why I’d called my thesis Angels and Bad Men was because I wanted to differentiate between the two.  Those people that had left in the white SUV, they were, and will always be, the ‘bad men.’ 

However, more importantly, are the angels.  All those people that were in the bar, and those who weren’t there for whatever reason, those people that had helped me through every single second in the previous six months.  They were the angels.  They were my protectors, my family; they all had a part of me.  They all controlled a single slice of who Ryan Gustavo Collins was, is, and will be until the eventide of time.  I was thankful for them; I was grateful to them for showing me how important it is to do more than just survive, but to thrive.

T H E   E N D