even draw and an even burn then he laid them on the counter so each of them could breathe.
“Alright boy. Judging by the look on your face, we need to smoke these Cohibas. I had them soaked in cognac and cured them till they were just right. Here, light up, sit back and relax. Tell the Thump Man what’s on your mind.”
Thumper passed Chapman a cigar and butane lighter. Then passed the length of the cigar under his nose to smell the sweet stench of tobacco and Yack. Thumper turned the stereo to the local radio station that played old school slow jams in the evening.
“Pretty soon, that’s going to be us,” said Thumper with a half-hearted laugh.
“If I have anything to do with it, it’s going to be sooner than you think,” shot Chapman.
“So, what’s eating at you, school, them damn kids, or music?”
“None of the above.” Chapman exhaled with a large puff of smoke, as if he were an old train billowing smoke preparing to pick up speed. “What’s your secret Thumper? When I find out your secret, I believe life for me will be much easier.”
Thumper said absolutely nothing as he looked at Chapman like a specimen under a microscope.
“It’s like this. I have an opportunity to make forty thousand dollars more than I am making right now. The opportunity looks good on the surface, but I don’t know.”
“Shit, that’s simple math to me. What don’t you know?”
“Well, teaching is not what I set out to do. But, I do like what I have been able to accomplish in these ten short years. The job would take me out of the classroom and put me in an office down in the school board building.”
Taking a drag from his cigar, and then shaping his mouth like the letter O, Thumper produced a perfect smoke ring. He took a small sip from his glass of Yack, and then held it in his mouth; he could taste the warm, smooth liquid as it chemically reacted with the nerve endings inside on his tongue, then swallowed. Shaking his head, he adjusted his crotch. “All them young sweet thangs in short dresses,” Thumper mumbled under his breath.
“Anyway! I don’t know how it would be. Will I like working with all of those adults? Will I like sitting behind that damn desk all day long? Shit, the only thing I like about the job, to tell you the truth, is the fact that, just the idea of me taking the job makes Terri act like the woman who motivated me to marry her.”
Letting out a big sigh, Chapman laid his head back on the big cushy leather chair. Thumper surveyed the ceiling as if his answers to Chapman’s questions were written in the paint on the ceiling. Thumper drew a long drag, and then cocked his head to the side like an inquisitive little dog.
“So that’s it...Terri wants you to take the job? Based on what you tell me, this job isn’t something that you aren’t even remotely interested in.”
“But...”
“You gonna let me finish or what? Remember, you came to me, so I can say what the hell I feel like saying. You have been married to Terri for ten years and you can’t even speak up for what makes you happy. It seems to me that she has no problem telling you what would make her happy whether it deals with her personally or it affects you. I’m not trying to split you two up, but you need to decide what will make you happy within the confines of the relationship. You need to ask yourself if you are willing to sacrifice your happiness, just to make her happy. You think she doesn’t like you now─just take that job and then come home day after day pissed off. You have to make a stand. Keep on lovin’ your wife, ‘cause I know you do, but you deserve some happiness also. Hell, I know I ain’t no angel, but Precious and I get along fine. I allow her to be happy and to chase her happiness, as long as it doesn’t tear up our household, and she does the same for me. I wouldn’t want her if she wasn’t happy. Who wants to be with a miserable woman or man for the rest of their life? Not I...Hell, you know the answers to all of the questions you came here to ask me.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Sweet, you are my lifelong friend. What do you want to do? What will make you happy? Then you may have to ask yourself the question, ‘Can I be happy and have Terri at the same time?’ She loves you man. Where you are in your relationship right now is a result of you promising and threatening to be successful and not following through. Shit, you know Mr. Right to a black woman is the man who makes the most money, who doesn’t hit her, who makes her cum when she wants cum, and allows her to have an unrestricted line of credit to do what the fuck she wants to do. Shit! After that, all the man has to do is cut the fuckin’ grass, give her some tongue action every now and then, make pretty babies and make her lady friends real jealous by showing up clean shaven, bald or waved, donning a three button suit and driving a fat ass coupe. Hell, that’s what they want, but they just don’t know how to say it. Damn Black Man, I’m glad you came to me.”
Chapman was comforted to have his friend reaffirm what his lifelong analysis had concluded.
“So I ask you again...What are you going to do?”
Chapman searched for the right words so he could give
Thumper an answer that sounded proper. Thumper extended his arms with his palms facing Chapman like a traffic cop during rush hour.
“Aat, aat...don’t tell me...Just do it.” Thumper picked up the remote control from the arm of his chair and jacked up the volume on the stereo. He noticed a smile evolving on Chapman’s face. “That’s my boy,” thought Thumper, feeling like a proud father when his son finally got it.
Chapman tapped out his cigar in an ashtray and pushed himself to his feet. “Here is the music I wanted you to take a look at.”
Thumper playfully snatched the charts from Chapman’s hand and took a seat on his stool near the fish tank.
“This ballad is tight work. Man, see, that’s why we are friends to this day. You and me ain’t nothin' but some old school R & B, Jazz and Funk Junkies. You wrote this for me right?”
Chapman tried to suppress the boyish grin growing on his face.
“Look at you. I bet you have dreams about playing the bass. You think just like a bass player. You need to just come out the bass closet! Confess your love for the bass and you’ll feel much better. Come here and let me hug you.”
“Go to hell...you are one sick little man. Just look over that stuff and I’ll holler at you tomorrow,” stated Chapman as he exited the door.
“Hey, I need to hear it one time. Tell me what you are going to do, Chapman.”
“Do what I gotta do.”
“You damn skippy. I love you man!” yelled Thumper at the top of his voice.
“Thumper is my best friend and always will be.” Chapman thought driving down the street in his car. Then he began to rehearse how to tell Terri what was really in his heart.
The Squeeze
The Thanksgiving season was upon Fort Lauderdale. Where had the time gone? Terri and I seemed to have ventured into better days. Compared to the ups and downs of the past months, things were looking downright peachy. We were hosting Thanksgiving dinner, with all of the fixings and it was definitely get fat time. She even allowed me to be my old affectionate self again. She was a little
