Page 1 of Only Me
1
Zeke
“Idon't understand.”
The man across the table sighs and runs his hand over his face, spreading the mustard sitting in the corner of his mouth across his chin. We went through a five-minute comedy routine earlier where I tried to tell him he had something there and he managed to wipe every inch of his face but the spot with mustard.
“Your Uncle Murray has left you his half of the Pink Pony Gentlemen's Club. In addition to all financial assets, a two-million-dollar life insurance policy, and half of the home he shared with his husband. Since they died together, ownership of the club and house have been left to you and a Casey Hughes.” The lawyer flips through some papers. I hope he's looking for something that will magically make this whole scenario understandable. “The will stated yourself, and this Casey must agree on the outcome of the club. Either you run it together or sell it completely. I’ve not met Casey since Murray and Luther used different lawyers, but I understand Casey is currently living in the house.”
“You sure you have the right guy? I don't have an Uncle Murray.” I had an Uncle Bob on my stepfather’s side, but he's an asshole and would never leave me anything. And also not gay as far as I know.
“Positive.” Mr. Clemens pulls a large envelope from the stack of papers and slides it across the table. “Murray left this for you, I think it might answer some of your questions.” The lawyer hesitates, then stands from the chair. “Your uncle was a good man. Loved his husband. Helped a lot of people in this town.” He raps his knuckles on the table twice and heads out of the room.
I’m confused. Three days ago, I got a letter delivered to me at work, which was odd in itself considering I’m a construction worker and was on site at the time. The letter explained that I needed to be at the law firm of Biddle and Clemens in Marshall Harbor, Florida today for the reading of a will. At first, I thought it was a scam, like those Nigerian prince emails everyone gets in their spam folder. But then a first-class plane ticket with my name on it slipped out of the envelope.
You have to understand, I’d never been anywhere outside central Pennsylvania. Making the hour drive to the state capital was the most exciting place I’d ever been up until this morning. I saw that plane ticket and got stars in my eyes. Florida might not be exciting to some people, but it is to me. There are palm trees every five feet. The ocean. Alligators. And air so thick my lungs felt heavier just taking in a breath.
The paper seems to whisper as I open the letter. Tight perfect cursive handwriting fills the page.
Zeke, if you are reading this, it means I'm dead and never got to know the man you've become. That will be one of the greatest regrets of my life as I leave this world.
I doubt you remember me since the last time we spoke you were five. You were always a sweet kid. Smart. Kind. Thought of others before yourself. You might not remember me, but I remember you. Every day.
You may or may not know that your mama had you at a very young age. No fifteen-year-old girl should be given sole responsibility of a baby. Our mother kicked her out, and she came to live with me, her brother.
The minute you were born I fell in love. Janice was overwhelmed and scared, and she ran. I don't blame her for that. Even at twenty, I was scared too.
I raised you as my son until you turned four. Then Janice reappeared with a new husband and religion. Her gay brother was no longer the man that had cared for her, but an abomination. I fought for custody of you, but in a conservative farm country it was a lost cause, and after six months, sole custody was given to your mama.
The sounds of you crying when I had to turn you over to her will never leave me.
To make a long story short, I was all but forced to leave town by your stepdad. I moved to Florida where I fell in love with a man. He happened to own a strip club that his grandfather had passed onto him. It was a sleazy place back then, but we brought it to life. Made it one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Florida. Made a family of the women and men that work there.
That is why I'm leaving it to you. You were the family I lost. I want you to be part of the family I found.
If I'm lucky, I passed with the love of my life, Luther Hughes. He's left his half of the company to the only kin he had left as well. Casey is a good kid and will show you the ropes of running the club.
Please know, I love you.
Uncle Murray
I put the letter down,searching my mind for any memory of Murray. There is something vague there, dance parties in the kitchen and family dinners on Sundays that never made sense with my family. I always assumed I’d made up those memories to get through the reality of my shitty family.
Figures my stepdad ran this Murray guy out of town. Dad loved being the big man in our small town. President of the borough council, preacher, and perfectionist. Power was something he craved. He hated anything that made him seem weak, and I suppose he thought a gay family member would qualify.
Pure bullshit if you ask me. It takes bravery to be different. Strength.
I wish I could remember more of Murray. Could have known him as an adult. But I guess that will never happen now.
Below the letter is a picture of the Pink Pony. I’ve never been to a strip club. They have some a couple towns over from where I grew up, but if I had been caught in one of the lectures from my parents would never stop. Dens of sin they would have called them.
Hell, I’ve never even seen a woman naked. Not even porn. Mama homeschooled me through high school. I didn’t go to college. My stepdad said college only bred liars and sinners.
I never regretted not furthering my education. Going from lessons in my kitchen every day with Mama and a couple of other kids from the congregation didn't exactly prepare me for higher learning. Just shy of twenty-five and I’ve never even kissed a girl. There had been talk of me marrying a girl when I turned twenty-one. Almost like an arranged marriage. She was the daughter of a prominent man in our town. But the few times we hung out, she refused to even talk to me shortly after I got the courage to leave.
My stepdad called himself a preacher, but he was little more than the leader of a cult. People gave him everything in their lives and moved onto his compound to find their spirituality. Anyone that didn’t adhere to his strict view of the world were shunned and ridiculed.
Now, after being sheltered for all my life, I find myself the part owner of a whole building full of naked boobs. Blood rushes to my cheeks at just the thought. The place looks well kept up from the exterior. Not at all seedy.
