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African American Friendship Gay

MY FRIEND, FREDDY

A true story

The year was 2009 and Janet Napolitano was Governor of Arizona. The political buzz was that she wasn’t doing a good job of managing the state’s financial affairs and Arizona was going bankrupt. This was cause and concern for individuals and companies, which included myself and the company I worked for. My company was contracted through the state with Child Protective Services and since the state was supposedly going broke, my co-workers and I were all advised to look for other jobs and, in the meantime, don’t buy any big-ticket items. I took them at their word and because my personal life had fallen apart, I was able to go anywhere. The company itself was a satellite of an international health and human services company, so looking elsewhere was easy, I scrolled through the company jobsite and every position in the U.S that I qualified for, I applied. Besides, taking climate into account, I didn’t care where I went, it appealed to my adventurous nature, and I needed a job. It wasn’t long before I was offered a training coordinator position in San Antonio, Texas, which of course I accepted. During my last 2 weeks at my Arizona job, I sold most of my furniture and a week before I was scheduled to start my new job in Texas, with the help of friends, I loaded my clothes, and only personal items I couldn’t part with, into my 2005 Nissan Sentra, leaving just enough room for myself. It was the second Monday in May of 2009 at 6:00 a.m., my friends, whom I had stayed with for the past 5 months, got up early to tell me good- bye, after hugs and tears, I drove away, starting my journey to the next, new chapter of my life. The 2-day drive involved driving 383 miles from my Arizona starting point to El Paso, Texas, where I ended the first day, and started the second. At that time, even though some of us had cell phones, they weren’t advanced enough yet to have GPS, so we relied on MapQuest. I had previously printed out my map and directions, which were easy, just taking I – 10 all the way. The 551 miles from El Paso to San Antonio was a longer day than the first, but MapQuest didn’t deceive me when I finally turned off the exit leading to my apartment.

As soon as I was assured, I had the job in San Antonio, I started the online search for a place to live. Not really knowing what I was looking at geographically, I calculated the mileage from work to home and then my income and found a studio apartment in the medical center area. I figure being a woman alone in an unfamiliar area, it would be safe and close to emergency services, that hopefully, I wouldn’t need.

I arrived at the apartment complex just before they closed to get my key and sign my 6-month lease. It didn’t take me long to set settled, with only my car to unload. The emotions and exhaustion set in, my mind was racing with thoughts, I made it, I’m here, Thank God, I made it safely!  I’m alone and don’t know anyone and don’t start my new job until Monday, but tomorrow’s another day and I have a lot to do!

 I had only ever been to San Antonio once before and it was briefly on a vacation for one or two nights doing the touristy things. I am not a tourist now and I don’t know where anything is.

I knew before I left Arizona that the registration for my car was due for renewal. I purposely waited to do it in Texas. Doing that and getting a Texas driver’s license were my priorities, but, because I didn’t know where the DMV office was, I thought it best to ask at the office. “Good morning,” I said as I entered the apartment complex office, “I need to go to the DMV and get my Texas license and registration, can you give me directions, please?” “Oh, that’s easy,” was the response, “just go down I10 to Dazavala and it’s right there.” Sure, o.k., I thought they were no help and now I am more confused than ever. Dazavala, I thought they were saying the street name as Days of Allah. I knew what I had to do and decided I would go back to my apartment and do MapQuest for where I needed to go. My apartment was at the end of the complex, in the second to the last building. It was Thursday morning, and the complex was empty, except for one person standing at the end of his walkway, an older very dark complexed black man. “Good morning,” I said, as I stopped to greet him, “I just moved here yesterday, and I need to go to these places and don’t know where they are.” “Well, good morning to you too, from where did you move?”, he asked, “Arizona,” I replied. “Where do you have to go?” he asked, “I need to go to the DMV and then find a Goodwill to try to find a chair and whatever else.” “Oh, that’s easy,” he said, great, here we go again, with the “That’s easy” Before giving him a chance to proceed with directions, I simply asked, “What are you doing today, because if you’re not busy, and can come with me to find these places, I’ll buy lunch.” “I’m not doing anything, so, yeah, I’ll come with you, and I’m Freddy, by the way, let me just get my keys.” I told him my name and said, “Meet at my car in the parking lot.”

It never occurred to me for a second that I had just invited a black, strange man into my car. I had just driven over 900 miles alone, safely, so this was the last thing I was concerned about. I believe God puts people in our lives at the time and place that we need them, and He put Freddy there for me that day.

It wasn’t long after getting into my car, Freddy and I were laughing as he told me, “People don’t do this, they don’t just talk to strangers, much less invite them to go with them, do you get that I’m black?” “Yes, and”, our conversation continued, “And you know I’m gay,” “Yes, and none of that matters to me, Freddy, I need help, and you agreed.”

By the end of the day, we had gone to the DMV 3 times, the county tax office once and the Goodwill, where I found a nice burnt orange crushed velvet lounge chair.

I kept my promise and bought lunch, but most importantly, we became friends!

On that first day that Freddy and I met, he told me he didn’t have a job, as a home health care worker, his last patient had died, and he hadn’t gotten another one. With the weekend coming to an end and the last Sunday before I start my new job, I asked Freddy to go to church with me, “If you come to church with me on Sunday, by Monday you’ll get another job.” He did, on both accounts and when I got home that Monday evening after my first day, he told me, “You were right, we went to church, and I got a job.”

From then on, we agreed that we would always be friends and look out for each other. It didn’t matter what people thought when they saw me, an older white woman with an obviously gay, very, black man, or the other way around. When all the electricity was knocked out of the whole complex for 3 days, Freddy and I “pooled” our food and managed to eat without cooking. When the check engine light came on in my car and I was scared and freaking out, Freddy knew where I could get it checked for free and went with me. I was, again, reassured of our friendship when, while waiting for my car, someone called him about an issue they were having and during his conversation, he said, “Now, don’t you worry, honey, God didn’t bring you this far just to drop you!” I knew that message was for me, and even after all these years, I still remember it and my car was fine, it was just a computer glitch.

Freddy and I didn’t see each other every day but we would always “check in.” I respected his boundaries for his relationship with his long-time partner, and after living there for 3 months and meeting Steven, I introduced them, I thought if Steven could accept him as my friend, then that was a bonus towards having a relationship.

Steven and my work schedules rarely coincided. I worked Monday through Friday with weekends off and his, well, that’s a different story all together! I had never known a truck driver before so I had no knowledge of a rotating schedule, so on his days off, when I was working, he would go to my apartment and cook for me and the other way around. We maintained this routine and our relationship so when my lease was getting ready to expire in December, we decided it would be more cost effective for me to move in with him to his apartment. My car was at 100,000 miles and the lease was up on it, so this arrangement would allow me to save up to get another car, besides giving us more time to spend together. Of course, Freddy was sad that I was moving, but I promised to stay in touch.

The night Steven and I met and sat up till 3:00 a.m. talking, he told me he had never owned a house, so, after we were both settled into his apartment, unbeknownst to me, he started looking at houses online. On a Saturday, in January of 2010, when we were both off, he surprised me by telling me we were going house hunting. He had already picked one out and wanted me to see it. When we walked into the newly constructed house, we both knew it was the one. Steven gave a deposit, and by the end of the day, he was approved.

It seemed to all happen so fast, without my knowing about it but, he wanted my approval, which I did and on Valentine’s Day, we moved into our new home. Having a new home means meeting new neighbors, wanting to show it off and share it with friends and family, for our housewarming party, Freddy was invited, and for Christmas of 2010, I don’t remember if Freddy was there, but all of Steven’s family was, just like he'd planned, when he proposed.

Besides the usual of going to work and every day, ordinary things, nothing takes precedence over planning a wedding. I had done it before, but Steven hadn’t. I wanted to make it about him, but even the best laid plans don’t aways work out. His mom’s health was failing and at her request, the date was moved up from August to May. So, even though our invitations had been printed and were soon to be sent out, we called everyone with the changes, and of course, Freddy was one of those calls.

Steven’s mom lived with, as she had for years, his sister, Rose, and her husband. Originally, we were going to get married in a church we had chosen but because of the last-minute changes, Rose volunteered to have it at her house.

Saturday, May 14th, 2009. Our wedding day! It was small, but intimate, with all his 4 sisters,2 of them with spouses, some of his nieces, and his brother for his best man. We had invited a few of our select co – workers, our next-door neighbors, a bi-rachial, him being black, husband and wife, and another neighbor, a single black woman who had befriended me when we moved into the neighborhood and of course, Freddy. The ceremony was short and sweet, everyone ate, the cake was cut, champagne was poured, the music was playing, and everyone was having a good time

 Even though Steven and I had been together now for over 2 years, it didn’t seem possible. I never dreamed that when I came here for a new job, that I would find myself getting married again, and in between dancing with my new husband, that I wasn’t aware could dance, and the fog of all the champagne, as I’m working the room chatting with all my guests, I see Freddy having a big conversation with my black, neighbor woman. This woman is very attractive, tall thin and always very well dressed, and straight, so what could she and Freddy possibly have in common, (of course, I could say the same about him and me). Nonetheless, I must find out, after all it is my party! “Do you two know each other?” I asked as I approached them and interrupted their conversation. “Of, course, I’ve known Freddy for years, his sister and I are friends.” she replied in her normal, loud voice.

Unbelievable! How is that even possible that, I, a person, who just over 2 years ago was a stranger to this town, these people and this man I just married, have 2 people that I know and know each other at my wedding? Talk about God putting people together, either this is some good champagne or He’s just messing with me.

We settled into a normal married life, and for every holiday or family get together at our home, Freddy was included. When my mom came to visit the first time, she met Freddy and he became her new best friend, and when she died, Freddy attended her memorial service, at which time, he showed me a card, he saved all these years, that she had sent to him after meeting him.

So, now, over 15 years later, Freddy and I are still friends. We don’t see each other that much, but when we do, each visit always begins and ends with a hug! We do talk and text once in a while to “check in.” I don’t care that he’s black, or gay and most of all, I don’t care what people think when they see us and wonder what is that very black man doing with that older white woman? And even though he still tells me there’s something wrong with me “because people just don’t do that,”

 I don’t care, because he’s, my friend!  

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January 24, 2025 18:44

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