A story about Big T’s parents and a black man.

Author’s Note—I wrote this story a little while back but never posted it. My daughter ‘Pancake’ found it and after reading it, she made a few changes, edited it and talked me into posting it. Like I always say the first pancake never turns out exactly right. Read the story and you’ll see what I mean!

My wife, Kim, and our two boys, Big T and Andy, are crying as we leave the cemetery. I sat in the car and waited for my own tears to stop so I could drive us home. We have just buried my “big brother” as I always called him. Jubal Washington was a 6’3”, 220lb, black man who I had known all my life. I should start at the beginning.

Jubal’s mother had come to work for my family before I was born. My mother and father lived on a 5-acre estate. That is about the only way I can describe it. The house was a two story with a detached 4 car garage. It had 5 bedrooms a giant living room, den, office and something we called a sitting room with a big piano. Over the garage was an apartment where Aunt Minnie and her son Jubal lived. Aunt Minnie ran the house. She did all the cooking and was the boss of the maids who kept the house clean. She was even in charge of the yard man who cut the grass and cleaned the pool.

Her son Jubal was “special” as they used to say. He had contacted mumps when he was 4 years old which had led to an infection and then a high fever. The fever had affected his brain. The doctors told her he would never function above the level of a 7- or 8-year-old. Jubal’s dad left shortly thereafter. He said he did not want to be “saddled with raising a retard”. He left for the west coast and was never heard from again. Minnie found a job working for my family and stayed the rest of her life.

I need to tell you a little about my family. I guess you have figured out that we are well off. Okay we are filthy rich. My mom was a trust fund baby. Her dad, my grandfather, had been an engineer and a tinkerer. He had four patents that he had sold to private industry, and they are still paying dividends on them today. We just keep getting richer and richer. My mom met dad just after he got out of the Marines and fresh back from a tour in Viet Nam. They met in college and fell in love. They married and after the wedding he found out that he had married into a rich family. They bought this huge house on five acres and started working on having a family. I was born in 1974, the first born and was named after my father, Anthony Green. I was called “little Tony”. I think at first it was because I was ‘Big Tony’s’ son. But later in life it was more because I was little. My dad was 6’ 1” tall and weighed close to 200 lbs. I took after my mom’s side of the family. Full grown I stand 5’ 7” tall and weigh close to 175. I am a little tubby, okay I am fat. But what I lack in physical size and strength I make up for in brains. I am exceptionally smart. By the time I was eight years old I could play the piano. I graduated number one in my high school class and was accepted to a great university. That is where I met my good friend Robert O’Shea. While he went to play policeman in the army I went to law school. I aced that also. I had no desire to become a criminal attorney and look for ways to keep crooks out of jail. I was more at home in a library doing research or setting up trusts. I did a lot of pro bono work. I am still getting money off my trust fund, so I do not need the money. I forgot to mention that I am an only child. I somehow managed to damage my mother during childbirth and she had to have a full hysterectomy. That might have been the cause of the difficult relationship I had with my father. He loved taking care of the gardens, especially his rose gardens. He loved to work out in the gym in the garage. He was always repairing the lawn mowers or the weed-eaters. In other words, he loved getting his hands dirty. Me, not so much. In fact, not at all. That’s what we had money for, we hired people to do that kind of work. He was always dirty and sweaty. What I could not really understand was why my mother loved him so much. To me he was a brute, a former Marine infantryman who had probably killed men with his bare hands. Okay maybe I am being a little harsh. He never and I mean never talked about Viet Nam, not with me anyway. He loved my mother. Everybody knew that for sure. They were always holding hands and whispering to each other like they had a secret nobody else was in on.

Jubal had moved into the apartment over the garage with his mom before I was born. He started following my dad around like a little puppy. He watched and learned. He helped with the rose garden. He learned to plant and take care of the vegetable garden. He watched and helped my dad repair small engines. I never wanted to do any of that, I was a mama’s boy.

When I was sixteen Aunt Minnie did not come over to make breakfast. Momma went to look for her and found Jubal holding her cold hand and crying. She had died in her sleep of a heart condition no one knew she had. There was some talk of Jubal being put in a home for special people but neither mom nor dad would permit that. So we started to look after Jubal. He took over taking care of the grounds and they looked better than ever.

When I graduated high school, I wanted to have a party with everyone in my class. That was a bad idea. I was the class nerd. I never had a girlfriend and was socially inadequate. It was a pool party and my parents agreed to stay in the house. A couple of the jocks had arrived with a bottle of bourbon and had shared it with some friends. One of their girlfriends was sunbathing by the pool in a string bikini. I could not keep my eyes off her. When she sat up to turn over, I offered to rub suntan oil on her. As I was rubbing the oil on her back, her jock boyfriend took offense and literally picked me up and drew back his fist to hit me. About that time Jubal appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. The guy took one look at the big black man and knew he did not want to fight. Jubal said, “Nobody messes with Little Tony when Jubal is around.” He never hit him, just looked at him like he was going to kill him. The guy and his friends left the party. That is the day Jubal and I became best friends. I started calling him my big brother. He might have the mind of a 7-year-old, but he looked like he could play middle linebacker for the Packers.

I went off to college where I met Robert O’Shea. I dated a couple of girls but nothing serious. I lost my cherry my sophomore year to a girl who I knew didn’t love me, she was just drunk and horny. I was at the right spot and time. Like I said I went to law school and aced that also. I clerked for a judge for a year. Then my parents helped me set up offices in a building close to the house. I was just getting started when my grandfather’s sister died in a nursing home in Oregon. Mom wanted to go. They made all the arrangements and stopped by my office on the way to the airport to say goodbye. I kissed them both and told them to have a safe trip. As dad opened his car door he turned to me and said, “Be sure to take good care of Jubal for me while I am gone.” I promised I would and they drove off. That was the last time I saw my parents. Their plane crashed on landing in Denver. All aboard were killed. The news of their deaths hit Jubal harder than when his mother had died. He cried for days. I tried to take him to the funeral, but he was in no shape. He just wanted to lay in his bed and cry. About a week after they died I came down to make us some breakfast and found Jubal in the kitchen making biscuits. His mom had taught him to make breakfast years ago and he did it every morning. He could put on the coffee, make biscuits and then he would prepare one of three different types of omelets. They were all good. My mother would make lunch and supper but Jubal had taken over the breakfast duties. I took a seat as he put the biscuits in the oven. I asked for one of his sausage and cheese omelets and he started breaking the eggs. I wanted to know what he was going to do today. He said, “Jubal is going to cut the grass then work in the garden.” And that was it. Nothing else was ever said about my parents’ death or the funeral. Everything just went back to normal.

Upon their deaths all the trust and the financial business of the family fell to me to take care of. My mother was the one who handled this for years. I spent a week in her office going through bank accounts and financial records. Whoever had set the trust up years ago had known what he was doing. I had no problem contacting the trustees and providing them with all the information to get it transferred to me. Of course, having a law degree and understanding what they wanted helped. I found out that I was taking my parents’ place on a number of local charities as a member of the board. These charities were all law enforcement oriented. Like providing education for officers’ children if the father had been killed in the line of duty. Or providing help to officers and their family who had become disabled in the line of duty. This helped me a lot in my law practice. Even though I was not in front of judges or dealing with police officers they all knew me for my work on their charities.

I rarely dated. Mainly because I did not have time. Jubal took care of the house and yard. I worked all the time. I love my work. I find helping people very satisfying. When you do not have to worry about making the rent or buying groceries, you can concentrate more on the case and not just if the client can afford to pay you or how you can bill more hours.

I handled coordinating everything with Robert O’Sheas’ case. Even all the lawsuits that resulted in his family taking over that steel company. I took 15% of the company stock for my part in all that. I even introduced him to his second wife. She is a cute red head that I knew was perfect for him. They have four kids and she is pregnant again!

But my love life was in the tank. After my parents died I discovered that my dad had 5 subscriptions to some adult magazines. I never saw any of them in the house. I was about to write and cancel them when I saw the mailman stop to put the mail in our box. Jubal came running out and got it and took it into his apartment. Then in a few minutes he brought the mail over to the house. I knew that it was less than we had received. I asked him about it. Have I told you that Jubal never lies? He will tell you the truth no matter what. Jubal just looks at me and says that was one of the magazines that ‘Big Tony’ bought for him. I asked him to let me see it. He runs over to his apartment and brings back “Cream pies.” Do I really need to explain what type of pictures are featured? There are no articles just picture after picture of, you guessed it, freshly fucked leaking pussies. That is when I began to realize that Jubal might have the mind of an 8-year-old boy, but he was a grown man. His body needed relief just like any other man. My dad had realized this and ordered the magazines to help him! I watched the mail delivery over the next few days and saw him collect other magazines, but he told me Cream pies was his favorite. I admit that I borrowed a couple to help with my own tension.

Then one day I met a black-haired girl at a deposition, she was the court reporter. We seemed to hit it off and we dated for a month. Things were starting to get serious and one Saturday afternoon I invited her to the house to grill a couple of steaks, swim in the pool and let nature take its course. She came over and changed into a skimpy bathing suit. She looked good. I mean damn good. We laid out a little then got in the pool. We got out to start the grill and I just knew things were going to turn out fine for me. Jubal came in the side gate and went into the house to get something. That was when she said, “What is that fucking nigger doing going into your house?” I cut the gas grill off. I told her I was suddenly out of the mood to eat and that she should leave. She looked at me stunned and said, “Just because I don’t like niggers you are going to turn this down.” She had motioned with her hands to her body, which did look good. I went into the house after telling her to let herself out.

It was over three months before I went on another date. This time it was with a salesgirl I met in a department store. She was friendly so I asked if she would like to join me for a coffee there in the mall. We hit it off and I asked her out for dinner and a movie. We did that for about three dates then after dinner one night she said, “Let’s skip the movie and you just take me home and fuck me silly.” No argument from me. We skipped dessert and headed home.

I fixed drinks at the downstairs bar. After we finished the first, I mixed another and we decided to take them to the master bedroom. While she was in the in-suite bath freshening up, (what the hell does that mean) I started to pull the drapes. This window looks directly into Jubal’s bedroom window. I thought I saw him peeking out between his drapes, so I decided to give him a show. I left my drapes open and I turned off the overhead light. I then turned on a lamp across the bed from the window. That should give him enough light to see what is going on. She came out of the bathroom looking too good for a slightly overweight lawyer. I stripped as fast as I could and started to kiss her. She seemed to be really into me, and we fucked in a lot of different positions. I tried to always make sure she was not looking towards the window. After three great climaxes, I turned her over towards the wall and reached over and cut off the lamp. In minutes I heard her snoring softly. I laid there thinking I really enjoyed fucking her knowing that Jubal was watching.

The next morning Jubal was making breakfast when we walked into the kitchen. He prepared his sausage and cheese omelets, then left to work in the garden. She asked about him and I told her his story. She did not seem to have any problems with Jubal. We finished eating and I took her home. We made a date for later in the week.

A couple of days later it was again dinner then, “To hell with the movie, lets go fuck!” I could fall in love with this girl. We do the exact same thing as last time except Jubal prepared his bacon and cheese omelets. We made a date for Saturday night. I thought I might be falling in love.

That Saturday night the shit hit the fan. Somehow, she saw Jubal looking out the window. She screamed like she was being raped. She jumped up out of the bed and started telling me how big a pervert I am for letting another person watch us fuck. I tried to play it off saying that I did not know he was watching. I got up and shut the drapes. She did not believe me. She accused me of planning it all; starting with leaving the drapes open. She ran into the bathroom and returned fully dressed. I offered to take her home. She demanded I call her a cab. As she was getting in the cab, she told me to lose her phone number and if I ever came to her work to talk to her, she would report me and my ‘pervert friend’ to the police.