Читать книгу Saving All My Lovin' - Donna Hill, Donna Hill - Страница 13

Wil Hutchinson pulled himself up the steps to his third floor walk-up apartment favoring his left hip. It had been a long day. His mail delivery route took him up and down the rolling hills of upper Manhattan. He sure wasn’t as young and spry as he used to be, he thought ruefully to himself. He’d been a mail carrier for almost thirty years and had watched Harlem change from an oasis for black culture replete with supper clubs, soul-food restaurants, men who sported real hats and women who wore gloves on Sundays—to high-end department stores, super food chains instead of the mom and pop corner store and a steady influx of wealthy white yuppies who saw gold in the historic brownstones.

That was then, he mused, turning his key in the lock. Time changes everything, especially the body. He passed his reflection in the hallway mirror and immediately sucked in his stomach and straightened his back.

He wasn’t a bad looking man. Most women thought him to be handsome. But he’d put on the pounds and, years without a real woman to please, he’d let himself go. His days consisted of work and his evenings of keeping an eye on his teenaged son, Chauncey. Wil had big plans for his son. Next year he would be in college. He’d saved most of his life to ensure that he’d had the funds available to pay for Chauncey’s education. But he’d also taught his son about the value of hard work and that making one’s way in the world was how he would get to be a real man.

Wil set down his backpack on the kitchen table and looked up at the clock above the fridge. His son should be walking through the door any minute from his job at the Schomburg. He’d been working at the historic library since he was old enough to get working papers. The pay wasn’t great but it helped and Wil made sure that Chauncey saved more than he spent.

He was just about to get an iced cold beer when he heard the front door open.

“Dad, you home?” Chauncey yelled out.

Wil shook his head and laughed. They’d been roommates for the past ten years since his mother walked out on them and never a day passed that Chauncey didn’t yell the same question. It was almost as if he was afraid that one day he’d come home and his dad would be gone, too.

“In here, son.”

Chauncey came bounding in the kitchen, all six-foot-two-inches of him. Every time Wil looked at his son he was amazed that he’d been part of creating such a good looking boy. Chauncey had never been plagued with adolescent acne. His skin was still smooth and clear with red undertones highlighting his bronze complexion, a throwback to his American Indian ancestry. But it was his eyes that captured the attention of everyone who met him, they were a light brown, the color of sweet tea and when the mood hit them, they turned a deep green.

“How was your day?” Wil asked, taking the beer and twisting of the top. He’d taken two long swallows before Chauncey could respond.

“Pretty cool.” He plopped down in a wooden chair at the decades old butcher-block table. “Hey, Dad…”

“Hmm?” Wil closed the fridge and opened the freezer, searching for something to get started for dinner.

“You know how you’ve been saying as soon as you get some time you were going to go to the gym?”

“Yeah,” he replied absently, pushing aside frozen packages of vegetables.

“Well, I signed you up.”

Wil stopped his search and turned, a frown tightening his features. “Say what?”

Chauncey grinned. “I signed you up.”

“Signed me up where, boy?”

He pulled a brochure from his back pocket and handed it to his father.

“Pause for Men? What the hell is that?”

Chauncey chuckled. “It’s a day spa, just for men. They have exercise, massage, steam room, the works. And they serve health food,” he added.