And This Too Shall Pass

by E. Lynn Harris

  “So, Doug Williams is one of your role models.”

  “I respect his talent and what he accomplished, but my role models are my father and grandmother. People I can talk with every day if I need to and people I can hug,” Zurich said with a big smile.

  “They sound like special people,” Mia said.

  “Yes, they both are. My grandmother practically raised me. Up until I entered college, I spent almost every summer and sometimes the whole year with her in Warm Springs, Mississippi,” he said.

  “What does your father do?”

  “He’s a professional playboy,” Zurich joked. “No, he’s retired. But he was a caddy for an exclusive country club right outside of Tampa. About five years ago he started playing golf himself. Keeps trying to get me to start playing.”

  “I guess your father is proud of you,” Mia said as she acknowledged the waiter bringing her wine.

  “I think he is proud of all his sons,” Zurich said as he picked up his water glass, which looked frail in his massive hand.

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” she asked as she took a drink of her wine.

  “Four brothers, no sisters.”

  “Where do you fit in? The oldest or are you the baby?” Mia smiled.

  “No, I’m next to the baby. My younger brother is a student at Morehouse.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “What about her?” Zurich asked in a terse tone that Mia didn’t notice. She was too busy looking at Zurich.”

  “Is she still alive? Does she work?”

  Zurich began to look uncomfortable and cleared his throat several times before taking a big gulp of water and then finally answering Mia’s question.

  “No, my mother is dead. She died when I was young and I don’t know that much about her,” he said in an uneasy voice.

  Mia let Zurich take a break from her questions as she eyed him thoughtfully. His voice was comforting, gentle yet strong, even more appealing than it sounded on the phone message. She drank the last sip of her white wine and signaled the waiter to bring her another glass.

  While Zurich took bites from his tuna sandwich, he prayed Mia wouldn’t pursue questions about his mother or brothers. He assumed Mia had a wonderful relationship with both her parents and wouldn’t understand the loss of loved ones. At times, he felt the loneliness of a man separated from his family. But Zurich kept these feelings hidden, a secret he held to despite his closeness to his father and MamaCee.

  After a few moments of silence, Zurich pushed thoughts of his mother out of his mind and tried to focus on the eager woman before him.

  “So, Mia Miller, let me ask you a question. How did such a beautiful young lady like yourself get involved with sports and those brutes who play the game?” Zurich asked as he playfully twirled the ice in the bottom of his now empty water glass.

  “Well, that’s a sexist question, Mr. Robinson, but let’s just say when I decided on journalism as a career, the area of sports interested me the most. My father did not have any sons, so he took my sister and me to games and my mother took us to the ballet. We took both ballet and soccer classes when we were young,” Mia said.

  “Is your sister in the media, too?”

  “No, she’s a fashion designer. She lives in Paris,” Mia said.

  “That must be exciting,” Zurich said.

  “Yes, that’s what Tanya says,” Mia said as she took a long swallow of her wine.

  “Where did you grow up?” Zurich asked.

  “In Dallas. And you? Did you say some place in Mississippi?”

  “I went back and forth a lot. My father was sometimes working two jobs and interviewing potential new wives. I was born in Tampa, but I spent a lot of time in Warm Springs after my mother died. It’s a little country town about sixty miles south of Jackson,” Zurich said.

  “I used to work in Jackson, at the ABC station there. Does your grandmother still live there?”

  “Yeah, she does.”

  “Do you still visit her a lot?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What about Tampa? Do you go to there often?”

  “No, not a lot. I’ve been busy with my career and following up on some other career plans,” Zurich said.

  “I’ve never visited Warm Springs or Tampa,” Mia said.

  “So what’s your favorite sport?” Zurich asked, trying to steer the discussion away from his family.

  “Football, basketball, tennis, and in that order,” Mia replied quickly.

  “And your favorite ballet?”

  “Firebird performed by the Dance Theatre of Harlem,” Mia smiled.

  “Oh,” Zurich said quietly. His face again shifted to a more serious look.

  “Are you okay?” Mia asked, noticing the far-off look in Zurich’s eyes. She tried to read his face, but couldn’t.

  “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something. I’m sorry,” Zurich said.

  “You mentioned other career plans a minute ago. What do you plan to do when your playing days are over?” Mia asked.

  “I’d like to do what you’re doing. I have a degree in Communications and I plan to become either a sportscaster or a play-by-play commentator,” Zurich said. “I’m a big fan of Ahmad Rashad because he was able to make the transition from player to sports announcer with a lot of class.”

  “Yeah, NBC’s got a good thing with him. I think you’d probably be a great sportscaster or play-by-play man,” Mia said.

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, I do. Matter of fact if we’re still friends after my report, I’ll invite you down to the station and show you around and introduce you to some people,” Mia teased. Of course, they would be friends, she thought, great friends.

  “I would like that. Thank you, Mia,” Zurich said softly.

  “No problem. I’m sure the people down at the station would love meeting you. Can I ask you something off the record?” Mia asked as she turned off the tiny recorder.

  “Off the record? Gina warned me ’bout this,” Zurich smiled.

  “It is not about sports and it’s … well, it’s a personal question,” Mia said, blushing.

  “Personal?”

  “Yes, personal, Mr. Robinson,” Mia responded.

  “Okay. I think I’m ready,” Zurich said in a jovial tone.

  “I know from your bio that you are not married. But are you dating anyone or otherwise engaged?” Mia asked.

  “No, to both questions,” Zurich said. They both smiled a little self-consciously, before Zurich looked down at his empty plate and Mia looked on the floor for her purse. When she removed her wallet from her purse, Mia was smiling both outwardly and on the inside. Zurich started to ask Mia about her marital status, simply because she had asked him, but he didn’t. Instead he was thinking about her offer to introduce him to people at her station and how things in Chicago were falling right into place.

  Mia gazed at Zurich and hoped he would ask her if she was married or dating anyone seriously. If he did, Mia would know he might be interested in asking her out for a date. Yes, she thought, as she and Zurich waited in silence for the waiter to bring the check, Zurich Thurgood Robinson was quite a remarkable young man.

  When the waiter brought the check, Mia placed her credit card on the brown tray and finished the last of her wine.

  “So what do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Mia asked.

  “I’m going to study my plays and maybe go down to the weight room and work out,” Zurich said as he stood up and moved over to help Mia with her chair. As he stood over her, Mia felt a rush of warmth throughout her body when his large hands touched her shoulders. When the two of them walked outside to say good-bye, Zurich thanked Mia for lunch and the conversation and extended his hand. Mia smiled and playfully slapped his hand away so she could reach up and hug him, and then kiss him on the cheeks. Slightly startled, Zurich said good-bye and headed north on Michigan. Feeling light from the wine and Zurich’s presence, Mia headed south. Walkin
g in opposite directions, Mia and Zurich were both thinking about their lunch. Zurich liked Mia and felt she could be a good contact. Mia adored Zurich and couldn’t remember meeting a more perfect man. As Zurich stopped at a light, he decided he wanted Mia as a friend. That was all. A block away Mia stopped to look in a travel agency window and decided she wanted Zurich for herself. And that too was all.

  CHAPTER 8

  ROOM WITH A VIEW

  Sean awoke in the comfort of a king-sized hotel bed in a not-so-windy city. Then again it was still technically summer and Chicago was cooler than New York City. He had arrived late Saturday night after deciding at the last minute to attend the exhibition game between the Bears and Cougars. He hoped to conduct his initial interview with Zurich Robinson after the game on Sunday.

  Since he knew very little about Zurich Robinson and the new Chicago franchise, he planned to stay in Chicago for a week and then head to Cincinnati to meet with Jeff Blake, another black quarterback, who had suddenly become the leading candidate to direct the Bengals’ offense. He had added Dallas to his tour when the world champion Cowboys signed Rodney Peete to back up their golden boy quarterback, Troy Aikman. Sean was ecstatic that the number of black quarterbacks with starting potential had doubled in less than a year.

  But Sean had even more on his mind. During the plane trip, he drank four beers as he looked out of the tiny window of the 737 aircraft and considered the sad state of his life. He knew very soon his lack of steady income was going to become a big problem. Sean had had such big plans when he moved to New York, first and foremost helping out his sister with Gerald’s development. He wanted to send his nephew to private school, and take him to Met and Giant games, movies, and possibly send him to summer camp. He wanted to be a positive image for Gerald, but sometimes he felt his life and sexual orientation made that impossible. And with Anja’s new man, Sean felt his sexuality might become a problem for his sister, who in the past had been supportive of her brother’s homosexuality. Lately she had been dropping hints about how prayer and the laying on of hands could change Sean. A couple of days after her first Reverend Wilder sermon Anja had asked Sean, “Have you ever been sexually attracted to a woman?” Sean had answered with the same question, “Have you ever been sexually attracted to a woman?” “No,” Anja replied quickly. “Same answer,” Sean said. He knew she meant well, but he also understood that no one person could completely understand another’s life. Even though he had convinced himself he didn’t want a serious one-on-one relationship, he knew he could no longer take a chance with his life every time his libido showed up by picking up men like Greg. In order to be a good role model for his nephew, Sean wanted to eliminate the things from his life that embarrassed him. He was not ashamed of being gay, just disconcerted by his choice of partners.

  Sean showered, dressed, and went down to the lobby of the Embassy Suites. He stopped in the gift shop and picked up copies of the Chicago Tribune and the New York Times and walked into an adjacent coffee shop.

  While standing in line to purchase coffee and a muffin, Sean listened to patrons talk about the Bears-Cougars game as if it were the Super Bowl. He knew the baseball strike had made sports fans a little bit more eager for the football season to start, but he could not recall this much excitement and hype surrounding an exhibition game, a game that would probably be a blowout for the Chicago Bears. These people had to know there was no way a team that had only played three games and lost them all could match up against the Bears, a team expected to battle Minnesota for their division title.

  Sean made his purchase, walked outside, and had the hotel doorman hail a taxi to take him to Soldier Field to pick up his press credentials. It was a pleasant morning, the air felt crisp, the sky was cloudless, like an even blue mural. Sean felt an exhilaration that made him forget his problems for a while. Traffic on Michigan Avenue seemed heavy for a Sunday, with long lines of cars driving bumper to bumper.

  “So, who do you think is going to win the game?” the taxicab driver asked, interrupting Sean’s quick skim of the Tribune and Times sports pages.

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “Well, I kinda hope the new team wins. You know with them having a black quarterback and all,” the middle-aged black man said.

  “You know it takes more than one person to beat a team like the Bears, even if it’s just an exhibition game,” Sean offered.

  “Yeah, young man, I know you’re probably right, and regularly I’m a Bear man. But they ain’t been right since they got rid of the Fridge, Payton, and that Ditka coach guy,” he said.

  “The Fridge had run his course here, don’t you think? And Walter left when he was on top.”

  “Yeah, I guess you right, but they didn’t have to get rid of the coach. I kinda like that guy,” he said.

  “So you like the Bears’ former personnel and the Cougars’ new black quarterback … huh?” Sean quizzed.

  “Personnel?” the driver asked, not quite certain what Sean was talking about.

  “I mean the players you mentioned,” Sean said.

  “Oh yeah, personnel. You know that black quarterback looks like he is going to be a good one,” he said.

  “Well, I hear he is good,” Sean said as the cab pulled into the empty parking lot of the large stadium. Sean looked at his watch and noticed he had two hours before the three o’clock kickoff. Maybe he could meet Zurich before kickoff.

  “I just hope they give him a fair shot,” the driver said as he turned the meter off and turned to face Sean. “That will be seven dollars, young man. You need a receipt?”

  “Yes, sir, and keep the change,” Sean said as he placed a ten-dollar bill in the driver’s hand.

  Sean wished the driver a good day, walked briskly through the parking lot, and located the press office. Included in the packet of information he received was a note informing Sean that all requests for one-on-one interviews with Zurich Robinson must be approved by his publicist, Gina DeMarco. Oh great, Sean thought, as he looked at the note. A quarterback with a personal publicist, shades of Deion Sanders, he thought. This was not a good sign. Zurich Robinson had not completed a single NFL pass, and he had already moved to the head of the prima-donna class of players. Suddenly Sean wished he had started on the West Coast with Vince Evans.

  After applying the last of her makeup, Tamela raced from her bathroom to her living room and pushed the intercom button.

  “Yes?” she said into the little white box.

  “I’m downstairs, pumpkin. You ready?” Hank Senior asked.

  “Yes, Daddy, I’m ready. I will be right down,” Tamela said as she grabbed her purse, trying to decide whether or not she needed the jacket she had pulled from her hall closet. Even though she did not care that much for football, Tamela was excited about spending Sunday afternoon with her daddy. They had decided a month ago that this would be the day for their annual daddy-daughter outing, which was usually a Chicago Bears football game. They always chose an exhibition game because Tamela had gotten very ill once after sitting through a Bears game in cold weather one late October. So now, it was Hank Junior who braved the Chicago cold, not once, but twice, during the football season. Their mother had decided that though she loved spending time with her husband, his Friday night high school games were enough football for one woman. Hank Senior loved the Bears and the occasional college game because he did not have to coach. He could relax and holler like the rest of the people in the stands. He did not have season tickets, but for more than a decade, he had bought three sets of tickets to the Bears games once the season ticket holder requests were filled and tickets went on sale for the general public. With the new team in town, he was seriously considering breaking down and purchasing season tickets for the Cougars, but he wanted to wait and see how good, or probably how bad, the Cougars would be during their first season.

  “So how’s my baby girl?” Hank Senior asked as he gave his daughter a hug and a quick kiss on her made-up lips.

  “I
’m fine, Daddy. You ready for the game?” Tamela asked.

  “And you know it,” Hank Senior replied.

  Tamela looked over at her daddy and smiled. He was game ready with a Bears sweatshirt over his white cotton dress shirt and binoculars hanging around his neck. Hank Senior was a short and thick man, with a melon for a belly, a little pad of extra skin under his chin, and a receding hairline. He had often teased his wife and kids that he was thinking about cutting off what little hair he had so that he could “be like Mike,” referring to the popular Michael Jordan commercial.

  During the drive to Soldier Field, Tamela and her daddy talked about sports and the law. When her father asked her if she had been watching the O. J. Simpson trial, her quick and terse “no” let him know that she did not want to talk about it. This was one of the many times that Tamela reminded him of his wife of over thirty-five years. If they did not want to discuss something they would let you know with a quick word and a rolling of their eyes.

  Tamela changed the subject by asking her daddy what kind of team he was going to have and which team he would cheer for today. Hank Senior thought his team might have a chance to compete for the city title, but he had not made up his mind between the Bears and Cougars. “I’ll wait until I get inside the stadium,” he said.

  “I don’t understand why they have to have two professional teams in the same city, Daddy,” Tamela said.

  “I think it’s great. Now Chicago is just like New York. Besides since the Cougars are going to be headquartered up in Evanston, they will probably have all the white folks in the burbs pulling for them. As if this city isn’t already divided enough. But I sure do like that quarterback the Cougars have,” he said.