And This Too Shall Pass

by E. Lynn Harris

  “What happened to him?” Mia asked.

  “Well, my Zach called me one morning and his voice was real frail, sick-like, and he said, ‘MamaCee,’ that’s what he called me, he said, ‘MamaCee, I need to see you one mo time, I need one of yo hugs and stories to let me know everything gonna be all right.’ I told him it would be all right and what did he want me to do? He said he wanted me to come up to New York City, but I had to catch one of them planes ’cause he didn’t think he could wait on the Greyhound. I wanted to git on that plane to come up there and hug my grandbaby, but I was just so scared, you know, thinkin’ that plane was going to fall out of the sky and I was gonna beat my grandbaby to glory. So I went down to the bus station to git me a ticket to New York,” MamaCee said as long, slow tears descended down her face, tears as long and slow as one of her stories.

  Now completely engrossed, Mia asked softly, “Why were you scared?”

  “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know. When I got back home from the bus station, I was packing my stuff and sanging to myself. I was sanging ‘I Will Trust in The Lord.’ You ever heard that song, baby?”

  “No.” Mia had attended a white Catholic Church and she was unfamiliar with Negro spirituals.

  “Oh, it’s a beautiful song. ‘I will trust in the Lord, I will trust in the Lord till I die,’ ” MamaCee sang softly. “When my legs git real stiff and ache a lot, I know that trouble is nearby and that trouble usually means my own children or my grandbabies.”

  “But I don’t guess I did. Anyhow, ‘spite my legs and my grandbaby’s pleas, I got on that bus headed for New York. The first day it seem like that bus was moving so slow, I just knew I had made a terrible mistake. I just felt it. When we got to Ohio, I got off the bus and I called my Zach to tell him to hold on, that Grandma was on the way. But there was no answer at his apartment and my heart, oh, baby, it became so heavy ’cause I knew somethin’ was wrong,” MamaCee said as the tears continued.

  Mia took MamaCee’s hands in her own and asked, “What happened?”

  “Well, my Zach had gone on to glory, probably ’bout the time that bus pulled into Ohio and I didn’t git to give him that hug he needed before he went to meet the Lord,” MamaCee said, sobbing softly. Mia reached for a tissue from the little box on the magazine table.

  “Oh, look at me. Here I am in here trying to look beautiful and this old lady is crying like a baby. Now they gonna have to put some of that makeup stuff on me,” MamaCee said as she tried to laugh.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Mia asked.

  “Yeah, baby, I gonna be all right ’cause I asked the Lord to forgive me. And then I told myself that I had to forgive me. You know, for the mistakes I made. The good Lord forgives you when you forgive yourself,” MamaCee said tenderly. “And isn’t it good to know that the good Lord is forgiving every second of the day?”

  Tamela rang the doorbell of the penthouse suite at the Four Seasons hotel. Here she was, an overnight bag in tow, about to spend the night with a man she had never even kissed. Caliph opened the door, looking like a pinup for a police recruitment poster, and her knees became weak. In her head she told herself, Don’t end up with your panties on your forehead, Miss Thang.

  “Tamela, welcome to my penthouse,” he said as he took her bag. Caliph took her hand and led her into the most beautiful hotel suite she had ever seen.

  “Caliph, this is so nice.” She looked around the plush living area, furnished with an egg-shell-white couch and matching settee and armchair, marble tables, a fireplace, and a white baby grand piano. A wood and polished brass wet bar stood near sliding glass doors that opened onto a large terrace.

  “True, true. Tom Joyner, Sybil, and the Four Seasons act like they know how to treat a brother,” Caliph said. He placed her bag near the bar, then seemed at a loss for words. “Can I get you something to drink?” Caliph asked quickly.

  Good, she thought, he’s nervous, too. “Sure, maybe just some mineral water for now.”

  “Come on, now. I’ve got a great bottle of wine already chilled. I know you’ve had a rough week. And we’re here to celebrate making it through another week.”

  “Yes, it has been a rough week. All right, I will have the wine,” Tamela said as she walked toward the terrace and enjoyed the view of dusk covering a busy Michigan Avenue and Lake Michigan in the distance. “Oh, this is exquisite. I’m going to have to start calling that radio show myself.”

  “If you win something like this, I hope you’ll include me,” Caliph said.

  “That depends on how well you behave,” Tamela teased. This was different, she thought, a man encouraging her to think about future dates before they had even kissed.

  “True … true,” Caliph said. “Come on over here and sit next to me; let’s just talk for a minute.”

  Tamela joined Caliph on the sofa, where two glasses of white wine waited on the marble coffee table. Caliph handed Tamela her glass, then lifted his toward hers and said, “Here’s to a beautiful lady and an evening of equal beauty.” Tamela smiled back coyly and sipped the light sweetness of the wine.

  “You look great in your uniform. I don’t remember it looking that good at the stadium,” Tamela said.

  “This is my everyday work git-up. I have something else I’m going to change into later,” he said as he winked and took a sip of his wine. Tamela noticed the sensual look in his eyes and felt the warm glow of the wine spread throughout her body. She felt safe.

  “So how was your day?” she asked.

  “It was great. I talked to my daughter two times. She was kinda upset that I won’t see her this weekend, but I promised her we’d go and see The Lion King next weekend for the third time,” he said.

  “You really love your daughter, don’t you?” Tamela said softly.

  “True. She is my deepest joy,” Caliph said. “If I could, I’d have a dozen more,” he added. His words and the look in his eyes caused Tamela’s eyes to mist, and she quickly changed the subject.

  “Boy, this is a really a fabulous hotel. That lobby is something else,” Tamela said as she looked around the room, avoiding Caliph’s eyes. She reached down to press her hand into the taupe plush carpet and said, “Amazing carpet.”

  “True. But you can tell they don’t get a lot of us in here,” Caliph said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Just the way they looked at me when I walked in here. It was like I had spilled collard green juice in the lobby,” he laughed.

  “You know that’s called pot liquor,” Tamela said.

  “You call it pot liquor, I call it collard green juice,” Caliph laughed.

  “You so crazy,” Tamela said as she joined him laughing.

  “True … true. You know this must be a real high-class joint ’cause I didn’t see that many brothers working the door or carrying the bags,” Caliph joked.

  “Yeah, it’s all right,” Tamela said as she looked toward an open set of French doors and saw the edge of a bed.

  Caliph gave Tamela a tour of the two-bedroom suite, informing her she could have first choice on the bedroom selection, and when they walked back into the living area he asked, “What do you want to do first? They have a wonderful health club. I’ve already checked it out, and there is a jazz bar in the main lobby. And you know Rush Street is only a couple of blocks away. Oh … oh … I almost forgot. We’re going to have dinner served at eight. It came with the deal. It’s some kind of special meal the chef is preparing just for us,” Caliph said.

  “I’m scared of you and the Four Seasons,” Tamela said as she took another sip of her wine.

  “There is nothing to be frightened of,” Caliph smiled. He realized she was a little nervous and he wanted to concentrate on getting her to relax and enjoy herself and him. They finished their wine and went to separate bedrooms to prepare for dinner.

  Later, Tamela emerged from the bedroom and was greeted by Caliph with an umph, umph, umph look on his face. Tamela wore black gauze harem pants and a black s
heer pullover. She couldn’t stop smiling if she tried as she gazed approvingly at Caliph, dressed in navy blue silk pants and bone knit pullover. He took her by the hand and led her into the dining area, where an elegantly dressed waiter was preparing to serve them dinner on a candlelit linen-covered dining table, with custom-built chairs. The waiter started to seat Tamela, but Caliph stopped him. He pulled her chair out and whispered, “I hope they know how to burn here, but if they don’t I got backup.” He sat down facing her across the table with a immense smile. The waiter poured a little wine in his glass and after tasting it, Caliph nodded toward the waiter, who filled Tamela’s glass and then his. After a tasty pumpkin soup, a Caesar salad was served on beautiful beige-and-blue china. In the background, Sade’s greatest hits were playing and the waiter returned to fill the water and wine glasses. Tamela started to whisper to Caliph that the waiter had great taste in music but could hear her mother saying it was impolite to whisper.

  When the main course, a lemon and béarnaise-covered salmon mousse, was served, they found themselves picking at it. As they sipped their wine, Caliph slowly placed a large, warm hand over Tamela’s and she smiled sweetly.

  Finally, Caliph asked the waiter to remove the dinner plates and serve the coffee and brandy in the living area. Caliph gently pulled Tamela’s chair from the table. When she stood, he turned her to face him, their bodies inches apart. He held her briefly and they gazed into each other’s eyes. Caliph placed his hand at the soft center of Tamela’s back and guided her into the living area. They sat together on the long sofa, their thighs and shoulders barely touching.

  Caliph ran his fingers lightly down Tamela’s arm, then back up to the softness of her neck above her top. He turned her chin toward him and, looking deep into her doe eyes, whispered, “Are you having a good time, baby?” Tamela felt a surge of heat flow from her head to her toes, as if Caliph’s voice were pulling steam from her body.

  “I’m having a wonderful time,” she whispered back. He leaned closer and Tamela felt her heart begin to race as Caliph brushed his lips across her cheek.

  “What’s your pleasure, Tamela?” Caliph whispered, his full lips now close to her ear. Tamela pulled away, easing back into the sofa cushions. She felt flushed and took a deep breath.

  “What’s my pleasure?” she repeated.

  Caliph’s smile spread slowly across his broad face. With an impish wink, he got up and walked over to the entertainment area and turned off the music. “Come on over here with me,” he said as he sat down at the baby grand and patted the bench next to him. Tamela walked over and eased down close to him. She loved being near him, and leaned her head against his shoulders, inhaling his masculine scent and brawny cologne.

  Very slowly and delicately, Caliph began playing the piano. He moved smoothly into a jazz piece and Tamela was quietly pleased at how well Caliph played. His large fingers teased the keys softly, as though playing the piano was giving him a wonderful sensation. Tamela looked at him and asked, “How long have you been playing?” Without stopping, Caliph said, “Off and on since I was thirteen.”

  “You play splendidly. This is just wonderful, Caliph,” Tamela said as she squeezed his right arm, then rested her hand on his thigh.

  Caliph ended his concert with a jazzy rendition of Babyface’s “Tender Lover,” and Tamela began to melt like butter in a microwave. Caliph turned and looked into Tamela’s eyes and said, “You have the right to remain silent.” Taking her into his arms, he kissed her. It was a slow kiss. His full lips covered Tamela’s. She thought, This man could do this for a living. They kissed nonstop for over ten minutes. Tasting each other, discovering each other, hands, fingers caressing each other. When they came up for air, they both broke out giggling like little kids.

  “Now that was nice,” Caliph said. “Who taught you how to kiss like that?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Tamela replied. Caliph gave her a quick peck on the lips and went over and put on a Marcus Roberts disc. They moved back to the sofa and as they sat down, Caliph’s stomach growled so loud it embarrassed him. “I knew that soup and salad wasn’t going to hold me for long. I’m a growing boy.”

  “Yeah, I’m kinda hungry too. You want to go out and get something to eat?”

  “Your wish is my command and you don’t have to move from that spot,” he said as he picked up the phone and called room service, asking if they could heat something up for him. They promised to send someone right up.

  “What are you doing?” Tamela asked.

  “It’s a surprise.” Tamela smiled because she loved surprises. Moments later, the rich tone of the penthouse doorbell sounded and Caliph rushed into the bedroom. He returned with a brown bag, opened the door and handed the bag to the young black room service attendant. “Make sure they heat this up right, brotherman.” The young man smiled and assured him he would “be back in a flash!”

  “What did you give him?” Tamela asked.

  Caliph placed his forefinger to his lips. “My lips are sealed. It won’t be a surprise if I tell,” he said. “Come over here and help me find some mood music.” Tamela walked over to the CD player and wrapped her arms around Caliph’s waist from behind. She felt his flat, hard stomach and nuzzled her face against his back. Caliph found a Toni Braxton CD and the soulful sounds of Toni’s voice filled the room. He turned in Tamela’s arms and kissed her just as the doorbell rang again. Tamela pulled herself from his embrace and said, “This time I’m gonna get it.” Caliph tried to grab her as she raced toward the door.

  When she opened the door, the young black man was standing there smiling with a covered silver platter raised to shoulder height and resting on one hand.

  “Good evening, Miss, shall I serve you at the dining room table?”

  Before she could answer, Caliph stepped in front of her and said, “Naw, bro, I’ll take care of it.” He took the platter from the young man and pressed a five-dollar bill into his hands.

  After Caliph closed the door, Tamela looked at him with a curious smile.

  “What’cha looking at? You want some of what I got? Like this is some Harold’s fried chicken. Straight from the South Side. And guess what? I got some hot sauce in my bag, too,” Caliph boasted.

  “You’re something else,” Tamela laughed. She loved the way he made her feel funny and sexy at the same time.

  “Girl, come on, let’s get busy. We got some fried bird waiting,” he said as he playfully waved the dish of chicken under Tamela’s nose. They sat on the floor and enjoyed the fried chicken as if they were on a picnic. Caliph had a sneaky smile on his face.

  “What’s that smile about?”

  “I was just thinking that something is missing,” he said.

  “What? Some collard green juice?” Tamela teased.

  “Naw. I’m talking about something to drink. You know some jug wine. You know the kind that’s best served buck naked.”

  “You know you’re some kinda fool,” Tamela laughed.

  “But you kinda like it, don’t cha?” Tamela just looked at him, rolled her eyes, and smiled softly.

  Tamela reminded Caliph of a pigtailed little girl, sitting crossed-leg on the floor, wiggling her toes in the deep carpet, oblivious to the smear of grease on the left side of her face as she put away her second chicken leg. Caliph lay on his side beside her and finished off his third piece of the spicy fried chicken. They kicked off their shoes and joked with each other about who was going to get the last wing. Tamela conceded to Caliph and began looking around for something to wipe her hands on. “Here,” Caliph said, and took both her hands in each of his. He meticulously licked each and every finger, smacking his lips and giving Tamela a mischievous grin each time he finished one of them. As her fingers rested inside Caliph’s warm mouth, Tamela was thinking, Don’t start something you can’t finish, Mister Policeman.

  “Now what’s that face about?” Caliph teased as he stopped his cleansing.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Tamela said an
d wiped her face on a corner of the tablecloth. She took Caliph’s face in her hand and carefully dabbed the corner of his mouth.

  “Come closer,” Caliph said, “I think you missed a spot.” He closed his eyes and compressed his lips. Tamela leaned down and brushed her lips across Caliph’s upturned mouth, then gave him a quick peck on the nose.

  “You know you ain’t even right,” Caliph said, pulling Tamela down on top of him in mock indignation. He felt so good beneath her and Tamela felt her face flush.

  “Let’s go out on the terrace,” she said, hoping the night air would cool her off.

  Caliph and Tamela took a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes and walked out onto the terrace. The sky was a clear, dark, and deep backdrop for a brilliant array of sparkling stars. So high above the city, Caliph and Tamela felt like the only two people in the world. Side by side, they leaned on the ornate railing that ran the length of the suite-long terrace. Caliph placed his arm around Tamela’s shoulders and they sipped champagne in silent awe of the wonders of the universe.

  “It’s so beautiful out here,” Tamela said, enjoying their closeness.

  Caliph spoke in a low, sweet-talking voice, the unmistakable tone of sex. “You know, those stars are beautiful,” he said, placing their glasses on a nearby patio table. “But tonight they are a distant second to you.” Just as Tamela was preparing her nigger plezze look, he took her into his strong arms and kissed her as she’d never been kissed before. He kissed her hard, his tongue exploring her mouth, then dancing with her own tongue. He kissed her softly and the tingle that played on her lips became a rhythmic throbbing where their bodies touched.

  “You really don’t realize how beautiful you are, do you?” he asked in a serious tone.

  “Show me,” Tamela said. Caliph slowly stroked her neck, then her back, letting his hand rest on her full hips. He pressed her closer to him and felt her body tremble ever so slightly. He slid his hand across her butt, then under her blouse and released her erect nipples from the confines of her black lacy bra. Caliph paused; he didn’t want to rush her. But the mere thought of his piano-playing fingers on her breasts quickened the throbbing in Tamela’s body and she slid her hand between them and returned the favor, releasing Caliph’s now erect sex from the confines of his silk pants. Caliph’s moan was a whisper as Tamela glided her hand over his form-fitting black boxers. When Caliph caressed both her breasts, she threw her head back as a sudden weakness overcame her.