And This Too Shall Pass

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Tamela,” Warner said. His voice shocked Tamela because she didn’t realize he was still in her office.

  “Yes, Warner, is there something else?” His tone and the look on his face captured her attention.

  “Just a question,” Warner said as he took a deep breath and tried to decide quickly if he would go through with asking his question.

  “Okay, about the case?” Tamela asked.

  “No,” Warner said firmly. He had made up his mind to ask his question, no matter what might follow. “It’s about the program you’re listening to. Why are African-Americans so homophobic? I mean, listen to that man. They sent all the gay slaves back? There aren’t any black gay people? Get real.”

  Tamela looked at Warner with surprise on her face. What was this about? And why would he think she could speak for all African-Americans on their dislike of gay people?

  “Why would you say that?” she asked tentatively.

  Warner gently closed the door, walked back over to Tamela’s desk, and said, “Well, every time I’ve seen shows about gay rights and there are black people in the audience, they seem really adamant about their opposition. Why do they hate gay people, especially when there are a lot of gay African-American men and women?” His gentle face filled with concern.

  “Warner, I can’t speak for all black people, but hate is a very harsh word. I just know from a personal standpoint, I don’t see the need for special rights for gays.”

  “It’s not special rights we want. It’s the right to live our lives like every human being without being harassed and prevented from being able to love who we want,” Warner said firmly. Tamela looked at Warner, thinking did he say we and our? Was Warner gay? There was only one way to find out.

  “Warner, are you gay?” Tamela asked boldly.

  “Yes, I am, Tamela. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Oh no, I don’t, I just, I mean,” Tamela stuttered.

  “I know, I don’t look gay, right?”

  Tamela didn’t answer him right away, but he was reading her mind. She never in a million years would have guessed that Warner was gay and wondered why was he telling her. She had always considered Warner attractive and had once told Desiree that if she did white boys, then Warner would be the one to do. He was tall, with a slightly pudgy face as round as his rimmed glasses. Warner had a full head of curly jet black hair, which he wore with a part, ocean blue eyes like Paul Newman, and an olive complexion. No matter what time of year it was, he always had a healthy tan.

  “Well, I’m just sort of surprised, but I still don’t see the need for special rights. I mean most people who look at you, they see what I see, an attractive, successful white man. That’s all you need to succeed in life,” Tamela said.

  “Do you really believe that? What about my right to love and the security that love and marriage bring without being attacked? Gay people are not asking for special rights. But I guarantee you I can’t go to a restaurant or a movie and hold my lover’s hand or kiss him in public like you can. And since we’re being frank here, or should I say since I’m being frank and honest, I’ll tell you something else.” He paused to catch his breath. “My partner is black and deep in the closet,” Warner said.

  “What did you say?” Tamela asked as her mouth dropped open in shock.

  “My partner is black. You got a problem with that?” He also wanted to tell her to close her mouth, but didn’t. Warner got the feeling Tamela wasn’t taking his announcement too well.

  “Oh no, not if he makes you happy. Look, I think we should stop this conversation because I don’t think there are enough hours in this day for you to get me to understand what you’re saying or for you to understand how I feel,” Tamela said in her trademark I Don’t Want to Deal with This Now tone.

  “Maybe you’re right. But I would like to know how you feel. Maybe we can talk about this later because I really do want us to understand each other,” Warner said.

  “Okay, maybe after the case is over,” Tamela said.

  “Fine.” He paused to consider his next words. He couldn’t leave it hanging like this. At the very least he wanted to get Tamela to agree to keep their conversation between the two of them. He added as he headed out the door, “Thanks for the time and if you need any help with Thursday, remember I’m just down the hall. Why don’t we finish the other conversation when we go out for drinks to celebrate your victory?”

  “Okay, that sounds good,” Tamela said as she looked down at her notes and turned her radio back up. They were still discussing gay rights. Tamela’s eyes and ears perked up when she heard a voice she recognized.

  “Baby, I can’t believe I got through. I been tryin’ and tryin’. Deborah, have you heard of call waiting? You need to git that, honey,” MamaCee said. Tamela could hear Deborah Crable laugh and say, “I’ll have my producer check into that. Welcome, Ms. Cora, to the WVON family. What’s your question or comment?”

  “Well, first, you got a good show. I been listening to it every day I can, since we don’t have nuthin’ like this down in my neck of the woods. But I’m so happy I got in today.”

  “Thank you for your kind words. Do you have a question for our guest or a comment?” Deborah asked again. She had a strange feeling her caller was going to be a handful.

  “Yeah, it’s ’bout that caller, talkin’ ’bout how God don’t love gay people and they all going to hell. Well, what God is that fool talking ’bout? The good Lord I know loves all His children. And I read my Bible every day and I ain’t read none of them scriptures, at least not the way that fool man thinks it says. If he wants a scripture, read Romans 8, verse 1. And one more thing …” MamaCee paused to catch her breath.

  “You’ve got some good points, Ms. Cora. Is that it? Do you have a question for our guest?”

  “Naw, I ain’t got no question, but a few choice words for that caller who said they ain’t no black gay people and this is somethin’ the white folks done put on us. We can’t blame white folks for every thang. My uncle Frank, on my papa’s side, who, God rest his soul, was one of the kindest men I’ve ever know, was that way. He and his friend Isaiah didn’t bother nobody and they were together longer than me and my late husband, so you can just chuck the notion that this is something new, ’cause, honey, I’m talkin’ ’bout the thirties and forties. Do you hear me? And my grandbaby was gay and didn’t no white folks make him gay, he was born that way, and I know he’s in heaven now with the good Lord,” MamaCee said.

  “Thank you, very much, Ms. Cora for those very insightful viewpoints. I’m like you when it comes to those scriptures. My audience knows I don’t profess to be a Bible scholar, but I think a lot of it depends on your interpretation,” Deborah Crable said.

  “I know that’s right and till the Good Lord Himself comes down here and tells us what He meant, we need to love each other no matter what, that’s what the B-I-B-L-E really says. And one more thing, I think black folks needs to stop criticizing each other so much and support one another. That’s the way it was in my day. That’s how we got strong, by helping each other. Well, stick a fork in me, I’m done. Thanks for your time and I’m gonna pray for you, Deborah, and for some of them fool callers of yours. Pray that the good Lord will bless them with some common sense,” MamaCee said as she finally stopped talking.

  “Thank you again, Ms. Cora, and I guess that’s as good place as any to end today’s show. Thank you for calling and thank all of you for listening. Stay positive and have a blessed day.”

  Tamela leaned back in her chair with a pen to her mouth. She wondered about MamaCee losing a gay grandson. She knew Zurich had four brothers but he had never mentioned losing one or that one was gay. MamaCee was something else, she thought, and she had made some good points Tamela needed to think about. Maybe she should rethink her feeling about gays, especially black ones and how black people should be more supportive of each other. Tamela thought about her conversation with Warner and his black lover. What would her reaction be if that
black lover was somebody she knew, or somebody she or some of her sorority sisters might be interested in. But Tamela didn’t have time to think about this right now. She had to get ready for her appearance in court. She would deal with her fears later.

  Sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, Sean checked his briefcase to make sure he had his micro recorder. He picked up his phone and started to dial Zurich’s number to see if he could talk MamaCee into going to watch Zurich practice, but he changed his mind and instead dialed his sister’s number. After the phone rang a couple of times, Sean was certain he was going to get her answering machine when suddenly he heard his sister’s cheerful voice say, “Hello.”

  “Help!” Sean said playfully.

  “Sean?”

  “Yes, sister. This is your baby brother,” Sean said.

  “What are you talking about help? Whatsup?” Anja asked.

  “I’m falling,” Sean said.

  “Falling? Falling for what?”

  “Zurich Thurgood Robinson,” Sean said, laughing.

  “The football player? So he is gay,” Anja said.

  “I don’t know, but I got that feeling,” Sean said.

  “So where are you?”

  “I’m still in Chicago. Right now I’m in my hotel getting ready to go over to the stadium, just to watch him,” Sean sighed.

  “Oh, chile, you sound like you got it bad,” Anja said.

  “Yeah, sis, I do,” Sean said.

  “Have you told him?”

  “I’ve told him I’m gay and he didn’t run, but he hasn’t confessed yet,” Sean said.

  Suddenly Sean and Anja heard the call waiting beep over the line. Sean knew his hotel phone didn’t have this feature so he said, “Sounds like you got a call.”

  “Hold on,” Anja said.

  While she was on the other line, Sean thought about Zurich and how he should tell him he was interested in changing their friendship. He realized any relationship with someone like Zurich would have to be hush-hush and here he was telling his sister. He knew he could trust her, but he had also learned that an athlete’s relationship could be doomed before it had even started if somebody else found out about it. But Sean needed to talk with someone, and Anja was it.

  “I’m back,” Anja said.

  “Now I forgot what I was saying,” Sean said.

  “You were saying you found me a fine man in Chicago, he’s straight, and you’re bringing him back to New York,” Anja laughed.

  “Yeah, that’s right, but I got to run one more test on him before I turn him over,” Sean laughed.

  “You know you’re a fool,” Anja said.

  “Sho you right. What’s this? Are you looking for a man? What happened to the good reverend?”

  “Oh, brother, I think I’m going to have to let him loose,” Anja said. Her voice didn’t sound sad, but more relieved.

  “Why, what happened?”

  “Well, it’s kinda funny when I think about it,” Anja said as she paused, took a sip of her soft drink, and then launched into her story about the Reverend Theodis Wilder. “Sunday, Gerald and I went to church as usual, sitting on the front row like I’m the first lady of the church, so proud. We had this guest soloist, and Sean, sister could sing. I mean sang. You hear what I’m saying. She was like a combination of Jennifer Holliday, Aretha Franklin, with a little bit of Rachelle Ferrell thrown in for good measure,” Anja said.

  “Man, that musta been something else,” Sean chimed in.

  “Yes, it was. I mean the entire church was up. Waving scarfs, pocketbooks, Bibles, you name it. I mean she was singing and playing the piano. So anyhow, the good reverend got up and started looking at this sister singing and he just started shouting at her and was sweating like a greased pig. He pulled out his handkerchief and started waving it at her, just saying sing, baby … sing, baby. Well, Sean, sister hit a note. One of them glass-breaking notes, and Theodis started turning like a human tornado and screaming at the top of his lungs, ‘sang, bitch … sang … you ain’t singing … sang, bitch.’ Sean, she kept singing but the rest of the church, chile, it got quiet. I mean we all were shocked. All of a sudden Gerald touched me and said, ‘Mommy, why is the preacher cussing? Why is he calling that lady a bad name?’ I thought he might start up again, ’cause it was obvious homeboy was possessed. So I grabbed my purse and my son, and we was history,” Anja laughed. Sean was laughing also, spread out over his hotel bed, just picturing the scene Anja had described.

  “Boy, I would have given anything to have been there,” he said.

  “I know you would,” Anja said.

  “You called it quits for that?”

  “Honey, I think I was looking for a sign or a reason and that was it,” Anja said.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him, I needed some time to think about things. But trust me when I say he’s history.”

  “So you’re all right with that?” Sean asked.

  “Yeah, Sean. I can still have my faith, and I will find a man when it’s time. Theodis served his purpose. But, Sean, isn’t that just the funniest thing you’ve heard in a long time?”

  “Yes, it is. I wonder what the rest of the church thought?”

  “I don’t know, but it was silent … silent night … holy night up in that camp. But I will say one thing,” Anja paused.

  “What’s that?”

  “Sister was singing. I mean she was sanging,” Anja laughed. Sean looked at his watch and realized it was time to head to practice.

  “I’ve got to run. How’s Gerald?”

  “He’s doing great. Doing real good with his football. Keeps asking when you’re going to be back.”

  “Tell him I’ll be back this weekend, and I’m bringing him something back from Chicago,” Sean said.

  “Okay, baby … be safe,” Anja said.

  “I will,” Sean said.

  “I mean with your heart.”

  “Oh, I’ll be okay. You know me, I’ll be over this by the time my plane lands in Newark,” Sean said.

  “Good, then we can go looking for a beau together,” Anja said. “That’s a bet,” Sean said.

  “I love you, Sean, and so does Gerald. Always know that and hurry home,” Anja said softly.

  “I love y’all too,” Sean said as he hung up the phone and smiled.

  Mia stood on the deck off her guest bedroom in a new pink silk robe with burgundy piping. Derrick had purchased the robe for her before he left late Monday night and returned to Jackson. He had promised to check on her daily and said he would return in half a heartbeat if she needed him. Mia had cried softly in her pillows that night after he left, but she knew she had to depend on herself to start recovery. But she was still uncertain if she was ready for the changes she needed to make.

  She took a deep swallow of the herbal tea she was drinking and then released a short sigh. The air was cool and clear, the sky cloudless, and the setting sun looked heavy. But nothing could compare to the weight on Mia’s shoulders. She had not had a drink since early Saturday morning, but that was because Derrick had cleaned out her liquor cabinets. She had not talked with her attorney, her parents, or Tanya. Mia spoke with LaDonna briefly Sunday night but had told her she was doing fine and hoped to return to work within a week.

  She put the coffee mug on a wooden table and breathed in the evening air, letting her mind drift back to late Sunday evening. Derrick and she had eaten takeout Chinese food on her deck and talked about a possible future together. That night she had begun to feel that maybe everyone deserved a second chance. But before Mia could look to a future with anyone, she knew she must deal with her past. She thought it was strange how new images and sounds all brought back moments that lingered in her memory. But it was one memory that Mia longed for. A memory as elusive as the scent of flowers. The memory of who had attacked her and why.

  Sean was a bit surprised at what he saw in the Cougars’ locker room. There was Zurich in near tears slamming his helmet against his locker, mu
mbling, “What else can happen? When is this crap going to end?”

  Sean walked over, gently touched him on the shoulders, and asked, “Whatsup, Zurich? What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now, Sean, I need some time alone,” Zurich said. But Sean did not leave the area. This was his chance to show Zurich that he could be trusted, that he could be a good friend.

  “We don’t have to talk. If you don’t want to talk, we can just go somewhere quiet. Maybe we can just go and sit in the stadium. But I’m not going to leave you alone,” Sean said as he walked closer and sat on the bench in front of Zurich’s locker.

  “I just can’t believe this crap. I just can’t fuckin’ believe they can do this,” Zurich said as he faced Sean. His insides rocked, partly from anger, mostly from disappointment.

  “What? Does it have something to do with the hearing?” he said as he lowered his voice, noticing several players starting to mill around the area. “Is that what has you so upset?” Zurich looked at Sean with eyes that belonged on a Purina puppy chow commercial. Sad, yet inviting and endearing.

  “I’m not going to start against Tampa Bay. Coach just told me they’re starting Craig. I mean my father might be coming to Chicago for the game and MamaCee is talking about going. Sean, she hasn’t been to one of my games since Zach and I played Pee Wee football. And now I find out I’m not going to start.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re under a lot pressure right now. But the minute this trial shit is over, you’ll be back on your game and there’s no way they will be able to keep you from playing,” Sean said.

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “But what about this weekend?”

  “We both know MamaCee will understand, and you can just call your father and tell him. From what you and MamaCee have told me about him, I know he will understand too,” Sean said. While Zurich held his head down in silence, Sean noticed a picture of an attractive football player taped on the inside of his locker. He looked familiar but Sean couldn’t quite recall where he knew him from or figure out what team’s uniform he was wearing. While Sean was studying the photo and Zurich appeared to meditate in silence, one of the locker room attendants came up and gave Zurich a message, saying, “This is the third time this guy has called.”