And This Too Shall Pass

by E. Lynn Harris

  Zurich took the note and looked at it, and a sweet smile came across his face as he placed the note on the bottom shelf of his locker.

  “Good news?” Sean asked.

  “I don’t know, maybe,” Zurich said.

  “So, I’m not the one who cheered you up,” Sean teased.

  “You’re doing a pretty good job. I know what you’re saying is right,” Zurich said as he looked at Sean. “They won’t be able to keep me down for long. I’m going to get my starting job back,” he said confidently as he looked toward the end of the locker room where the coaches often made decisions.

  He turned back and looked at Sean and said, “Wait here for me, while I shower. That quiet time in the stadium sounds good. ’Cause I think I got something exciting to tell you.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right here.”

  Zurich removed his uniform and wrapped a towel around himself. He grabbed some shampoo and shower soap from his locker and walked out of view. His locker was still open, and as Sean was preparing to get a closer look at the photo, he saw the message that identified the football player in the photo. Basil Henderson from the New Jersey Warriors. The guy from Keith’s party. Sean sat on the locker room bench and wondered why Zurich had a picture of another football player in his locker. He wondered why Basil Henderson was calling Zurich and why his calling had caused Zurich to smile.

  CHAPTER 22

  FAT MEAT IS GREASY

  Tuesday night, the scent and sight of roses greeted Tamela when she walked into her apartment around 9 P.M. It had been a marathon day for her. She dropped her shoulder bag and briefcase and quickly grabbed the white note card sticking out of the roses. A big smile came across her face when she read the handwriting, Thank You for the Best Two Days of a Young Man’s Life! Let’s Do It Again Soon. Peace, Caliph.

  As Tamela placed the card lightly against her breast, she thought of Caliph and the wonderful weekend they had had, and after a day such as she had just experienced, nothing would make her feel better than to fall asleep in his arms. She picked up her phone and was preparing to dial his number when she suddenly changed her mind. Wednesday was going to be another busy day. She had meetings with Zurich and needed to talk with Warner. In addition, Tamela was going to try and talk with the parking lot attendant who might be able to help the case. So maybe she should call Caliph when she could give him undivided attention and proper thanks for the beautiful roses. Just as she sat the phone back in its cradle, it rang.

  “Hello,” Tamela said.

  “Hey, girl, did you get my message?” Desiree said.

  “Oh, I haven’t listened to my messages, I just walked in,” she said as she noticed the red light blinking three times, indicating three new messages.

  “What did you do after work? Health club? Did you meet the divas for a drink?”

  “Naw, girl. I’ve been working. Remember I have my big day in court the day after tomorrow,” Tamela said.

  “Well, I knew it was something, since we hadn’t talked. You got time to tell a sister about your weekend with Mr. Policeman?” Desiree asked.

  “That’s right, we haven’t talked since then,” Tamela said as she took a seat on her sofa, kicked off her pumps, and snapped open the top button of her blouse.

  “So how was it?” Desiree asked anxiously.

  “It was wonderful,” Tamela said as she paused to find the right words to describe her weekend with Caliph. “It was sweet, really sweet. It was all that and then some,” Tamela said, her voice full of delight, almost as if she were singing.

  “Well, did you?” Her voice sounded as if she were about to burst with curiosity.

  “Did I what?”

  “Oh, don’t go there. Did you do the do?”

  “Yes,” Tamela screamed in delight.

  “Oh, not Miss I’m Not Going to Have Sex Again Until I Get Married,” Desiree teased.

  “I tried. But you know and I know that it’s a rare thing to find a man who knows where it itches, scratches it, and then doesn’t turn around and say now scratch me,” Tamela giggled.

  “I know that’s right. So you turned in your hoe card?”

  “Naw, but when he played the piano, well, it was over. I had to give it up. And to be honest, I’m sorry and glad.”

  “The policeman plays the piano?” Desiree quizzed.

  “Yes, and he’s very good,” Tamela giggled. “He’s really great with his fingers … on the piano, I mean,” she added, trying to sound like a serious music critic.

  “And what else can he do with his fingers … or shall I say play well?”

  “And what?”

  “If it was all that, then why on earth would you say you’re sorry and glad?”

  “Glad ’cause it was wonderful. Sorry ’cause maybe I did give it up too soon and because I don’t know if I want to be in a relationship,” Tamela said.

  “So? He wants to be in a relationship. Honey, you better grab him,” Desiree advised.

  “He didn’t exactly say that, but he was so sweet and attentive the entire weekend and then Monday a cassette of love songs that he had taped was delivered to my office and when I walked into my apartment tonight, I was greeted by a dozen red roses,” Tamela said.

  “Wait a minute! How did he get roses into your apartment? The policeman isn’t using his pull to sneak in your apartment, is he?”

  “Chile, please. I do live in a modern building where the building management accepts packages. It might not be Gold Coast, but we have our perks,” Tamela said.

  “I stand corrected. It sure sounds like he wants a relationship to me. Now tell me, is that fine client of yours going to jail? If not, can you hook me up with him, so I can experience some of that joy I hear in your voice,” Desiree teased.

  “You know I can’t talk about my client, and be careful what you pray for ’cause you just might get it,” Tamela said.

  “I know that’s right. Oh, guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I might have a regular job,” Desiree said.

  “That’s great! Where?”

  “It’s not definite, but a position may be opening up at Hyde Park Academy. But there’s a catch.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “I’d have to teach gym and maybe a health science course. They are kinda shorthanded over there.”

  “So what do you think?”

  “The job hasn’t been offered and to be really honest, the temping is kinda fun. I mean, you hear all kinds of shit. I’m thinking ’bout hanging out on some of these temp jobs and writing me a screenplay. ’Cause, honey, the shit I see and hear in some of these offices would make a great movie,” Desiree laughed. “Now I know where all the bodies are buried.”

  “I know that’s right. And talking about buried bodies, the strangest shit happened in the office today,” Tamela said.

  “Ooh, more bodies, good gossip?”

  “Yeah, it really blew me away. Warner, you know, the white boy that I was telling you about?”

  “The fine one you once said you might do?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one, but cancel that thought.”

  “Why? ’Cause you got a new man or is he married?”

  “No, ’cause he got a man,” Tamela laughed.

  “What, he’s gay?”

  “Is fat meat greasy?”

  “Sho you right.”

  “But that ain’t all. He told me his lover was black.”

  “Jungle Fever with a twist. Please don’t nobody tell Spike Lee ’bout this kinda shit,” Desiree laughed.

  “Now ain’t that the truth, but guess who I think it is?”

  “Is it somebody you know?”

  “I’m not certain, but when I was leaving the office this evening, I was going to stop by Tim’s office and update him on the case. Well, just as I was getting ready to knock on the door, I heard Tim shouting at the top of his lungs, mutherfuck this and mutherfuck that. That’s really all I could make out. And even though I wasn’t snooping, I didn
’t want anybody to see me,” Tamela said.

  “What does that have to do with what’s-his-face? The gay boy,” Desiree asked.

  “When I was waiting on the elevator, I saw Warner slip out from the same direction as Tim’s office, obviously pissed off at somebody,” Tamela said.

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know and I could be totally off base, but those two have always been kinda chummy,” Tamela said as she recalled the many times she had seen Tim and Warner leaving the office going to lunch and meetings, or so she’d thought.

  “From what you told me about Mr. Tim, he’s chummy with a lot of white folks.”

  “Yes, he is. Which is why I don’t understand why he would be arguing with any of them, especially Warner, if that was him in Tim’s office.”

  “Well, honey, and the world goes round,” Desiree laughed.

  “Let me go, girl. I’ve got to look over these notes. I can’t believe I just spent all this time talking ’bout men, men, and men. I got a job to do.”

  “I know you’ll do fine. But don’t forget about your sisters,” Desiree said.

  “I won’t. Talk to you later,” Tamela said.

  “I’ll holler at ya,” Desiree said.

  Tamela hung up the phone and started to remove her clothes as she headed toward her bedroom, thinking that maybe she should have been more supportive of Desiree’s idea about writing a screenplay. She knew if she expressed reservations she would sound more like a mother than a friend. As she was trying to decide if she wanted to review her files in her nightgown or in T-shirt and shorts, she thought about the possibility of Warner and Tim being lovers. If they were, what if Tim had assigned Warner to the case just to keep an eye on her. No, maybe she was just being paranoid. The thought of Warner and Tim as lovers made Tamela laugh, but then she thought, I went to bed with Tim, what if he was HIV-positive? Her mind wandered back to the night and she remembered he did have a condom on that little dick of his. One less worry for her. Besides, she thought, condoms were no longer an option. No condom, no coconut.

  Just as she finished brushing her teeth, the phone rang.

  “Hey, pumpkin,” Blanche said.

  “Hey, Mama, I was going to call you,” Tamela said.

  “You got my message?”

  “I’m sure it’s on my machine, but I haven’t checked them,” Tamela said.

  “How ya doing?”

  “Okay, just real busy with the case.”

  “How’s that going? I haven’t seen anything in the paper.”

  “Thursday is the big day.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah, Mama, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Tamela said.

  “Your daddy hopes the guy is innocent,” Blanche said.

  “Why?”

  “So, you can talk him into coming and speaking to his players if he is.”

  “Aw. I’m sure Zurich would like that,” Tamela said. Her voice sounded distracted to her mother.

  “Are you sure you’re all right? They treating you okay at the office? Are you still having reservations about representing Zurich?”

  “Yeah, everything is fine. I truly believe Zurich is innocent. At first, I wasn’t sure, but the more I was around him and looking at the facts, it just didn’t add up. But something interesting did happen at the office today with one of my co-workers.”

  “Who, that guy Tim?”

  “No, Warner, the guy who’s also working on this case from a civil angle. He accused me of being homophobic today.”

  “What?”

  Tamela told her mother about her encounter with Warner and how she was certain that he thought she had a problem with gay people. When her mother didn’t offer support for her views, Tamela asked her mother, “You agree with me, don’t you, Mama?”

  “Well, sweetheart, I don’t know. I’ve had the pleasure of working and knowing some gay people in my life and you know I’m against any kind of discrimination. Lord knows we’ve seen a lot in our own lives. I understand about our color being obvious, but you said something that bothered me.”

  “What was that?”

  “You said there weren’t that many gay people, especially black ones, and then you said something about where you read that only five percent of the population is gay,” Blanche said and paused as she waited for confirmation from her daughter.

  “Yes, Mama, that’s what I read. It was an article in USA Today and then somewhere in Jet. And you know if it’s in Jet, it’s got to be true,” Tamela laughed, trying to lighten up the conversation. But Blanche was not going along with her lightheartedness.

  “Baby, this is something I’ve always believed and that is percentages only matter to bigots. That’s what society has always used against minority groups so they can keep them happy with a dab here and a dab there,” Blanche said.

  “Mama, you’re not saying I’m a bigot, are you?”

  “No, Tamela. Your daddy and I raised you better than that. I just don’t like to hear you spouting off statistics to back up the way you might feel about some group.”

  “I guess you got a point.” Tamela wanted to change the subject so she quickly asked, “How’s Daddy and Hank Junior?”

  “I know you’re trying to change the subject, but since it’s about my two favorite men, I’ll go along with you. For now. Both of them are doing fine. How’s Caliph and when are we going to meet him?” Blanche wanted to meet this new man in her daughter’s life who caused her to smile so much.

  “I haven’t talked to him today, but I got these beautiful roses from him.”

  “Ooh, he sounds like a real peach!”

  “Well, I hope his daughter thinks I’m a peach,” Tamela laughed, even though she was a bit nervous about meeting the other woman in Caliph’s life. She had heard so many horror stories involving Daddy’s little girls.

  “Oh, you haven’t met her yet?”

  “No, but soon. Look, Mama, I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Give Daddy and Hankie my love.”

  “Okay, baby. Sleep tight and when you finish with your case, think about our little talk,” Blanche said.

  “I will. Love ya.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  After hanging up the phone, Tamela set her alarm clock, pulled back the bedspread, fluffed her pillows, and climbed into her bed. Her mind wandered to her busy and eventful day; the talk and confrontation with Warner, MamaCee on the radio, Desiree, and finally her conversation with her mother. She thought about her mother’s comment about percentages and realized how right she was. She rehearsed her opening statement to the judge and her request that all the charges against Zurich be dropped. She went over her arguments and even practiced a response in case the judge rejected her request. Later, Tamela was drifting off to sleep when her phone rang, but before she could move, the answering machine picked up so she decided to screen the call. After her announcement played, she heard Caliph’s voice. “Hey, it’s me, just checking in to see how your day went. Are you there?” His voice paused and Tamela figured he was waiting to see if she was going to pick up. When she didn’t, he continued, “Well, I guess you’re either out or asleep. Just sitting here, lonely, thinking about you, but I guess I’ll have to shower and sleep alone. Night.” Tamela began talking to her answering machine, which she did on occasion, “Good night, sweet man. You should play that song ‘If You Think You’re Lonely Now,’ sweet peda.”

  In the darkness, Tamela smiled to herself thinking about Caliph and his shower. The previous weekend, he had told her how he loved watching her shower and once during the weekend, he had stepped into the stall and washed her hair, and afterward made slow, gentle love to her, scratching that itch. She gave herself a tight hug as she remembered every single touch of his body, and then she fell asleep.

  The sounds of Barbra Streisand singing “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life” filled the guest room of Mia’s townhouse as she sat at her desk.

  It was just after midnight, and Mia gazed at a
tightly corked bottle of Pinot Noir wine. She had discovered the bottle in a gift box while searching for her personalized stationery. The wine had been a house-warming gift from Tanya, as was the linen stationery.

  Mia wanted to taste the wine, but Derrick had also removed her corkscrew when he left. She tried unsuccessfully to remove the cork with a butter knife, and after a few minutes she gave up and decided to write the letters she had planned all day. But who would she write first and what would she say? Tanya or Zurich? She picked up her pen and wrote, Sometimes we forget the things that are most painful, and then she placed the pen down on the ivory white stationery and began to cry.

  For Zurich, the dreams continued. On Wednesday, however, toward daybreak, he had a different dream. He was naked, sitting in an armless chair, with his hands handcuffed behind him. He looked around the empty room, trying to free himself, when in walked Basil Henderson. Basil was also nude, and Zurich could not stop staring at his Soloflex-proportioned body. Basil’s smooth skin, the color of honey, and catlike gray eyes captivated Zurich.

  Basil walked over to the chair and lowered his own body in the slow rhythm of a dance, so that he was eye to eye with Zurich. They did not speak, but they were communicating with each other through their eyes. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Basil kissed Zurich on the lips. It was a long kiss, the kind of hungry, out-of-control kiss that predicted something fantastic was about to happen. Zurich wanted to resist, but he felt his sex betraying him. Basil slowly pushed Zurich’s muscular legs apart and crouched between them, his lips just above Zurich’s sex, not touching it, as if it were a microphone, long and thick. Zurich could feel Basil’s breath coming close to his sex, blowing like a fierce, hot wind, as he struggled to free himself. Just as Basil lips brushed against Zurich’s sex, he coughed and Zurich started to laugh. Suddenly they were both laughing, and then MamaCee’s real laughter and coughing woke him up.