And This Too Shall Pass

by E. Lynn Harris

  Tamela got out of bed reluctantly, sorry to leave behind the softness and warmth, but she had work to do. After showering and dressing, she went to her car and headed south toward the Cabrini Green housing complex.

  Having located a parking spot in front of one of the mid-rise dirty red-brick buildings, Tamela pulled out a tablet with the building and apartment number of DeAndre Tucker. She looked at the building directly in front of her and realized it was the one she needed. For a minute, she thought about locking her purse and briefcase in her trunk, but decided they might be better off with her. She glanced around the parking lot nervously to see if there was danger lurking.

  As she walked toward the building, Tamela encountered a police officer, which made her think of Caliph, and a group of three young black men, smoking cigarettes and playfully hitting each other. When she was within a few feet of the teenagers, one of them asked her if she was a probation officer. Tamela smiled and said no and then asked them if they knew DeAndre.

  “Yeah, he lives right over there,” one of the teenagers said as he pointed toward the building behind them.

  “Thank you,” Tamela said.

  After waiting for about five minutes for an elevator, Tamela decided to take the stairs. When she reached the third floor, she located apartment 303A and began to knock. After a few minutes, a pecan-brown, thinly built woman answered the door. Wearing a dull pink dress, like some combination nurse-Dairy Queen uniform, she had a hurried, startled look on her face.

  “Can I help you?” she said. Her dirt-brown eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “Yes, I’m Tamela Coleman, with MacDonald, Fisher, and Jackson. I’m looking for DeAndre Tucker,” she said.

  “Who is you? Are you the police or something?” she asked.

  “No, I’m a lawyer and I just need to speak with him for a few minutes. I got his address from his employer, Mason’s, the restaurant.” Tamela said.

  “And?” she asked.

  “I’ve been trying to reach him for some time, but I was unable to get a phone number for him,” Tamela said.

  “Well, that would be hard to do since we don’t have a phone,” she said.

  “Are you his sister?” Tamela asked. The lady began to laugh at Tamela’s question.

  “His sister! Heavens, no. I’m his mother,” She said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Tamela said, as she gazed at the lady who looked close to her own age. She must have started childbearing young, she thought.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m Garbo Tucker. Now you sho you’re not the police?”

  “That’s right, Ms. Tucker. I’m not the police,” Tamela assured her. She went on to tell Garbo why she was looking for her son, explaining that she needed to ask him a few questions. Sensing she could trust Tamela, Garbo Tucker invited her into the apartment. As Tamela walked in behind her, she noticed the beautiful burgundy ribbon Mrs. Tucker was wearing, holding together her shoulder-length hair.

  “Oh, what a beautiful ribbon that is,” Tamela commented.

  “Thank you,” Garbo said as she touched the ribbon and then boasted, “My son gave this to me.”

  “Is he here?”

  “Naw, he’s already left or he didn’t come in last night,” she said. “You know how teenage boys can be. Here, take a seat, but I don’t have that long before I have to catch the bus for work.”

  Tamela took a seat at one of the dining room chairs and couldn’t help but notice the immaculately clean living area, with plastic covers over the peach-colored sofa and matching chairs.

  “Where do you work?” Tamela asked.

  “I work maintenance at the Sears Tower,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s close to my office. I can give you a ride if you like,” Tamela said. Maybe if Tamela got her in her territory Garbo might give her suggestions on how to get DeAndre to help her out.

  “Honey, that will be just fine. Let me get my purse,” Garbo said as she went into one of the open doors and emerged with a sweater and her purse.

  “When do you think I might be able to talk to DeAndre? Is he at school?”

  “That’s a good question I wish I could answer. Look, you give me your number, and I’ll make sure he gives you a call,” she said.

  Tamela explained the urgency of talking with him and Garbo assured Tamela she would make sure he got the message.

  The two women left the apartment and headed toward Tamela’s car. While they were walking, Garbo talked freely with Tamela about her two children, DeAndre and Bridget, her ten-year-old daughter, as if they were old friends. She told Tamela that DeAndre was a good kid, but she was worried about gangs and his impending manhood.

  “God knows I’m lucky that my boy has reached sixteen in this hell hole. But I keep working hard and praying that I can move to the suburbs before it’s too late,” she said.

  “Where do you want to move?” Tamela asked.

  “Out near Des Plaines or Evanston. There is this program that I’m signed up for. You know where they give you a voucher to help you get a house or a large, nice apartment. But the list is long,” Garbo said.

  “Good luck. I wish you the best,” Tamela said as she pulled up in front of the Sears Tower. She gave Garbo a business card, and put her home number on the back of the card.

  “I’ll try my best to get him to call you, but I don’t know if he can help you,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know, but please tell him it’s important and it won’t take that long.”

  “Okay,” she said as she thanked Tamela for the ride and then got out of the car. Tamela headed down Michigan, to her office, to prepare for a meeting with Warner and Zurich later in the day.

  CHAPTER 23

  SHAKE YOUR GROOVE THANG

  “It’s going to be a cool day with the possibility of rain, Chicago. So take those sweaters and umbrellas,” said V-103 Radiojock Bonnie DeShong. “And if you’re not quite awake yet, then maybe this will do the trick, something new from a fifteen-year-old I think we will be hearing a lot from, Brandy, with ‘I Wanna Be Down.’ ” Zurich rubbed his eyes, turned down the radio, and meditated and prayed for about ten minutes. Zurich prayed that whatever the day brought him, he would handle it with strength and grace. This was his big day in court. The evening before he had met with Tamela and she had told him to be prepared to be arrested if charges were filed against him. Again, she asked him if there was anything he wanted to tell her that might prove that he didn’t rape and attack Mia. He started to ask her if it would make a difference if he was beginning to believe he might be gay, but he didn’t. She might not accept that he was having dreams and constant thoughts of Basil, a man he had only met once.

  Tamela and Zurich had decided that if he was charged, they would immediately post bail, and agree to submit to a semen sample that would prove that he was not the man who raped Mia. Gina DeMarco had sat in on a portion of the meeting and had prepared a press release stating Zurich’s innocence and his willingness to submit to the semen sample and a polygraph test. Zurich was trying very hard to be confident around MamaCee, but deep down he was nervous. The night before MamaCee had commented that her legs were feeling so much better that she felt as if she could run a race. To MamaCee, this meant that everything with her grandson would be fine.

  Before heading to the shower, Zurich laid out a smart navy blue suit, a white shirt, a red tie, socks, and white boxer underwear. After a warm, brief shower, he shaved his head and face and then held a washcloth under the hot water and wrapped his face in the cloth for a minute before wiping away the remaining foam. While he was brushing his teeth, he could hear pots and pans banging in his kitchen, and he knew MamaCee was up, preparing his breakfast.

  After dressing, he walked into his living room and was greeted by the smell of fried chicken and the sound of MamaCee humming some gospel song. As he was walking toward the kitchen, he noticed MamaCee’s suitcases sitting in front of the closet, packed. Was she getting ready to leave, he thought, or was she planning to take her suitcases to
the courthouse?

  “Good morning, MamaCee,” Zurich said as he walked over and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Morning, baby. My, don’t you look nice,” MamaCee said as she turned over the golden brown chicken.

  “Chicken for breakfast, MamaCee, or are you cooking that for someone else?” Zurich asked. He suddenly realized that chicken for breakfast was not that unusual for MamaCee, who cooked fried chicken and waffles all the time when he came to visit.

  “Naw, baby, I’m cooking this for you. Mama thought she should cook up a lot of your favorite foods before I leave. That way you don’t have to be eating that takeout mess,” she said.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, it’s time for Mama to go back to Mississippi. You will be fine. The good Lord and my legs have told me so,” she said.

  “Have you made reservations to fly back?”

  “Naw, one airplane ride is enough for this old lady. I called the Greyhound station and they have three different buses heading toward Jackson every day,” MamaCee said.

  “MamaCee, I kinda hate to see you leave,” Zurich said, though he would welcome back his privacy.

  “If you need me, Mama will be right back. But I been thinking ’bout some of my friends at the hospice and I feel like some of them need me.”

  “What about staying to Sunday and coming to the game? I think Dad is going to come,” he said.

  “I don’t think so. I talked to your father late last night and he said you told him you wasn’t certain you’d be playing.”

  “True. I did tell him I wasn’t starting and tried to talk him out of coming, but he said something ’bout needing to get away and seeing you,” Zurich said.

  “Yeah, he talked ’bout driving up here and driving me back home, but I told him don’t go through no trouble. Besides I don’t like riding in that van of his. I’ll be just fine on the Greyhound.”

  “What else you cooking?”

  “Oh, baby, I made some deviled eggs, and I’m going to make you some greens and a sweet potato casserole and I’m gonna bake you a ham.”

  “MamaCee, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. You know I have to meet Tamela in about an hour,” Zurich said.

  “Yeah, baby, I know and I plan to go with you. I can finish cooking some of this stuff later on. I like for my hams to cook slow anyhow. I’d like to put it in this little oven of yours before we leave.”

  “Now, MamaCee, you don’t have to go with me. Just in case they arrest me, I would never want you to see me in handcuffs,” Zurich said.

  “Baby, you gonna be just fine. Ain’t nobody gonna put no handcuffs on my baby,” MamaCee said as she reached for a towel and wiped her greasy and flour-covered hands. Then she ran them smoothly down Zurich’s shirt and tie as if she were using her hands as an iron to knock out the wrinkles. Zurich was looking at his grandmother and thinking about how much he loved her and how lucky he was to have someone like her in his life. They were both quiet, deep in thought, when the phone rang and startled them both. Zurich kissed his grandmother’s forehead once again and went into the living room and picked up the phone.

  “Hello,” Zurich said.

  “Zurich, I’m glad I caught you,” Tamela said.

  “Tamela, whatsup? We said ten, right? I’m supposed to meet you at ten.”

  “Yes, that’s right. But are you sitting down?” she asked excitedly.

  “No, but should I?” Zurich said as he walked over to the window. He opened the drapes slightly and stared out into the gray glare of an overcast day.

  “You’re not going to believe what happened,” she said.

  “What?” Zurich asked as he let the curtain fall back into place and took a seat on his sofa.

  MamaCee had walked out of the kitchen with a pot full of sweet potatoes she was peeling, looking at her grandson.

  “I got to the office early this morning, and was going over some of my notes from the hearing when I got a call from the DA,” Tamela said.

  “What did she want?” Zurich asked.

  “That’s the news. It’s good news, no, make that great news. They are dropping their investigation of you. There will be no charges, and there will be no preliminary hearing,” Tamela said.

  “What?” Zurich said as he leaped from the sofa.

  “You heard me. It’s all over Mr. Robinson. You can go out and enjoy your day.”

  “But what happened? Yesterday you were telling me to prepare myself for a few hours in jail and a lot of bad press,” Zurich said.

  “I don’t have all the details, but during our brief conversation I got the distinct impression that Ms. Miller recanted her story. She or maybe it was her attorney, called the DA late last night and told them you didn’t rape her and that she was willing to sign a statement to that effect. This is good news on a couple of fronts, because when she signs that statement that clears you from other possible civil lawsuits we were concerned about,” Tamela said.

  “Oh, I can’t believe this. This is great news,” Zurich said.

  “Well, I’m going to let you enjoy this for a while. I will give you a call later this afternoon after I speak with the DA in more detail. I just wanted to get this news to you,” Tamela said.

  “Thank you, Tamela. Thanks for all your help. I’ll talk with you later this afternoon,” Zurich said. When he hung up the phone, he let out a high-pitch shout of yes. When he told MamaCee about his conversation with Tamela, she began to peel her potatoes and said quietly, “See, Mama told you everything would be just fine. Now Mama know she can go home.”

  After Tamela called Zurich with the good news, she wanted to celebrate. But what was she going to celebrate? Once her initial excitement faded, Tamela seemed almost sad at the news from the district attorney, as if she were sorry to see the battle end so quickly. Perhaps she was disappointed that she wouldn’t get the opportunity to show her stuff in the courtroom. As she sat at her desk, staring at a yellow legal pad with notes she had planned to use, Tamela could not stop thinking about Mia and the young lady from college. Sure, Zurich had not committed the crime, and she was happy he had been cleared. But someone had raped this lady and now it appeared that no one would be charged with the horrible crime.

  Suddenly, Tamela picked up her phone and dialed the direct number of Karen Hedge, the deputy district attorney, who was handling the Mia Miller case.

  “Karen Hedge speaking.”

  “Karen, this is Tamela Coleman. We spoke earlier this morning,” Tamela said.

  “Yes, Tamela, what can I do for you?”

  “Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you about the Miller case.”

  “The Miller case. I thought I made it clear that Ms. Miller had cleared your client. Like I told you, she doesn’t know who committed the assault, but she is certain that it wasn’t your client,” Karen said.

  “Yes, I understand that, and both my client and I are very happy about that. And my questions don’t really concern my client,” Tamela said.

  “Oh. Then why are you still interested?”

  “Well, it’s kinda hard to explain, but I saw those pictures and I was just wondering if you had any leads on who did do this?”

  “I think we’re back to ground zero. Just between you and me, the police are pissed that Miss Miller came forth at the last minute and said that your client didn’t do it. It was the only real lead they had. I think it’s going to be real hard to get them to follow up any leads that come in, because I don’t think they will be so quick to believe anything Ms. Miller says,” Karen said.

  “Do you think she’s lying?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean do you think she knows who did it, but she’s just covering up for them?”

  “That’s hard to say. It was impossible to get her to talk with us, after the initial investigation. But I must say when I met with her early this morning and she told me that she was certain Mr. Robinson didn’t do it, I believed her. I mentioned to you when we spoke ea
rlier, she was real sorry about the pain and embarrassment she may have caused Mr. Robinson. I mean she was crying and saying how she wished she could tell us who had raped her. But you still haven’t told me why you’re interested. You guys over there at that big fancy law firm aren’t planning to sue Ms. Miller, are you?”

  “You know, Karen, I couldn’t speak to you about that. But like I said, I’m calling on my own behalf. This has nothing to do with Mr. Robinson. Could we get together for lunch sometime soon, and maybe I could explain it better in person?”

  “My schedule is pretty full. And I’ve got to explain to my superiors why we spent almost a month investigating a man for a crime he didn’t commit,” Karen said.

  “I understand. What if I give you a call sometime next week and see how your schedule looks? It doesn’t have to be lunch. We can do drinks or breakfast,” Tamela said.

  “Sure, give me a call and I’ll see what I can do,” Karen said.

  “Thanks, Karen, I’ll do that.”

  Sean was floating in sleep, drifting through one of those sweet dreams of Zurich when the phone rang. Sean leaned over and picked up his phone and whispered, “Hello.”

  “Wake up, buddy,” Zurich said. When he heard Zurich’s voice, Sean immediately sat up in his bed and rubbed his face.

  “Zurich, whatsup? What time is it?”

  “Which question do you want me to answer first?”

  Sean looked at the digital clock on the hotel nightstand and saw that it was a little bit before ten. He had overslept and missed calling Zurich to wish him good luck with his hearing.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in court?”

  “Not anymore,” Zurich said.

  “Have you already been? How did it go?”

  “There you go with the twenty questions. Why don’t you just shut up and let me talk? Stop being a reporter,” Zurich joked.

  “It’s on you,” Sean said.

  “We have to celebrate; there won’t be any charges pressed. From what I know, Mia had a change of heart and told the truth. I mean I was on my way to court, prepared for anything, and I got a call from Tamela. Isn’t that great?” Zurich said.