What Becomes of the Brokenhearted

by E. Lynn Harris

  So I decided to take a break and clear my head before I tackled the epilogue. I took a trip to Houston, Texas, to visit one of my best friends, Vanessa Gilmore, and her son, Sean, who happens to be my godson. Vanessa is now a federal judge and a single mom, and I was honored and thrilled when she asked me to be Sean’s godfather. I take my godfather duties very seriously, so I visit Sean and Vanessa as often as possible.

  The evening I arrived, Vanessa told me that she’d run into my good friend Tracey Nash-Huntley at church the previous day. Tracey and I have been out of contact for a couple of years because of my writing and touring schedules and her busy life as a wife and mother. We’ve kept in contact through mutual friends, though, and whenever I show up in her hometown of St. Louis, a member of her family, one of her sisters, or her mother shows up to get a book signed and give me an update on Tracey, her husband, David, and their boys, Porter and Calhoun.

  On a lovely Monday evening, Vanessa, Sean, and my assistant, Anthony Bell, arrive at the Huntleys’ for dinner. I’m anxious to catch up with my friends and show them the cover of the memoir, something I am quite proud of.

  Their house, a sprawling brick home with a well-manicured yard, looks like the perfect fortress for the TV Huxtables if they lived in Houston, and I mean that in a good way. When Tracey greets us she looks even more beautiful than when she was a New York model many years before; motherhood and married life obviously agree with her. I can’t believe that she and David have been married for more than sixteen years, and when I walked into their foyer I could immediately feel that the house is filled with love. Porter and Calhoun have grown into handsome and courteous young men, and I was very moved when they invited Sean, who is still a toddler, upstairs to their room to play.

  Over a dinner we talk and laugh about old times. It seems like only yesterday when we’d done the same thing in their Dallas home. Just as we are finishing the first course, David, Tracey’s husband, comes home. David and I had met when he was an intern at IBM and while he was serving as President of the Student Body at SMU. I knew when I met him he would be successful at whatever he pursued, and David has not disappointed. We hug and talk about our tennis game, and then David suddenly spots the cover of the memoir. He reads the title of my memoir and says, “This sounds so sad.”

  I know David is concerned because he has been privy to the hard times in my life, but I look at him and say proudly and truthfully, “Oh, David, but it’s not. This story has a happy ending.”

  And it does.

  When I wrote Invisible Life, I thought I’d written it for me, but several days earlier as I talked to my editor, Janet Hill, she suggested that maybe my dream of writing was connected to someone else’s; that maybe someone was waiting for me to write my book so that their life could be changed. Janet had learned about this idea in a Bible study group, and even though it sounded a little unusual at first, maybe there was some truth in it. I started to think that nearly ten years after writing Invisible Life, maybe what Janet said was true. I’d followed my dream and had the courage to write Invisible Life, a story that no one had yet dared write in the early 1990s. Maybe lives had been enriched and hearts transformed. At the time, I didn’t view writing Invisible Life as an act of courage, but rather as a way to escape a place of deep, deep pain.

  But in the aftermath of Invisible Life and my seven other novels, nothing has changed more than my own life. By truly embracing the three F’s I’ve never been ashamed of—my faith, my family, and my friends—today I’m thriving in a world that over a decade ago I didn’t want to be a part of.

  I have remained prayerful and thankful throughout my journey. I pray before I start each book, before I get on a plane to go to an engagement, and before I stand at the podium. During the early years of my career as a writer, I gave up things I once thought I needed like liquor and sex, so that I could follow my dream and one day look myself in the mirror and smile like that little boy on the front of this book.

  When I started writing, I never imagined that I’d eventually sell over three million copies of my books. Or that my name would repeatedly appear among the nation’s top authors as I took my place on The New York Times and Publishers Weekly bestseller lists as well as on a host of other national and regional bestseller lists. I would never have thought that thousands of people would wait in line to have their book signed by me, a reformed high-school prankster, a deeply lonely child who would do anything to be loved. Even a dreamer like me couldn’t imagine having photographers yell, “Hey! E. Lynn, will you stop for us!” as I walk the red carpet at premieres and other extraordinary events. I can’t act or sing, so why would I ever think that I would get to appear on Broadway in my favorite musical of all times, Dreamgirls. (I didn’t sing, but as the emcee I still had a speaking part.)

  On countless occasions my faith has pulled me through, and I’ve learned to “keep the faith and keep on stepping,” because as the Bible says, “Faith without acts is dead.” Faith has gotten me through many tough experiences: the deaths of my beloved grandmother, my close friends Butch and Tim, and my ex-lover Mario. Sure I was sad and heartbroken—I mourned for a time, but as the scripture says, “Joy cometh in the morning.” As I’ve grown older I’ve come to understand that death is a natural progression, a part of the circle of life, and that I will always hold my loved ones in my heart.

  Before I started writing this book, I got on my knees and prayed, as I do with each of my novels. First I thank God again for giving me this wonderful gift of allowing characters and stories to reside in my head. I humbly ask for direction and that somebody will be touched by something in my novels. I ask God to never let me forget that the life I have now is a blessing and that the way I show my appreciation for my gift is to share it and the benefits of this talent with others. I thank God for allowing me to experience dreams more magnificent than even I could ever have imagined. I thank Him for helping me realize that He placed a dream inside my heart and gave me innate gifts to combat life’s obstacles. Now I understand that life may never be perfect, but it can be rich and rewarding nonetheless.

  In 1997, after I wrote If This World Were Mine and while I was starting to write Abide With Me, my depression returned as simply as opening the door/window to get some air. But my despair resurfaced like a chilly unwelcome wind. “The black dog,” as many call depression, had returned.

  But this time I took control. I was living in Chicago, and I immediately found a doctor and resumed therapy. For a short period, I took medication and I didn’t block out my family and friends. Instead I made them a part of my healing process. I continued to pray fervently, and I got great results: The depression disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. In a quiet moment, I realized that this bout of depression was different from the others—this time I had my writing to rely on. So I never stopped writing, and my characters provided a welcome and healthy solace.

  Writing has allowed me to craft and sculpt a magnificent life and touch the lives of others in ways that still awe and humble me. Every day I receive e-mails from fans who let me know how much my books mean to them, and how their lives have been enriched and changed. Writing is my lifeline.

  Writing saved my life.

  I’ve also learned how to accept love in my life. I now know how important the love of my family is. Recently my mother turned seventy and we had a surprise party for her. Even though it was Mama’s special day, I felt warm and near tears the entire evening as I looked around the room at my sisters, cousins, uncles, aunts, and other family and friends who’d come to join in the celebration. I thought how all these wonderful and amazing people had been there for me my entire life. Fans often ask if my family treats me like a star when I return home, and I reply, “My family has always treated me like a star.” Not because I have gained notoriety as an author but because I am their son, brother, nephew, cousin, uncle, and friend.

  Although I have made many new wonderful friends since I became “E. Lynn, bestselling author,” the thing that
brings me the most joy is that many of my friends from back in the day are still the people I depend on the most. They’ve all celebrated my success like it was their own, and they should, because I couldn’t write novels about the importance of friendship without thinking about the love and kindness that they’ve shown me.

  For years I felt that being gay meant that I’d have to give up on having true love in my life. But I’ve discovered how amazing it can be when you are finally willing to look at yourself honestly and live your life in truth. For almost a decade now, I’ve shared my life with a wonderful man who is good and kind to me. I have love in my life, and that’s all you need to know.…

  But please don’t think that my life is wonderful now just because I’ve achieved a level of success as a bestselling author. My life’s journey has shown me that material possessions and notoriety can’t compare to learning to love yourself and appreciating and loving your family and friends. Money doesn’t measure up to the feelings I get when I dream up a new storyline or create a sizzling new character or when I give a fan a warm embrace at a book signing. All the fame in the world is meaningless without the love of God, family, and friends.

  When I look at my life now, my longtime love, my family and friends, and my precious little godson, Sean, I realize that because I had the courage to dream a dream and follow it, I’ve been able to write myself into the very life that I always wanted.

  Now I know that I never have to be brokenhearted again. And neither do you.

  Go ahead. No, I dare you. I double-dog dare you.

  Live.

  Dream.

  MORE THAN YOU KNOW

  (Featuring the Stars of My Life)

  When you write your life story, a lot of people come into your head. Some of these visions make you smile and others make you sad or sometimes mad. When I told my mother that I was writing my memoir, she advised me not to waste a lot of time on people who’d tried to hurt me. For the most part I agreed, but of course there were people and situations that, in many ways, still affect the way I live my life today. Although my stepfather Ben died in 1989, the shadows of his abuse lingered over my life until I started writing. Writing allowed me to finally erase the pain he’d caused me. I’m also proud to say that for the last five years I have managed to maintain a happy life without the use of therapy or medication. I depend on the power of prayer, family, friends, and my life’s work. So let’s end on a happy note. I wish I could have mentioned and shared stories of all the amazing people who have come into my life, but space would only allow so much room. I couldn’t imagine writing my life story without mentioning certain people in my life. So consider these “Acknowledgments, Part Two,” as I include the names of people who’ve passed through my life and warmed my spirit with their kindness, people I love more than words can ever convey. Still, I know I will forget someone, but charge it to my head and not my heart.

  I’ll start by mentioning the members of my family. I have included several of them in my previous books’ acknowledgments, but this time I’m bringing the whole crew. My sisters, whom I love and don’t see enough: Anita, Zettoria, and Jan. My nieces and nephews: Corey, Roshanunda, Tony, Whitney, Jasmine, Makel, Raven, and Ray Lynn and Eric Jr.

  My Aunt Gee’s family, starting with my Uncle Charles, who has been more like a father to me than any man I know and is a man whom I love, admire, and respect deeply. The sons of the Phillips clan and their families: Kennie and Larecia, Chuck and Karen plus Chaz, Tony and Delecia, Carlos and Denise, plus Morgan and Malcolm. Thanks Kennie, Chuck, Tony, and Carlos for always making me feel like your brother.

  Uncle James and Aunt Hattie and my cousins (The Williams Clan), whom I always looked forward to spending weekends with as a child and still look forward to seeing today. First, my wonderful cousin Jacquelyn Johnson, whom I mentioned before, and her husband, Charles Wayne, and her son Michael and three lovely daughters, Corshaunda, Courtney, and Jennifer.

  My cousins Robbie, Gary and his wife Joann, Sidney, Michelle, Pam, Virginia, and Amy.

  My Uncle Arthur Lee, who always seemed like an older brother, and his wife.

  In Michigan, my cousins (The Allen Clan), whom I mention in the memoir and made me always look forward to the summers. Cousins Lenora, Clarence, Roy, Juanita, Carolyn, Clarence Jr., Rickey, Wayne, Ervin, Lawrence Jr., and Jeanette.

  My adoptive family in Tulsa, Oklahoma, who have loved and accepted me with open arms and have reveled in my success: the Smith family, starting with the lovely Mrs. Rose Smith, and her children Robin, Rhonda, Roy, and the adorable Reggie and Sherrie. I can’t forget Desiree and Stephanie Smith, who have become an important part of my life.

  I have five very close female friends who have always been there for me for over twenty years. They sometimes jokingly called themselves “Lynn’s Angels.” The funny thing is these talented, beautiful, and amazing women are all very close friends, and they all met through me. So don’t ever let anybody tell you that beautiful women can’t get along. My angels here on earth are Lencola Sullivan, Vanessa Gilmore, Robin Walters, Cindy Barnes, and Pam Frazier. Thanks for all the love and support, ladies.

  I also have several other female friends who aren’t a part of that group but who have been there for me as well. Some have been my friends for twenty-plus years, while a few have swept in and made me feel like they were loving me for at least that long. Much love and thanks to; Regina Daniels, Debra Martin Chase, Dyanna Williams, Linda Johnson Rice, Deborah Crable, Garbo Hearne, Sybil Wilkes, Yolanda Starks, Brenda Braxton Van Putten, Janet Hill, Rose Crater, Blanche Richardson, Sanya Whittaker Gragg, Sonya Jackson, Juanita Jordan, Sandy Matthews, and Dellanor Young.

  Sean Harrison Gilmore is my heart.

  Rodrick L. Smith is my heart and soul.

  My real-life dreamboys are not boys at all, but men who are very important in my life and who’ve shown me a love I would never have imagined: Troy Donato, Sean James, Hugh Watson, and Brent Zachery. Thanks, fellows. Who said handsome men could only love themselves?

  Two friends who feel more like the younger brothers I always dreamed of? Lloyd Boston and Anthony Bell. I couldn’t imagine my life without either of you.

  Carlton A. Brown has been a brother and a friend, and without him Invisible Life might not have ever happened.

  Derrick Gragg is a person whose friendship I depend on and don’t know how I survived so many years without. Thanks for reminding me of the important things in life.

  Kevin Edwards, Reggie Van Lee, Derrick Thompson, Gordon Chambers, Andy Phillips, and Lee Daniels for their friendship always being only a phone call away.

  There were some good times during my childhood in Little Rock. I liked all my teachers and classmates, but a few stuck out. (You know they had to stick out for me to remember them today.) It’s funny but I can happily say that I went through school without ever having a fight with one of my classmates. (I did, however, narrowly escape a scrape with my elementary school friend Albert Cutts when I carelessly said something about his mama, but today, Albert and I still keep in contact via e-mail and class reunions.) Studies have shown that children who grow up in abusive households sometimes either become abusers or very gentle people. I’m glad I’m in the latter group.

  There were other children I grew up with whom I’d like to mention besides Albert. Gary Nunn who is now Gary Nunn, M.D., Collette Finley, Robert Elmore, Robert Vault, Carl Vault, Beverly Stewart, Michael Stewart, Ronnie Hill, and Jarvis Anderson. There were some older young adults whom I also admired and were always kind to me, like Joseph Nunn Jr. and his sister, Rita.

  The entire Morris clan were like cousins instead of friends. I spent many hours in their home enjoying the company of Marilyn Jean, Gail, Richard, Terrie, Rose, and Winston.

  My favorite elementary school teacher was Mrs. Janet Gant, whom I had in the third grade. In junior high, my favorite teachers were Susan Adams, who taught journalism; Ann Young, who taught math; and Mr. Miller, who taught civics. Many of my other teachers were
great, but these three make me smile even today.

  In junior high I did make some friends whom I enjoyed hanging out with at school and at their homes. Besides the lovely Rose Crater, I must mention Valerie Rice, Wanda Nelson, Gertrude Stubbfield, Jocelyn Hester, Rodney Brooks, Kennie Gee, Beverly Rice, Mavis Dunn, Tony Rainey, Doris Palmer, William Sparks, James Jennings, Lanky Wells, Dexter Reed, Brenda Richardson, Sandra Myers, and Dwight Scott.

  In high school, I loved my senior English teacher, Ms. Carol Martin. She had the greatest laugh and would read us Shakespeare aloud and chuckle to herself at some points that I didn’t really understand back then. She made reading the classics fun. On my last book tour, Ms. Martin came to one of my signings and it almost brought me to tears. She still looked the same and still had her infectious smile. I consider Mr. Weldon Faulk, the principal at Hall High, and Luscious Powell, the then vice principal, as positives images who went out of their way to make sure I stayed focused and out of trouble.

  I also had much love for two teachers who were also coaches, even though I despised gym as much as I hated taking showers in a room full of much bigger boys. Coach Oliver Elders and Pat Jones always believed my excuses for missing gym, even though I know they knew I was lying. Coach Jones would look at me with a smirk and a smile when he would say, “What’s your excuse today, Lynn?”

  After Becka and Karen, I formed several more friendships with women while in high school. These people were always very kind to me, even though I was at a point in my life where I wasn’t willing to really reveal who I was. I mention the following people not because we were close friends but because they tried to offer me something I was desperately seeking but didn’t know how to receive. They were Leslie Hankins, Cynthia Greer, Betsy Bracey, Connie Blass, Debi Thomas, Sherri Kaufman, Karen Moore, Carolyn Pledger, Shawn Shannon, Carla Hill, Harry McDermott, John Garr, and Eric Heizman.