Just As I Am

by E. Lynn Harris

  I was still with Jelly’s and had gone on for Renee again when she took a week’s vacation. I really loved the role and the producers asked if I would be interested in starring in the national tour. Of course I said yes. There was still no music or start date for To Tell the Truth and for me that spelled trouble. The fact that Pierce didn’t talk about it as much was reason enough for alarm.

  A recording career was also becoming a possibility. While I was subbing for Renee, a talent scout for LaFace Records out of Atlanta saw the show and offered to help me with a demo, or at least some backup work for some of their major artists.

  The summer went by so fast and it seemed like Kyle, Delaney, and I had never been busier. So busy in fact, that we’d seen very little of each other. We talked on the phone a lot but very little face to face. Delaney completed two national commercials and took a week’s vacation to go back to Seattle and San Francisco. She still didn’t want to talk about her attack anymore and proceeded to go on calls for other rap artists. When I expressed my concern, she told me she never allowed herself to be alone with any of them.

  Kyle was busy making multiple wedding dresses, one, he joked, that was suitable for marriage into a rich white family and one perfect for a high-class colored family.

  In July I traveled back to Arkansas to sing on the final evening of the Miss Arkansas pageant. I couldn’t do the entire pageant because it was a two-week job and I couldn’t be out of New York that long. The pay was okay but it wasn’t New York-scale money. So I agreed to come on the final night and help with the crowning of the new Miss Arkansas. It gave me a free trip home and a chance to break the news of my pending marriage to my mother and brother. It was great being back in Arkansas. The state was bursting with pride because the governor, Bill Clinton, was running for president of the United States and it appeared that he had a good chance of winning. The state hadn’t received this much attention since the Central High incident. I just prayed he would win, not only for the country but for this small state that I loved.

  It was always funny to me the reaction I got from people in New York when I told them I was from Arkansas. They were even more perplexed when I told them I was a former Miss Arkansas. “I didn’t even know they had black people in Arkansas,” would be the response of many.

  My mother didn’t come down to Hot Springs for the pageant. She said she wasn’t up to the fifty-mile trip from Little Rock. I told her that was fine. We could get together for brunch in Little Rock before I left for New York City. My mother was staying in a high-rise retirement home near downtown and the airport. We decided to meet for brunch at the Excelsior Hotel right next to the Old State House, the place where I wanted to have my wedding. I was really excited about seeing my mother and having an enjoyable visit with her.

  Mother was already at the hotel when I arrived. She looked beautiful in a kelly green silk dress I had sent from New York. She still had that schoolgirl figure and her gray hair was done nicely, but it still looked like she was using a pressing comb. The thought of the pressing comb made me smile when I thought about how I used to think I couldn’t live without one when I was growing up. It wasn’t until a couple of white gay guys got ahold of my hair and permed it on my third trip to the Miss Arkansas pageant that I got rid of my two pressing combs forever.

  “Mother, you look great,” I said as I hugged my mother tightly. “Where did you get that beautiful dress?” I asked.

  “My fairy godmother,” my mother said and smiled as she twirled around in the lobby of the huge hotel. She caught a glimpse of my ring but she didn’t say anything.

  “What do you feel like eating?” I asked.

  “I don’t care, baby. You should have come over to the home. Me and Bessie would have cooked for you. But I suppose you’re too high and mighty for my eggs and grits,” she said.

  “Now, Mother. I’m just trying to make it easier on you. How’s Michael?”

  “Fine the last time I talked with him. I had to wire him some money to help him get a new apartment. He’s trying to move into a better area,” Mother said.

  “Mama, are you sure Michael is doing okay? He’s not on drugs or something like that, is he?”

  “Drugs? Heavens no, child. Why would you ask something crazy like that? Michael is fine.”

  “Okay. I hope you’re right.”

  We found a cute little breakfast place in the hotel and really had an enjoyable time. I told Mother about getting to go on for Renee and about the new musical and the possible record deal. She only showed a great deal of concern when I told her about Delaney’s attack.

  “That’s why I worry about you all the time in that big city with all those crazy men. Was it a white man?”

  “No, Mother, he was black,” I said.

  “Oh.”

  “Why are you concerned about what color he was, Mother?”

  “No reason. You girls ought to be more careful where you go and wearing all those tight clothes.”

  “So blame the victim,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  My mother took a few long sips from her coffee and then began to stare at my ring. I tried unsuccessfully to turn the ring around so that the diamond would be facing the side of my palm.

  “Girl, don’t try and hide the ring now. Where did you get that from?”

  “From Pierce,” I said proudly.

  “Is that the white boy?”

  “Yes, Mother, Pierce is white and Jewish,” I defended.

  “Lordy Jesus. I don’t care if he’s Jewish, he’s still white. Don’t tell me you’re going to marry him.”

  “Well, it looks that way,” I said quietly.

  “Nicole, baby, why you got to do that?”

  “Do what, Mother?”

  “Marry a white man. Ain’t there no good-looking colored boys in New York? Chile, I know your daddy is rolling over in his grave,” she lamented.

  “Daddy liked Pierce,” I said.

  “Your daddy liked anything you drug into the house,” said Mother.

  “Well, are you going to give me your blessing?”

  “Blessing? Chile, I’m going to pray for you. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” my mother preached.

  “Mother, you should really try and get to know Pierce. He’s really a special man,” I said.

  “I don’t need to know him. I know his type. You’re the one who better be sure you know him.”

  “Yes, Mother. I know you’re right. I’m praying that the Lord will guide me to the right decision,” I said. I sipped my tea and looked around the hotel. I didn’t look at my mother out of fear that I would start to cry. I tried to understand my mother’s feelings. She had in fact grown up in a different era. She didn’t have the opportunities I enjoyed. But she had one thing I wanted more than anything in the world, a wonderful, long, and happy marriage to a man who adored her, who worshiped the ground she walked on.

  Right before I started getting ready to leave for the airport, I looked up at my mother, who was now silent. I thought back to New York City and how much fan I’d had with Delaney and her mom—what good friends they were and how much they liked each other.

  “Mother, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, chile,” my mother said as she pulled a lipstick from her purse and inspected her lips with a small compact. It looked like the one I had given her when I was a little girl.

  “Do you like me, Mother?”

  “Like you? What kinda fool question is that? You’re my little girl—of course, I love you,” my mother said.

  “I didn’t say love, Mother. I know you love me. I want to know if you like me,” I said again.

  “Girl, it’s time for you to get on back up to New York with all these fool questions. Are you all right?” she asked as she reached across the table to touch my forehead.

  “I’m fine, Mother, just fine,” I said as I wiped a single tear from my left eye.

  My mother was right about one
thing. It was time for me to get back to New York.

  Nineteen

  Funny things happen when you fall in lust. Your libido takes over your brain. You do stupid things, things like forgetting what’s important—like family and friends. Basil had returned to New Jersey for football season in the fall and I was trying to figure out what to do about the sexual floodgate he had opened for me. Thank God for memories and masturbation.

  The first two weeks Basil was gone I didn’t hear a peep from him. I dialed his long distance beeper number and left countless messages with his service, all with no response. I guess I wanted to find out if I should continue monogamy and masturbation. Which now was not a simple task.

  We never really talked about a relationship in the true sense of the word. There were times during the summer when I thought I could have a lasting relationship with Basil, no matter how nonconventional, and despite the fact that we were two men, two black men.

  One Thursday evening while I was packing to go to Birmingham for my family reunion the phone rang.

  “Hey, boy. What’s shaking?”

  “Basil,” I said with a ring of excitement in my voice.

  “Who else?” Basil said.

  “Man, I was beginning to think I wasn’t gonna ever hear from you again,” I said.

  “Oh, so you’ve been thinking about me,” Basil stated matter-of-factly.

  “Didn’t you get my page or my messages?” I questioned.

  “Yeah, but you know I’ve been in two-a-days. Practicing twice a day is tough shit. Plus Dyanna’s been hanging around a lot,” Basil said.

  “Oh. So how is it going?”

  “Great. We’ve got a good team. I really think this is the year I could make the Pro Bowl and the team could make the playoffs,” Basil boasted.

  “That would be great,” I said.

  “Yeah, we’ve got a good crop of rookies.”

  “Any of them good-looking?”

  “What? I wouldn’t know.”

  “Now come on, Basil. Can you honestly say you don’t check some of your teammates out when you’re in the locker room?”

  “No,” Basil snapped.

  “Okay, if you say so.”

  Basil and I continued our small talk about what was going on in our lives. I told him about my upcoming family reunion and he asked me if my boyfriend was going to be there. Of course he was talking about Jared. One night before Basil had left, I’d opened up about Jared, sharing with Basil how I felt about him, but that I was now certain he was straight. Basil didn’t agree, saying he saw the way Jared had looked at me in the gym. “He wants you, Ray, but now I got you so he can forget it,” Basil gloated.

  During the period of Basil’s absence I thought about calling Jared, but I felt that would be selfish, so I resisted. I asked Basil what he was doing for sex and he said Dyanna usually came and spent the weekends with him but for the most part he just jerked off. He mentioned that a leading New York sportswriter whom he was convinced was gay kept trying to get him to come to his apartment promising him major coverage in the sports pages. When I asked him what paper, Basil wouldn’t say.

  “You should go,” I joked. “You may have to give it up for your career.”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll do my talking on the field. What time are you leaving for Birmingham?” Basil asked.

  “Tomorrow night or early Saturday. The main stuff isn’t happening until Saturday night and Sunday,” I said.

  “I sent you something and you’ll get it first thing in the morning. You’ll have to decide what to do with it,” Basil said mysteriously.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’ll see. What do you have on?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, what do you have on?” Basil demanded.

  “Just my underwear,” I said.

  “What kind?”

  “You know the kind I wear,” I said.

  “What color?”

  “Basil, what up? Black with gold bands,” I offered.

  “The ones with the fly or without the fly?”

  “Without the fly.”

  “Pull it out,” Basil said, his voice lower and more seductive.

  “Pull what out?” I teased.

  “You know, pull my piece out.”

  “Your piece?”

  “Yes, my dick, pull it out. You got it in your hands?”

  I didn’t answer but I complied. I suggested Basil do the same and we talked each other into a moment of self-induced pleasure.

  “Is it there yet?” Basil asked breathlessly.

  “What?”

  “The mayonnaise.”

  “Mayonnaise?”

  “Yeah. The man mayonnaise.” He laughed.

  “Yeah. It’s here,” I sighed. “A whole cup full.”

  “Same here,” Basil said. “Good night, and thanks.”

  “Is that it? Boy, that was a cheap date,” I joked.

  “But you loved it. Didn’t you?”

  “Good night, Basil,” I said as I hung up the phone with a smile on my face and a need to wash my hands.

  The next morning as I was preparing to leave for the office, the doorman buzzed and said a Federal Express carrier was on his way up to my apartment. Just as I hung up there was a knock at the door and the delivery man stood waiting with an overnight envelope.

  I wasn’t expecting anything. I wondered if this was something from the office.

  After signing for the envelope, I looked at the sender’s address and saw the name J. B. Henderson and a Jersey City return address. So this was Basil’s surprise.

  I quickly ripped open the package and out fell an eight by eleven-color photo of Basil’s perfect body flexing underneath a one-piece gray flannel bodysuit. On the back Basil had scribbled, “Got your attention. Steaks are on at seven.”

  I was wondering what the note meant when I noticed something had fallen from the package to the carpet. I bent down and picked up an American Airlines travel folder. I opened it up and realized it was a first-class round trip ticket in my name. I looked at the ticket closer and saw that my flight left at three-thirty today.

  I couldn’t go to New York, my family was expecting me. I walked into my kitchen to call Basil to thank him and to try to get him to reschedule, but I got his answering machine. While I was waiting for his message to complete I picked up the picture of Basil and felt my sex beginning to grow inside my underwear. When the little beep went off on Basil’s machine I said, “I like my steaks medium well. I’ll see you at seven.”

  I pressed the speed dial on my phone and asked the switchboard operator to put me through to my assistant, Melanie.

  “Melanie,” I said.

  “Ray. Where are you?”

  “I’m still at home. Look, I’ve got a client emergency in New York. Please clear my calendar until Tuesday,” I instructed Melanie.

  “Sure. Is there a number where I can reach you?”

  “I’ll call you once I reach New York, but you can always call my home and leave a message if there are any emergencies.”

  “Okay. Have a safe trip,” Melanie said in her cheery voice.

  “Oh, Melanie, do me a favor. Please call my father’s office and tell him I’ve run into a problem and I might be late getting to Birmingham,” I lied.

  “Consider it done, Ray,” Melanie said.

  I threw a few items in my garment bag, grabbed my briefcase, and I was off to Hartsfield International Airport headed for Newark, New Jersey.

  During the plane ride to Newark, I enjoyed the first-class treatment and mapped out my plans for the weekend. I would call Kyle early Saturday morning and arrange to meet him in the Village. It would be great seeing him and just going by some of the places we used to frequent. I would see about changing my flight to first thing Sunday morning and going directly to Birmingham. That way I would still make the major activity, the family picnic on Sunday afternoon. I was sure I would be able to come up with a good excuse before I reached Birmingha
m.

  I was really getting excited about being back on the East Coast. There were times when I thought about moving back and then I would think about the cost of living and how Atlanta was such a nice, peaceful place to be. Plus I really loved working with Gilliam and all the people in our office. I was also pretty certain Gilliam would offer me a partner position when she decided to expand. With the boost in my salary I could fly to New York anytime I wanted. As I sipped a tasty California wine, I smiled at Basil’s kind gesture. A big-time NFL football player sending for me. Now this was the shit. This was the kind of stuff a lot of gay men dreamed of and it was happening to me. I wondered what Kyle was going to think of this. He really thought I had lost my mind. I tried to explain to him how different Basil was once you got to know him and he simply replied, “He’s trouble, Ray. Please be careful.”

  Basil had sent a limo to pick me up. As I walked off the escalator, a short, chubby guy with a cardboard sign reading Ray Tyler took my garment bag and whisked me off to Jersey City, New Jersey, and Basil’s condominium.

  His condo was located right in the heart of Jersey City, about fifteen minutes from midtown Manhattan. The complex was large and the area looked like a rail yard with a number of huge red brick buildings close together. I pushed the buzzer with Basil’s name on it and his voice came over the intercom telling me to come to 402B.

  Basil was standing with the door open as I wandered down the long hallway looking at the numbers on the burnt-orange doors. He was wearing a Warriors sweatshirt and gray running shorts without support.

  “Hey, handsome. Looking for somebody?” Basil laughed.

  “Yeah, I’m looking for trade,” I said.

  “Well, I think you found the place,” Basil said as he grabbed my briefcase.

  Once I got inside the condo, Basil gave me a gentle hug and a simple kiss on the lips.

  “I’m glad you came,” Basil said. There was tenderness in his voice.

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I said as I looked around the enormous place with red brick exposed walls and a black spiral staircase leading upstairs.

  “Let me take your stuff upstairs. I don’t think you’re going to need all these clothes,” Basil said.