Just As I Am

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Nicole, over here,” Pierce called out breaking my moment.

  “Hi, Pierce,” I said as I gave him a quick brush on his chapped lips.

  “What do you want to drink?”

  “Just some hot tea.”

  “How is Kyle?” Pierce asked.

  “It’s hard to tell. He was all covered up,” I said, recalling Kyle in the oversized turtleneck.

  “So what are we going to do?” Pierce asked.

  “About what?”

  “Well, about us. That is why you called me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Well, I’ve told you how sorry I am. You know I’m not a racist,” Pierce said.

  “Yes, Pierce, I think I know that, but your actions hurt me. That man could have been my father. As a matter of fact he reminded me of my father,” I said as I sipped the hot tea.

  “Well, Nicole, you’ve said things that could be considered racist. I think it just proves we’re human,” Pierce said as he picked at the salmon on his plate.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you remember the time you bought your camcorder?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you tell me about the price?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, wondering what point Pierce was trying to make.

  “Remember you said, ‘I got a great deal on it. I was able to ‘jew’ the guy down almost three hundred dollars.’ Do you remember that?”

  I didn’t answer. So this was the point—that maybe both Pierce and I sheltered racist attitudes. I hadn’t thought anything about the statement—I’d made it often, not only to Pierce but to other friends.

  “Yes, Pierce, I do recall saying that. You’re right, it was wrong for me to say something like that. Why didn’t you correct me then?”

  “Well, I knew you didn’t mean any harm. Just like what I said in anger to the man in Harlem,” Pierce said.

  “Well, I know I took your statement more personally than maybe I should have. I never told you how my little brother used to tease me because I was so dark,” I said.

  “No you never did. Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But I love your color. I think it’s beautiful. Your beautiful skin color was the first thing I noticed,” Pierce said.

  “Is that why you think you’re in love with me?”

  “Think I’m in love, Nicole? I’m certain I’m in love with you,” Pierce said in a very stern voice.

  “Pierce, the race thing we could work out. We could even work out the religious part,” I said as I picked up a bread stick from the basket sitting on the table.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  Well, it was now or never. I had to tell Pierce how I felt, but I didn’t want to hurt him. I must find a way to do it gingerly. I hated this feeling. Pierce motioned to the waiter to bring him another drink. Maybe I should order some wine.

  “Can I have a glass of white wine?”

  “Sure,” the waiter said. “Is the house wine okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, Nicole, what is the problem?” Pierce repeated.

  “Pierce, I’m having second thoughts and before we go any further, I need to be sure,” I announced.

  “What’s the matter, Nicole?”

  The waiter brought my wine and I took a long gulp. I drank it as if it was strawberry Kool-Aid.

  “I love you, Pierce, but I’m just not certain I love you enough. Maybe we need to take a break.”

  Pierce didn’t say a word, he just slowly sipped his drink. I felt miserable; I hated the feeling of hurting someone just as much as I did being hurt.

  “Is it because of what I said?” Pierce said as he gazed at me sternly.

  “No, Pierce, I’m just finally being honest with myself.”

  “Well, let’s talk about this. What can we do to change things?”

  “Change things?”

  “Yes, what can we do to change your feelings?”

  “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “If we work at it.”

  “You don’t think we’ve been working at it?”

  “Not really.”

  “I don’t know, Pierce. Maybe if we take a break …”

  “A break?”

  “Yes. I have a feeling Kyle is going to need me.”

  “But I need you too,” Pierce said.

  I looked at Pierce after his statement. There was something uncharacteristically insecure in the tone of his voice.

  “Pierce, have you ever thought that maybe you’re in love with me because of who you think I am?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know this sounds so typical, but maybe I’m some kind of fantasy for you.”

  “A fantasy?”

  “Am I, Pierce?”

  “Yes, you’re beautiful. You’d be a fantasy for any man.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be a fantasy for anyone. Pierce, there are many times when I don’t feel beautiful or successful.”

  “Why?”

  “Sometimes I think you want me to be somebody I can’t be. Like all the Diahann Carroll references?”

  “I thought you’d be flattered.”

  “Flattered. What if I said you looked like Kevin Costner?”

  “I don’t look anything like him.”

  “My point exactly. I’m not Diahann Carroll.”

  “I know that, Nicole. I’m in love with you not Diahann Carroll.”

  “Pierce, I wish I could say I’m in love with you. This is not easy for me.”

  His eyebrows met in the middle of his face and he stared at me without smiling and said, “Easy for you? Do you know how much I’ve invested in you?”

  “Invested in me! What are you talking about, Pierce?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Do you think I pulled strings and invested in a project that I may never make a single cent off because I didn’t love you?”

  I took the final gulp from my wineglass. Suddenly my head started to spin. Pierce’s words and the rush of wine caused a sudden headache. Pierce looked aimlessly out of the window and then reached into his coat jacket and pulled out a cigar. He knew how much I disliked cigars. He looked around the table for matches and when he didn’t see any he signaled for the waiter.

  “Can I get some matches?”

  “Sir, this is a nonsmoking establishment. You can’t smoke in here,” the waiter said.

  “Fuck,” Pierce said as he placed the cigar back into his jacket.

  “Maybe you should take this back,” I said as I slowly slipped the engagement ring off my finger and slid it to the middle of the table.

  “No,” Pierce said loudly. “I bought it for you. Keep it, Nicole.”

  “No, Pierce I think you should have it. Maybe I took it under the wrong circumstances,” I said. I was starting to feel sick.

  “Yeah, that way all the men out there will know you’re available,” Pierce said in a tone similar to the one he’d used when he’d made the investment statement. I guessed I was right; Pierce did view me as an investment or possession.

  We sat in silence for about ten minutes, me back to sipping my now cold tea and Pierce absently playing with the spoon from the coffee he’d ordered but not touched. I decided that it was time for me to leave and started to gather up my things.

  “Pierce, maybe we should take some time and then try to talk about this. I’m sorry but I’m not feeling well and I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere tonight.”

  Pierce didn’t respond. When I got up from the table and made it clear that I was ready to go, Pierce said in a very short tone, “I’ll hail you a cab.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said as I picked up my purse and moved toward the door. On Eighth Avenue as I held my hand up in the air to hail a taxi, an attractive, conservatively dressed black man came up to me and said, “Sister, I’ve been standing out here for ten minutes trying to hail a taxi. Will you help me? I�
��m up here visiting from Baton Rouge.”

  “Sure,” I said, and just as quickly as the words came out of my mouth a taxi stopped; the man stepped in front of me and jumped into the taxi. Before he closed the door he looked at me and said, “Thanks a lot, miss, New York is so hard on a brother.”

  I smiled and hailed another taxi. One pulled up right behind the cab that was just driving off. As I got into the backseat, I remembered what the visitor had said and thought New York was hard on a sister too.

  Twenty-five

  Kyle had good days and bad days. There were times when I thought he’d live forever. He once joked, “I’m not leaving here until Diana Ross has another hit record.” But slowly, as the weeks went by, it became obvious he would need more help. It was becoming clear that he wouldn’t live forever. I wanted to spend twenty-four hours a day with Kyle, but he would have no part of it. He told me constantly to go out and enjoy New York City, but how could I, with my best friend confined to his bed and cluttered apartment?

  Kyle’s mother returned home, but she called every day to check on him. When she asked me how he was doing it was hard to give her an answer because Kyle never once complained. We spent our days indulging in nostalgia and talking about the future. Kyle had just a few goals. He said he wanted to live until his thirty-fifth birthday, which was December 28. So we’d begun making plans for a big Christmas and birthday bash.

  Kyle’s nightstand was filled with catalogs from department stores where he had charge accounts and he spent days ordering gifts for all of his family and friends whom he kept in contact with. He had a spiral notebook with the addresses and sizes of all his friends and relatives, the limits on his charge accounts, and stars by the accounts that included insurance that would pay the bills once he died. He was always trying to get me to order something for myself, but I couldn’t. It just didn’t seem right. So he ordered a lot of nice things for Janelle, Christopher, Nicole, and her friend Delaney. While Kyle was taking naps, I would try and keep up with clients and prospects over the phone. Gilliam was still paying me full salary so I tried to stay on top of things by phone or fax and made myself available whenever she had questions or needed clarification with sports jargon.

  Nicole came over to Kyle’s almost every other day, usually when I was back at my hotel making phone calls, changing clothes or working out. The exercise became a necessary release for the stress of caring for my friend. It was nice seeing Nicole so often. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. Her skin looked as smooth as a glass of chocolate milk, her abundant black hair pulled back to show off her beautiful oval face, her delicate ears and luminous brown eyes. The first time she saw me, Nicole’s manner was very restrained and formal. She seemed preoccupied with something every time we were in a room together, so I didn’t suggest the two of us getting together although the thought crossed my mind whenever I saw her. Besides, she was engaged to some guy and this was not the time to further confuse my life.

  Nicole’s friend Delaney was also very attractive, but she too seemed distant toward me. She didn’t appear interested in my conversation. Had Nicole told her something unfavorable about me? Of course she had. But maybe I was taking Delaney’s coolness the wrong way. I mean they were worried about Kyle just as much as I was. They both came and told him stories about what was going on in show business and brought over different music videos that hadn’t been released yet for Kyle to look at. Most times when the two of them came over I felt left out so I would take long walks near Central Park or run errands, but whenever I came back into the apartment it seemed like a party had been going on.

  Kyle had a knack for making ladies love him. I wasn’t at a point in my life where I was comfortable with women knowing my sexuality just for the sake of knowing or conversation. I felt some women treated gay men differently from straight men, as if they were girlfriends, which I guess could be considered an honor since most women I knew treasured their girlfriends. But this was not the type of relationship I desired with most women. Janelle was the only woman with whom I’d developed such a comfort level, but there were even times I had to put her in check. We had come to a point where I was comfortable discussing my male dates or listening to her advice when it came to men. But I could never envision a day where I would feel the same way with Nicole.

  I was still staying at the Paramount and the manager had moved me into a junior suite, which was a little bit larger than my prior cramped quarters. I just hoped American Express would continue to extend credit. I realized I should start to look for a sublet or consider moving in with Kyle. Maybe Nicole knew of something through her theater friends.

  I spoke to Jared almost every day. He provided a great deal of support even though he was so far away. At the end of every conversation he said, “If you and Kyle need anything, just call and I’ll be on the next flight.”

  Gilliam was supportive too. When I got to New York and realized the severity of Kyle’s condition, I called and offered my resignation. Gilliam wouldn’t hear of it and told me we’d discuss the partnership whenever I was back in the office full time. Gilliam said my daily phone calls and keeping up with my clients via phone and fax weren’t causing any major problems and that she’d hired a law student to assist with research. She didn’t flinch when I told her Kyle had AIDS; if she did I couldn’t tell by her voice.

  I don’t know what I expected when I told people about Kyle’s condition. I thought maybe they would inquire about his sexuality and mine as well. But this was not about me or what people thought of me. I guess maybe the heterosexual community had finally realized that this was not only a white gay man’s disease. But I still felt the African-American community had a long way to go in the areas of education and support of minority AIDS patients. Kyle often mentioned that there were very few support groups run by African-Americans. I thought of all the black churches in New York City and wondered if they had support groups for their members afflicted with this dread disease.

  All the support Kyle received outside of family and friends came from the white gay community. The Gay Men’s Health Crisis called weekly to check to see if Kyle needed anything and gave Kyle free tickets to Broadway shows when he was up to it. Since I had been in New York we had seen Five Guys Named Moe and Two Trains Running. I thought it was kind of funny that they always gave Kyle tickets to black shows, but that’s what he wanted to see anyway. Besides, why look a gift horse in the mouth? I wanted to see either the show Nicole was in, or Miss Saigon, but Kyle had seen them both. I was really waiting for a personal invitation from Nicole for Jelly’s Last Jam.

  There were times when I enjoyed being back in New York, but I became sad when I thought of New York without Kyle. He was always encouraging me to go out and have fun … to go down to the Village or call some of my old friends, but I protested. I was not in New York to socialize. So my life revolved around going between the Paramount and Kyle’s and the local establishments in my old neighborhood.

  My days with Kyle were as different as the colorful leaves that painted Manhattan. I sometimes stopped at the McDonald’s and got a couple of Egg McMuffins and coffee. Kyle’s appetite wasn’t that good but I think he enjoyed the thought of just wishing out loud for different foods, knowing that between Nicole and myself, he would get it. It didn’t matter if he only took one bite. Most days though, we just sat in his bedroom and talked. Kyle shared stories that were alternately uproarious and heartbreaking. He’d managed to have an active sex life up until the end of August, so he had funny stories about his conquests. He assured me all of his rendezvous were safe-sex encounters. Sometimes Kyle talked about his childhood, about how close he and his mother were. One day he spent alot of time remembering the day his father left.

  “Do you think about him, Kyle?” I asked after the story.

  “Sometimes,” Kyle said lightly.

  “When was the last time you saw or heard from him?”

  “When I was nine. He came to my birthday party.”

  “Is
he still alive?”

  “I think so. I really don’t know.”

  “Did you ever think about trying to get in touch with him?”

  “No!” Kyle said sharply.

  Kyle and I began to talk about more pleasant things, like the prospect of Janelle and Christopher coming up and the big Christmas birthday party we were planning when suddenly Kyle looked at me with big weary eyes and said, “Ray, do you think you could find him?”

  “Find who?” I asked.

  “My father. Do you think you can help me find him?” Kyle repeated.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Why do you think I asked? You know you’re one dumb bitch,” Kyle said, trying not to appear serious.

  “If that’s what you want, then consider it done,” I said confidently, knowing deep down I didn’t have a clue what to do next.

  When I got back to the hotel that evening, I became depressed. How was I going to find Kyle’s father? The only information Kyle had was his full name, where he was born, and the last place he had lived. I started to call Kyle’s mother to see if she had any information that could assist my search, but I thought I should clear it with Kyle first. Instead, I went to the hotel gym, worked out, and then came up to my suite to take a hot shower. I was looking over the room service menu when the phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Ray? What’s going on, dude?”

  “Jared. You the man. It’s great hearing your voice,” I said.

  “What? I’ve been calling you every day. You didn’t think I’d call?” Jared asked.

  “No, that’s not it. I just need to talk,” I said quietly.

  “Well, talk,” Jared said.

  I told Jared about Kyle’s request and how I didn’t know what to do. He assured me Kyle would be thankful for anything I did but I shouldn’t put pressure on myself. Jared went on to tell me that he’d sent via overnight delivery the mail he’d picked up from my home and office and told me some guy named Trent called. He had told Jared to tell me that Miller was doing okay and to give him a call some time.