Apparently, in all that heightened excitement, while we were in Tina’s dressing room I cracked a joke that was insulting to one of the cast members, Cheryl. When I got to the theater the next day, she ambushed me. I was shocked by her fury over what I saw as innocent joking and teasing. She looked so hurt and I felt so sorry. I apologized profusely. It was rare that anyone would confront me at all, especially like this. As Terry had said, I had a way of distancing people when they’d get too close. It was a moment of insight for me. I wanted to make amends immediately. Fortunately, she listened when I explained that I meant no malice toward her. She softened, and after the show we went to the hotel and watched TV together.
The TV news headlines were all about the eruption of Mount St. Helens in Washington State. Volcanic eruption seemed an appropriate metaphor for my demeanor in those days. Show after show; man after man; the blindness of persecuting my colleagues and thinking they would be okay with it. I felt sorry for myself. I knew I wasn’t a bad person, but it did not stop me from carrying on and being argumentative. I felt out of control of my behavior or blamed others for my treatment of them. I felt my brain was moving too rapidly and I was constantly chasing after myself. Except for Terry, nobody seemed to be on my side. I hung around Roderick a lot, even though he got on my nerves. One time he tried to undermine me by telling everyone I was a lesbian. Foolish boy! Given my track record, how far do you think that rumor went?
Hanging out with the girls and the gay boys was fun, but I was on the hunt for a straight man. I had started to recognize that I “needed” regular sex. Without it, I felt scattered and moody, like I was coming apart at the seams.
As they say, the show went on. I was invited to sing “My Handyman” on Canada’s national morning TV show. I was so happy afterward that I called Miguel, but we fell into the same old fight as he pleaded the usual: “Come back to me. Let’s get married. We should have cheeldren, Yenifer . . .”
FIVE
LOVE VERSUS DREAMGIRLS
A couple of weeks into the Toronto run of the Eubie! national tour, the earth turned over. I met Thomas Linzie, the tour’s new stage manager. Our eyes locked, and everything changed for both of us. Thomas was smart, generous, sweet, short, and freckled. I couldn’t wait to kiss his lips. I couldn’t wait to feel his skin. And maybe Terry suggesting that I calm down helped me not to jump his bones immediately.
Thomas was a really great stage manager who everyone liked. We talked until 2:30 a.m. the first time we met. We had dinner the next day. It was so nice to be with him. On our day off we went to the Yorkville neighborhood, had ice cream, and saw The Empire Strikes Back. We walked home. It was a beautiful, romantic night.
Around this time, a woman I knew, Kimako Baraka, called about a musical revue, Foreplay, that she wanted to produce with me and Loretta Devine in the cast. I was intrigued by the title alone. Kimako, also known as Sondra Lee Jones, was the sister of the famous writer and activist LeRoi Jones, now known as Amiri Baraka.
I saw Foreplay as my way out of Eubie! and arranged with Kimako to fly to NYC later in the month to audition. I told Terry that I planned to give my notice to quit the show.
I didn’t tell Terry about Thomas. She would have said, “Don’t shit where you eat.” I knew I was falling in love with him. He was a good man, born and raised in the Midwest. A gentleman, even, he always opened the door for me, wouldn’t let me carry anything. And, yes, he gave me the last bite of food. I always found that so sexy. I had become a pool shark in college, but when we played, I let him win, because when the real moment of truth came, I wanted to be sure I had never threatened his manhood. I wanted that first time to be real good.
Thomas had so much going for him that I wanted this relationship to grow and last. I didn’t really know a lot about the internal workings of men. My father had been mostly absent and my older brothers pretty much had nothing to do with my little crazy ass running around making trouble.
One memorable evening, Thomas and I went to a club called the Chicken Deli to see Earl “Fatha” Hines, the great jazz pianist. We still had not made love, which was an indication that he was special to me. I was a bit tipsy when we returned to the hotel, but we parted and went to our separate rooms.
When Thomas and I finally made love, it was wonderful. We had both known it was inevitable. In the morning we had breakfast on his balcony. I wanted Thomas to know who I was, what he was getting himself into. Rather than have an adult conversation with him, I tried to shock him by sitting on the balcony topless. Topless, while workers in the building across the way watched us eat. My inability to tap into my emotions and talk about them warped my thinking and caused me to “test” Thomas by pushing him away. “This is who I am. Run while you have the chance!” But he stayed. He accepted me.
The company had rented a bus to take us all to Niagara Falls that morning. So when my castmate, the ever-so-fierce Leslie Dockery, went to my room to get me, of course I wasn’t there. She, along with the rest of the company, figured I’d spent the night with Thomas. They all sat on the bus and gave me the side-eye because I had had sex with the stage manager.
At Niagara Falls, the sound, the roar. It was my first waterfall ever; one of the most overwhelming experiences in my life. The falls were so unbelievably loud, I swear I thought I had died. When I got off the bus I said, “What the fuck is that sound?”
“Jenifer, it’s the falls.”
“Where is it?” I ran like a crazy person in the direction of the sound and found myself looking straight at the famous Horseshoe, Niagara’s largest waterfall. At that moment, I knew there was a God. It was a sight to see, ya’ll. A sight to see.
I took a brief break from my new love affair with Thomas to fly home to sing “You Light Up My Life” at my aunt Janice’s wedding in St. Louis. Later that night, Mama and I watched TV and I talked to her about Daddy, life, and love. I was hungry for anything that made sense. In passing, I asked about her pastor at First Baptist. I was sidestepping. Pastor Heard had molested me as a teenager. When it happened, I told Mama, but the issue was never resolved and we never discussed it. The experience shattered our already tenuous relationship and for many years, I wondered whether Mama was in my corner.
The next morning, Mama made me breakfast and told me she had arranged for Pastor Heard to take me to the airport.