Several months passed as I continued to work with Rachel and on my own until I felt more confident about embarking on my new venture as a “Big Sister.” Many of my friends supported my intention. Deborah Dean Davis wrote a letter of recommendation and Thom Fennessey was by my side from the start, going with me to the initial meetings with Big Brothers Big Sisters of America. I was in orientation with them to learn my responsibilities and their process.
I went to the community center to meet lanky, adorable seven-year-old Charmaine for the first time. She was balled up under a table when I first laid eyes on her. She reminded me of myself when I collapsed on the floor of Beverly Heath’s friends’ kitchen. My heart was drawn immediately to this pretty, skinny, long-legged little girl. She was very shy and when I finally made her smile, she revealed an adorable snaggle-tooth right in front.
Though I’ve never been shy a day in my life, the connection I felt to Charmaine was immediate, perhaps because I understood her circumstances. Charmaine’s “normal” resembled mine as a child back in Kinloch: one woman, holding down multiple jobs to support multiple children, by herself. It was my pleasure to share myself and my resources with this precious little girl.
Charmaine and I established a routine where I’d pick her up once a week. She was always anxiously waiting for me at her door. We’d go somewhere fun or just hang out at my place. At first, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. One day, not being able to reach any of my girlfriends, I was forced to call my agent from Whole Foods to ask, “What do you feed a seven-year-old?” The first time Charmaine opened the refrigerator all she saw was a bottle of champagne and a jar of caviar. I ate pretty healthy, but usually ordered in.
I loved every minute we spent together. It felt so good to do for Charmaine what had not been done for me. I’d take her to museums and movies and also made sure that she got outdoors and learned to enjoy nature. Plus, we went shopping a lot. Our first Halloween together, we spent an entire afternoon searching for exactly the right costume. At Toys ’R Us, I bought her Barbie dolls and books. In fact, I bought her everything I thought she might want. Well, as much as Big Brothers Big Sisters of America allowed. They had rules and regulations for everything. There was even a limit on how much time Big Sisters could spend with their mentees. I was around as much as possible, sometimes bending the rules. Charmaine had become more than a mentee.
The first time Charmaine slept over was Thanksgiving. I slowly and gently brushed her hair and then read to her from her favorite book, The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery. When I tucked her in, her sincere little voice said, “Thank you, Jenny.” It was the first time she called me by the name that pretty much only my family uses. I was scared to death thinking of the million things that could go wrong. I kept waking up to check on her and finally, just watched her sleep peacefully.
I gave Charmaine lots of hugs, smiles, and laughter. I also found that, surprisingly, I drew from my mother’s attitude that you had to toughen up children to prepare them for life. For example, I wanted Charmaine to build her physical stamina. So as we hiked the hills, I would walk very fast, pushing her lanky, mildly uncoordinated little body to keep up.
I think the day Charmaine had an asthma attack triggered by an allergy was the day I really understood what it was to be a mother. We were spending some casual time together and when Charmaine began to cough and gasp uncontrollably, I immediately put her in the car and sped to the hospital. She was fine, but sitting in that emergency room with her for four hours scared the shit out of me. I think I discovered that night what true love was.
A few weeks later, I took Charmaine with me to the Magic Johnson Theater to see The Preacher’s Wife. I always loved watching my films with predominantly black audiences. In one scene with Denzel Washington, my character entered wearing a very unattractive outfit. A woman behind me shouted, “What the hell is she wearing?” I, of course, had gone to the theater incog-Negro, and Charmaine and I proceeded to laugh and laugh. She loved that her Big Sister was a “movie star.” When I had a new movie coming out, Charmaine loved to stay up with me until midnight, when we’d rush to the 24-hour newsstand to read the reviews in the morning papers.
It was obvious that Charmaine was not the only one of us in need and we both benefited from our paths crossing. I monitored myself because I wanted to be a good example. I was motivated to “stay in my adult” and let Charmaine be the child (it didn’t always work out that way). I got hypnotized to stop smoking, and after Charmaine came into my life, there was never another one-night stand. And, believe it or not, I made sure never to expose little Charmaine to my cursing (not counting road rage!).
I still had my issues, though. I was not in a relationship and was still trying to buy my mother’s love, despite confronting her about her treatment of me as a child. But my progress was undeniable. I was learning to sit with my feelings instead of acting them out. Let’s just say I was still the life of the party, singing, dancing and clowning around, but at least I wasn’t doing it on top of the table or on top of somebody’s head.
One night I was driving and feeling comfortable that I knew the road well enough to glance up at the moon through the sun roof. Bam! I hit the guard rail. My car went into a 360 spin and I ended up in a ditch. The driver door was smashed in. I pried myself out and crawled up the embankment in total shock. When I looked down at the car, my first thought was that my body was dead in the car and my spirit had floated out of it. I thought of Charmaine and how I wanted to be in her life always. Then, I thought “Damn! The headline tomorrow will be: ‘Double D Cup Diva Dead in Ditch.’ ” The car was banged up, and so was I, but I felt that I could drive. It was a foolish decision, but I made it home safely.
Charmaine and I had grown extremely close, so it was difficult to tell her that I would not see her while I went to New York to work with Spike Lee on Girl 6. She didn’t seem too disappointed, though, ’cause I sent her to Camp Hollywoodland for the summer.
In New York, I had a great time hanging out with my cast members Theresa Randle and Naomi Campbell. We’d go to the spa together, to dinner, and to parties. It was all very upscale New York, a 180-degree difference from my early days trudging to Gray’s Papaya.
One morning, Naomi called and asked if I wanted to join her for breakfast in one of her favorite restaurants in lower Manhattan. She was dating some czar at the time and had just returned from Russia. As we gorged on fresh black sturgeon eggs, who walked in but John F. Kennedy Jr. My heart leapt, my legs moved, and I was in front of him within seconds. I know it’s difficult to imagine Jenifer Lewis speechless but I just stood there like a sixteen-year-old in love. I wanted to say something intelligent. But the only words I could muster were “My God, you’re beautiful.” He looked me in the eye, took my hand, and said, “So are you.” Had he kissed my hand, I would have been walking around with it filthy to this very day.