The Gilda Stories by Jewelle Gomez

Author:Jewelle Gomez
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: City Lights Publishers
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Off-Broadway: 1971

Gilda hooked the weighty ring of keys back onto her belt loop and hung the padlocks from her pocket. Their metallic jangle reminded her of the sound of Savannah’s West Indian bangle bracelets as she tapped on the beauty shop door. But that was many years ago. Savannah had opened her own beauty shop in Mississippi, and when Gilda last heard from her, Savannah’s hair no longer needed to be bleached white. Gilda reached up, pulling down the ponderous metal gate that protected the theater in a fluid motion.

“Let me help with that.”

Only mildly surprised to hear Julius’ voice, Gilda did not turn.

“Thanks,” she said softly, and continued tugging the rusted metal grill. He smiled when it clanged to the ground. Gilda tossed him one of the padlocks, and they knelt to secure the gate. His back was schoolmaster straight as he struggled with the stiff, old locks. She liked him: he was an efficient company manager who had a feel for what would and would not work for a small group with little money. He didn’t treat the actors like self-indulgent children nor the technicians like a nuisance.

“All set. Now how about a drink?” Julius said, breaking into Gilda’s thoughts.

“Why didn’t you go along with the others?”

“It didn’t seem right, leaving the stage manager here alone to lock up while we were celebrating a snap first run-through that couldn’t have happened without you.”

Amusement sparkled in her face as she looked up into his dark brown eyes. He was fairer skinned than she, a slight sprinkling of freckles crossing his nose that matched the brownish-red color of his close-cut nappy hair. The streetlight glinted on the small sapphire shining in his left ear. His shoulders were broad, his waist slim. With his full lips and polished smile he looked more like an actor than an administrator. They walked across 23rd Street to Sixth Avenue and stood on the corner while Julius waited for Gilda to answer his invitation.

“Let’s walk a bit,” she said. Then, after a block, “There’s a cafe just opened on Cornelia Street.”

They were silent most of the way. The waning moon cast a soft yellow light over midnight. Gilda was grateful to be moving after sitting in the tiny lighting booth for three hours during the rehearsal. She savored the feel of the night air on her face and smiled at being alive—still. The shine in Julius’ eyes rivaled the other light as he took her arm.

Once they were seated in the restaurant he felt familiar, as Aurelia had, and Gilda relaxed into the comfort. He ordered a cappuccino before saying, “Tell me something.”

“Yes, what?”

“Anything. Like where you’re from. What you want to do. How’d we end up working our asses off for this little white theater company when we’re supposed to be about nation-building?” He laughed wryly at the wilted sound of the rhetoric.

“In my father’s house there are many mansions.”

“Oh god, a Baptist!”

The young, white waiter didn’t bother to look at them as he delivered their order.

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