A Woman's Worth

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  The saints were high-fiving one another. “Oh yes, it’s in the bag, it’s in the bag.”

  As Lance paced, the musicians accompanied him. “Tell yourselves that today is the day the enemy will no longer control you. Say to yourself, ‘Victory is mine.’”

  Arykah was the first to shout. “Hallelujah, victory is mine. Thank you, Jesus. Victory is mine.”

  Lance hooped and hollered as he brought his sermon to a close. “God said, ‘I thought it, I purposed it in my heart, and that’s what’s gonna stand.’ Deliverance is ours, people, oh yes, deliverance is ours. Devil, you gotta leave my life. God is getting ready to pull me through this. I don’t care how it looks or how it feels. Deliverance is mine. Somebody give Him glory, somebody give Him glory.”

  The entire church was sending up praises to God. Lance came from the pulpit followed by his elders to lay holy hands. Every person he touched with holy oil fell to the floor. He made his way in Arykah’s direction and whispered in her ear. “Your set time is come. Your past is forgotten. In the name of Jesus, you are free.”

  Arykah closed her eyes, raised her hands toward heaven and began to speak in the unknown tongue as tears ran down her face. Lance touched her forehead with holy oil and Arykah fell into the arms of armor bearers standing behind her.

  “Baby Girl, where do you keep your flour?” Myrtle asked Monique.

  “It’s in the far left cabinet with the seasonings.”

  “Why don’t you have the flour and sugar in canisters on top of the sink like normal women?”

  “Maybe I’m not normal,” Monique answered.

  “I won’t argue with that.”

  At the sink, Monique filled a pot of mustard and turnip greens with fresh water. Myrtle stood at the stove and stirred cinnamon, sugar and butter in a pot of cling peaches. On Monique’s way to the stove, and on Myrtle’s way to the refrigerator, the two women collided.

  “You’re in my way, Baby Girl,” Myrtle fussed.

  “You’re in my way, Gravy. Before we started cooking, we divided this kitchen in half. You ain’t staying on your side.”

  Myrtle placed her hand on her hip. “How in the heck am I suppose to stay on my side of the kitchen when everything I need is on your side? You don’t need to be in here anyway. I told you yesterday that I was doing the cooking for Boris.”

  “You don’t want me in here, Gravy? I’m trying to help you out.”

  The expression on Myrtle’s face showed offensiveness. “Help me out? Did you fix your mouth to say help me out? Let me tell you something, you microwavin’ heifer, when you met Boris, you couldn’t even pour milk in a bowl of cereal. I taught you everything you know. What the heck you mean you’re helping me out? You bake one good ham, and all of a sudden you’re Miss Know How To Cook It All. I ain’t forgot about the first time when you called yourself cooking mustard and turnip greens. You had so much dirt in the bottom of the pot, I didn’t know if you were cooking the greens or growing them. On your best day in the kitchen, you won’t be as good as me on my worst day.”

  Monique laughed at the sweat on Myrtle’s forehead.

  “Look at you getting all worked up over nothing. Ain’t nobody trying to compete with you, Gravy. But for the record, Boris prefers my cornbread over yours.”

  “Well, he liked mine until you brought your Betty Crocker wannabe tail around and started putting sugar in it. The way you make it, all we gotta do is put some icing on it and we’ll have us a cake.”

  Monique laughed again. “That is not true, Gravy.”

  “Yes, it is. Who ever heard of sweet cornbread? If you were a real woman, you would know sugar don’t belong in cornbread.”

  Monique added milk to a pan of homemade macaroni and cheese. “What do you know about being a real woman?”

  “See, that’s your problem. You were born too late. Real women were born before the sixties. We didn’t have that fancy stuff y’all got today. Back then it was unheard of for a girl to be driving a car at the age of sixteen. We walked everywhere we had to go. And we didn’t have the pleasure of going to a hospital to have babies. Down south, we had midwives who came to our homes to deliver our babies. There was no such thing as getting a shot in the back to take away the pain of childbirth; we had to suffer to bring our babies in this world. Y’all modern day women whine too much. You whine because it takes nine months for the baby to get here, you whine because the labor pains hurt too much, you whine because the baby’s head is too big. And after all that whining, you whine some more because the baby come out looking just like the daddy you ain’t seen in the entire nine months.”

  Monique placed the pan of macaroni and cheese in the oven then sat at the table to knead dough for the cobbler. “Why are you telling me this, Gravy? I ain’t had a child.”

  Myrtle put seven ears of corn into a pot of boiling water. “And that’s another thang. When I was growing up, the girls my age weren’t quick to lay with a man. We were scared of getting caught. The birth control we had was our parents’ belts. Nowadays all you gotta do is swallow a pill, put a patch on your arm, or get a shot in the butt, and you can lay up ‘til the cows come home.”

  Monique hollered and laughed out loud.

  Myrtle peeked in the living room at one of the mothers from the church, sleeping on the sofa. Myrtle, along with a few of the other missionaries from the church, rotated Sundays to make sure that the oldest member of the church got a good home-cooked meal before she returned to her senior citizen’s home.

  “Girl, hush up before you wake Mother Dobson,” Myrtle said.

  “What are you doing with Mother Dobson anyway, Gravy? It’s not your Sunday to take care of her.”

  “I know, but Sister Marjorie said she couldn’t take her today. I don’t mind; Mother Dobson never gives me any trouble. Speaking of real women, Mother Dobson had her first child on top of a kitchen table in Jackson, Mississippi. She said her son weighed thirteen pounds, and she didn’t need any stitches. Now, that’s a real woman for you.”

  “Thirteen pounds, Gravy? That’s impossible.”

  “No, it ain’t. A real woman can do that.”

  Adonis came into the kitchen carrying a plastic bag. “I got the ice, Auntie.”

  “Thank you, sugar. Put it in the freezer for me.”

  “What else do you need?” he asked.

  “Put a pillow under Mother Dobson’s neck so it won’t get stiff on her.”

  Adonis set the ice in the freezer and looked at Monique. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” She didn’t look him in the eye. He noticed her bare wrist. “Where’s your bracelet?”

  “Oh, um, I took it off so I wouldn’t mess it up.”

  “Mess it up how?”

  “Well, I didn’t wanna get anything on it. Gravy’s got me elbow deep in flour and stuff.”

  Myrtle stood at the stove pretending not to hear them. Before she told Adonis that Sunday dinner would be at Boris and Monique’s house, Myrtle had gotten permission from Monique to invite him.

  “Where’s Boris?” Adonis asked Monique.

  “He’s lying across the bed lookin’ at a football game.”

  Adonis left the kitchen to go place a pillow under Mother Dobson’s head, he then went to the bedroom. “What’s up, cuz? How are you feeling?”

  “Man, I ain’t got no complaints. I’m just glad to be alive,” Boris said.

  Adonis sat on the edge of the bed. “I feel you, man.”

  “How was church today? Sorry I had to leave you by yourself.”

  “It’s all good. I held it down,” Adonis said proudly.

  “Tell the choir not to get too happy I’m gone. I’ll be back the Sunday after next.”

  Arykah walked into the bedroom. “Hey y’all.”

  Boris looked up at her. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I just got here. How you feeling?”

  “I’m good, but I wanna know how you’re doing. I hear you’re about to walk down the center aisle.”

 
“You heard a lie.” Adonis looked at Arykah.

  “You got something against getting married?”

  “Nope, it just ain’t for me right now. Mother Cortland sent me in here to tell y’all that dinner is ready.” In the kitchen, Myrtle sat Mother Dobson at the table while she, Monique, Boris, Adonis, and Arykah stood holding hands. “Mother Dobson, will you ask God’s blessing on the food please?” Myrtle asked.

  Everyone bowed their head, and Mother Dobson talked to God.

  Arykah whispered in Monique’s ear. “It’s gonna take from now ‘til next week for her to pray.”

  “Well, you better wait it out,” Monique replied.

  “When Momma Cortland told me she was bringing Mother Dobson here, I knew she was gonna ask her to pray over dinner. You know she takes forever. That’s why I blessed the food while I was driving here. I’m getting ready to eat.”

  “Be quiet and show some respect,” Monique whispered.

  Arykah looked at the old woman who was singing the prayer.

  “I wanna thank You, Heavenly Master, for not letting the doctors take my leg off back in forty-five. Then Jesus, I wanna thank You because You been so good to me. Lord, that time I had that bad car accident back in fifty-two, You were with me, Lord.”

  Arykah whispered to Monique again. “Oh, heck no. I’m not standing here for this.”

  “Arykah, calm down. She’s got a lot to be thankful for. You know she’s been resuscitated twice.”

  Mother Dobson kept on singing. “And then, Maaaster, in sixty-one, You didn’t let that stroke take meeee awaaay from here. Oh yes, Lord. You’ve been soooo goooood to meeee. You been better to me than I been to myself. I just can’t thank You enough, God. I thank You for not letting the tornado take me wherever it took my house back in sixty-nine, Lord. I know You’re always with me, Jesus.”

  Myrtle silently motioned for everybody to go ahead and eat.

  Mother Dobson sat at the kitchen table and prayed with her eyes closed for another half hour. “In the name of Jesus, we thank You, Lord. Amen.” Mother Dobson opened her eyes and saw that every plate on the kitchen table was empty except her own. Everyone was leaning back in their chairs with toothpicks dangling from their mouths.

  “Amen, Mother Dobson. Amen, amen,” came from around the table.

  “Burrrp, amen,” was Arykah’s response.

  Myrtle placed Mother Dobson’s plate in the microwave to warm it. Boris and Adonis resumed the football game in the bedroom while Monique and Arykah went into the living room.

  “You need to start looking for a dress, Arykah,” Monique stated.

  “A dress for what?”

  “My wedding, what else?”

  Arykah’s face went blank. “You can’t be serious, Monique.”

  Monique exhaled. “Look, Arykah, don’t start with me, okay?”

  “I am not going to waste my time looking for a dress when there’s not gonna be a wedding.”

  “I addressed and mailed the invitations this morning. There will be a wedding.”

  Arykah’s mouth dropped open. “What invitations?”

  “The wedding invitations I forgot to cancel. Now I know it was God who told me not to.”

  “That wasn’t God, Monique, that was stupid talking to you. Why are you doing this? Are you in need of attention? Is that what this is about?”

  “I’m getting married, Arykah. Boris and I love each other, and this is what I want to do.”

  “Have you forgotten what that fool put you through? Why are you allowing him to control you like this?”

  “Ain’t nobody controlling me, Arykah. I’m doing this because I love Boris, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I know you’re against this, but I can’t worry about that right now because I gotta a wedding to finish planning in only four weeks. Are you in or out?”

  Arykah stood and grabbed her purse from the sofa and walked toward the front door. “If you are so determined to destroy your life, you’re gonna have to do it without me.”

  She opened the door and walked out into the pouring rain.

  Monique placed her face in her hands and cried silently. Surely she must look like a fool to everyone, but in the hospital, Boris had convinced her that he had a pure heart, and he swore to do right by her from now on. And Monique was glad to know that Boris hadn’t impregnated Kita.

  Lance opened the door and saw a distraught and drenched Arykah standing on his doorstep. The rain fell so hard Lance couldn’t see the houses across the street. “What in the world are you doing out in this weather?”

  Arykah walked into the foyer. Because his credit and proof of funds had checked out, Arykah had allowed Lance to move in the estate while they waited for the closing date. Arykah was glad that there was no other offer on the house.

  “I was just driving around and somehow ended up in your driveway,” she said.

  “You’re soaked. Is something wrong?”

  Arykah hung her head and cried openly. Without giving it a second thought, Lance pulled her into his arms. “Shh, it can’t be that bad.” He held her until her shoulders stopped shaking. “You gotta get out of these wet clothes. Come with me.”

  Lance led Arykah to the master suite. They walked into one of the walk-in closets and Arykah was amazed at what she saw. The entire closet was filled with women’s clothing. Dresses, blouses and pants with the price tags still hanging, took up one half of the closet.

  “Lance, what have you done?”

  “I’m getting ready to receive my wife. I want everything in place when God releases her to me.”

  Arykah couldn’t help but look at the tags. Every item of clothing was a size 20, her exact size. “When did you do all of this?” she asked.

  “My sister, Adrienne, is a buyer for the Ashley Stewart clothing line. I told her to fill this closet with size twenty everything. I was amazed she was able to do this so quickly. Look to your left.”

  To Arykah’s left were at least thirty boxes of shoes stacked neatly on top of one another. She opened a box that revealed black patent leather three-inch heels. She yelped like a puppy when her eyes landed on the red Jimmy Choo and yellow Stuart Weitzman boxes. On all of the shoe boxes, Arykah saw the number 8, her exact size. She smiled and looked at Lance. “I am speechless.”

  He grabbed Arykah’s hand. “There’s more.” He brought her to a six-drawer dresser in the bedroom and opened the top two drawers. Arykah saw pink, yellow and white nightgowns, pajamas and loungewear neatly folded in the top drawer. She ran her hand along the cotton, silk, satin, and linen materials. The second drawer was filled with ladies underwear; bikini cut, brief cut and boxer cut in every color. The last set of drawers held many ankle socks, knee length socks and booties, every pair in white.

  “Lance, you’re amazing,” Arykah said.

  He led Arykah into the master bath. On one side of the double marble sink were two new bottles of Ralph Lauren perfume. That was the only scent Arykah wore. He must’ve smelled it on her. Next to the bottles of perfume was a comb, a brush and a held hand mirror.

  “Open the door next to the vanity,” Lance instructed.

  Arykah obliged and saw a top of the line curling iron, a hand held blow dryer, bottles of oil sheen spray, a set of hair rollers and boxes of hair and bobby pins. On the bottom shelf were bars of Dove, Caress and Oil of Olay body soap. Next to them Arykah saw Secret and Sure deodorants. Johnson & Johnson baby powder and baby oil were also on the bottom shelf next to a pink toothbrush and a carton of cotton swabs. Arykah was stunned beyond belief. “Lance, is all of this for me?”

  Lance was sure that Arykah was his Eve. From the moment he met her, God spoke it to him. He trusted and believed that it would come to pass. One thing Lance knew was true; it doesn’t take God long to do anything. “It’s for my wife, but until she takes her place in this house, and since you seem to fit her clothes, feel free to borrow from her closet. I’ll wait for you in the den.”

  After forty-five minutes had elapsed,
Arykah walked into the den with her hair blow-dried and pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a two-piece silk, copper colored pajama pant set.

  Lance looked up from the Bible he’d been studying before she had arrived. “You look comfortable.”

  “I am comfortable, Lance. Thank you.”

  He closed the book and patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit with me and tell me why you were upset when you got here.”

  Lance listened for a half hour, without saying a word, to how Arykah’s best friend was about to make the biggest mistake of her life. When Arykah became quiet, Lance looked at her. “Are you finished?”

  “I just needed to vent.”

  “You know, Arykah, you can’t make Monique’s decisions, and you definitely can’t live her life for her.”

  Arykah stood and walked across the den and stood next to the fireplace. “See, I knew you wouldn’t understand, Lance.”

  “I understand perfectly.”

  “No, you don’t. Monique and I have a special bond, and we’ve always kept each other from doing stupid and crazy things.”

  “But sometimes love overrides that.”

  “Lance, please. What’s love got to do with it? Monique is not in love with Boris, and it’s obvious he doesn’t love her. She’s in love with Adonis, I know it. She’s just acting out.”

  Lance scratched his head. “I’ma tell you something about Adonis, Arykah. He’s an electrician, right?” Arykah nodded. “Then there’s no reason he shouldn’t have had his own pad. Couples shouldn’t allow grown folks to live with them because something like that always happens. Monique and Adonis were spending too much time together. First of all, Boris and Monique shouldn’t have been shacking at all.”