by J. J. Murray
"Junie ran out of the service before it ended," Naomi hisses. "Are you proud now?"
"She did? Good for her" I look around. "Is that where Jonas is now?"
She leans down. "No, Reverend Borum is meeting with the deacons right now in his study. Guess who they're talking about?"
I put my hand on my chest. "Little of me?"
She shakes her head. "Don't you even care what happens?"
"Sure I do" I wipe a speck of mashed potatoes off Dee's lip. "Long as the truth comes out"
"Girl, they're probably thinking of a way to remove you from this church"
"I'd like to see them try," I say. "Want some more milk, Dee?" He nods. I hold out Dee's empty glass to Naomi. "You mind getting Dee some milk?"
Naomi sighs, scowls, and walks away. I guess that was a ,.no.,,
"Who was that mean lady, Penny?" Tee asks.
"You don't remember her?"
'No"
I stand. "That was one of my best friends, Tee" And after today, Naomi might be one of my ex-friends. Hmm. It'll hurt like hell, but I think I can handle it. But Naomi and I have been through too much for it to end over this. She'll stew for a few days, then call and apologize. Or should I call her this time? I'm gonna have to pray about this one. "You want some more chicken, Tee?"
"Uh-huh."
While I'm loading up another plate with wings and getting Dee some milk, Mrs. Robertson touches my elbow, whispers, "Goliath has fallen," and continues on. Goliath has fallen. What did David do next? He chopped off that of giant's head. Hmm. Don't know if I can do that yet ... but I'm willing to try.
When I return to the table, I see Deacon Rutledge sitting in my spot. So soon? Dag, the board reached a decision in less than a month. I place Dee's milk in front of him and put the wings in front of Tee. "Deacon Rutledge," I say, sitting in a chair opposite him.
"The board would like a word with you"
"Just one?"
He growls. "You know what we mean, Mrs. Borum "
"Who is we? I only see you sittin' here" I touch his bony arm. "I know what you mean, Deacon Rutledge, but I'm afraid I'm just too busy today. I have these children to look after."
"It will only take a moment"
"We got us a moment right here. Tell me now."
Deacon Rutledge eyes Tee and Dee. "The board is waiting for us upstairs."
"You're the head deacon, right?" He nods. "So you speak for the board, right?"
"It's, um, a little more complicated than that"
Tee has cleaned her plate again. "Y'all through?" Two nods. "Wipe your faces with your napkins." They do. I turn to Deacon Rutledge. "I'll be free this afternoon. Why doesn't the board drop by my apartment, say, around three"
"Mrs. Borum, the board-"
"Will have to come to me this time," I interrupt. "C'mon, y'all," I say to Tee and Dec. "Let's go for a walk."
We walk nice and slow out of Antioch, skip across Vine, and go up to my apartment where I give them a tour. It's a short tour, but it gives Tee and Dee a chance to use the bathroom. I let them explore on their own for a few minutes till Tee comes into the sitting room holding my jump rope.
"You jump rope, Penny?" she asks.
"Sure. Who doesn't?"
"Can we go outside and jump rope with you?"
For the next half hour in front of my apartment on Vine Street, a rope turned by two precious children, this fortyyear-old probably soon-to-be-former member of Antioch Church dances in the sun, still in her dress, laughing and giggling. I give them each a turn, and there are moments ... when I want to cry for joy. Hearing Tee shouting out a rhyme, her velvety dress flashing in the sun. Seeing Dee's little red tie flapping up and down, the biggest smile on his face. This is what I've missed, and I know I don't want to miss any of this anymore.
I want this, all of it. Now. I'm gonna have to make a move on their daddy. Today.
At two, I return them to Dewey. It's a sad walk for me-I want to keep them with me all day so badly! but Tee's con stant chatter and Dee's smiling face help me through. When we get to the apartment, we see Dewey's legs sticking out from under the truck. Oh, Lord, he's wearing cowboy boots. Is that snakeskin? "Can we help, Daddy?" Tee says.
Dewey slides out, his clothes covered with grease, and is that a bulge of tobacco in his cheek? My man dips snuff? That shit's nasty! "Sure. Go change your clothes." They tear inside. He squints up at me. "How was church?"
"Memorable," I say. "Wish you were there" But not with that shit in your mouth.
He reaches into a pocket ... and pulls out a bag of black licorice. "Want some?"
"No thank you" At least it's not tobacco. But sucking on a wad of black licorice?
He separates a piece and bends it a couple of times. "I would have gone to church with y'all, except-"
"It's okay. I remember your entrance a few months ago. Were you mourning for Tiffany then?"
He looks away. "Yeah"
He says it without hesitation, so Dewey might have loved her. Hmm. "Were you also mourning that you had to be a real daddy all of a sudden?"
He sighs. "Yep. I was kinda mourning over that, too"
That's probably closer to the truth of why he was crying. "And Antioch was the first church you ran into, huh?"
He turns back to me. "I wasn't thinkin' very clearly that day."
I want to tell him that I think God led him to me, but I don't since I don't know how religious he is yet. "Well, Mr. Baxter, the man who consoled you that day was my exhusband" Dewey's eyes widen. "But I still play the organ at his church because I have to. I have a gift that has to be given." I take a deep breath. Time to make my move. Lord Jesus, please give me the words. "I like being with your chil dren, Mr. Baxter. And, I like being with you" Is this me, shy Ruthie Lee, saying all this? It is. Where has this woman been? Thank You, Lord. "I've got my eye on you, Mr. Baxter. You got your eye on me?"
"I, uh ... well." He stands and looks me in the eye. "Ruth, I don't know if I'm, um, ready for---"
"Yes you are," I interrupt, and I plant a kiss on his greasy cheek. In broad daylight. On Sixteenth Street. In Calhoun, Virginia. And I feel so light! It's like I've broken some spell hanging over this neighborhood. "I know you're ready for me, Dewey Baxter."
"But I-"
"And I don't care a lick why you didn't marry Tiffany." Though I really really do care, and if you look into my eyes, Dewey Baxter, you'll see that I have to know cuz tomorrow has come. I gave you a whole day to answer my unasked question; now it's your turn to come through. This is where you tell me every damn thing.
He squints. "You really don't care why Tiff and I never got married?"
Of course I do! This shit's called reverse psychology, Mr. Baxter, and you ain't doin' it right! "Not a bit. You had your reasons, and I don't need to hear 'em." When he doesn't answer right away, I step closer to him and bite my lower lip. "Unless ... you, um, want to tell me why."
He looks away. Damn. He ain't gonna tell me today. "It's just ... so complicated."
Complicated? From what Naomi told me, Tiffany didn't sound like a complicated person. What could be so complicated-Gulp. Maybe I don't want to know right now.
"You see, um, Tiff-"
"It's okay," I interrupt. "I mean, it's really none of my business, right?" He doesn't look back at me ... which means that he thinks it's none of my business. This shit ain't complicated. It's conflicted. I have to make the best of this. "Tiffany, uh, obviously wasn't the right woman for you, right?"
He nods, but he still won't look at me.
I reach up and turn his face to mine, putting my nose a hair from his. "But I know that I am the right woman for you" I put a finger on his soft lips. "See you tomorrow." I kiss him on his other cheek. I am amazing myself. "You need me, Dewey Baxter, and if you think long enough on it, you'll see that I'm right."
I leave him standing there and feel so ... scared. 1 have just made my intentions known to this man, and now it's all on him. What if he doesn't respond? I turn to look
and see him still standing in place, a lost look on his face, two of my lip marks showing through the grease on his face. Is a confused response acceptable, Ruthie Lee? I smile and wave.
He smiles back.
Now, that's better. A smile is not a confused response. A smile requires thought. He's thinking about me right this second. Wait. He's thinking about me right this second! Should I go back? I could spend the day with him, leave the board hanging, get me some more less-greasy kisses. No. Dewey's got to want me on his own; he's got to come to me next. It's his turn not to be shy. Besides, I can't wait to hear what the board has decided about li'l of me.
Who said divorced life wasn't exciting?
I decide to meet the board on the porch with Fred sitting in the yard, that shiny glass jar to his ear. The board is just gonna love seeing him. "You got any news for me, Fred?"
"Storm's comin'."
"There isn't a cloud in the sky."
"There's different kinds of storms, Ruth. This one comin' in a dark swarm, like locusts."
I shiver. Locusts. That is one accurate description of the church board. "Am I in danger?"
He stares at me for the longest time. "No"
"Well, you just keep both ears open"
He smiles. "Always do"
There aren't enough lawn chairs for everyone if the whole board shows up, but that's okay. I don't mind standing to face my accusers.
"The storm has arrived," Fred says, and I look a little ways up Vine. The board marches almost in step in a tight formation, like they're marching to Zion-or a funeral. Every one of them is wearin' black. A few folks out raking leaves stop and stare. They probably think the eight wrinkled men and women are Jehovah's Witnesses or something. They march by Fred without even a glance his way and climb the steps, the three ladies sitting on the lawn chairs, the five men leaning against the porch rail.
"Where's Jonas?" I ask.
"Reverend Borum," Deacon Rutledge says, "is comforting Miss Pruett"
"As he should, Deacon Rutledge," I say. I get a few of the old biddies to nod along with me. "Have you comforted your daughter and granddaughter yet, Deacon Rutledge?" The biddies stop nodding, but I've made my point.
Deacon Rutledge clears his raspy throat. "We are here today to strongly suggest that you cease and desist from your efforts to upset the sanctity of the church"
I let that mess roll around in my head for a bit. "The sanctity?"
"Yes. The purity, the holiness of the church"
There's holiness at Antioch Church? "And y'all are only suggesting that I cease and desist?"
"Strongly suggesting," Deacon Rutledge says.
I squint at the other members of the board, all mute in the presence of Deacon Rutledge. Such stupid sheep. "So y'all ain't telling me to stop, then?"
"You are a member of our church, Mrs. Borum. The board can only suggest at this point. We expect a certain decorum from a member of Antioch Church. You did not display such proper decorum today."
"Really? I said amen and hallelujah, right? Isn't that proper decorum?"
"You said these things at inappropriate times."
"I did? You mean there are inappropriate times to praise God? What if the Holy Spirit moves me to say these things?"
Deacon Rutledge scowls. "You interrupted the sermon, Mrs. Borum"
"I spoke the truth, Deacon Rutledge. Hmm. Proper decorum means you can't interrupt a sermon with the truth. I'll try to remember that"
Deacon Rutledge's voice rises. "Mrs. Borum, you were sharing your private business with the congregation."
"So was Jonas" I stare down Mrs. Finn. "Feel free to speak any time you want to, Mrs. Finn. Be part of the action." I turn to Deacon Rutledge. "Did you tell Jonas to cease and desist, too?"
"We cannot tell Reverend Borum what to or what not to preach on. As you'll recall, he said he was led of the Lord-"
"And you can accept that?" I interrupt.
"Yes"
"You sure?"
"We are sure"
"Ain't no `we' talkin' up here on this porch. Just you, Deacon Rutledge." I drift to a corner, then turn suddenly. "So if someone says he was led of the Lord, you'll accept that?" Nods all around. They all share the same diseased brain. "Okay." I pause, close my eyes, and start humming, shaking my right leg furiously. "Oh, Lord!" I shout. "I feel led of the Lord ... Oh, I feel the holy power! I feel led of the Lord ... to tell you all to get the hell off my porch!"
If the old biddies were Catholic, they would have crossed themselves. "We are not leaving," Deacon Rutledge says, "till you give us your guarantee that-"
I start shaking both legs, throwin' in a little shimmy for good measure. "The Lord's leading me to warm up my feet for some powerful kick-ass! Oh, I feel the power!" I take two giant steps toward them, the biddies scurry down the stairs, and all the men except Deacon Rutledge back away.
"You are a disgrace, Mrs. Borum," Deacon Rutledge says with clenched teeth. "You are in danger of being excommunicated."
This is new. "Excommunicated? We ain't Catholic!"
"You are guilty of causing a schism in the church."
"A what?"
"A rift, a split in the church. You are sowing discord among us ""
"I am? Folks are taking sides?"
"They are ""
Now this is good news. "Well, it's about damn time."
Deacon Rutledge sputters a bit. "You're actually proud of the trouble that you caused today?"
"Least folks are thinking for themselves for a change. And I didn't cause any of this. Jonas did, and you know it. You're just too thick-headed and hard-hearted to admit it. I pity you, Deacon Rutledge."
He has trouble breathing for a moment. "Do you want to be excommunicated, Mrs. Borum?"
I smile because in a way, I've already been excommunicated. The divorce has already put me out to pasture. "How would excommunication work exactly?" He doesn't respond. "I want to know."
"The church members would vote whether you were to stay or to go ""
"As in go, never to come back, never to play the organ again?"
"Yes"
"Hmm. Does it have to be a unanimous decision?"
"No. A simple majority is all that's necessary"
"To ruin a church!" Fred yells.
Deacon Rutledge leans over the rail. "What did you say?"
Fred winks at me. "I said that a simple majority is all that's necessary to ruin a church"
Deacon Rutledge waves his hand at Fred. "I do not listen to degenerates"
I stand inches from Deacon Rutledge's faded black suit. "Who you callin' a degenerate? You, who have excommunicated your own flesh and blood and turned your back on your own daughter and granddaughter. You should be ashamed of yourself."
His jaw flaps up and down. "They sinned."
"The child, too? What's Angie ever done to you?"
"She was born from sin."
"As were we all," Fred says from the bottom step in a deep voice. Dag, it made me jump more than Deacon Rutledge. Fred sounded like the very voice of God. "The Bible says there ain't none righteous, no not one" Fred comes up on the porch and puts a finger in Deacon Rutledge's chest. "No ... not ... one."
Deacon Rutledge looks fit to be hog-tied. "We'll be paying close attention to you, Mrs. Borum"
"Good," I say. "I want you to. I like the attention. And while you're doing that, Deacon Rutledge, maybe you can pay closer attention to God"
Without another word, Deacon Rutledge tries to sidestep Fred, but Fred, that jar stuck up in his ear, blocks his path. It is the funniest dance I've ever seen. A skinny, wrinkled man in a suit is doing a two-step with a skinny, wrinkled man in rags holding a Mason jar to his ear. I burst out laughing as Fred lets Deacon Rutledge pass.
Fred shakes his head and sits in a lawn chair. "That man's heart ain't but an itty-bitty speck of dirt."
"Yep," I say as I sit next to him. "God tell you anything about him?"
"Too much. Gonna have to wash out the jar."
/> The Deacon been bad? "What you mean?"
"That is one evil man, Ruth," Fred says. "Tells the government he's tax-exempt cuz he's a deacon, reads The Song of Solomon to get a rise out of his ... you know, picks his nose during prayers and puts his boogers under his pew. How'd he get to be a deacon?"
"I have no idea. He's just always been the head deacon for as long as I can remember. And now he wants to get me excommunicated."
Fred laughs. "I'll vote your way"
"Thanks, Fred, but only church members can vote"
He winks. "Like I said, I'll vote your way"
Say what? "You're a member of Antioch?"
Fred nods. "Got baptized there a long time ago. Know a lot of folks still probably on the rolls. Most of 'em in the jail or at shelters round about. I'll let 'em know, be with you at the vote next Sunday."
A jolt rushes from my toes to my nose. "Next Sunday?"
He nods. "And watch out for dead folks."
"Huh?"
He points at the jar. "It's saying somethin' about dead folks, Ruth. I don't interpret. I just inform."
"Oh" Dead folks? "What you think it means?"
He shrugs. "All I know is that it's important." He stands. "I'll let you know if I hear any more"
"Where you goin'?"
He looks at me like my mama used to, his forehead dippin', his eyes focused and mean like I've asked the wrong question. "Out"
I look away. "I ... just worry about you is all."
He smiles. "Thank you. But for the next seven days, you just worry about yourself." He leaves the porch and heads up Vine.
And I start to worry.
seventeen
As a rule, a Monday at Diana's is fun: full house, lots of juicy weekend gossip, and not much cutting or styling since the ladies are really only there for the dirt. An hour or two on Monday morning at Diana's is a good way to get caught up on news, births, deaths, and scandal without opening a newspaper. And since all the other salons are usually closed on Monday, Diana's has a lockdown on gossip.
But today is not fun, and it's dragging like a lead weight.
"Where is everybody?" Diana asks me at nine. We usually have folks waiting by now, the dirt flyin' every which way.
"Don't know." I look at Kevin. "You know?" He shrugs and continues playing something almost classical on the guitar. "What you playin'?"