NOTHING STAYS THE SAME

by Suzetta Perkins

  “Let’s do it,” Sylvia said with a smile and shook her head at her best friend. “You make shopping fun.”

  Exhausted after two hours of serious shopping, Sylvia and Rachel headed to the check-out counter. Sylvia placed her items on the counter and whistled when the cashier gave her the total—buyer’s remorse already settling in. She gathered up her purchases and waited for Rachel to check out.

  “I’m hungry,” Rachel said, turning slightly toward Sylvia as the cashier scanned her items.

  “I’m a little famished myself. Let’s go to the Cheesecake Factory.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Ma’am,” the sales clerk said, “your total is four hundred and fifty-nine dollars. Will you be paying with your Macy’s card?”

  “No, Visa,” Rachel replied. She pulled her credit card from her wallet and passed it to the clerk.

  The clerk ran the card through the reader and looked up at Rachel. “Ma’am, your card is declined.”

  “What?” Rachel’s eyes danced in her head. “Couldn’t be. Swipe it again.”

  The sales clerk crunched her face and twisted her lips. “Whatever.”

  “Whatever,” Rachel repeated. She felt her pressure rise and the onset of a headache.

  The sales clerk took the card and swiped it again. “Declined,” the clerk said in a nasty tone.

  For a brief moment Rachel thought about taking off her shoe and knocking the smirk off the clerk’s face. Before she could commit to anything, Sylvia stepped forward and offered to pay.

  “No, no,” Rachel said, shaking her head and waving her hand. “I have another card; I’ll try it.”

  Rachel passed the piece of plastic to the clerk who took it reluctantly. Agitated, the clerk swiped the card so fast, Rachel could have sworn she stripped the strip off the back of the card.

  “Declined,” the clerk said with a moment’s satisfaction.

  “Keep it,” Rachel said. Her head ached and the veins in her temples began to flair.

  “I’ll put it on my card,” Sylvia offered, patting Rachel on the shoulder.

  “No, let’s go.” Tears formed in Rachel’s eyes. She clung to her Neiman’s bag and stormed out of Macy’s.

  Sylvia was at her side. “Hey, sweetie, it’s going to be alright.”

  “That was so damn humiliating, Sylvia. Did you see how that nasty wench looked at me—like I was some kind of ghetto momma on welfare trying to charge a whole lot of stuff with no money? I just don’t understand what’s going on, but I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Yeah, the sales clerk’s customer service needed an attitude check. But, you’re certainly no ghetto momma because the only plastic a ghetto momma is going to have is her driver’s license. I want you to know, though, that there are a lot of good ghetto mommas out there that can’t help the circumstance they find themselves in.”

  “Well, I’m not a ghetto momma.” Rachel pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Marvin’s office.

  “Yvonne, is Marvin there? I need to speak with him right away.”

  “Hold on a moment, Mrs. Thomas, and let me check. He has a meeting scheduled across town, and he may have left already.”

  “Thank you, Yvonne.”

  Seconds passed. “Mrs. Thomas, Mr. Thomas is not available. He must have already left for his afternoon appointment.”

  Rachel sighed. “Thanks, Yvonne. I’ll try to reach him on his cell.” She hung up and called Marvin’s cell, but the call went straight to voice mail.

  “Let’s get lunch, my treat,” Sylvia offered.

  Rachel threw her arms in the air and let out a long sigh. “I’m not feeling lunch, Sylvia. I need to know what’s going on with my cards.”

  “Calm down, sweetie. It’s probably a fluke. Let’s get lunch and we’ll sort this out later.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Rachel sighed again. “But let’s stop by the bank on the way. I want to have some cash on me.”

  “You got it.”

  Wide eyes stared, then shifted as the door that adjoined Yvonne’s office to her boss’ opened. Marvin walked the few paces to Yvonne’s desk and sat on the edge of it.

  “Thanks, Yvonne. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to Mrs. Thomas at that moment. Did she say what she wanted?”

  “No, sir. She said it was urgent, though.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Marvin said under his breath. “Yvonne, how would you like to join me for lunch?”

  “Well,” Yvonne hesitated, her eyes shifting from her boss to the computer screen careful to avoid his eyes. “Don’t you have an appointment with Attorney Coleman this afternoon?”

  “That’s true, but my appointment isn’t until two-thirty. I think I’d like to take my loyal and trusted employee to lunch just before I go to meet Mr. Coleman. I owe you more than a quick lunch during Secretaries Week. Yvonne...you’ve been a rock, and whatever may happen to Thomas and Richmond or me, I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  Batting her eyes, a broad smile crept across Yvonne’s face. She adjusted her glasses and squeezed her lips together. “Thank you, Mr. Thomas. I appreciate your kind words and vote of confidence. I’ll get my purse.”

  Marvin smiled at Yvonne’s innocence and rubbed his chin. He slid from her desk and retrieved his coat from his office.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The nerve of the city was busy transacting its business and reporting world news. Visitors from all over the world converged on Atlanta daily—Atlanta being the hub for international travel and to everywhere else in the nation. Colorful artwork graced the sides of buildings in the old part of Atlanta’s downtown district while street salesmen capitalized on the historic moment in political history by selling Obama T-shirts.

  Shifting lanes, Sylvia drove from Buckhead heading for the Cheesecake Factory. Rachel sulked and sat slouched down in the passenger seat of the car, although if it hadn’t been for the seat buckle that caressed her breasts and held her in place, she might have slid to the floor. The awkward silence made Sylvia long for the comfort of Kenny’s arms because Rachel’s funk was beginning to depress her.

  “There’s a Bank of America,” Rachel shouted, pointing to the building across the street.

  Sylvia sighed. She was in the right lane of a divided and crowded four-lane street without the possibility of turning around. Five blocks down at the light, Sylvia made a right turn, made a U-turn, and then made another left turn at the light and headed back to the bank. Rachel had sat in silence while Sylvia negotiated the turns but nearly jumped out of the car when Sylvia approached the bank. It wouldn’t have been a big deal to Sylvia if the person she was trying to cheer up wasn’t acting if she was the one who had made her life miserable.

  Sylvia watched as Rachel walked to the teller machine, slapped her debit card in, punched in some numbers, tapping her toes on the pavement as she waited for the money to be dispersed. All of a sudden a version of an Alvin Ailey dance performance commenced as Rachel’s hands began to reach for the sky and back down again. She stomped her feet, slapped the side of the teller machine, then took her Coach bag by the handle and rammed the machine with all her might.

  It was a sight. Sylvia laughed and laughed because Rachel looked so comical—like a wannabe bank robber who forgot to go inside the bank to steal money from the real tellers instead of an unmanned steel vault that was built like Ft. Knox.

  But someone inside didn’t think it was so comical. Sylvia sat up in her seat when four city cops surrounded Rachel with their guns drawn. With an outstretched hand, one of the cops reached out for Rachel, but she grabbed her face, covered her ears and began to wail.

  Sylvia jumped from her car and ran to help Rachel. However, the toting cops aimed their guns at her and asked her to halt. Hands flew straight into the air.

  “Sir, Mrs. Thomas is my friend.” Pointing to her car, Sylvia began, “I was sitting in my car waiting for her to get some money out of the teller machine. She must have gotten some bad news
because right after she read the slip of paper the machine spit out, she has not been the same. Maybe I can talk to her.”

  “Well, go ahead,” one of the police officers barked.

  Shame tossed to the wind, Rachel sat on her knees on the ground, her face a giant puffy ball drenched with water. She started screaming again, uttering words that were incomprehensible.

  “Rachel, sweetie,” Sylvia began, “what’s wrong?”

  “There’s no money in my damn bank account; that’s what’s wrong,” she hollered between sobs. “It’s got to be Marvin; who else? Sylvia, do you think he disappeared from the face of the earth with our g—damn money?”

  “Calm down, honey.”

  “What kind of friend are you? The only thing you know to say is calm down, Rachel. That’s not going to bring my money back. I don’t want to calm down!” Rachel shouted.

  “If you don’t calm down,” Sylvia said with fire in her eyes, “I’m going to do what these police officers are itching to do—that is smack you upside your head. I’ve put my neck out for you. Next time I’ll just sit in the car and watch them beat your little ass.”

  The cops put their guns away and tried to hide their snickering. It was apparent that the woman who was now sitting on the ground with her feet stretched out in front of her was too pitiful to attempt a bank robbery.

  “Ma’am, you need to take your friend home where she can get some rest and maybe some help,” the police officer said. Two of the other officers lifted Rachel from the ground.

  Sylvia reached in her purse for a Kleenex. “Why did you have to embarrass us like that?” Sylvia asked as she handed a tissue to Rachel so she could wipe the snot from her nose. Rachel said nothing. “Let’s go before they have us on the local news.”

  Rachel looked up at Sylvia with a tear-stained face. “Sorry,” she mouthed. They walked back to the car, got in and sped away.

  In a soft voice, Rachel asked, “Why is this happening to me, Sylvia? I’m a good wife and mother. I do my civic duties in my community. I go to church—well, every now and then.”

  “That’s the problem,” Sylvia said.

  “What?” Rachel yelled.

  “Calm...chill out.”

  “Too late.”

  “Look, Rachel. I don’t know what’s going on with your finances, and I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for all of this. When you see Marvin tonight, he’ll clear it all up.”

  “I hope so,” Rachel pouted. “So...you were trying to say a minute ago that I’ve been AWOL—absent without leave from my Father’s house?”

  “Sounds like you already know the answer.” Sylvia patted Rachel on the arm. “It’s going to be alright. Look how far we’ve come.”

  “You’re right, Sylvia. I know I looked like Boo Foo the Fool today. Oh God, I hope no one saw me. I don’t want to go down in the Lord’s book of shame.”

  “You already have, sister. Expect the Lifetime Movie Network to offer you a movie deal any day now.”

  “Thanks for being there for me once again. If I were you, I would have left me as soon as the cops drew their guns.”

  “I’m sure you would have,” Sylvia laughed, “but I’m better than that, and you know it.”

  “Would you have really kicked my behind?”

  “So you were cognizant of what was going on. I’ll tell you this one thing, Rachel Thomas, you were already tap dancing on my last nerve, and if you had dared to say one more thing, I was going to beat you down to the white meat.”

  “Violent, sister.” Rachel shook her head. “Scared of you.”

  “You ought to be. And if I were you, you don’t want to try me anymore today.”

  Rachel poked her mouth out and turned toward Sylvia. “One more question.”

  “What, Rachel? You’re a lot of work, girl.”

  “All I was going to ask was if the offer for lunch is still on. Don’t have any money on me, but a nice meal with my best girlfriend is probably what the doctor would order.”

  “Yeah, girl.” Sylvia smiled. “Why don’t we go to Steak and Ale for old times’ sakes?”

  “Let’s do it for the Ex-Files. It’s hard to believe we used to meet there as pitiful and lonely divorced souls looking for a way out of the gloom...”

  “But we had a good time and now we’re happier than we’ve ever been. I see a place to park. Hold on, girl, I’m going to do a quick ‘U’ and get that spot that has my name on it.”

  Rachel held onto the door handle to keep from sliding. “Steak and Ale, here we come.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Corporate types and other professionals crowded the restaurant for lunch. Chatter about the day’s events could be heard from a table nearby and a celebratory roast for a pregnant woman surrounded by what looked like ten of her office mates bearing gifts took place at another.

  “It will be a fifteen-minute wait,” the hostess said to Sylvia and Rachel who stood along with several others who seemed anxious to have lunch.

  “I wished we had gotten here at eleven-thirty,” Rachel said. “We would have missed the lunch crowd.”

  “Well, it was a little hard to do that when you were out on the street auditioning for a part in Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “That was not funny, Sylvia. I lost my head for a moment, but I’m fine now. I just need to find my husband so I can tell him what happened. I’ll call him when we leave the restaurant.”

  “Richmond,” the hostess called out. “Follow me.”

  “That didn’t take long at all.” Sylvia grinned. “I’m going to get the biggest steak they have.”

  “I don’t eat red meat, but I’m going to eat like it’s my last day on earth.”

  “Be careful what you ask for.”

  The hostess seated them and passed out menus. “Your waiter will be with you in a moment.”

  “Choices, choices, choices,” Rachel uttered, glancing through the menu for something that was going to satisfy and give her a moment of contentment, which she hadn’t been able to achieve for most of the day.

  “Well, I’m going to have a ribeye with a fully loaded baked potato and a scrumptious salad,” Sylvia said, satisfied with her decision, closing the menu.

  “I guess I’ll settle on a grilled chicken salad. It won’t damage your pocketbook or my gorgeous figure.”

  “You can have whatever you want, Rachel. What are girls for if we can’t treat our sisters like queens every once in a while?”

  “That’s what I like about you big sister, Sylvia. You know, Kenny is a blessed human being. To have a second chance with such a generous, forgiving, understanding woman like yourself means the world. You know I’m talking about myself, too.”

  Sylvia smiled. “Ditto. Even with all of your drama, I couldn’t have a better friend.”

  “Ladies, my name is Consuelo, and I’ll be your server this afternoon. What would you like to drink?”

  “I’m not driving,” Rachel said without hesitation. “I’ll have a glass of Beringer.”

  “So I’m stuck with drinking sweet tea?” Sylvia laughed. “Sweet tea for me.” Sylvia twirled her index finger.

  “I’ll be right back,” Consuelo said, and moved away from the table.

  “Sitting in here reminds me of my working days when we’d come down here and celebrate someone’s birthday,” Rachel said.

  “Missing the camaraderie of your BellSouth buddies? Every now and then, I think about putting my professional hat back on.”

  “Really? I thought you were enjoying being the stay-at-home mom and giving Kenny Jr. your undivided attention.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but I don’t feel as fulfilled as I thought I would. I have given this a lot of thought. I’m going to open up my own event planning agency.”

  “Wow, Sylvia, that’s exciting. I didn’t know. I know that when Serena starts kindergarten, I’ll probably go back to work.”

  “No more kids?”

  “If I don’t get a handle on what’s happe
ning with my finances, I’m not going to have any more anything.”

  “Hey, turn around and look over in the corner,” Sylvia said, as Rachel strained to look in the direction Sylvia indicated. “Isn’t that Marvin with...what’s her name...?”

  “You mean Yvonne?”

  The color began to drain from Rachel’s face. Her teeth began to scrape together as her eyes began to take on a new shape while her cheeks sat perched next to her nose.

  “What’s wrong, Rachel?” Concern was written all over Sylvia’s face. She couldn’t take another one of Rachel’s outbursts if that was what her sudden metamorphosis was leading up to. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “You remember when I called Marvin’s office to ask him about the credit cards?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Yvonne answered the phone and said Marvin wasn’t available and that he was on his way to an appointment. That couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes ago. While I was at the bank making a fool out of my damn self, my husband has been sitting at a restaurant wining and dining his secretary. It seems his credit cards aren’t having the same trouble as mine.”

  “You aren’t going to go over there and confront him I hope?”

  “Very good suggestion, Sylvia. Hell yeah, I’m going over there and confront him.”

  “Your Beringer and sweet tea,” Consuelo said, setting the beverages down on the table. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Consuelo, why don’t you give us another fifteen minutes? When the time is up, we’ll decide if we want to eat or not.” Rachel blew air from her nose.

  Hands knotted in a ball, Sylvia lightly rapped the table. “Don’t make a fool out of yourself, friend. It may be nothing at all. Yvonne may be an innocent pawn in all of this.”

  “Look at them chatting like they’re the only ones in the room. That heifer doesn’t even have her glasses on, and I know she can’t see without them. I thought I’d conquered my jealousies as it concerned Denise, but what in the hell does Marvin see in that one?”

  “Rachel,” Sylvia said slowly, “bosses take their secretaries to lunch all the time.”