Lee Allie gave his hand a firm shake and said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Reverend Simmons. I am Essie Lee's mother, Mrs. Lee Allie Lane. When she told me and my brother, Booker, that you wanted to come by this afternoon, we both wanted to get a good look at a man who likes to preach and listen to Big Johnnie Mae all in one workin' day.”
She motioned for him to sit down in the blue chair and hollered down the hall.
“Booker, come on in the living room, the Reverend just got here and you need to come meet him.”
Essie's Uncle Booker walked into the living room finishing a roll and wiped his hands on his pants leg before giving Theophilus a firm, “don't take no mess off a nobody” handshake and motioning for him to sit down. He looked a lot like his sister in the face and had her coloring. But where she was small, he was stocky and of medium height.
Lee Allie said, “Essie Lee not here yet. Had to go by the store to pick up a few things. She'll be back right shortly, though. Give you, me, and Booker a chance to get acquainted. You pastoring Greater Hope in Memphis? That's a pretty good-size church for a young pastor like you, Reverend Simmons. How many folks at your church now?”
Theophilus shifted around in the chair and got as comfortable as possible, feeling like he was gearing himself up to face the Inquisition.
“Greater Hope has about 365 members,” he said. “I have been there just about a year. And I won't lie to you—pastoring that church has been one of the most difficult challenges I've ever had to face. I've learned a lot. But I stay on my knees, Mrs. Lane, stay on my knees.”
Lee Allie opened her mouth again, but before she got a chance to ask Theophilus more about his pastoring, Uncle Booker jumped in.
“Now, Reverend, what I want to know is how you come to preach and swing at Pompey's at the same time? I don't go on about all this thou-cain't-do-anything-if-you-want-to-serve-the-Lord foolishness, but I do think you need to tell me something. This ain't no church business visit. I'll bet some money you sweet on Essie Lee. Am I right, Reverend?”
Theophilus didn't know what to say or even how to say it if he did know. Essie's uncle looked like he could whip his tail if he had a mind to do so.
Uncle Booker, who had been leaning against the front door, now sat down on the couch across from where Theophilus was sitting. Staring intently at Theophilus, as if to look through him, he said, “Don't you sit there searching for no answers to what I just said. You tell me the truth. Because if you hand me some cockamamie preacher double talk, I'll know it. I'm used to church folk.”
“Booker! Reverend Simmons is a minister,” Lee Allie said.
“Lee Allie, don't you go and start getting all upset with me. This here preacher went up in Pompey's last night, ordered something to eat, looked my baby-girl niece over, and then came over here the very next day to get a better look at her. Now, he must like the girl to do all of that.”
Uncle Booker looked at Theophilus real hard. “Now, son, you have some likin' for my niece, don't you, Reverend?”
“Yes, sir. I saw your niece and wanted to meet her.”
“And you liked what you saw, right?”
“Yes, sir. Your niece is a very striking woman.”
“Mess. That's just some funky mess, boy. Essie Lee got next to you and you darn well know it. Striking woman, my black behind. Just what you up to, preacher?”
Theophilus respected Uncle Booker's right to look after his niece but he didn't appreciate being treated like some jive-acting, jackleg preacher. He figured he'd better let these people know right now what he was about. He sat up straight in the chair and looked directly at Uncle Booker.
“Mr.—”
“Webb. My last name's Webb.”
“Mr. Webb, you're right to think I'm not your regular kind of preacher. Truth is, sometimes I go to places like Pompey's to eat some good food and relax a little without being troubled with church business. You know, I do like being able to talk to folks about more than church. And I like being treated like a regular man instead of always being treated like “the Pastor.'
“And, sir, when I saw your niece last night, she gave me the impression that she was a good, solid woman. And if you don't mind my being so bold, she is a fine-looking woman, too—so fine in fact, that she held my attention for the rest of the night. So, I came by here today to let her know I was interested in getting to know her. And I knew I needed to meet her family so she'd know I wasn't after her for all the wrong reasons.”
This response seemed a little bold to Uncle Booker, who didn't answer but sat weighing what Theophilus had said. Finally he extended his hand. “Son, I'm glad to know that you ain't one of those preachers who so intent on making sure everybody know just how saintly and pure they are. I like that. Lets me know you know you just a man and not some fool who think he got the only connection to the Lord.”
Theophilus grabbed Uncle Booker's hand and sighed out loud with relief.
“Mr. Webb, I understand that you need to know what I'm all about. I'm not perfect but I was raised right.”
They were interrupted by the sound of Essie pulling at the screen door. She didn't know why her mother waited until the last minute to send her out for kosher dill pickles, big green olives, pickled okra, jalapeño peppers, and potato chips to go with lunch. She thought they had enough to eat, with the fresh-baked turkey stuffed in large, homemade rolls, fresh garden tomatoes, butter lettuce and cucumber salad, and homemade custard ice cream with lemon-flavored tea cakes. But Lee Allie had insisted that these things would make lunch so much better. Essie hoped Theophilus didn't think she was rude for not being there when he arrived.
Theophilus stood up, trying hard to control the big grin stretching across his face when Essie walked into the house.
“Afternoon, Reverend. Hope you haven't been waiting too long.”
“No, I haven't been here long.”
Lee Allie looked back and forth between the two of them, took the bag of groceries from Essie, handed it to Booker, and said, “Reverend Simmons was telling us a little about his church in Memphis.” She turned to Theophilus and asked, “Reverend, how big is your choir? Most solid congregations have good choirs.”
Theophilus sat back down. “Mrs. Lane, we have a little over thirty people in our choir, a pianist and organist. One of the first things I did as the new pastor was to appoint a new choir director. Seems like the old one didn't want to sing what the congregation wanted to hear. Lot of folks at Greater Hope love hard-core gospel and they have said that service is so much better now that the choir is rocking the church with some good music. I know I enjoy listening to the choir more now than when I first came as the pastor.”
While Theophilus was talking to Lee Allie, he could not stop himself from stealing looks at Essie, who was leaning against the doorway leading to the hall. She was wearing red pants, a red and white horizontal-striped, short-sleeved knit top, and red sneakers. Although the pants showed off her figure well, he sure wished he could have caught another good look at those big legs before he went back to Memphis.
Later, as Essie and Lee Allie sat in the kitchen, shelling snap beans for supper, Lee Allie said, “Essie, I don't know why you didn't hold more conversation with the Reverend. The whole time he was here, you held up that wall, just sizing him up like you was looking for something wrong with him.”
“Mama, I didn't have to look for something to be wrong with him. Whole time he was here, he ran his eyes all over me, head to toe, when he thought nobody was looking.”
“Essie Lee, he was looking at you so hard because he likes you, girl. And I hate to tell you this, baby, but a man gone look at you like that when he likes what he sees. Even a good man gone look, baby. He cain't help it 'cause he a man. And the Reverend young, too. So he really gone be looking before he can catch himself. What is he, about twenty-eight or so?”
“Twenty-nine. The revival program said he was twenty-nine.”
“Well, like I just said, at twenty-nine, he still young enough for his nature to
spill out over his home training when he think nobody's lookin'. And remember, even Booker had a good impression of him. I think the Reverend is a decent man. He sure 'nough a good-lookin' one, too. So the next time he comes, you be sure to give him a chance to talk to you.”
“Mama, what makes you think he coming back anytime soon?”
“Because I invited him to be our church's guest preacher for Missions Day,” Lee Allie said with a smile on her face. “I called Reverend James and my missionary group. Reverend James said that Reverand Simmons was a fine preacher and that he would come at a price we could afford. So now you'll have a chance to see him again.”
Essie rolled her eyes, not wanting her mother to know she was happy that Lee Allie had engineered a reason for Theophilus to return to Charleston.
“Girl, why you rolling your eyes like that? You the one who invited him over here in the first place. Besides, you need to meet somebody and leave Charleston. 'Cause you don't need to stay here.”
“Mama, I'm not that crazy about preachers. They can be some worrisome men and wear on your nerves something terrible when you are around them. Some of them can be so greedy—buying big cars, always wanting folk to cook them a whole bunch of food, and then will sit there and practically eat up everything in sight. Remember the last guest preacher who came to Mount Nebo? Ate all of the best pieces of ribs and he didn't even offer Rev. James the last piece. Just snatched it out of the pan and gobbled it up.”
Lee Allie interrupted her. “That preacher was greedy, all right, but the problem was that we shouldn't have let Mother Harold convince us to invite him in the first place. Several people knew something about him and didn't care much for his ways. But we just sat back and let Mother Harold have her way again. Should have known better. 'Cause we all knew from the get-go that she wanted him to come just so she could look him over for Saphronia. Lord, if that woman don't wear out my patience looking for some preacher to marry her old stuck-up grandbaby.”
She shook her head a few times just thinking about the preacher and Mother Harold.
“But Mama—” Essie began.
“But Mama nothing, Essie Lee. Every preacher ain't like that and you doggone well know that fact is the truth. Reverend James is a good man who loves God and takes his pastoring seriously. And you think Reverend Simmons is okay, too. Otherwise, you sure were some fool to let him come over here to see you. You know, Essie Lee, some preachers really do want to do right.”
“And you think Theophilus is a man that wants to do right?”
“Umm-hmm. I think Theophilus, as you seem to be callin' him now, wants to do right,” Lee Allie answered with emphasis on his name.
Essie looked embarrassed. She didn't want her mama reading any more into this situation than she knew she already had. She said, “Well, he'll just have to convince me he is all that you saying he is.”
Lee Allie gave Essie a “look” and dismissed that foolishness with a wave of her hand.
FROM Commitment
BY THOMAS GLAVE
—But Lou—, he say's—
—No.
—But can't you just say it—or—
—I said, No.
—But even if I—
—Stop begging, Ricky. What did I tell you? See, now—
—Don't you want it?
—That ain't the point, now. Get dressed!
—Why don't you . . .
—What?
—make me . . .
—Boy . . . see, now—
—Uh, huh?
—You better quit playing games and get dressed! What you doing?
—Proposing.
—Yeah, to the wrong one, says that other. Who is Lou Jay. Easing himself up on the bed. Thinking, mama just changed these damn sheets yesterday and now in the late-morning heat they were already sticking to the sweat on his back. Thinking, the bedroom was all right enough—was home. Thinking, the postcards and pictures of Miami and New York and whatnot made it more . . . the way they liked it. Had liked it. Him and Ricky. Thinking: Uh-huh, 'cause the boy had been in there often enough (only one who had been)—thinking, Uh-huh, best friend, searching for the word to describe him, my, my—my what? And now that the mama and daddy were out for a while Miss Ricky was actually going to try it: going to try to go on and be his hardheaded self as usual and show out like a fool even with everything getting set to happen on schedule tomorrow. But, see—
—I wish Renee would catch your ass in here like this.—Looking straight over at Ricky kneeling on the floor beside the bed.
—That stupid—don't talk about that now. Don't even get me started.
—Yeah, uh-hmm. That stupid—listen to me, talking just as nasty as you! Well, she gone be your wife in a day. Less than a day.
—So? We could still—
—What did I say, fool? No.
—Why not?
—'Cause I said so, that's why not. You need to listen for once, stead of being so damn—
—Hardheaded. I know.
—Well, then.
—You sound like Daddy.
—He got some sense.
—He ain't got nothing. You know he's forcing me!
—He needs to. Somebody needs to.
—I'm seventeen, Lou Jay!
—You eighteen.
—I will be. What he got to go on and try to force me to get married for?
—'Cause he want him some grandkids.
—He got eleven already. I got brothers, Lou Jay!
—Six.
—And no sisters, neither.
—But you his baby. His baa-by Ricky.
—Shit, Ricky said. One long syllable the color of the snarl that formed it.
—Tell that to the preacher, he said.
—Well, baby, you better go on out and get you a nice sweet fancy ring.
—I'ma smack you down in a second, bitch. I swear.
—You be acting too grown sometimes any old way. Get up off your knees, Ricky.
—What you talking about grown for, trying to act like you so grown, giving out orders? You ain't but two months older than me, baby. I could stay on my knees if I want to. You want to know what Daddy said?
—About what? The wedding? Everybody far way as Decatur already knows. That's all folks do round here is talk, okay? But ain't nobody saying nothing to your daddy's face, that's all. They could shame you and me if they wanted to.
—I ain't studying all that. And you—
—You need to.
—You want to know what Daddy said?
—Told you I already knew.
—Don't be acting all grand, Miss Girl, 'cause you don't know all this. He got his gun!
—What? For what?
—You know what. Fittin to shoot off my ass if I don't marry little Renee. And you know he could shoot good. He learned me. And I learned you, Lou Jay. My baby.—Reaching over to squeeze the other man's naked thigh, then moving his hand slightly above and to the center of it. Their skins, together, all of a glow in the thickening heat.
—You'll always be my baby, Lou Jay. You know that.
—Ricky—
—Since we was thirteen we been playing on. I got you now, Lou. You got me. I don't never want nobody but you. We got us something! You think I could let you go for some little piece of—
—All right, now. We ain't got no time for all that sweet talk—stop, boy, that tickles!—with some man, your daddy no less, putting a gun all up in your face. No, uh-uh. I ain't having it. Didn't I ask you to stop?
—Aw, girl, you love what my hands do. Anyway, Daddy ain't only got his gun up in my face. He got it aimed all up in my behind, too.
—Um-hmm. 'Cause he know what's been all up in there.
Laughter, until they choke. But already he is looking. Ricky, having laughed, stilled, now looking. Thinking how hard, how very very hard it is not to focus, fixate, his eyes on Lou Jay. How hard not to see, looking, just how pretty. How fine and all that, he thinks. How hard not to carry to dreams and priv
ate thrusts the big old shoulders and pretty lips and nipples, after his very own lips have traversed the skin . . . the shoulders and nipples all hard now hard-hard yet soft, like the eyes, beneath the shirt . . . when he wore a shirt. Hard not to think, Yeah, 'cause I could just take him right now, couldn't I, and do all a that and more. I could (uh huh, do all of it, that and that) get him all relaxed (the calm-down part) and whisper back behind his neck about the house they'd buy someday (or, no: I will buy. I will. For him. Ricky-for-Lou Jay. Uh-huh) in Decatur or maybe . . . that one. The one they'd fix up nice with a front yard just like everybody else's and some back land too just like everybody else's so they could live someplace far away from all those others, those others with guns and bullet eyes, those others like his own daddy. Far away from the eyes, from the Now-what-y'all-got-into-some-nasty-shit-no-doubt pressed lips and hands on hips. Far from the sucked teeth and curling sneers. Someplace where the two of them, him-and-Lou Jay, could just settle and say, All right, now. Because this here is Lou Jay's and Ricky's house and we been up in it together going on how long now? so don't y'all ignorant motherfuckers even try no fierce shit up in here. Uh-huh. The ones with the guns (Daddy) who could never know how it felt when that part of him that was on Lou Jay, right there, slow and silky out in the fields at night sometimes or right here in Lou Jay's room, like when after his mama and daddy are asleep and it's just him and me and is that your hand, Lou? I can't hardly tell no more. It all feels like soft sand, smooth reeds, watergrass. Hot silk. All water. My face in the sand, in the soft soft reeds. Enough to know for now. Better not to know yet about (though he knows already) the curling snakes on the shore, the blue things that, in murky rivers, curl about ankles, drag them down to drown. Enough to know, for now, what their hotsilkiest dreams tell them: that they are here, alive, and that, right here, on this hot morning beneath the pecans and the sizzling live oaks, all snakes are in their holes, all blue things uneasily at rest. Here, where, whatever else might be known or feared, each can be certain, remembering warm sand and siltyslim reeds, that the other will always be his and his. Lucky, he thinks, or something. And I'ma make sure we stay lucky. But says:
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