He walked away, still shaking his head. I tossed the newspaper in the backseat and gripped the wheel, this time to restrain my anger instead of my passion. I was ticked with both of them. We eased into our parking space in silence. I cut the engine.
“Was that really necessary?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “It was for me. Don’t forget your notes. We’re working, remember?”
How could I forget?
28
Zeely
The bubbles tickled my shoulders but brought no humor to them. I’d thought that a good, hot bath might numb the pain, but some things couldn’t be soaked or scrubbed away. Some things stained deep into the soul. I’d watched Grace and Brian pull away without sticking my head out the window with a last-minute warning. I’d teased Grace about Brian, about letting him just pull up like that, but it wasn’t any of my business. That didn’t stop it from hurting though. Didn’t stop jealousy from inching up my sleeves and into my heart.
“Be flexible,” my mother had always said. “That’s what a man needs in a wife, compromise and endurance. Endure, baby. Endure to the end.” And so here I was, still stretching, pulling, holding other people’s place in line. Places they didn’t even want.
I slipped on a robe and padded downstairs, wondering how long it would be before I’d be helping Grace pack up again to marry Brian. I’d thought it would be different this time, just her and me, with no men between us. I should have known better. Even when it was just our fathers, there were always men between us.
I’d played this game with widows and women whose husbands had beat them, left them. Those women hung all over me: praying, talking, coming by. And then they’d disappear. After the first time, I learned not to go looking. I still saw those women from time to time: running toward the altar on Sundays or sneaking away from some nasty-looking motel. I’d taken them in, babysat for them, helped them any way I could, but in the end, if the devil himself came by and blew the horn, they all went running. Worse yet, they’d come back and try to tell me how I too could have a man of my very own.
“If you ’d loosen up a little, you could get a man too,” they whispered. “You know. Give a little.”
When they came out of their mess a year or two later, I’d be right in the choirstand where they left me. No putting out and shacking up for Zeely. It was too late to lift my skirt for the meat cutter because I got a little lonely. Well, a lot lonely and not just for a man.
What I really wanted, even craved, was a baby. Only God knew how much. If things had gone the way they were supposed to, I’d have had five or six children by now. At least three or four.
But things hadn’t gone like they were supposed to. Jeremiah didn’t give me a ring like Mama said he would. He gave me a wedding invitation instead. And my name wasn’t on it.
Sometimes I allowed myself to think about Ron and all that had happened between us, all we could have been. Sometimes, but not often. It made me too sad. Too angry. I had too much to do to sit around crying and mad. Now Ron was marrying somebody else too. Somebody who looked like him.
I fluffed the napkins in the rings on my dining room table, remembered Ron’s last visit. He’d let me win the game a few times, but not all. Some of the answers I only knew because he’d recited them during other games, chapter and verse. This time, he guessed the answers more often than not. Just like I was doing now. I restacked my bowls and plates out of habit, laughing at myself for doing it. My table was always set, but Prince Charming never came.
And he never would.
I was finally ready and able to accept that. Jerry was still trying to figure out how to iron his clothes again after the divorce. He only went out with me to dull the pain of Carmel and her boyfriend. Somehow I got that and allowed him that dignity, to believe that he could still be wanted. Be needed. He was using me in hopes of keeping Carmel’s love, to let her know that he was still a man. If I was honest, I used Jeremiah too. I’d always hated those women who didn’t want a man but didn’t want anyone else to have him either, but sometimes that’s just how things end up. It’s okay.
What wasn’t okay was that Grace had been back in town a few weeks and already she was riding off into the sunset. Joyce had handed her the dance program that had meant so much to me but would always suffer in the shadow of the memory of its best dancer—the missing, tragic Diana.
No matter how much time passed between the two of us, one thing would never change—I was the one called to serve, but Grace was the one chosen to be loved. In a year or two, she’d be back here on Brian’s arm, holding a chubby-cheeked baby. And I’d still be here stacking plates.
Don’t you think you’re taking this too far?
I wasn’t. Not yet. I lifted one of my couch cushions and pulled out a brochure with a smiling pregnant woman on the cover.
Tired of waiting for Mr. Right? Save a baby abandoned in our freezer and fulfill your dreams of motherhood. Call today. 1-88-NEW-THING.
I pressed the glossy paper against my stomach. The emptiness caved in beneath my hand. I reached for the phone.
29
Ron
Dinner at the country club was not my idea of romance, but to Mindy it meant something, something I hadn’t been giving her, not for a while. Some of my time.
So I’d suffer through, knowing she deserved better, knowing that this couldn’t go on, that my heart and my head had to line up somehow. Until then, there were the chandeliers, four forks, three spoons, and wine-colored cloth napkins. Until then, there was Mindy.
“I’m so glad to see you.” She seemed both thrilled and surprised that I’d shown up.
“Me too,” I said, not even sure what I meant. I smoothed a napkin over my knees and blinked at the silver. They must have used an electric buffer or something.
“You haven’t touched your gazpacho.” Mindy pressed her hand on mine. The bands of her rings scratched against my knuckles. She lowered her voice. “You haven’t touched me either.” She tried to give me an enticing look, but the edges of her green contact lenses were streaked with red. The beginnings of another eye infection.
Things had been different when we first started dating. We’d done Bible study together, went on dates, even made friends with a few other couples. Things became comfortable, which for Mindy meant serious. People told me to be careful of her, said things I never told her about. She knew about Zeely, but not everything. Sometimes I thought she didn’t want to know. Sometimes I wondered if she didn’t have a secret of her own. I hoped not. My closet was full of my own secrets.
She slid her foot out of one of her heels. Her toes slid up my pants leg. “I know we’ve been pretty casual about this wedding, but what if we just forget all that and just get married?”
What if we did. That would end everything, wouldn’t it? No, not at all. “Maybe. I don’t know. We haven’t spent much time together lately. I’d started to think we’d be engaged indefinitely, that maybe we should call things off and see where we stand.”
Mindy put her foot back into her shoe. “Look, don’t talk like that. It’s been crazy at work for me with all the rezoning of the city and everything. And I know Daddy has had you busy. And your friends. It’s just the celibacy thing. The wedding is starting to seem a long way off.”
The celibacy thing. When we’d met, Mindy had been adamant about the celibacy thing. Adamant about Jesus. Lately, we didn’t go to church together much anymore, and when we did, it was like a date with lunch or a movie after. She had the same far-off look during service that I saw on her face now.
She took a bite of the appetizer, freshly delivered to our table. She told me not to look at her like that, like I was so righteous, like I didn’t struggle. “I’m not like you, content to play board games and cook collard greens. I’m not a virgin and I have a good memory.”
Appetite gone, I stared down at my plate, then reached for her hand. I struggled all right, just for all the wrong reasons. I bowed my head and prayed . . . for both of us.
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The next course came, but none of it looked appetizing.
Mindy and I sat like that, holding hands and staring at each other. I saw something in her eyes that I’d been avoiding. I wondered if she saw the same thing in mine.
“Let’s get out of here. Go somewhere and talk.”
She perked up a little. “Come home with me. I’ll call Dad and cover for you in the morning . . .”
That made me smile, but I knew that it could be more dangerous than anything with Zeely—we would never go beyond dinner. With Mindy, it would be easy to let myself go, to let things take their course. She was better than that though, deserved more. I liked to think I was too. “That wasn’t quite what I meant. It’s late and things might get out of hand.”
“That was the idea.” She gave me a weary smile and waved for the check. “Forget it. That was my hormones talking. I have an appointment anyway.”
“More premarital counseling? I’m sorry about missing the last session. Should I come—”
“No. It’s something else. Don’t worry.” She folded her napkin and laid it on the table.
I pulled out her chair. “Sorry about tonight. About everything. I know this can’t be easy for you, waiting until we finish our counseling to set a date. We’re almost there though.”
She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean all that. I don’t know what comes over me sometimes. It’s like—”
“Putting a smorgasbord in front of a starving man and telling him not to eat.”
“That’s it. Totally.”
We walked out together and kissed quickly in the parking lot. I was all the way to the car before I realized I had gotten away without eating a thing. Not that it surprised me.
What I hungered for wasn’t on the menu.
My appetite came back—with a vengeance. One of our biggest clients had died and left her daughter a ridiculous amount of money, more than the budget for the whole city. The desk in front of me, the one in my den, was piled with plans on what to do with the cash—plans from the daughter and a newly formed foundation, whose board was made up mostly of names I recognized from local politics. There’d been meetings about it all day.
When they’d first mentioned their plans to consolidate the mirror-imaged facilities and business—black and white—on either side of town, I’d been all ears. Finally this backward place was going to catch up and get over its strangeness. Or at least that’s what I had thought.
“Actually we’re going to change the nature of the city altogether,” they’d explained finally. “Expand on the idea of having a historical area. It’ll be a tourist attraction. The story of the town’s name is well known. People would pay up to a million dollars to live here when we’re finished.”
I’d almost had a heart attack then. When I asked what would happen to the middle-class and low-income residents who couldn’t afford to live in such housing, the answer blew my mind.
“We’re planning reenactments throughout town. They can always play the slaves or soldiers. They wouldn’t live here, of course, but the jobs would be steady.”
That comment had started some conversations that had me stuck between quitting my job or being fired. Things were said that seemed so unreal that I started to take notes simply because I couldn’t believe them. My boss had taken my notes and thrown them away. “What’s said in here, stays in here.”
That was what scared me. If I left, who was going to help Joyce and Brian with what was coming down the road? Brian’s stance that every American was born a racist to some degree had always alarmed and saddened me, but after today I had to wonder if he hadn’t been right. Even me. Why didn’t I have Brian’s picture on my desk with snapshots of my college buddies? Why wasn’t Zeely’s picture next to my other smiling ex-girlfriends’?
Between racism and political correctness, I’d never have any peace. And probably not any food either. It was late and I was starving and only one person was likely to have something I really wanted to eat. The one person I had no business talking to, especially after the way things had gone with Mindy tonight.
So I’d gone home instead and ransacked my refrigerator, finding nothing but condiments and lunches gone the way of weird. I gave up. Across the street, my neighbor was attacking his lawn with a weed whacker, making the most of the warm fall night.
My yard was a few weeks from going to seed. The neighborhood association had taken to leaving me friendly reminders with coupons attached so that I could take my invisible children for ice cream. If I didn’t move out of here soon, I was going to lose it.
Maybe I already had.
When I snatched my phone off the base and started punching numbers, I heard numbers punching on the other end.
“Hey! Stop dialing. It’s me.”
Zeely’s voice came in clear and calm. A little too calm. “Don’t tell me. You want more greens.”
“That’d be great, but really, I’ll take anything.” I sounded pitiful, but I couldn’t help myself.
She sighed. “Did you eat it all the last time?”
“Every bite. I think I took the foil to work for a snack. Lots of icing on there.”
“The foil?”
“You heard me.”
Her laughter came then, full and sweet. It made the day’s confusion both tighten and ease.
“Now you’re really going to laugh. The people at work were amazed at my ‘soul food cuisine.’ I was all into it one day, hot sauce running down my mouth and everything. There they were, staring into my office. I almost choked.”
She did choke. “Stop. Please. I can’t take any more. I’ll feed you, all right? And bring your shadow a plate if he’s there.”
So that was how it went.
I didn’t take too kindly to the thought of Jerry in Zeely’s house, even with me there. Thank God he was working that other job tonight. Still, I’d take a good meal any way I could get it—even if it was meant for someone else.
“Jerry’s not here. We do our male bonding on weekends and even then, not very often.”
“I see.”
My neighbor crossed the street and stepped into my yard. I guess he couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to think about what I’d say to him on my way out. So I didn’t think. “Don’t make me beg.”
She laughed again. “No need. I’ve got some butter beans, smothered turkey legs with gravy, and a little rice. Will that do you?”
I leaned back on the couch. That would do me right into next week. “I’m on my way. One question before I let you go.”
“Yes?”
“I know Jerry isn’t usually allowed at your house. How is it that I get to come over?”
“You’re safe. You just want my food.”
I wouldn’t be so sure. “Right. See you in a minute.”
I headed to the car, trying not to think about what had happened on my job, what hadn’t happened with Mindy, or why I always called Zeely when I didn’t have the time or energy to explain what I wanted. Maybe it was for the best that I hadn’t moved into one of those condos. I’d probably be over there all the time. Jerry really needed to step up his game. Or something.
We were playing musical chairs, all of us, even Mindy. I wasn’t so sure that I wanted to be around when the music stopped.
30
Grace
I longed for sleep. Working with Brian left me exhausted and confused, especially our breathless goodbyes. I hadn’t felt like this since . . . well, ever. I held my hand to my face, noting the exact spot where he’d kissed it when we’d gone to dinner. When it happened, I’d breathed a silent prayer and stepped away, afraid to return the endearment. Just thinking about it had me in a daze.
Lord, you promised not to tempt me beyond my limits. Just so you know, you’re coming pretty close.
Some kind of blues sang in through my thin windowpanes, an open invitation from my college neighbors to come down and say hello. Also an opportunity for Zeely to call the police. It was midnight or later, lo
ng after the time for all good teachers to be in bed. And yet, I couldn’t sleep.
Retreating to my room, I grabbed my new nightgown, purple silk from Virtuous Woman. I read the tag before putting it on.
Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is far above rubies. She makes herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple. Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in the time to come.
I clutched the tag to my chest before pulling the gown over my head. Those words explained all that I desired to be: a jewel in God’s crown, strong, smart, and beautiful. It also reminded me of everything I wasn’t.
I lifted my arms and threw back my head, offering the only gift I had left—the dance.
The music had slowed from the pulsing drum of my teen years, but it was still the beat of God’s forgiveness that told my body where to go, told my feet how to pray. It was devotion in motion, as Zeely often said in her weekly class, and at the height of it, my phone rang and I stubbed my big toe on the way to answer it.
If it was Brian saying he was outside again, I prayed for the courage to send him home. It had been hard enough the first time.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. Joyce. Please . . . come.” She gasped for breath.
“Hold on. I’m on my way.”
Instantly, I pulled on a pair of jeans over the purple nightgown and a sweater over my head. I forced my feet into two odd sneakers. Every time I thought I’d reached all I could bear, God threw another rock on the pile. I guess I didn’t know him or myself as well as I thought I did.
31
Brian
The empty classroom crackled with anticipation. Since our candlelit dinner of strategy and scheduling and a breathy goodbye at Grace’s door, things had been quite interesting between us. Though I knew I shouldn’t, each morning I looked forward to seeing her. So much about her both compelled and baffled me. Her religion made her seem narrow-minded at times, but there was something beneath it, an innocent generosity that made me want to laugh out loud. Sometimes she was smug and arrogant, and me being me, I liked that too.
Rhythms of Grace Page 16