Plenty Good Room

by Cheri Paris Edwards

  “Our drinks are here,” said Lynnette from behind her.

  Jayson had returned from the bar, balancing three drinks in both hands while maneuvering his tall, lithe frame through the crowd.

  “Follow me,” he said once they each had their own drink in hand.

  Undeniably anxious now, Tamara breathed shallowly, trying not to lose sight of Lynnette and Jayson as they made their way through the throng of people. A couple of times she managed to toss a nervous smile toward a man in response to his appreciative comment to her as she passed by. Finally, Jay stopped at a table where a smiling young woman was already sitting.

  “Thank you, baby,” said Jayson, giving the girl a lingering gaze before winking flirtatiously and smiling her way with a flash of his dimples. Demonstratively he blew a small kiss at the girl and said, “I’ll come get you for a dance in a minute, sweetheart.”

  “Okay, don’t you forget me, now,” said the girl, flirting herself now, tossing her long microbraids back and flashing her own large white smile in response.

  Jayson turned to watch her walk away, sucked in a breath of air, and said, “Oooh, did you see that onion?”

  Lynnette gave Jayson an annoyed glance and said, “Boy, sit down. We don’t care nothin’ about that girl’s ‘onion’, and you shouldn’t either, with as many of them girls be tryin’ to bring you drama.”

  “Okay, Lynnette, but, uh, don’t you worry ’bout my drama,” said Jayson flippantly as he motioned for Tamara to slide into the maroon leather booth before him.

  Lynnette shook her head disgustedly as she watched him give an unsuspecting Tamara a thorough once-over as she sat down in the booth.

  “See, that’s just what I’m talking about!”

  “What?” he asked, wearing an innocent look.

  “Boy, you just a dog, that’s all,” she said through tightened lips.

  “Well, if I’m a dog, then what does that make you, a doggette?” he asked with a sly smile. “You gotta lot of drama in your own life, don’t you, girl?”

  Unable to deny that her own relationships could get a bit complicated at times, Lynnette laughed, then added sheepishly, “Okay, you got me. I guess, I’ll just shut up for now, anyway.”

  By now Tamara was used to the two of them sniping at each other, and she joined Lynnette’s laughter, too, happy to be sitting down, and glad that the two of them had called at least a short-lived truce.

  Sipping their drinks, the three of them listened appreciatively to the mellow sounds of keyboardist Kevin Toney. Wearing a look of intent curiosity, Tamara bobbed her head a little to the music while noting the fancy, smooth steps of some of the couples who were moving together on the floor. These dancers seemed to be totally in tune with each nuance of the music. Their feet would slide smoothly; then the man would allow the woman to turn and spin until they came back together in time with the music.

  She elbowed Jayson and asked inquisitively, “What is that they’re doing out there?”

  “You mean the dancing?”

  “Yes, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  He widened his eyes emphatically and stroked his goatee as he looked at her disbelievingly. “Girl, you really haven’t been anywhere. We gots to get you out more often. Back in the day they called that ‘fast dancin’—we call it steppin’ now. Now that I think about it, I suppose it’s really a traditional dance of sorts in the African-American community.”

  She turned and smiled at him brightly, noticing now that the alcoholic drink was making her feel quite relaxed. “I like that, the way that they are moving together right with the music, and it’s neat how everybody does it a bit differently, I see.”

  “You want to try it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Jay,” she said skeptically.

  Lynnette overheard the conversation and encouragingly prodded, “Girl, go ’head. This night is for you, Tamara. Girl, you been under some serious stress with little Miss Sienna and all, and it’s the holidays, too! You really could stand to loosen up, Tam.”

  Jayson smiled again and said, “C’mon, Tam, ain’t nothin’ but a party.”

  “But, what about you Lynnette? I don’t want to leave you sitting here all alone,” replied Tamara, sipping the sweet-flavored drink again.

  Lynnette, waving her hand nonchalantly at Tamara, glanced around the crowded club, batting her large eyes. “Don’t you worry ’bout me, girl. I’m gonna have me another sip or two of this drink, and then I’ll find someone to save our table and I’m gonna get on the floor and shake my booty, too . . . Shoot, y’all know I’m lookin’ too fine to sit down all night.”

  “Lynn, you are lookin’ good—that is, except for that extremely big head you got,” Jayson commented facetiously with a huge smile before taking a deep drink from his own glass.

  With a toss of her hair, Lynnette replied saucily, “I bet you one thang: my head ain’t too big for somebody in this club, and this four-hundred-dollar leather suit right here ain’t going to waste tonight.”

  Just then a new tune came over the speakers, and Jayson reached over, grabbing Tamara’s hand. Pulling her up from the table, he left her no room to refuse.

  “Girl, c’mon, this is my man, Paul Taylor, on the horn now; we gotta get up here and move.”

  At first she felt awkward as she moved self-consciously on the dance floor, unable to follow Jayson as he tried to show her the steps.

  Jayson bent over then and whispered into her ear, “Tam . . . just relax. Listen to the music and let it flow through your body.”

  Tamara focused on the music, and suddenly the melodious sounds of the saxophone seemed to envelop her body, and she allowed herself to glide with the beat of the song. Soon the two of them were stepping in synch, until Jayson would spin her in concert with the music, back and forth, and then they would come back together in unison again.

  After several minutes of their smooth movements, Tamara could see other couples watching them appreciatively from the edge of her vision, and their silent approval assured her that she must be doing it right. Time seemed to stop moving as they swirled and danced, and when the music finally ended, Tamara looked up at Jayson with bright, shining eyes.

  “You like?” he asked with a smile on his face.

  Her own deep dimples matched his as she smiled widely and said, “Yes, I liked it, Jay! Thank you! It was so much fun!”

  At that moment, Tamara’s heart was beating fast inside her chest, leaving her wildly exhilarated. Though she’d said it was “fun,” that word could not come close to adequately describing the wonderfully free feeling she’d experienced when the two of them were whirling and gliding in harmony to the wailing saxophone moments ago.

  30.

  Love Lessons

  “I’ll meet you here in the front when your rehearsal is over, Sienna,” Tamara told the girl.

  “Guess what, Tamara? Tonight I get to practice for my first solo!” the girl tossed over her shoulder as she half walked, half skipped down the corridor toward the church auditorium.

  As Tamara watched her walk away so obviously delighted, she quietly wished that she had shared the girl’s eagerness to be part of the church. Entirely on her own, Sienna had walked in front of the entire congregation and joined the church the second time they came together, and soon after, she became a member of the mass choir. The teen never missed rehearsals or Sunday service, riding there with Mrs. Jackson on the days that Tamara did not go herself. Sienna had obviously been waiting impatiently for her to arrive home from work that evening, because as soon as Tamara turned the car into the driveway, she came running out of the house and hopped into the car.

  Tamara, however; was still much less enthusiastic and only agreed grudgingly to attend Bible study class this evening at Denise Jackson’s prodding, once Denise discovered that Tamara was bringing Sienna to choir rehearsal anyway.

  Oh, well, I’m here now, she thought with a huge sigh, and Mrs. Jackson is right that attending church together is a great way for
Sienna and me to spend some quality time together . . . well, sorta together anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about having to talk to Isaiah Perry tonight, since he should be rehearsing with the choir, too, she thought gratefully, comforted in the knowledge that they were practicing in the back auditorium. Entering the sanctuary, she was surprised to see Denise Jackson there. Tamara patted her shoulder as she slid into the pew next to her.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you came, baby girl,” said the woman as she hugged her enthusiastically.

  Tamara smiled back at the woman, glad to feel some of her tenseness fade away at the sight of her friend. She wondered why Mrs. Jackson was not at choir rehearsal with Sienna, but before she got the chance to question the woman about her unexpected presence at Bible study class, Tamara heard a familiar voice beside her.

  “Why, Ms. Britton, it’s so nice to see you here tonight.”

  It can’t be, she thought. He’s not supposed to be out here with us right now. But sure enough, when she turned, she was gazing directly into the smiling eyes of Isaiah Perry.

  Tamara attempted to sound calm and collected but instead revealed her anxiety when she stammered, “Uh, oh, hello, Isaiah. I—I brought Sienna to sing in the choir tonight, and Mrs. Jackson invited me to stay for B-Bible study.”

  “And I’m glad she did,” he responded smoothly in the husky voice she’d grown to recognize.

  Sienna is right, she thought incredulously. This time there was no denying the interest apparent in the long, lingering glance he’d given her, and she turned from him quickly to hide her reddening face.

  Denise Jackson bumped her with her shoulder gently, and when Tamara quickly glanced at her, the woman giggled conspiratorially.

  Showing no indication that he’d noticed her embarrassment, Isaiah Perry continued, “You know what? Now I’m really glad our choir practice isn’t until Thursday night. Tonight only the soloists are rehearsing; the rest of us get a chance to hear Pastor’s Bible study. So I guess this is my lucky night!”

  Disheartened, Tamara discovered that once again she was unable to comment. Her tongue had grown thick and heavy, her brain was full of fuzz, and right now she could come up with nothing better to say than a lame “Uh-huh.”

  Relieved for the reprieve from Isaiah, she looked up at Pastor Walker gratefully when he cleared his throat into the microphone, announcing the beginning of the night’s study session. The minister wore his usual wide smile as he looked at those assembled and said in his baritone voice, “Let’s get started. We all know that when I get going, I can go on for a while, and I wouldn’t want to keep you too late tonight.”

  There was an “amen” or two in response to his self-deprecating comment, followed by a peppering of laughter from the congregation.

  “On your feet, please. Now, let us pray.”

  At the conclusion of the prayer, they were all seated, and Minister Walker said robustly, “Church, tonight we are going to continue our study about love. We’re going to delve deeper into how we can learn to walk in love. After all, church, love is why we are all here today. It is the love that God had for us that caused Him to give His son in sacrifice for all of our sins, and it was love that gave Jesus the heart and will to do it.”

  He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and held them in his hand for a moment before replacing them on his face. The pastor’s deep voice grew softer as he said, “I am aware that many, many clergy focus on teaching about the wrath of God and why we should fear Him, and I agree—we should have a reverent fear of the Lord. But I want my members to know about His love, because in my book, and even more importantly, in His book, it is only love that can change anything or anybody.”

  “Yes,” said Denise Jackson as she nodded her head fervently in agreement.

  Tamara’s attention was riveted on the pastor. Even though again the subject of his text was love, and though she did not really want to hear it, still she could not seem to turn away.

  The Reverend Walker continued, “Many times we listen to songs about love. I think you’ll agree with me that it is love that the songwriters love to write about, isn’t it? ‘Love to Love You,’ ‘Can’t Get Enough of Your Love,’ ‘Your Sweet Love,’ and I could go on and on.”

  Again he took off his glasses and held them in his hand as he gestured, “They all talk about love affairs, spending time with the one you love, and y’all know all that ooh, baby, baby stuff; but they all miss one important fact about love. There is only one love affair that really can change our lives and our hearts, and that is the one that we have with our Lord Jesus!”

  “Amen,” said several people.

  Minister Walker slipped his glasses back on and wiped his face with his handkerchief while saying in a voice vibrant with emotion, “Oh, my people, let us not forget that it was Jesus who stood in the gap for each of us; it was sweet Jesus who gave His own life, because it was the will of His Father . . . It was Jesus who was humiliated and scorned by His own people so that we could live and live more abundantly.”

  Opening his Bible then, he said, “Let’s turn to First Corinthians, chapter thirteen. It is here that we will find our guide on how to love.”

  Tamara fumbled through her brand-new Bible that she had bought just yesterday, especially for tonight’s class. Isaiah Perry’s rugged brown hand appeared then, and he gently turned the pages to the left until she was at the correct chapter. He pointed to the correct passage, and she put her finger there so that she could follow along with Minister Walker:

  If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am but a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

  Pastor Walker closed the book, took out his white handkerchief, and wiped his brow, which was beaded with sweat now. He looked at them all for a long moment.

  “Do you know, church, how poignant that is? How profound?”

  The pastor enunciated each word. “If I speak in tongues, I am nothing without love, if I can prophesy, I am nothing without love, and if I have all faith—enough to move mountains—I am still nothing without love. Even if I give away all that I have and sacrifice my own body, I am nothing without love.”

  “Amen,” said many members of the congregation.

  “Church, I am nothing without love. Nothing.”

  He opened the Bible again and said, “And, now that we know we are nothing without love, let’s see what it takes to love, to really love.”

  “Let’s read together . . . Begin with verse four.”

  Tamara read silently as she followed along with her slim finger:

  Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

  In a quiet voice, the minister said, “Oh, church, think about that. My, my, my, have we ever really loved like that? Paul wrote about the kind of love that Jesus showed us. Jesus didn’t try to have His way, now, did He? If He had, He would not have been crucified, He did not necessarily want to die, but He sacrificed Himself for us, anyway. Follow with me for a moment, church. Hold your place there, but turn for a moment to Matthew twenty-six: thirty-nine.”

  Again, with the assistance of Isaiah, she found the place and read to herself with the pastor:

  Going a little further, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

  “In other words, church, Jesus asked His Father God to ‘take the cup’ of His sacrifice from Him, but then He said, ‘Father, if it is Your will I will do it,’ and why, church? Because He lov
ed His Father, He submitted His will and His flesh . . . because He loved His Father and He loved us enough to give up His own life for us.”

  Tamara looked at Minister Walker; she was feeling a bit dazed by the magnitude of the sacrifice that Jesus made, giving up His life for people just like her.

  “Now, let’s go back to our description of love, church. Remember what we just read? Could you love like that? Could you sacrifice anything that you really cared about? Could you give up your life? The truth is, most of us don’t even want to give up watching our favorite television show for any period of time, or let go of eating our favorite food for a while, but Jesus gave His life for us.”

  Tamara couldn’t help but think of how often she was resentful about Sienna’s intrusion into her life. It wasn’t as if she even loved the girl or anything like that, yet she felt ashamed of being so selfish at this moment.

  “Okay, church, let’s continue to read together. Back to First Corinthians, chapter thirteen, verse eight now.”

  This time Tamara whispered the words to herself as she read along with the Pastor:

  Love never ends. But as for prophesies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know now only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end.

  Minister Walker’s voice thundered through the walls of the sanctuary now: “Everything that we know will come to an end, except for love. Love is Jesus, Love is God, and all else that we understand in this world will cease to be.”

  She watched him closely, and his voice fell again. “People talk about heaven, but the truth is, we don’t know what it will be like then, because we only know in part now, but we know that God will be there, and His love for us will be there, too. And, church, that’s all that matters.”