Talk to Me (A Love Story in Any Language)

by Pat Simmons

  “Don’t get me started, Mackenzie, because I’m on a roll and I’m about ready to shout and tear down some walls that I didn’t construct, right here and right now. By faith, I, Noel Richardson answered when God called me, repented, and was baptized.”

  I was so mad I could’ve choked the devil himself. Fuming, I spun around, searching for the door, which was right in front of me. Without looking back, I opened it and stormed outside, forgoing the childish thrill of slamming it.

  CHAPTER 35

  I had waited my entire life for a “Noel Richardson.” Physically, he was perfect in every way that mattered to a woman. And I do mean perfect. He had hazel eyes that enchanted me. I didn’t want to blink. His skin color reminded me of maple butter syrup. I couldn’t help but fall in love.

  His smile…whew, his smile became permanently sculptured on his face when gazed at me. A silky black mustache outlined his upper lip. There was never a hair out of place.

  His shirts did a poor job of concealing his bulging muscles. He was built like a bodybuilder. The cuffs of his pants never, ever touched the dust on the floor. It was as if he had them trained to obey. Noel’s shoes—tennis, sandals, or dress shoes—were always properly maintained.

  The man’s strength was attractive, his desire to seek God was endearing, but it was his honesty that nurtured our relationship. We never clashed on scriptures, songs, or even how to praise God until—that night. I loved him, but if we couldn’t have a dialogue or a friendly debate—okay, argument—even if it was about the scriptures, how could we grow as saints of God? So what happened?

  Noel’s voice—Lord, thank You for Your finished product—his voice. He had no idea how deep and mesmerizing his words sounded when he whispered. I shook my head. I doubt Noel knew when he whispered.

  No one would suspect he was deaf. When he raised his voice, which was never until he shouted those scriptures at me non-stop, it was intimidating. Although Noel was deaf, his heart never seemed not to hear me. So again, what happened?

  That was a million dollar question that I didn’t have a ten dollar bill to answer. When the school year began, there was no Noel in my life. Now that classes had ended, I still didn’t have Noel. We hadn’t talked since our blowup.

  I shook my head to scatter my memories. It didn’t help. Staring out my kitchen window, I couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Turning around, I remembered to sip my coffee. The flavor was bland, not doused with my regular heavy hand of sugar. It was tasteless like my life. I was about to make a new cup when the phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Rhoda Brownlee greeted. “I’m just checking up on you. Still no word from Noel?” she asked cautiously.

  “Nope, not since the last time you called.”

  Rhoda and I had become and remained best friends since our freshmen year in college. She was the most exotic rich-black-skinned woman I’d ever met. Rhoda wore her darkness as an Egyptian queen with a magnetism that people couldn’t help but gravitate toward. That was a welcome contrast in our imperfect world where dark skin could oftentimes be subjected to prejudices and misconceptions.

  She was the exception. Many were in awe of my best friend’s flawless covering. A day never passed without someone inquiring about her country of origin. “Jersey,” she always responded with a thick East Coast dialect, dumbfounding everyone.

  Months ago, Rhoda had rejoiced about my bliss with Noel, so I concealed my inner turmoil about what happened between Noel and me. When she called, our chat—or rather her chatting—was well underway until five minutes into the conversation. Rhoda said the “N” word—his name. I felt that I might throw up.

  Rhoda didn’t stop singing the praises of a man who she hadn’t met yet. Gagging, I raced to the bathroom. I really did regurgitate. I think it was from the day-old Chinese food, not Noel—the “N” word.

  “Let me call you back.” After disconnecting, I rinsed my mouth out and brushed my teeth. Weak, I steadied my feet and returned to the kitchen in search of a club soda to settle my stomach.

  When I did call her back, I was bawling within thirty-seconds. For two uninterrupted hours, Rhoda listened, sympathizing with my raw emotions as if I was a sixteen-year-old, losing my first love.

  At almost thirty years old, I could truly say Noel was my first love. Unfortunately, my therapy session came to an abrupt halt when her fiancé beeped in, reminding me of his priority in Rhoda’s life. She bid me good night. “I’ll be praying for you, Mack. Love you, girl. Everything will turn out all right.”

  That was more than a week ago. Fast forward to now, and like clockwork, she called every other day armed with scriptures, ready to dispense them at any moment.

  Checking the caller ID, I answered, “Rhoda, I don’t feel up to talking—” I shifted my hip on the arm of the sofa.

  “I understand. Whenever Heath and I have disagreements, you know I don’t like to talk about him for at least twenty-four hours, too. Girl, let me tell you, that man made me so mad…”

  I loved Rhoda, but sometimes she only understood other people’s problems by recalling her own, which at this time, overrode my despair. Releasing a sigh, I attempted to stick my fingers through my hair, but a fortress of curlers resisted the invasion.

  It was almost noon and I was walking around the house unkempt. “Rhoda,” I lifted my voice to pull her back to my situation.

  “What?” She had the nerve to sound annoyed.

  “Again, Noel and I didn’t have a simple disagreement. It was a full-scale war.”

  “Well, maybe he needs a little more time,” Rhoda said. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here for you.”

  Gripping the phone, I bowed my head and closed my eyes. “I’m ready.” I sniffed to gather strength and repeated what I had already told her the night after it happened and then some.

  “I really did expect Noel to burst through the door with his arms stretched and lift me up like one of those figure-skaters then kneel and with puppy-dog eyes and apologize.”

  “Mack, the Winter Olympics are over.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you’re aware in another life, I would’ve been a champion skater, right? I should’ve never stopped taking those skating lessons. Anyway,” I said, swallowing a sigh.

  “My tears had a mind of their own. My pride had crumbled, but I was determined to be the first person to say I’m sorry. After almost a week, I accepted that he wasn’t coming back, so my ready-to-say-sorry withered away.”

  “Did you check the door? Mack, maybe he was locked out?” Rhoda had the nerve to joke.

  “It wasn’t locked.” I rolled my eyes at Rhoda’s bad sense of humor.

  “Oh, I remember when Heath and I had our first argument. He was the first one to apologize. That’s why I love—”

  Gritting my teeth, I counted to three. “Rhoda, it’s not always about you. Why do you insist on calling William, Heath anyway? The man answers as if it was his appointed birth name.”

  “But love is kind, love is patient. It keeps no record of wrongs. Maybe that’s why I can’t help but talk about him, not me” Rhoda defended.

  “Love also hurts. I’m a first-hand participant, remember?

  “Mack, I’m sure he’s regretting the incident and praying about it.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said sarcastically, yanking out the last curler in my hair. “I think Noel has regretted what he said that he’s forgotten about it.”

  “Stop torturing yourself, girl. Look, I’ve got to go. Heath’s at the door and we’re going sailing with friends on Lake Michigan.”

  I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but I disconnected anyway. Just when I thought my tear ducts were depleted, drops trickled down my cheeks. Pulling myself together, I haphazardly strolled to the bathroom, dropped my curlers in a drawer. Then I splashed cold water on my face before blowing my nose.

  After days of gut-wrenching cries, my reflection in the mirror was frightening. Haphazardly, I combed my curls into a manageable style. Taking a pocket Bible from the
vanity, I sat on the commode, trying to re-focus. “Lord, talk to me.”

  I read a few chapters from Psalms, Proverbs, and Philippians, highlighting passages and quoting familiar scriptures, but nothing seemed to speak to my uncertainties.

  The next morning, my pretense of a good night’s sleep was overshadowed by the torturous dreams of Noel. It took me an hour to get dressed to go nowhere. The Bible on my desk invited me to come. Opening my Bible, I flipped through several passages.

  Wrestling with tissue-thin pages fused together, I stopped at Romans 8: And we know that all things work together for a good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

  Closing my Bible, I prayed for the words to sink into my soul. Finally, Peace commandeered my spirit, requesting permission before settling into my soul. Shoving Doubt aside, Confidence took its post. “Okay, God, now what?”

  Did I wait on God or devise my own solution? The next day when I didn’t hear a Word from the Lord, I put in action my plan.

  Being the bigger person, I booted up my computer to send an email, Noel, regardless of how I feel and how I’m hurting, God’s purpose reigns. I pray that we both accept His purpose and move forward. I looked away from the computer screen. There was so much I wanted to say.

  I needed to vent, so I granted my fingers reign. I really don’t understand why we argued, but I’m sorry that I angered you. I love you.

  My moment of submissive humility ended, but this is the first and LAST time you will talk—no scream—at me in that manner! The more I wrote, the madder I got, You may be the head of your household, but I’m not in your household yet. Maybe never.

  That night before I went to bed, I realized my behavior was anything but an olive tree.

  CHAPTER 36

  Sunday morning, I dressed meticulously in my favorite color—white. I wanted to catch and keep Noel’s attention. I dabbed my makeup until perfection.

  My mass of oil sheen-covered curls obeyed its holding position until a gust of wind tango and my tight curls spiraled. Noel would still like it. When a piece of dust attacked my eyes, I rubbed gently, but smeared my mascara anyway.

  Once inside the church, I repaired whatever damage I could in the women’s restroom. With my head held high, I stepped in the sanctuary.

  Shield by my lashes, I performed a quick surveillance. Arriving earlier than usual, I readied my smile, and waited for Noel’s confident gait to make an appearance.

  Noel never showed. My heart plummeted. Finally, I became incensed for being stood up at church. Even the Campbell sisters were antsy, looking back several times for him. It was hard to digest a sermon when my heart was heavy.

  After service, I should have gotten prayer for my distraught soul. Instead of seeing the Master Physician, I left without filling the spiritual prescription.

  Wednesday arrived and faded. Again, Noel didn’t bother making the Bible Class. Did I know enough about this man to marry him? To make matters worse, his absence sparked curious murmuring among the saints, but only Valerie voiced her concerns. Pulling me aside after class, she stalled my escape.

  “That’s two for two, Norton. Where’s your man?” her tone a notch stronger than an innocent inquiry as she slithered next to me. Valerie’s body language exhibited anything but compassion. Her expression held that of a stern parent.

  “I don’t know,” I whispered, praying that we wouldn’t attract a crowd as some diverted their attention to us. I turned to escape Valerie’s inquest, but her hand encircling my wrist restrained me.

  “Wait a minute,” Valerie said louder than I would’ve preferred.

  Leaning closer to her face, I inhaled the barbecue sauce that lingered from her dinner. “If I wanted an audience, Valerie, I would’ve made an announcement.”

  “Fine.” She whipped her neck around, scanning the perimeter. “As a friend, I have a right to ask about your well-being.”

  Folding my arms, I stood back. I lifted one brow, and enunciated each word. “I wouldn’t take that right for granted. Now, I’m tired and I just want to go home.”

  “Okay, okay.” Valerie held up her hands as if deciding whether she should sign or talk. Shrugging, she spoke in a hushed tone, “Listen, you’ve got a ring on your finger, and you don’t know where your ying-to-yang, your pot-to-your-pan, your polka-dot-to-stripes is?”

  She glanced from my diamond engagement ring to my face, lifting my hand as a manicurist, as if she hadn’t seen it before. Frowning, she chanced touched the stone. “It’s definitely worth a little money.”

  “Valerie, don’t start, and… polka dots and stripes don’t even match.” Snatching my hand back, my mind and body took a defensive stance. Before Valerie could further insult me, Nick approached. I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping he was coming to rescue me from further interrogation. No such luck.

  “Praise the Lord, Valerie,” he said with a tender smile and a sparkle in his eyes. A noticeable gentleness replaced Nick’s known joking character.

  “Hey, Mackenzie, where’s Noel? I called him several times, and left a few messages with a relay operator. Your man doesn’t how to return calls?”

  No such luck on the rescue, I cringed. “Next time try IM or text message. Noel only uses relay calling as a last resort. Excuse me, saints.” Gathering my Bible and purse, I hurried from the sanctuary. Slow enough to appear that I wasn’t running, but fast enough to get away. I didn’t stop until I exited through the church’s door, joining others on the parking lot.

  The night sky offered a dim path to my red Mazda. It didn’t match the security Noel gave me as my escort, and it had nothing to do with physical protection. I wished I had counted the number of times Noel and I strolled to my car. Noel was my peanuts-to-jelly beans—one of my favorite munchies.

  Whenever we drove separately to church, Noel always seemed to beat me to church, although I usually was just around the corner. Okay, I was several blocks away. Maybe ten minutes at the most before I pulled into the parking lot.

  Regardless of how long I took to get here, Noel was usually posted at our self-designated spot, leaning against his car. Even in the cold! He would patrol the space next to his Cadillac, daring anyone to think about claiming it.

  “I miss you, Noel,” I whispered as if he was present and his eyes could read my lips and his heart could feel my emotions. Yes, I guess he was my ying-to-my yang because the man could feel my emotions.

  Our disagreement was taking a toll on my spirit, and my mind. “Lord, help me to understand what’s going on between us.”

  Whoever said that absence makes the heart grow fonder? They were so wrong. My heart continued to ache. Noel left me hanging. Was I denying the inevitable?

  Our stupid spat was actually a breakup. No matter how absorbed I became in a new theatre project, I subconsciously became Noel Richardson’s keeper.

  At the following week’s Bible class, Valerie’s ‘I told you so’ look mocked me as if a pit bull was locked to my ankle.

  “Amen,” I signed the benediction. Again she cornered me, and had the good sense to keep our conversation discreet. She tapped her chin and began to sign, “You know, Mack, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Should I be concerned?” I was irritated from being irritated. While I was weary from continued lack of sleep, Valerie appeared surprisingly refreshed, almost cheery.

  Valerie shook her head, offended at the suggestion. “Of course not, but—” She paused. “I’m convinced that God sent Noel to me. Hear me out,” she added as I readied for an argument.

  “C’mon Mackenzie,” she said, forgoing signing. “Maybe he was an angel of light. AKA Satan Noel couldn’t trick me, so he tried to seduce you until God intervened. The Word says God will never leave us nor forsake us. Jesus was right in the middle of that! I mean Noel vanished. The scripture does say resist the devil and he’ll flee from you, girl.”

  My jaw just dropped. Emotionally, I was hurting and Valerie was sealing my coffin with Krazy Glue before nailing
it. She didn’t know how to let things go. She was piecing scriptures together tighter than a knitter pearling yarn for a sweater.

  Now, I was more than ready to lash out. “Sister Valerie Victoria Preston, it’s good to quote scriptures, it’s better to live them.” Lifting a brow, I considered my next comment. God was telling me to hold my tongue, but I opted to use my free will.

  “Did you ever think that Noel wasn’t meant for you either? Ben’s name is tattooed on your chest. Maybe you better look for a man that has B-E-N in his first, middle, or last name.”

  Gasping, Valerie quickly crossed her arms against her breast. Leaning forward, she whispered, darting her eyes around us. “You know about that?”

  “Yeah, me, and anyone else with eyes can see Ben’s name winking at us from your revealing tops. How do you think your husband is going to feel making love to his wife and seeing another man’s name on her body?”

  Valerie tossed her hair over her shoulder, indignant. “Humph! Noel’s name has an E and N, his middle name could have a B in it.

  Twisting my lips, I rolled my eyes. The conversation was starting to bore me. “It doesn’t. You won’t find a B in Noel Allen Richardson.”

  “It could be a nickname,” she desperately retorted.

  “Goodnight, Valerie.” Before I turned to leave, tears glazed Valerie’s eyes. I understood the pain I inflicted, but I was too tired, tired of the drama, tired of Noel’s absence, and tired of Valerie’s insensitive statements exploding from her mouth. I was almost out the sanctuary door when I felt God’s conviction.

  I glanced over my shoulder as the deacons shut off overhead lights. Valerie was rooted in the same spot as if waiting for my return, or in shock. Condemnation pricked at my heart. Whirling around to apologize, I had taken three steps when Valerie waved a hand in the air before it settled on her hip.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway, Mack. I happen to know a brother whose middle name is Benjamin, and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see his name on the top of my breast. He’s had his eyes on me lately.