by Pat Simmons
Still dressed in her long white robe, Rhoda’s glossy black mane swayed with her every moment. She glanced over her shoulders when she heard clicking of my heels.
“Good morning, sister,” she saluted with a smile, showing off her naturally bleach-white teeth that matched her robe.
“Good morning to you, sista,” I responded, grinning. As a fellow educator, Rhoda frowned upon the use of slang. I did, too, but it was fun to tease her. She occupied her summers teaching English as a second language to recent immigrants.
One by one, she removed pancakes from the skillet, buttered them, and created a lopsided masterpiece. As she carried two plates to the table, I did my part by filling two glasses on the counter with grape juice. Tasks completed, we took our positions.
With our heads bowed, Rhoda blessed our food. “Amen,” we said in unison. “You look cute today, Mack. As a matter of fact, you’ve been a different woman lately…your choice of clothes are colorful like that coral you have on. It’s airy. You even have on coordinating shoes. You’re wearing your hair long and straight, and…” She paused. “You seem more content. Hmm, something is up with you.”
Smiling, I accepted her compliment and kept eating.
“Those straps wrapped around your toes and ankles sure are sexy on your feet,” Rhoda added the accolade before she returned to her pancakes.
I laid my fork down and leaned forward, squinting. “What’s all the drama over a pair of shoes? I got a great deal.”
Rhoda shrugged. After lifting her glass for a sip, she chewed forever on a piece of pancake while scrutinizing my face. I patted my cheek, hoping I didn’t have any acne surfacing.
I pounded my fist on the table, quickly losing my appetite. “What is wrong with you? Are you seeing things? Do you need to strengthen the prescription on your contact lens or what?”
“Mack, I don’t wear glasses, remember? Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, that didn’t get me anywhere, so how’s work?” Rhoda sighed.
Swallowing the last of my spongy pancakes, I dabbed my lips and grinned. “Awesome. The theatre has sophisticated trap doors, and fly spaces are mesmerizing and create reach-out-and touch-scenes. One stage manager borrowed her great-grandmother’s bed for a 1945 scene.”
“You’re kidding.” Rhoda rested her elbow on the table and listened.
I shook my head. “Nope, Ava Sherman, that’s the stage manager, said it’s what she imagined. Ava remembered seeing it when she visited her grandmother as a teenager. Since then, it’s been in a relative’s garage for at least twenty-plus years. She says her cousin is elderly and is a known pack rat.”
Fascinated, Rhoda didn’t interrupt.
“Then there’s the cast. Not only can they sing, which you know I’m jealous because I can’t carry a note, they dance as if their first steps were in tap shoes instead of walking shoes.”
Rhoda smiled. “You become so excited and blossom when you talk about the theatre.”
“Not any more than teachers. We get to mold little minds, and when they grow up, they display all the greatness that was there all along. It’s always the end product that is exhilarating.”
“I would’ve fought for my man.”
“What?” I frowned.
“There is no way I would’ve let Heath pull that stunt on me. Girl, I would’ve gone to his work site, and shut down the entire construction job until he and every worker heard me out.” Rhoda paused, laying her hands on top of mine. “Mack, don’t be mad. I’m just telling you what I would’ve done.”
“You’ve known me long enough to know that I don’t chase after a man. I’m not a desperate housewife, fiancée, or hoochie mamma. I’ve packed up, shipped out, and moved on. Thanks for breakfast, Rhoda, but not the advice.”
***
When God closes one door, another one opens. God didn’t say it, but Alexander Graham Bell perhaps knew what he was talking about, and despite who said it, I welcomed a crack in the door.
Maybe my theatre co-worker, Todd Daniels, was that crack. He was a nice guy, good-looking, and church-going. A transplant from Houston, he was a designer’s assistant at Goodman. A day didn’t go by where he didn’t compliment my attire, encourage a smile, or engaged me in a production decision.
More than once he invited me to lunch, which I always declined, but Todd was wearing down my resistance—physically and mentally as he cornered me the moment I stepped off the elevator.
“Hey, Mackie,” Todd teased. At first, I considered his pet name a pet peeve. Now I welcomed the endearment. He had a habit of invading my space, which forced me to come in contact with his nameless cologne. At least he smelled good. “Are you hungry?”
My stomach growled; answering before my lips lied. Grinning, I blushed with embarrassed. His eyes danced with mischief.
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me toward the lobby. “I’ll take that as a yes. A bunch of us are going around the corner for a quick bite.” He smiled, exhibiting a slightly chipped front tooth.
I could live with that slight imperfection. Squinting, I admired his clean-shaven face. Maybe, my mind softly suggested, just maybe it was safe to dive into the dating pool. If nothing else, I could dip my toes in the water. It was time to let my guard down. Todd and I were becoming more than casual co-workers, we were on the road to being good friends.
“You look pretty today and…” he stopped, holding up a calloused finger, “you smell good and…” he paused again and wiggled another finger, “I like your hair straight.” He leaned closer. “Are my compliments working?”
As a matter of fact, they were working, but I would never admit it. I imagined that instead of tagging along for lunch, we were practicing a prelude to an “I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock” date.
That’s when my heart called for intermission, slapping vessels together to rush blood to my brain. It wanted to remind me that Noel’s ring was dangling from a chain close to my heart. Actually, it was stuffed in my brassiere. A woman can never be too careful.
Poking him in the arm, I laughed. I was saved from answering when my stomach roared again. “If we don’t eat soon, I’ll go to the vending machine and buy a bagel.”
“Never on the first date.”
Date? I silently repeated. It was just a figure of speech, nothing more than friendly banter. He continued to escort me to Goodman’s main entrance where we met other crew members. Once outside on North Dearborn, a tall, nicer-looking, and better dressed man approached Todd.
Recognizing the stranger, they engaged in the fist bump and quick hug, completing the indoctrination with the thumps on their backs. Grinning, they stood back and Todd acknowledged my presence.
“Mackenzie, wait. I want you to meet a friend of mine—”
He cut Todd off, extending his hand. “Friends call me B, feel free.”
“Okay. Hello, Dee.” I accepted the handshake that seemed more as a caress.
His chuckle reminded me of a grunt. “It’s B as in better.” His wandering eyes suggested he wanted to say more.
I left them to their reunion and caught up with the others. We rounded the corner to our destination then came to a disappointing halt at the Neighborhood Café.
Barely inside, we squinted and strained our necks. We became vultures, scrambling to claim tables as soon as patrons stood and evacuated the coveted spots.
Some of us were makeshift post guards at tables while Todd and others eased into line to place multiple orders. When Todd finally brought our orders to table, he commanded the attention of more than one woman’s eyes without trying and I joined them in admiration.
I returned Todd’s smile as he laid the tray laden with food. Todd’s persona outside the theatre walls was very appealing. Humph, Noel, who? I teased to myself. Fondling with the chain on my neck, my hand brushed against the outline of the ring under my blouse. Yeah, you know Noel who, my heart tossed back.
Katie Bell, a sweet, quiet, and talent
ed set designer, scooted me inside the booth, forcing Todd and his friend to sit beside each other. Bowing my head to say grace, crunches and smacks tried to interrupt me. Still, I refused to open my eyes until I said, “Amen.” Across the table, two pair of eyes competed for my attention.
“Mackenzie, you have a dazzling smile,” Todd’s friend stated, grunting.
I almost spilled my chicken and wild rice soup at the unexpected compliment. It was difficult to refocus, but I faced him. “Pardon me, Paul, right?”
“It’s B. I know how initial introductions can be, so let me give you a few tidbits about me, so I’ll stand out from the competition. I’m an analyst at Citadel in the Financial District a few blocks from here.” He paused, releasing a slight grunt. “I’ve paid a pretty penny for a condo on Lake Shore Drive. My other assets—”
Todd cut him off with a slight shove of his elbow. “So, Mackie, are you planning to stay in Chicago for the winter production of the Christmas Carol?” he asked after stabbing his salad burdened with every conceivable artery clogging and high sodium toppings that was off limits to health conscious eaters.
Opening his mouth, Todd widened it to swallow every portion of blue cheese, olives, chunks of bacon, salami, ham, and heaps of poppy seed dressing that could fill a soup bowl. I’d never seen a person barely chew twice and swallow that much food so fast with ease.
After taking a few bites of my ham sandwich, I dabbed my mouth. “I haven’t made up my mind.”
Todd lifted his glass of ice tea. If he took a sip, I missed it. “Well, let me help make up your mind. “You know the Christmas Carol is a props-heavy production, using more than one hundred pieces to make the scene come alive.
I’m sure he could see my mouth salivating.
His nostrils flared. “Oooh, I love it when I have your undivided attention. Mackie, I know you can visualize the scenes, locations, and time periods. The director is meticulous about detail—pillows, slippers, a tissue box on a nightstand, coins from a man’s pocket, and old furniture, squeaky floor planks, and on and on.”
He took a breath and continued, “Of course, the production could take months, but…” He paused and shrugged. “Perfection takes time…” An untamed belch interrupted his spiel and our appetites.
As if on cue, Katie Bell and I slid our meals closer to us, fearing contamination. Two smaller tremors followed before he begged our patron.
“Sorry, I don’t have a gall bladder.”
I nodded, scribbling a mental note. Never go with Todd to breakfast, lunch, or dinner again, and get him some Tums.
His friend tried to recover the repartee after Todd’s temporary medical emergency. “I hope you do. I personally would like to see more of you, Mackie.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen. She’ll be busy working with me and don’t call her Mackie. It’s Mackenzie,” Todd finished with his signature grunt.
Oh, boy. I tried not to roll my eyes. Todd needed to switch to a high protein diet. I hoped B didn’t have gas, too, as he laid his fork quietly on a napkin. His mannerism was a stark contrast from Todd’s. When he smiled and tilted his head, his five-o’clock shadow flirted with me. His voice was almost as baritone as Noel’s.
“Actually, my name is Ben.”
My eyes bucked. Oh no, I groaned inwardly, not the name synonymous with Valerie’s fantasies. If she was here with me, she would accuse me of being a career man stealer. Back to opening the doors, Lord, please shut these quick.
***
It was almost eleven at night by the time I returned to Rhoda’s house. I let myself in and climbed the steps. I smirked when I checked in on Rhoda, who was snoring. Wait until William discovered that not only was he getting a sleeping beauty, but a snoring one at that. Closing her door, I went across the hall and retired to my bedroom.
The next morning, I hummed as I walked through the door to Rhoda’s kitchen. Despite me getting into bed late, I woke refreshed and had a good morning prayer. “Good morning, my sista.”
Rhoda whirled around and braced her back against the counter, startling me. “I was praying last night, Mack.”
Squinting, I patted my chest. “Whew, girl, you scared me.” I relaxed and strolled to the stove. Starving, I took a plate and helped myself to turkey sausage, Egg Beaters, and biscuits. I decided to cheat with a helping of hash browns.
But if I developed gas, hash browns and I would be history. “Yeah, me, too, I think God is telling me to stay in Chicago. Instead of putting your townhouse on the market, you can sell it to me. I’ve saved more than enough for a down payment.
“I was planning on moving out soon anyway, especially after Daddy’s interference concerning. I shouldn’t have a hard time finding a job. Who knows, I may continue graduate school at Roosevelt University and buy be a new car. It may be my time to spurge.” I stopped rambling and walked to the table.
After praying over my food, I bit into my sausage. “I could see myself transferring membership to Holiness Temple Church. I like your pastor.”
“No.”
The fork was inches from my mouth when I turned sideways. “No what?”
“Go home, Mackenzie.”
“Okay, it was just an idea. I can find another place, and—”
Rhoda walked to the table and leaned into my face. Her hands stayed on my arms. Her eyes shined with compassion, and her face filled with love. Rhoda spoke in a soft and nonthreatening tone. “Mack, God told me to tell you to go home to St. Louis.”
Shaking off her hold, I laid my hands on top of hers. “Rhoda, that’s ridiculous. That’s not the message God gave me.”
Rhoda folded her arms. “Okay, what message did God give you?”
“I don’t know, but that wasn’t it.”
***
It had been nearly a week, and Rhoda hadn’t said another word about me leaving. Good. Then to my surprise, Noel started texting me. My heart fluttered every time it buzzed, but I refused to open his messages.
Everything was falling in place with Goodman. I was content and happy. Working on the set of the upcoming production of The Christmas Carol was within my reach.
One morning, on my way to work, my cell chimed as I exited the Metra “Hello.”
“He’s back.”
“Valerie? Well, good morning to you, too. Who?” But I already knew.
“Noel and… the other woman,” she informed me as a dutiful secretary.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as my heart dropped. I was three hundred miles away and Valerie was still stirring the pot with Noel ingredients. My shoulders slumped, but I recovered until I almost stumbled from unsteady legs. A man gently lifted me and moved me to the side.
“Are you all right?” the man asked with a smile snatched right off Noel’s lips. The stranger didn’t wait for my answer as he continued on his way. In a delayed reaction, my head nodded. Pushing my cell phone closer to my ear, I strained to follow Valerie’s rambling.
“…and girl, let me tell you, they were all cozy, constantly nudging each other and smiling. I was watching them. It was disgusting, but I have to give it to him. He has good taste. I think she’s Deaf, too, and she’s white. I guess he felt more comfortable sticking to his own kind.”
The news left me disoriented. So Noel had found a replacement before I did and had the nerve to bring another woman up into my church while I was away in Chicago.
Forget convincing myself that I had gotten over him, I fumed to myself. He had already dismissed me. Humph! I had one foot dipped into the street then I jumped back. Good thing. Chicago cabs don’t brake or honk. Pedestrians entered the intersections at their own risk. “Valerie, Noel’s not white.”
“But he’s deaf, girl. I thought you would want to know,” she rushed and disconnected.
“I don’t think I wanted to know that,” I mumbled. If I hadn’t renewed my contract with Verizon, I would have hurled my cell phone in the street. “I can’t believe this,” I raised my voice, interrupting a homeless man’s nap
. His cup rattled before his eyes opened. I dropped two dollars in his offering plate and kept going.
CHAPTER 41
“Lord, You set me up,” was the last accusatory words on my lips as I climbed into bed last night. “Why did You set me up, Lord,” was the first question I uttered as I slid out the bed to pray this morning. What was wrong with me? If I was truly over a man then why was this news loosening the Band-Aid on my bleeding heart?
Once again, while on my knees, I struggled to look beyond the hurt and thank God for what He had done for me already. I prayed until my face became damp. Sniffing, I said, “Amen.” Commanding one leg then the other to stand, I patted my cheeks on the way to the bathroom.
Blinking, I faced the scary sight in the mirror. Shutting my eyes I backed away, screaming. Rhoda’s bare feet scrambled up the hardwood stairs to my bedroom door. I removed unsteady hands from my face as she entered with a rolling pin.
With one glance, she released the utensil, causing it to ricochet off the floor. It tagged a crystal lamp shade like a pinball before attacking my toe where it came to rest.
Rhoda screamed, “Aaaaahhhh,” as I yelled to match her hollering. I hopped around on one foot, squeezing my baby toe. Rhoda kept shrieking. Finally, I limped back to the bed and collapsed.
Slowly, Rhoda approached my body and examined the damage. “Whew, Mack, I forgot how bad you look in the morning when you’ve cried all night. You’ve done some major damage this time. Your hair has taken Mohawk to a whole new level.”
Moaning, I massaged my foot. “Right now, I’m concerned about your rolling pin hitting my toe. My eyes and nose haven’t been this swollen since college—and my lips—they look like I had overdosed on collagen.”
Rhoda turned to leave the room. “Where are you going?”
“To get sunglasses, cucumbers, ice packs, and a wide-tooth Afro pick.”
My eyes drifted close. “God, I’m sorry. I repent. I know You didn’t set me up, but it sure felt like it. I know it was the devil.” Rhoda returned quickly and sat next to me as I mumbled.