Talk to Me (A Love Story in Any Language)

by Pat Simmons

  “Mack, Mack, you’re not going in and out of consciousness, are you?”

  Twisting my mouth, I answered sarcastically. “No, I’m not, Nurse Rhoda.” Then I felt chilled flying-saucer-slices of cucumbers on my eyes. Through a blurred slit, I couldn’t believe it, Rhoda was wearing sunglasses.

  She continued, placing a plastic cold pack on my nose and a freezing cold towel on my mouth. Her method of detangling my hair was soothing and gentle.

  “Mack, I sorry if I upset you when I said you should go home. You know I’d never say anything to hurt you feelings, don’t you? I’ve got your back on any decisions you make. You know that don’t you? Don’t you—”

  How was I to respond when Rhoda’s arctic home remedy was numbing my face? It was the same as being reclined in a chair and the dentist making small talk while drilling in my mouth. I couldn’t blame Rhoda. I was responsible for my blight.

  The combination of bawling my heart out, blowing my nose unmercifully, and a tormented spirit that induced lack of sleep, created a never before-seen Halloween mask. Crying in college over a worthless athlete never had this end result.

  When she removed the frigid towel from my lips, I explained. “Rhoda, it wasn’t you. Valerie, from my church, told me Noel has a new girlfriend. He’s moved on, Rhoda, he’s moved on,” I repeated only for verification to my own ears. When I took a deep breath, I began to gasp for air.

  She patted my arm. “Mack, don’t work yourself up into another frenzy. You’ve shed enough tears over that man. Now, I’m mad.”

  “I’m not getting worked up about Noel. Will you remove these ice packs from my nose? I couldn’t breathe.”

  “Oh.”

  ***

  Rhoda patched me up to look presentable. However, she couldn’t help me mentally or spiritually. God would have to heal that. She lent me her copy of Daily Inspiration for Women of Color to read on the commuter train ride. Philippians 4:8-9 urged me to meditate and consider all things good and positive.

  Closing my eyes, I asked the Lord to remind me of the honest, just, pure, and virtuous people in my life. Before I knew it, I was at my downtown stop. One foot off the train and the theme from “Star Wars,” announced my caller. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Good morning, baby. You doing okay?” Daddy cleared his throat. “He called.”

  “Who?”

  “That Richardson boy. He’s worse than a telemarketer. He’s called three times. Actually, it was an interpreter. He should’ve been at church—at least, that time of day, you would’ve been.”

  Noel had waited more than a month to start texting me. Then he returns to church with a woman in tow, and now he wants to get a hold of me. Before I left Chicago, it seemed as if I held my breath, waiting to hear from Noel. I was checking my emails even after I came to Chicago.

  Now, all of a sudden, he wants to talk, I silently fumed. I would have been all for it until Valerie mentioned another woman. Maybe his texts were giving me a heads up about his intention to move on, and silly me, I deleted them.

  Feeling like a fool, my dignity rebuked him, because apparently he beat me moving on. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  Daddy continued to complain about Noel, and a few times, I almost joined in, but Noel wasn’t worth elevating my blood pressure that was consistently normal. Once Daddy ran out of steam, we discontinued.

  Immediately my cell phone chimed again—Valerie. I took a deep breath. Now what? “Hello?”

  “That’s two Sundays in a row. Get this, he had the nerve to introduce me to her after service.” Valerie paused. “Let’s see, her name is Leah, Lana, Liza, or something like that.”

  I didn’t want to hear this, yet I listened anyway until I reached the theatre and gripped the door’s handle. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Hey, no problem, sis. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. Seconds away from hitting end on the call, Valerie screamed into my ear.

  “Oh Mack, wait. I’m engaged!”

  “What?” Engaged? Oh, the poor man, I thought. Rhoda has William. Noel has his “L” woman, and now Valerie. I wasn’t even eligible for admission to Noah’s Ark. Every person and animal seemed paired off except me. Lord, if the world was coming to an end, Lord, please take me first in the rapture, I thought. “That’s wonderful. Who is—”

  “Nick, silly, God sent him.”

  My day was definitely going downhill.

  ***

  Saturday was the day of reckoning. I needed a year of fasting to help Rhoda prepare for her upcoming nuptials. I took in a deep breath. The “I am woman, hear me roar,” motto was not working. I barely had enough emotional strength for a meow.

  Strapped inside Rhoda’s Dodge Charger—an engagement gift courtesy of William of course—Rhoda maneuvered between cars on the highway like an ice skater. Once downtown, we could’ve treated three people to lunch at McDonalds with what it cost to park. Some called me cheap, but I was practical, and commuting on the train made more sense.

  Getting out her car, we walked the short blocks to our first destination—K & K Flowers on South La Salle Street. When we walked inside, the presentation of floral arrangements and sweet fragrances fought for our attention. Rhoda gravitated toward a display of white roses, freesia, and orchid stems with stephanotis. The spray was astonishing. The others bowed to its brilliance.

  “Rhoda, if you don’t pick these…” then I would, I thought. Of course, that was only if I was still getting married.

  Rhoda rubbed my arm. “I’m sorry, Mack. I tried not to talk about my wedding, but I couldn’t wait anymore.”

  The sales consultant approached us. “Miss Brownlee, the stephanotises are out of season in December. Unfortunately, it will cost you more.”

  Rhoda looked from the woman to me for advice. Displaying a genuine happy face for my dear friend, I shrugged. “I’m just a bridesmaid, not the bride.”

  Exasperated, Rhoda gritted her teeth before stating, “I don’t have any bridesmaids. You and William’s cousin are my maid of honor and matron of honor.”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

  “I really like the stephanotises…” she mumbled, caressing the petals, “but I need to stay within my budget. Can you work with fewer flowers and still create the cascading effect?”

  “Of course, Miss Brownlee.”

  Once Rhoda selected the flowers and paid the two hundred dollar deposit, we jumped back in the car and drove to preview a few banquet halls. Not impressed, Rhoda’s next mission was the bridal shop and I dreaded that stop.

  I had my reasons for sitting in the viewing area, bawling. With each breath I sucked in, more tears fell. Rhoda had attempted to console me. Two sales women handed me tissues and a glass of water, trying to quiet me before I disturbed the other clients.

  Finally, folding her arms and tapping a shoe, Rhoda traded her concern for an annoyed expression. “This is a fitting, Mackenzie. Not a funeral. You’re embarrassing me,” she hissed.

  “I can’t help it,” I whined, sniffing. Rhoda’s assistant re-appeared with a new travel-size box of Kleenex. “It just wasn’t fair. That dress is identical, right down to the designer that I considered for my wedding. Thank God I hadn’t put down a deposit.” Out of more than two thousand styles of bridal dresses, Rhoda and I had picked the same Cynthia C designer gown. What were the odds of that?

  “Go home to St. Louis, Mackenzie.”

  “But—”

  “No, buts. Tech week is ending and you said the previews are next week. You’re practically finished with the play. Pack up your stuff and go home.

  CHAPTER 42

  Rhoda was going to put me out. I could feel it. Tears blurred my eyes. After all the hard work and long tedious hours, the finished set of The Boys are Coming Home was indescribable.

  The musical was so energetic that I hummed lyrics all day. The chemistry between the character portrayals of Bea and Ben were realistic and comical. I praised God for allowing me to be part of somet
hing so magnificent.

  Later that evening, when I parked in Rhoda’s driveway, I heard voices. They were loud and angry as I slammed the car door. Tilting my head, I strained my ear to follow the direction of the quarrel. By the time I reached Rhoda’s porch, the voices grew louder.

  Alarmed, I checked the address, 256 Storm Court. I had only passed it by once, and that night it was so dark I thought she had moved her house. I braced myself to charge the door like a detective on a CSI episode.

  My kickboxing training was downplayed when I used too much force on a door that wasn’t quite closed, propelling me to literally slide into the foyer and roll over like a dog. Recovering, I tried to stand, but the hem of the ankle length skirt snagged on my scandal’s heel. Forget it. I sat on the floor.

  William and Rhoda were arguing? His words were accusatory and threatening. Rhoda executed rapid responses that sounded scary, too. I had never heard him raise an octave to Rhoda. What was going on? William wouldn’t harm Rhoda, but why was he so mad. Maybe I did walk, or roll, into the wrong house.

  “God, Rhoda, I can’t believe you did that. Here I’m working my tail off building you exactly what you said you wanted, and you go off and put a deposit on a spec house.” William’s fist pounded a wall or countertop. The force echoed.

  Interesting, maybe Rhoda was going to sell me her townhouse. She never mentioned anything.

  “Heath, you’re act like I intentionally backstabbed you. You know that I’ve visited display homes for decorating ideas. I walked into that home model and I never closed my mouth. I didn’t want to leave,” Rhoda’s voice shook with awe. “I thought I would be taking pressure off you, not insult you.”

  “Really? Well, guess what baby? It’s too late for late. I’m thoroughly angry. I enjoy creating things with my hands, molding things to your specifications. It’s an honor to have built you a simple attic getaway room! I could’ve added an airstrip, a boat house, or an underground bowling alley for that matter.”

  What was that a growl I heard coming out of William’s mouth? O Lord, help them, I prayed.

  “Humph!” Rhoda paused. “Well, excuse me for thinking I was being considerate.”

  “Yeah, excuse you, baby, because you weren’t thinking!”

  “Let me tell you something, William Wilkerson…”

  Oooh, she’s using the “W” word. If she was calling him William, Rhoda had to be hot. I made myself comfortable.

  “…of you’re getting upset about something that can easily be fixed, then maybe we aren’t compatible. You need to change your attitude on how we deal with a disagreement.”

  “My attitude!” William shouted louder than he did when I first barged into the house. “Let me tell you something my black beauty.”

  “Oh, so now you’re calling me names,” Rhoda shouted.

  Whew, this argument was a good one. I became a cheerleader, pumping my fist in the air. Silently I refereed, encouraging Rhoda to sic him. My friend was ahead by one point.

  “Name calling? You listen to me my little Nubian princess. It’s your heart and mind I desired. I love the feel of your smooth black skin. Do you have a problem with that, because I envisioned our children with our skin, our hair, and our eyes…do you have a problem with that?”

  “Heath, don’t make me look like I’m the antagonist. You come in here, yelling and screaming at me without asking me for an explanation. I know I shouldn’t have used our joint account for that deposit.”

  “I’m leaving because if I don’t, I may say something to really make me withdraw my proposal… goodbye.”

  “Get out of my house until I can calm down,” her cracked voice managed a scream.

  “Fine!” William slammed his fist like a sledge hammer on her table or counter. Regardless, I was sure that something had a dent in it. His hard boots shook the ground as they moved across the kitchen floor. Take cover, my mind shouted as I scrambled to get up. The closet was the most conspicuous, providing Rhoda didn’t have something crammed inside. I made a dash for it as William’s heavy footsteps grew louder.

  Rhoda’s clicking heels that followed stopped. Quietness descended around me. I sucked in my breath. “Baby, this is stupid. We, you and I didn’t handle this right. I can’t leave like this. I’m sorry. If you really want the other house, I’ll finish the other one and sell it. Rhoda, say you forgive me and our love is stronger than this petty $1500 deposit.”

  “Ahhh,” I sighed.

  Rhoda waited to respond. “Maybe, I didn’t think it through. I’ll get our money back.”

  “We’ve never had a blow up like this. Something going on that is beyond our control. What it is? We need to ask God to keep us.”

  “Ahhh,” I sighed softer, craving what Rhoda was getting from William—love.

  “Did I mention how much I love you? Come here, girl.” The flirting was back in his voice.

  I stuck my ear to the closet door, listening. Rhoda’s whispered. Her voice cracked or it could’ve been William’s knee. I heard moans. They were making up and I was in the closet about to pass out, or suffocate. When they began to pray, I joined them quietly.

  “Jesus, I thank you for the woman you gave me. Give wisdom to cherish her for the lady she is and watch how I speak to her. James says, ‘If any man among you seem to be religious and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, and my religion is in vain’. Lord, help me not to utter idle words. Give me a mind to think before speaking…”

  Partaking in their prayer, the Anointing fell on me. I broke free from the constraints of the closet. My prayer and praise mingled with theirs. Without any inhibition, I worshipped God until tears streamed down my face. I lifted my hand one more time as the last “Hallelujah” rolled off my lips.

  As my lids fluttered opened, I came face to face with William and Rhoda. Reconciled, they were wrapped in a tight embrace, watching me.

  “Oh, praise God. Thank You, Jesus…uh, I heard shouting and became concerned when I literally rolled in. I didn’t want to intrude. I kinda hid in the closet when I heard William coming,” I rambled.

  “Out,” they said in unison, pointing to the front door.

  “I live here.” It was a weak argument, but they still pointed to the door.

  Like a dejected stray dog, I obeyed. I would get mad at them later for talking to me as if I were a child. Until then, I dragged my feet and I headed to the door. I got in my car and without looking back, I knew my destination—the closest 7-Eleven. Rhoda’s jubilation was feeding my depression.

  ***

  I waited two hours before returning to the townhouse. When I got there, William’s SUV was gone. I exhaled. The coast was clear. Unlocking the door, I tip toed inside and froze. My bags were neatly packed. I even recognized ones that weren’t mine, but I had used during Christmas.

  Rhoda was stretched across the sofa with a leg swinging as if she was posing for a photographer. She slowly watched my approach.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, knowing the answer, and wondering how she crammed all my stuff into my suitcases and three of hers.

  Rhoda stood, negotiated around my bags, and hugged me. “I love you, Mack, but it’s time for you to go. God told me, I told you, and you haven’t budged, so this is a way of Health telling you.

  “Your disobedience is rocking the boat—my ship. I’ve got to throw you overboard. God will help you to swim. He won’t allow you sink.” She paused. “Heath and I have never had an argument like that before—never.”

  “Figures.” I squeezed my lips. “What are you saying? I’m either Jonah in the whale or Peter with Jesus in the boat?”

  She shook her head as tears spilled from her eyes. “I wouldn’t call you Jonah or Peter, but you do know that I’ve put people out after some of my gatherings. Listen, Mack,” she said, reaching for my hands.

  “I need to have peace, and you need to find peace. I love you, and I wouldn’t do anything to put you in harm’s way except when you stumbled out my closet,” she j
oked.

  “I don’t know what is going on with Noel, but your life goes on with or without him. Weeping endures for the night, but your morning will come and bring you joy. God spoke light into existence and sliced through darkness. The only thing God has to do is speak, and it’s a done deal. I pray that God will speak light into your life.”

  “I know.”

  We cried, sniffed, and prayed. “Okay, sista, I release you to God.”

  Stepping back, I gasped as I planted my hands on my hips. “What? Rhoda Brownlee is using slang. Maybe there is hope for me.”

  Laughing, we looped our arms and marched to the kitchen. “How about a drink before you put me out, and I need something strong.”

  “I got it, fresh squeezed lemonade coming up.”

  “Rhoda, please tell me you didn’t pack my PJs?”

  “Would I do that?” She laughed and slid a tall glass in front of me.”

  “Yeah, you would, but that’s okay. You know I’ll raid your stuff for a T-shirt.”

  Late into the night, we talked about my summer at the Goodman, laughed at my antics of hiding in the closet, and I listened as she spoke of William. She asked me about Noel more than once, but I shook my head. “Nope, tonight it’s all about you.”

  “Yeah, it is all about me,” Rhoda teased.

  The next morning I woke, surprisingly well rested. Dropping to my knees, I prayed, ending with accepting my fate, forgiving my trespassers, and moving on as Noel had. I got up, showered, dressed, and gathered my unpacked toiletries.

  William and Rhoda stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting for me. Their blissful smiles had returned. As soon as my shoes touched the landing, they engulfed me in a group hug. For a moment, I thought I was about to be thrown in my car.

  I couldn’t control the tears. William continued to hug me as Rhoda sauntered into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of Holy Oil. She anointed our heads, including hers. Bowing, we thanked God for His mercy and blessings, and then we prayed for my happiness and a safe journey back home. Afterward, William lifted my bags and packed them neatly in the backseat of my car.