Good to Me

by LaTonya Mason

  Everyone met in the center of the room and held hands. Charity stood between Reverend Miller and Minister Adams, and across the room from the older men.

  “Minister Phillips, see me after service, please. Everyone bow your heads,” Pastor King admonished. “Dear precious and wise heavenly Father, we thank You this morning for our life, health, and strength. I thank You, Lord, for these men and woman of God you have entrusted to me, and the sheep out in the fold, bless each of them, Father. Prepare this church for Your coming, may You find us to be a church without spot or wrinkle. Bless the furtherance of the worship services, and may our hearts and minds be stayed on You. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.” Lifting his head, he said, “Go in peace.”

  The first two rows of pews on both sides of the church were reserved for its dignitaries. The deacons, charter members, and church mothers occupied the seats. Charity tried not to look at them as she focused on the praise and worship team. Charity looked out in the pews to find her best friend, April. She found her three pews back watching every move Minister Adams made. Charity smiled, shook her head at April, and closed her eyes so that she could visualize the words the praise team sang regarding welcoming the King into the sanctuary.

  Charity focused on the words of exultation and found strength to do what she would have to after they finished this last song. Before the soloist gave her final note, Charity was already at the podium with the microphone in her hand.

  “Is He welcome this morning, saints? Is He welcome in this place? Then stand to your feet and welcome the King, invite Him in. When is the last time He sat down on you? Let us not sit down on Him.”

  The praise and worship team continued to sing softly, and Charity began to pray. And the more she prayed, the more the atmosphere changed at Damascus Road Baptist Church. Most people from the third row of pews to the back of the church and even those in the balcony stood. Some lifted their hands, some swayed from side to side, some had tears streaming down their faces, but they all looked relieved that something was happening.

  “Oh Lord, You are welcome in this place,” she prayed. “Have Your way, Father God. Lord, we know You to be a healer, heal right now in the name of Jesus. Someone needs a deliverer, deliver right now in the name of Jesus. Someone needs a provider, provide Lord in Your Son’s matchless name. God, we know You to be a restorer, a waymaker, a mind-regulator, a heart mender…”

  Charity could not believe how fast the words came to her mind to say. She felt uncomfortably hot, like she had a fever all over her body. Even her ears felt like they were on fire.

  The praise and worship team ended their selection as she ended her prayer. The congregation’s worship was so loud, Charity could not be heard. “God bless you, saints. We will remain standing and join in with our choir as they lead us in our opening song.”

  “I’mma stop calling you Lil’ Bit,” Pastor King said as Charity walked into his study after church. “You’re a little ole thing but you pack a lot of power. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  Charity just blushed and sat in the chair facing his desk when he motioned for her to sit.

  “Thank you, Pastor. I didn’t know it was in me either. It was truly the anointing of God.”

  “You ain’t telling me nothing I don’t know. We could see it all over you. You know, our worship services will never be the same.”

  “Praise God for that. But you didn’t call me in here to talk about me. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “In fact it is; I wanted to apologize to you for the Reverends’ behavior this morning. It’s going to take a while for the walls of traditionalism to be broken down in this church, but I feel a change a coming. Be strong, Minister, you were called here for a time like this. I believe that you are going to be very instrumental in this transitional stage.”

  “Praise God.”

  Pastor King reached down to pick up his briefcase. “Have you seen Today’s Gospel magazine yet?”

  “The January issue?”

  He looked at the cover of the glossy magazine. “No, the February one with Yolanda Adams on it. The one with your article in it.”

  “No. I didn’t know they came out this early.”

  He handed her the magazine. “Page seventy-four.”

  Charity turned the magazine over and flipped through its pages until she found her article. Seeing her name and photo in the national magazine made her want to cry. “God is so awesome for making this possible.”

  “You know what I realized about your article? I was thinking about how you’ll be ministering to people you don’t even know, that you may never see, and in places you’ve never been.”

  “I didn’t even look at it that way.”

  “Thomasina thinks the same thing and she called me last night. She would like for you to write an encouraging article about single mothers and Mother’s Day. She said the word count and pay would be the same as it was for your ‘I Have No Man’ article. The deadline is Wednesday. Can you do the assignment?”

  Without hesitating Charity answered, “Yes!”

  He looked proud of himself as he slid a piece of paper to her. “Here’s everything you need, including her phone number. Make me proud.”

  “Thanks for thinking of me, Pastor,” she said, standing to leave.

  “Remember the day I picked you up from school?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “You were what? Seventeen or eighteen? Now you’re a grown woman. That goes to show how old I’m getting to be.”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything but I’ve been noticing those gray hairs.”

  “Those come from keeping up with seven associate ministers,” he joked.

  Charity did remember the day he picked her up from school. He’d just been installed as pastor of the church and had implemented a “lunch with pastor” program wherein he’d draw a student’s name monthly and have lunch with them. On the day he was supposed to have lunch with Charity, he arrived too late. So he asked if he could sit with her in her last two classes and drive her home. Charity felt awkward having her pastor follow her around school, but she also felt special. She was trying not to act too differently while he was there and risk having her classmates “call her out.”

  After school they talked all the way to Charity’s house. Their conversation continued in the driveway for three hours as she slowly revealed that her biological mother was an alcoholic who had lost custody of Charity after her stepfather molested her. Charity was four years old when the Department of Social Services (DSS) took her from the hospital after recovery from a severe case of gonorrhea and placed her with her paternal grandmother, Louise. Pastor King learned that Louise initiated an open adoption and allowed Charity’s mother to visit her. Charity was seven when Louise died, and her mother fought for and won her parental rights. Charity also told him about further occurrences of sexual assaults and continued physical abuse and neglect she had suffered while in her mother’s care.

  Charity didn’t know why she was telling Pastor King all that she had gone through. All she knew was that when she talked to him, it felt like she was talking to God. It felt good to release all of her hurts and still find acceptance and unconditional love. That day was the beginning of her healing, and Pastor King gladly accepted the role as her spiritual father. She knew that there was a change in her attitude when she walked into the house that day introducing Pastor King to Mama Lorraine. She’d already explained to him how Mama Lorraine was Louise’s daughter, who as soon as she was old enough made arrangements through the county to adopt Charity. Mama Lorraine made sure that her adoption case was closed and that Charity’s mother’s parental rights were permanently terminated.

  It took Charity twenty minutes to get to her car. She had been stopped by at least fifteen people who wanted to thank her for blessing them during her call to worship. “Pastor should let you do it all of the time, rather than them dry old reverends,” one person had even said.

  “Minister Phillips,”
a male voice called out from behind her.

  She had finally made it to her car and thought to pretend like she did not hear her name being called. She fumbled in her purse for her keys.

  “Minister Phillips,” the person sounded closer.

  She turned around to find Minister Adams. “You’re still here? You know you usually bolt out before Pastor can give the benediction good.” She continued fumbling for her keys, hoping he didn’t come to start a conversation. April would never forgive her if she let the cat out of the bag, and second, she made it a point to never talk to any male alone, no matter who he was. If it was one thing she was serious about, it was staying away from the appearance of evil.

  He grinned. “I was sticking around to tell you how well you did on the call to worship this morning. You were awesome.”

  Click, click, she unlocked her sport utility vehicle by remote.

  “Thank you. I’m sure you would have done just as good, if not better had he called upon you.”

  “I don’t know. Especially after that royal treatment from the Reverends.”

  “I know, right?”

  Minister Adams continued even though Charity looked like she was ready to jump into her Explorer any minute. “We make a good team, you and I,” he said. Charity must have looked confused because he kept talking to explain. “While you were giving the call to worship I was backing you up on the piano.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I didn’t notice. Thanks. And, thank you for the compliment.” She looked around and saw people looking in their direction. “I need to go. I have to work on something for Pastor. You have a blessed week, okay?”

  “Okay…” he looked like he wanted to say more. “You, too. Have a blessed week, too.”

  Charity was stressing over the magazine article. Backspacing every line she typed, nothing was good enough for a lead. She had only three hours to work on it. Emmitt would be dropping off Xavier at 5:00 and they were to be at Mama Lorraine’s for dinner at 6:00. Maybe if she relaxed a little she could have the eight-hundred-word piece done by then.

  “I can do all things through Christ, Who strengthens me. I can do all things through Christ, Who strengthens me,” she repeated.

  She read the “I Have No Man” article that Pastor King photocopied from Today’s Gospel magazine. She couldn’t believe that she wrote such a powerful article on life after divorce. When she read the five tips on how to live as joyful single Christians, she realized that she didn’t write the article by herself. God, just as You helped me write that piece, I know You’ll help me write this one. What do You want to say to single mothers about Mother’s Day?

  She started typing by faith. Before she knew it, she had completed a modern version of the Bible story of Hagar and Abraham’s separation called, “A Rose for Ishmael’s Momma.” Just as she was writing her byline at the end of the story, she heard a knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” she asked just to be asking. She saw Emmitt’s Nissan Pathfinder through the blinds.

  “It’s Xavier and Daddy, Mommy.”

  She opened the door and kneeled as Xavier ran into her outstretched arms.

  “I missed you,” she said, kissing him as much as he was kissing her. She watched Emmitt walk into the house without invitation and close the door behind him.

  Charity was trying not to notice how handsome he looked in his fitted gray turtleneck sweater and black jeans, and gray and black snakeskin boots. He was standing in the foyer scanning the house. She was still holding Xavier, and closed her eyes, inhaling Emmitt’s Cool Water cologne. She felt herself shiver from remembrance of how she would wrap herself up in his arms just so she could smell him. What she wouldn’t give for an opportunity to do it now.

  “Hello, Emmitt.” She stood to greet him.

  “Hey. Sorry we’re late.” He stepped back. “Traffic was a little bad getting here.”

  “That’s okay, I needed the extra time. Would you like something to drink, or a sandwich to take with you on the road?”

  “No, thanks, I’ll be okay. I didn’t come alone.”

  “Oh, did you bring James? Why didn’t he come in?” she asked, opening the door to invite James in. He was still her friend too. But when she stepped out onto the porch, she saw the image of a female in the passenger seat. It was hard to make out who she was through the semi-tinted windows. She refocused her eyes to see if it was his mother before she jumped to conclusions. Realizing it was a woman she had never seen or heard about, she closed the door slowly trying to think of what to say next.

  “She’s just a friend,” he started to explain.

  “Xavier,” Charity called. “Why don’t you take your things to your room and get ready to go to Mah Mah’s.” When she was sure he was out of the living room, she continued. “You don’t owe me an explanation about who she is. But I would’ve liked to have known that my son was spending time with someone I don’t know.”

  “I thought about that. But since she ain’t all that important to me, I just didn’t know if I should tell you about her.”

  “She’s not all that important? You mean, you would introduce our son to someone who’s not all that important? How many other unimportant women does he know?”

  “If she was all that, I would’ve brought her in here to introduce her to you.”

  “Whatever Emmitt, you’ve got someone waiting. Get on out of here.”

  “Lil’ Man,” he called to Xavier. By the volume of his television, they could hear that he was playing his PlayStation 2 video game system.

  Xavier ran into the living room. He stopped short in front of his father. “Yes, sir?”

  “Daddy’s leaving. I just wanted to say thank you for such a good weekend. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  “Okay, Daddy. Tell Ms. Shawanda I said thanks for the Crash Bandicoot game, I’m playing it now.”

  Charity saw Emmitt mask his scowl by hugging Xavier. Charity walked over to the door and opened it for him.

  “Good-bye, Emmitt.”

  “Charity, please don’t—”

  “Good-bye, Emmitt,” she repeated, slamming the door behind him.

  She was glad Xavier had run back to his room. She did not want him to see or hear her heaving over the toilet.

  Chapter 5

  CHARITY LOVED GOING TO HER MOTHER’S HOUSE, especially for Sunday dinners. It was the one place she felt absolutely free. There were no unrealistic expectations of her—not even from herself. No one cared that she was a minister or therapist. She could dress any kind of way, say what she wanted and how she wanted to say it, and do whatever she felt like when she was there. The more she thought about how good it felt to not be under the microscope, the faster she drove to get to Mama Lorraine’s.

  “Did you hear me, Mommy?” Xavier asked from the backseat.

  “Mommy’s sorry, baby, what did you say?”

  “I have a little sister at my daddy’s house.”

  “Umph, sorry,” she apologized for driving up on the curb. “A little sister?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even and interested, and to keep the car on the road at the same time.

  “Yeah. Her name is Destiny. Ms. Shawanda is her mommy.”

  “Is that so?”

  “She can’t talk all that good but she can sing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ over and over.”

  “That’s cute. How old is she, baby?” she asked, not believing that Emmitt would have another child and not tell her. Let alone take care of another child, when he was not financially supporting his firstborn.

  “She one, but she says she two.”

  “Did your daddy tell you that you’re a big brother, or are you saying that you are?”

  “No, Daddy didn’t tell me. I just know it.”

  “Oh.” She felt relieved. If Destiny was his daughter he would’ve told Xavier that he was her big brother. Then again, I would’ve thought he would have told me about this other woman. “Baby? We’re almost at Mah Mah’s house, let’s play the quiet game until
we get there, okay?”

  “I’m good at this game, Mommy. I bet I can beat you.”

  “We’ll see. 1-2-3 go!”

  Xavier was a talker. Charity had to admit that he got it honestly. She loved to talk. She’d always thought that she was either going to become a talk-show host or a therapist. The latter came easier. Emmitt was also a talker. So, the only way she could get some peace and quiet was to play the quiet game. She had no idea what she was going to do when Xavier got too old to play.

  “Give your grandma a kiss, baby,” Mama Lorraine said to Xavier as he and Charity walked into the house.

  “Hey, Mah Mah, I missed you,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Where’s Sha-Lai and Raquan?”

  “You’re so used to them being here that you think they live here. They’re with they momma. They’ll be here in a minute. Go put your coat up and tell Mah Mah all about your time with that pappy of yours.”

  “Hey, Ma,” Charity said, hugging her mother, more so to keep her quiet. Charity was against speaking bad about Emmitt in front of Xavier.

  “Hey, Cherry,” she returned the hug. “You okay, baby?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m good,” she said, hoping she was convincing. “Have you heard from Iesha?”

  “Yeah, she’s on her way. Go on and get your coat off. Your daddy’s in there.”

  Charity’s father was lying across the bed watching a movie on his wide-screen floor model television. He moved over to make room for Xavier and Charity to lie beside him.

  “What’chu watching, Pah Pah?” Xavier jumped in the bed beside his grandfather.

  “One of the old Rocky flicks,” he answered.

  Charity lay down on the bed. “Zavey, when your Auntie and I were little, Pah Pah used to show us all of the Rocky movies. Didn’t you, Daddy?”

  Xavier looked up at his grandfather and said, “Gosh, this movie is old.”

  “You better watch it, boy, your grandfather doesn’t like anyone talking about his age.”

  “You’re old too, Mommy.”

  “Xavier, you’d better stop while you’re ahead,” Mr. Brown said. “You doing all right, baby girl?”