Good to Me

by LaTonya Mason

  She thought she must be transparent, considering she had not yet been in the house for five minutes and had already been asked twice if she was okay. “I’m fine, Daddy. I’m just a little tired. That’s all.”

  “Pah Pah, I got a new sister at my daddy’s house,” Xavier said proudly.

  Charity’s father’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her for an explanation.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she began choosing her words carefully. “Emmitt’s friend, Ms. Shawanda, has a little girl named Destiny.”

  “Is she his?”

  Charity shrugged her shoulders. “And she can sing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ can’t she, Zavey?” she said, hoping her father would not ask more questions.

  “Does your momma know?”

  “No, but—”

  “Mah Mah.” Xavier ran out of the room to tell her the good news. “I got a new sister.”

  Charity stayed with her father, knowing she would be called for clarification.

  “Charity Lachelle, come here.”

  Her father followed her into the kitchen. “Zavey, go play with the toys in the back. Raquan and Sha-Lai are going to be here in a minute. Go get things ready, okay?”

  “Okay, Pah Pah.”

  “What is that boy talking about?” her mother asked before Xavier could turn the corner.

  “Emmitt’s girlfriend—”

  “Girlfriend? You mean he found somebody who’d want his sorry behind?”

  “Lorraine, let her finish.”

  “You shut up. Go ’head, baby. I’m sorry.”

  “All I know is that his girlfriend, Shawanda, has a one-year-old daughter named Destiny. That’s all I know. I don’t know if it’s Emmitt’s baby or what. I found out the same way you did, through Zavey.”

  Her parents stood there in silence. Either they did not know what to say, or what they wanted to say would be too ungodly to say in front of Charity.

  “And—”

  “There’s more?” her mother interrupted. “You see there, Charles? The boy is still trying to ruin her life. I knew we should not have let Cherry—”

  “Lorraine, please.” Her father waved his hand to shush her. He motioned for Charity to go on.

  “He brought her with him to drop Zavey off today.”

  Mama Lorraine held her hand over her mouth. She was glad to be distracted by clumsy knocking on the door.

  “Y’all just in time,” she said, letting Raquan and Sha-Lai in. “How you doing? Give your grandma a kiss.”

  “Hey, Mah Mah, hey, Pah Pah, hey, Aunt Cherry,” they sang as they hugged every one they named. “Where’s Xavier?”

  “Back there in the back waiting on you,” their grandfather answered.

  “What’s uuuuuup?” Iesha asked, walking in the door like a rapper with a limp.

  “Girl, do you have to be so loud? Come on in here and close that door,” Mama Lorraine said.

  “I love you too, Momma,” she said, hugging and kissing all over her face.

  “Go put your coat up so we can eat.”

  “Sis, you chilling?”

  “Hello, Iesha, I’m all right. How about you?” They hugged.

  “Hey, Esha,” her father spoke as he got the plates out of the cabinet. She walked over and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Y’all been talking about me?” Iesha asked. “’Cause y’all mighty quiet. It ain’t been this quiet in here since Cherry broke free from Mr. Jail.” She laughed until she realized she was laughing alone. “My bad, what I miss?”

  “It’s okay, Iesha. I was just telling Mom and Dad that Xavier thinks he’s a big brother because Emmitt’s girlfriend has a daughter.”

  “Well, is he?”

  “I don’t know yet. I just found out on the way over here.”

  “From Zavey?”

  Charity realized that if Iesha thought the situation was bad, then it was really bad. “May we please eat. I’m starving,” she said, attempting to break the tension in the room.

  “We ain’t gone be watching a movie today,” Mama Lorraine said as she sliced herself some butter and passed it to her husband.

  Iesha kept her eyes on her plate.

  “We’re not?” Charity asked.

  “Nope, today we’re gonna talk.”

  “About what?”

  Mama Lorraine looked at Iesha and then at Charity.

  “I think we have a small problem in the Brown camp that needs to be discussed. Ain’t that right, Esha?”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s a problem—”

  “Well, it sounded like a problem on Friday.”

  “You don’t like working at Horizons do you, Iesha?” Charity asked.

  “It’s not that, Cherry. Momma seems to think I have a problem because I’m not like you.”

  “What?”

  “Momma’s always comparing us and when she do I get upset because I always get the short end of the stick. I always end up looking like the bad seed.”

  “Cherry, I don’t compare y’all, do I?” asked Mama Lorraine.

  Charity could see the hurt in Iesha’s eyes. “Momma, I’ve worked hard to make y’all proud of me, to show you that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But there have been times I felt like you hold me on a higher pedestal above Iesha.”

  “Thank you,” Iesha said, waving her fork at Charity.

  “Charles, tell these girls how much I done struggled to treat them equally and how hard I worked to not show favoritism.”

  “That’s true, girls. Your mom and I have talked on several occasions about what to do and what not to do for one because of the way it might appear to the other.”

  “I agree with what you’re saying,” Charity said. “You guys didn’t give one of us something without giving the same thing to the other one. But I think what Iesha is saying is different. Esha, give us an example of what you’re talking about.”

  Mama Lorraine rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “I done told you about treating us like we one of your clients. Leave that therapy mess in your office. We black and that mess don’t work for us.”

  “I’ll give you an example,” Iesha offered. “When Cherry called us from that women’s shelter and told us she had left Emmitt, Momma, you was so distraught you wanted to kill Emmitt yourself. But had that been me, you would’ve just overlooked it and fussed at me for messing with the wrong type of man.” No one responded to her, everyone looked like they were more interested in what was on their plates.

  “Okay, I got a better example,” she continued. “I got my house before Cherry did. No one threw a housewarming party for me. But when Cherry bought her house, you would have thought Oprah was coming to town, the party was so big.”

  “Now, I’ll give you that one,” Mama Lorraine said. “You did get a house before Cherry. And we did come to your house for a housewarming dinner and we bought gifts for you. We threw a different celebration for Cherry because she bought her house.”

  “So, I don’t deserve a housewarming party because I live in a Section 8 house?”

  Mr. Brown interjected, “Honey, all Lorraine is saying is that a Section 8 house is rental property. Did we give you a housewarming party when you were renting apartments?”

  “No.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Well, here’s another example. I just started working my first job, and no one has said anything to me. I didn’t get a congratulations or nothing.”

  “Esha, since when did you become so needy?” Mama Lorraine asked. “I never felt the need to praise you for every little thang. I thought you were the strong one. Cherry was the one who always needed to be praised and validated. She was the one with the bruised ego. Girl, working a job is like cleaning your room. That’s something you supposed to do. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you working. It’s about time you see you worth more than a welfare check in the mail every month.”

  “And I’m glad to have you working with me,” Charity added.

  “Are you sure about that? I mean, I don’t wanna e
mbarrass you ’cause I don’t talk like you, and I don’t dress like you,” she said sarcastically.

  “Iesha Nicole, that’s enough,” Mama Lorraine intervened. “We getting ready to squash this. Don’t nobody owe you nothing, and ain’t nobody mistreating you. You need to get up off your high horse and realize that.”

  “I just want everybody to know that me and Cherry are two different people and that’s okay. You wouldn’t want two Ieshas, so you shouldn’t want two Cherrys.”

  “Like I said,” Mama Lorraine said, faking a smile so hard she was bearing down on her teeth, “we ain’t the ones with the problem.”

  “Well, why did you want Cherry to give me a job?”

  “’Cause you needed one.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. Y’all always talking about what I need. Since when did everybody become an expert on Iesha? According to y’all a job ain’t all I need.” She held out her hand to count on her fingers all the things she had been told she needed. “I need to quit clubbing, I need to quit depending on welfare, I need to go to church, I need Jesus… I need for y’all to let me be myself. I ain’t hell-bound, but if I do go, it ain’t like we on no family plan. I’ll be going by myself.”

  Mama Lorraine shook her head at Iesha. “Everybody hold hands. We need to pray.”

  She paused so everyone could follow her lead. They bowed their heads, closed their eyes, and joined hands.

  “Lord,” she raised her voice. “Oooooh, Lord,” she sang like a preacher in the climax of a sermon. “Let it be known, hah, by You and all Your heavenly angels, hah, that my daughter Iesha Nicole Brown, hah, bless her heart, hah…”

  “Bless her Lord,” Charity chimed in, realizing that her mother was having fun.

  “She ain’t hell-bound, hah, but if she do go, Lord, hah…”

  “Have mercy, Lord, have mercy,” Charity mocked.

  “We just wanna thank You, hah…”

  “Thank You, Jesus.”

  “That we ain’t on her family plan. Hallelujah!”

  “Hallelujah!”

  “Let the church say, amen.” Mama Lorraine could not keep her composure any longer. She laughed like she was watching her Madea’s Family Reunion video.

  “Amen,” everyone, including Mr. Brown, agreed as they laughed along with her.

  Even Iesha laughed. That’s one good thing about the Brown family, it was hard for them to stay mad at one another. Their sense of humor sustained them through some very tough trials. “Y’all the ones going to hell,” Iesha said. “Making fun of the church. Y’all better check y’all policies, it might be better to get on that family plan.”

  Chapter 6

  JOSEPH KNEW IT WAS CHEAP LABOR, but it was keeping him from being idle. “Idle hands are the devil’s work tools,” he remembers his mother telling him. He was a quality control manager for a furniture production company that outsourced its work to the prison. He supervised up to fifty workers and inspected the office and dormitory furniture they made. Most of the men had never worked before, or they had very few skills, which contributed to the many inefficiencies he would find in their finished products. His job was stressful. Oftentimes he walked the fine line between being a buddy and a boss to the workers. He liked to keep them encouraged because of the oppressive situation they were in, but they often mistook his kindness for a reason to be slack. The workers made furnishings by hand, therefore, their products were more expensive. He had to make sure their work was perfect and timely, because of the high demand for their furniture.

  “Good morning, Brother Lee. You gone make someone a proud executive with the muscle you putting into that desk.”

  “Thank you, sir. It’s turning out good, ain’t it?”

  “Oh yeah. You’ve become the furniture maestro around here. Keep up the good work.”

  “I will. Making furniture takes my mind off things,” he said, sanding the wood. “I won’t complain, though. Most of my needs are met here. I got a place to stay, a job, no debt, plenty to eat, and medical attention when I need it. But being here by myself is lonely. Making furniture fills that void for me. Every piece I make is important.”

  Joseph patted him on the back. “And it shows. You should meet some of the brothers in the fellowship. We have intercessory prayer every night at seven thirty in the Clayford building and we do Bible study on Wednesday nights at that time. You should come to Bible study tonight in the chapel. The meetings are guaranteed to chase away the lonelies.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  He went back to his desk after checking on the other workers. He knew exactly what Brother Lee was talking about. He condemned himself for prescribing the fellowship as a cure-all for loneliness. He had been leading the fellowship for two years and still had to deal with the aching in his heart to be loved. Yes, he scoffed, Jesus is all I need. But it sure wouldn’t hurt to know love on this side of heaven. He opened the quality assurance paperwork on his desk, and, like Brother Lee, began to pore over his work.

  Later that evening, Joseph went to the chapel for Bible study. He liked the evangelist who was coming in to teach tonight. Evangelist Wilhimena Graves was an older woman he could tell knew what she was talking about. He sat at the piano as usual to open up with one or two hymns. He played “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms of Jesus,” as the group of twenty men sang along. Instead of playing another hymn, he began playing the chords to a song he felt that God helped him to compose. He closed his eyes when he saw the looks of confusion upon the men’s faces. There used to be a time when he would’ve been too shy or scared to sing in front of a group of people. In fact, he knew that he couldn’t sing, but he kept practicing, training his voice, and asking God for the gift of singing. He opened his mouth to see how well he had fared.

  I know in Whom I’ve believed

  I know Whose grace I’ve received

  Oh, oh Lord, thank You for blessing me.

  I know Whose words I’ve confessed

  And I know that I shall be blessed

  Oh, oh Lord, thank You for loving me.

  Now-ow, Lord. Hon-or Your Word.

  Keep me in Your will

  I promise to stand still.

  Oh, oh Lord, thank You for blessing me.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw the men standing with their arms outstretched toward heaven. Tears were streaming down their faces. Again, he realized that God had answered another prayer. Evangelist Graves walked over to him and took the microphone.

  “Brother, stand up,” she admonished him. She turned to the crowd. “Y’all stretch your hands toward this brother. He is anointed.” The men did as she said. She turned back to him and said, “Brother, God says He has heard every one of your requests. And just like He answered you tonight, He is going to answer you concerning your release from this place.” The young man lifted his hands to receive her utterances. “Mark my word,” she continued. “Your days here are numbered.”

  After the services, Joseph went back to his room encouraged.

  Chapter 7

  “GOOD MONDAY MORNING, IESHA,” Charity greeted. “How long have you been here?”

  “Hey. I got here around eight thirty. I just came on in after I dropped the kids off at school.”

  “Is everything all right at home? Because the sister I grew up with doesn’t show up anywhere early.”

  “Well, this is the new me. Since our talk at Momma’s yesterday, I decided that I don’t have to prove nothing to anyone anymore—except to myself. So, I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  Charity hugged her. “Praise God. Does this mean you’ll be going to church on Sundays?”

  “Slow down, evangelist Holyfield, don’t sling me into the ring just yet. I’mma do one thing at a time. And today, I just wanna learn how to do my job and be good at it.”

  Charity looked away. “Well, that’s a good start.”

  “Don’t look so sad. I’mma get back to church real soon. I’ll probably come to yours because y’all got more men in your church
than they do at daddy’s church.”

  Iesha was the only one laughing. “Cherry, you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “Just thinking of the best way to start the day here. Let me go and put my things down and—”

  “Hm-uhm. You lying. Did you talk to Emmitt and find out who that girl was he was with? Or if that’s his baby?”

  “No, I’m not even thinking about Emmitt, Iesha. I said I’m fine.”

  “That’s what your mouth say… You ain’t fooling me… I grew up with you… Know you like the back of my hand. Don’t make me call Emmitt and cuss him out… ’cause I’ll do it… Gone have the nerve to bring a chick to your house, hmph, you want me to call him?”

  Charity laughed. Iesha was so much like Mama Lorraine that it was not funny. It didn’t take much to get her riled up, and once she was going it was hard to get her to stop.

  “Thank you, sis. For the third time, I’m fine. Let me go and put my things down and you and I can go over that little guide I made for you and see if you have any questions. Since you want to learn how to do a good job here.” Charity walked off before Iesha could protest.

  She opened the door to her office and walked over to her desk to put her belongings down. She wished she had a devotional book, something quick to help her get her focus. Tears blurred her vision. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, to keep the tears away from her makeup. Lord, I don’t understand. I have faithfully prayed and believed that You would work on Emmitt and restore our marriage. And here we are, almost three years later, and he has a child by another woman. Father, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I love him… we have a child together, we had a life together. Why can’t we be together?

  Charity knew that God was listening, but she didn’t feel that He was responding. It felt like her mind was roaming at top speed. She knew she could shut it down by speaking aloud. “If a client of mine came to me in the same situation—they were divorced, their ex had a child by another person, and didn’t give them the time of day, I would tell them… to move on. But what if that client was a Christian and knew that God didn’t like divorce and believed that God was more than able to restore the marriage?” It took her longer to formulate a response to her own question. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I’d tell them.” Unsatisfied with her answer, she tried again. “Okay… I’d tell them one of two things… One, I’d say that God is more than able to restore the marriage but that if He isn’t restoring it, it’s probably a blessing in disguise. Or I’d tell them that maybe it wasn’t God’s timing to restore it yet and they’d need to hold on. But the Bible says that God doesn’t withhold any good thing from us and it also says that he who finds a wife finds a good thing.” She sighed. Talking it out was giving her a headache. But the responses kept coming to her. “And then I’d tell them to quit punishing themselves because they were divorced. God hates divorce, but He loves the divorced.”