Good to Me

by LaTonya Mason

  Harmony agreed. “It is special. May I make a toast?”

  “That would be nice, Harmony,” Charity said. “But I would like to lead us in prayer.”

  Iesha winked at Harmony. She told her Charity was strong in her faith. Harmony bowed her head, but as her head went down it looked to Iesha like she rolled her eyes.

  Charity began the prayer softly and asked God’s blessing upon Horizons and its staff. Harmony coughed. As Charity’s prayer became more fervent, Harmony’s cough worsened. Charity prayed louder so that she could be heard over the coughing. Charity prayed that demons who would try to hinder God’s work from being done would be bound up in Jesus’ name. Harmony’s cough had become so wrenching that she started gagging and excused herself.

  It was obvious Iesha was talking to a man on the phone. Her smile was as wide as a Cheshire cat’s. Like a teenager in love, she giggled while she talked and twisted her hair around her fingers.

  “Wallace, you’re so silly… I was wondering when I’d hear from you again… Friday night? Uhm… Yeah, I do have to check my schedule… I’m just kidding. Friday night sounds good… Yeah, I can hold…”

  She doodled hearts on her desk calendar as she waited for Wallace to return to the conversation. She sat up straight when a deliveryman walked into the suite.

  “May I help you?” She surprised herself, noticing that she wasn’t using her seductive tone of voice. Either she was changing for real or the man she really wanted was on the other line. He ain’t my color anyway. She watched him walk over to her. He was cute, but too dark for her. Not enough milk in the coffee.

  He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Terrence Davis from Delivery Direct and I have a delivery for…” He looked at the electronic clipboard. “For Ms. Charity Phillips.”

  She held up her finger to let him know she would be right with him. Wallace came back to the phone. Her smile grew wide again. “I have to go,” she whispered. “I think my sister’s horoscope is coming true. Harmony, the weird lady I was telling you about, read me our horoscopes this morning. My sister’s said she was waiting on something and a deliveryman is here.” She looked up at him to see if he could hear her. He had taken a few steps back to give her privacy. It looked like his eyes were closed. “This might be what she was waiting on,” she continued. “Call me later for directions to the house. I’ll see you Friday night.”

  Iesha hung up the phone loud enough so that the deliveryman could hear. She didn’t know how else to wake him up. He opened his eyes. “Mr. Davis, I hate to call your boss and tell him you’re sleeping on the job,” she joked.

  “So, if I give you the number, would you promise to call?”

  She cocked her head to the side. That was different. A pickup line without crass. She looked at him peculiarly. With other men, Wallace included, she could read them and know what they wanted. But there was nothing familiar about this man. His long eyelashes made his drowsy eyes look sexy. His stare was intense but inviting. His smile nervous but sincere. His name was created just for him. Terrence. Dark, tall, and bald.

  “Sir, Charity is still at lunch.” She looked at the clock on her computer. “She should be back in a few minutes. Would you like to wait for her?”

  “I guess that’s a no on that phone call,” he grinned.

  She blushed.

  “I’ll tell you what.” he continued. “I’ll go get Ms. Phillips’s delivery out of my truck. That’ll give you a chance to think about taking my phone number and maybe she’ll be back by the time I return.”

  He turned to walk away. “Umph umph umph,” she moaned, shaking her head. “There is a God.”

  “Uhhhh, those are some beautiful flowers,” Charity said to the delivery person as they were getting out of the elevator together.

  He smiled and held the arrangement of blue moon roses and pink tulips, enclosed with greenery and cascading white lily of the valley flowers, up to his nose. “And they smell good too.” He held them out for her to get a whiff. She stopped and closed her eyes while she inhaled the floral fragrance.

  “Mmmmm,” she moaned. “God is awesome all of the time.”

  “And all of the time He is awesome,” he smiled. “Praise God, it’s good to know that I have a sister on the same side of the battlefield.”

  “Amen, you know it!” Charity stopped in front of the office suite, expecting that he would pass by. “Have a good day in the Lord!”

  He looked up at the suite number above the door. “You wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Charity Phillips, would you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He handed the bouquet of flowers to her. “These are for you.” While she pecked through the flowers for a card, she heard him ask, “Who is she?”

  Charity looked up. “That’s Iesha. My sister.” She looked at his left hand and smiled when she didn’t see a ring. “And she’s single. And saved.”

  He grinned. “And beautiful.”

  Iesha joined them. “Ya’ll talking about me?”

  “And she’s perceptive,” Terrence said. “I like that.”

  Charity took a few steps back so that Iesha and Terrence were standing alone. “Well, you two get to know each other.” Charity pushed them a little closer together, thinking that it was good to have Iesha that close to a man of God at last. “I’ve got to go and find out who these flowers are from.”

  Charity couldn’t get to her office fast enough. She wasn’t expecting anything from Emmitt until Monday. She’d just talked to him this morning. She read the card that was tucked between the flowers. “Yes, I’ll go. Michael Adams.” She was disappointed. I don’t want flowers from you, April does.

  If it wasn’t for Harmony coming through the door, Iesha could’ve stayed there talking to Terrence all day.

  “I’ve got to go,” she told him.

  “Me too. I’ve got a few other deliveries to make.”

  Harmony walked up to Iesha and whispered in her ear. “I see that love did walk in for a Leo today. That means we’re buddies for life.” Before Iesha could think of a response, Harmony was already gone.

  Iesha took a step away from Terrence.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Iesha thought for a moment and tried to laugh away what she felt. “Yeah. Just a silly joke we made earlier. She was reading horoscopes and it said—”

  Terrence shook his head. “I’d hate to ruin your first impression of me, but I have to say this… We Christians have no business reading, let alone believing, in horoscopes. Unbelievers dabble in that mess because they don’t have a God to guide them, they use horoscopes to do that. But our steps are ordered by the Lord.”

  “I should’ve known better, and I sat there and told her that if that horoscope came true she and I would be buddies for life.”

  “Is she saved?”

  “Oh yeah, my sister doesn’t play that. But the more I hear her talk the more I can see differences in what she believes and what my sister believes.”

  “What about what you believe?”

  “I just gave my life to Christ yesterday.”

  “Praise the Lord.” He hugged her. “Welcome to the Body of Christ. No wonder the devil’s trying to introduce you to horoscopes. He’s trying to keep a foothold in you.”

  “This is going to sound stupid, but if horoscopes are not of God, how do they come true?”

  “They don’t come true. They’re illusions; they have the appearance of truth for people who believe in them. The devil knows what you’re looking for and how to present it to you.”

  Iesha was confused but didn’t feel comfortable asking what she really wanted to know. Did that mean that he was an illusion too? Maybe that was his purpose, to come and say just what he said.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “This is going to sound stupid too—”

  “Quit beating yourself up. You’re a one-day-old baby, you’re not supposed to know everything. If Christians asked more questions, we wouldn’t have so much witchcraft in the church.”


  “Well, if horoscopes don’t come true and they’re illusions, then that would mean that you wouldn’t be the love that was supposed to walk in today.”

  “How about we leave that up to God and not the horoscopes?” Terrence took her right hand in his. “I’d love to stay, but I’m working.” His voice was deep and soft. “I’d hate for my boss to get a call saying that I’m sleeping on the job.” He grinned and kissed her hand before letting it go. He handed her one of his business cards. “When you call, you don’t have to worry about telling my boss I was asleep. He won’t believe that. But if you tell him I was praying, he’ll know that you’re telling the truth.”

  Iesha turned the card over without reading it and wrote her phone number on the back. “I prefer to be called.”

  “That’s even better.” He took the card and turned to walk away. He looked back when he got to the door and waved.

  Iesha waved back. No man had ever left her speechless.

  Chapter 13

  EITHER CHARITY WAS STUPID or he still had it like that. Emmitt didn’t know which was most true. How could she possibly believe that he would be sending her a surprise, when he had not given her the time of day in almost six years? She’ll be surprised all right. A smile came across his face. “I know what it is. She’s still hooked on Big Daddy,” he said, referring to the part of himself that used to belong exclusively to her. He knew that if he brushed up against her the right way, or got close enough for her to smell his cologne, or if he kissed her lips, it would be all over.

  He didn’t know if it was his security guard uniform or realizing that he had been in the same vicinity as Charity and did not run into her that made him feel bravado. Out of all the attorneys in the city of Charlotte, how could he have possibly picked one that was so close to her, in the same building? He shook his head and muttered, “It’s a small world.” He remembered he was at work when he faintly heard his name on the CB radio he carried. He listened to see if it would be called again.

  “Officer Phillips, please call the main office. Officer Emmitt Phillips, call the main office.”

  His hands felt thick and clumsy as he fished for the two-way radio attached to his belt clip.

  “This is Emmitt Phillips, over,” he answered.

  “Phillips, report to the station. You have an urgent message, over.”

  “Did they say who it’s concerning? Over.”

  “Your mother, over.”

  “I’ll be right there, 10-4.”

  Emmitt made his way to the station as fast as he could to obtain the message to call his mother’s physician as she had been hospitalized. He could not figure out what to do first, whether to call the hospital or to drive over there. “Please, Lord, let everything be all right,” he prayed. He dialed the number written on the pink memo paper and waited for someone to answer.

  “Yes, this is Emmitt Phillips, I’m returning a call to a Dr. Metcalf,” he tried to sound as calm as possible. “Hello, Dr. Metcalf, this is Emmitt Phillips, Elaine Phillips’s son… Yes, sir, is she okay?… You ran some tests?… Chest pains? Yes, sir, she has them when she’s under a lot of stress… No, sir, I don’t think she’s under stress now, not that I’m aware of… Yes, I can bring her medications… Room 772… I’ll be there in less than an hour… Thank you, Doctor…”

  Driving like a madman raised his blood pressure faster than it got him home. He would swear that people were driving slowly just to spite him. “Get out the way,” he yelled, and with his hand shooed an elderly woman in a Cadillac. He was more focused on the conversation he had with the physician than he was on the road. The car may as well have been on automatic pilot as visions of what his mother could be going through distracted him. She’s probably hooked up to life support. Not breathing on her own. Got tubes everywhere. This was more than he could bear. He needed to hurry and get there. He pulled into his driveway like he had crossed the finish line at the Indy 500. He was in such a hurry he didn’t realize he was turning off the ignition without shifting into park.

  He let himself into the house and went straight to his mother’s room. Her room was kept as usual. Aside from the opened mail scattered across her bed, there was no evidence that anyone had been in the room. He wondered what had happened. All of his mother’s medications were neatly lined up on her dresser. He counted twenty-six bottles, picked them up individually, and read the labels to see if he recognized any of them. Her sleeping pills were there, as were her migraine medications. There were also some bottles he didn’t recognize, and he didn’t know what they were used for. The more he read, the more overwhelmed he became. This was wasting time. He looked around for something to put the medications in. He decided to take all of them. He lifted the half-full bag of trash out of her wastebasket and got an empty bag from underneath it. He swept all of the prescription bottles into the bag.

  He was on his way out of her room when one of the pieces of mail caught his eye. He could see the bold, black writing from where he was: NO PLACE LIKE HOME:HIGHLAND BRIDGE APARTMENTS. He put his hand over his chest as if the piece of mail scared him, or at least to keep his heart inside his chest. That can’t be what I think it is. He snatched the papers off the bed and uncovered other pieces of mail addressed to him. He uttered a few choice words. He did not expect that he would receive any of the apartment applications so soon. He had just requested them yesterday. This is not the way he wanted his mother to find out. He threw the applications back on the bed and resumed his race to the hospital.

  He hated hospitals. He became nauseous just thinking about the fact that he was getting ready to set foot in one. It reminded him of the two months he spent in the hospital recovering from injuries sustained after his car skidded off the icy roads into an embankment during a snowstorm. He was on his way home from East Tennessee State University for winter break when he lost control of the car. To this day that is all he remembers, besides the fact that he was forced to withdraw from the university—an emotional scar that hurt worse than the scars that could be seen.

  He recalled how supportive Charity had been when she learned about the accident. He was told that she immediately drove to the hospital to be by his side. She was right there when he regained consciousness and she drove back and forth from school as he recovered. He was surprised that his mother allowed Charity to visit him at their home upon his discharge. Just remembering Charity’s kindness at that time reminded him of why he asked her to marry him in the first place. She’d rejoiced with him when he learned to walk again, when he confessed Christ as his Savior, and a year later when he returned to ETSU. He returned to school a new man and felt that he wanted to live a better, more settled life. In order to repay Charity for her kindness, he asked her to marry him. The first year of their marriage was good, but the weight of having a new baby, and being torn between his mother and his wife, was more than he could withstand. He was beginning to hate everything and everyone, including himself and God. He admitted to himself that he had done some mean and hateful things to Charity. But he would swear on the Bible that he did not choke her.

  Emmitt sighed. Remembering all that he’d gone through with Charity only slowed him down. He rehearsed one of the things he used to hear her say all of the time, My past is not my present. With that thought, he speeded himself up and walked into the hospital. He saw a GET WELL SOON balloon in the window of the gift shop and decided that he wanted to get something to cheer up his mother. He raced into the gift shop and asked for one of the Mylar balloons. He stood at the counter looking around the store while a petite woman with a silver bouffant blew up the balloon with helium. He spotted a light brown, stuffed teddy bear with GET WELL SOON engraved on its sweater. He walked over, picked it up, and brought it to the counter.

  “Will this be all for you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Your total is $24.05. Who do you know that’s sick?”

  “My mother.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll say a prayer for her.�
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  Emmitt took out his wallet to pay her. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a good day.”

  On the way to his mother’s room, he beat himself up about the excessive time and money he spent in the shop. Then he soothed himself thinking, I’d rather spend money on her while she’s alive than after she is dead.

  It was obvious that he was nervous by the countless times he repositioned the bear and balloon from arm to arm. As if it might have changed since the last time he looked, he kept checking the room number he’d scribbled on the scrap of paper. Reaching her room, he stood at the door to brace himself. He leaned in closer to see if he could hear anything from inside. He heard someone talking and was disappointed. He wanted to be left alone with his sick mother. He was getting ready to tap on the door when he heard laughter on the other side. Who could that be laughing as his mother was laying up in the hospital sick? He gave a quick warning tap and thrust open the door.

  He could’ve sworn he saw his mother laughing when he peeped into the room, but the closer he got to her bed, the worse she appeared. Maybe it was his aunt Elisa or his granny that he’d heard laughing.

  “Hey, Emmitt,” Elisa greeted. “Thank you for the bear,” she joked.

  He walked past her to get closer to his mother’s bedside. “Hey, Momma.” He leaned over to kiss her. “How you feeling?” he asked.

  She clutched her chest. “I… think… I…” she said brokenly.

  He put the teddy bear next to her in bed and pulled the covers that were gathered at her waist up over her shoulders. “Just relax, Momma. I’m here to take care of you.”

  He acknowledged Granny. When he turned to tie the balloon to the bedside tray, he saw his aunt shake her head at his mother.

  “I know, Aunt Elisa,” he said. “I hate it when she’s sick too.”

  “Hey, Mr. Wright,” Iesha greeted over the telephone. “How’re you doing?”

  “I’m fine, Iesha. Is there a problem with my appointment for Thursday?”

  “Oh no, sir. I’m calling to find out if you know anyone who does any good car detailing?”