The Yada Yada Prayer Group Gets Rolling

by Neta Jackson

  Thank You, Father, for reminding me that Jesus made it possible for me to have a relationship with You. A relationship that meant taking time to soak up His Word, listen to His voice, rest in His promises, play music that called me to worship . . .

  I got up to put on a praise and worship CD, but the phone rang. “Señora Baxter? Can I, uh, speak to Amanda?” José sounded nervous.

  “I’ll see if she’s awake, José. She didn’t feel good today.” Well, that’s what she’d said. And I needed to give Amanda an out if she didn’t want to talk to him.

  I covered the mouthpiece and knocked gently on her bedroom door. “Amanda? You awake? Phone for you.” Then I added, “It’s José.”

  Silence. I was just about to walk away when the door opened a crack and Amanda held her hand out for the phone. But not two minutes later, I heard Amanda yell, “Fine! If that’s the way you want it, don’t call me anymore!” and the phone came thumping down the hall and cracked into the dining room archway.

  The basketball game on television suddenly went mute and Denny appeared in the hallway. “What was that?”

  I waved him back with my hand and headed for Amanda’s door. “Amanda?” I knocked but this time didn’t wait for an answer before going in. Amanda was sprawled on her bed, sobbing. A school picture of José had been torn in half and thrown on the floor. I sat down on the bed, pulled her head into my lap, and just let her cry.

  DELORES ENRIQUEZ came to Yada Yada at Stu’s that night, but if she knew that José and Amanda had had a huge fight, she didn’t say anything. In fact, she pulled me aside and asked if Denny was home. When I nodded, she said, “Do you think it is all right if I talk to him a few minutes? Mi Ricardo . . .” She bit her lip. “I would very much like it if Denny invited him again to the men’s breakfast at your church. He needs the support of other brothers, though he’d never admit it. In Mexico”—she pronounced it Me-hi-co—“humph.” She rolled her eyes and slapped her motherly bosom. “Our men keep all their feelings locked up here.”

  I shooed her downstairs to our apartment, assuring her Denny wouldn’t mind. She passed Nony, Avis, and Chanda, who were on the way up . . . and by the time Delores came back upstairs, most of the others had arrived. Becky was secretly putting candles on the birthday cake she’d made to celebrate Florida’s birthday and managed to smuggle in, even though they’d both ridden over in Avis’s car.

  A beaming Estelle, clothed in her handmade top and pants, was introduced all around the circle as Stu’s new housemate . . . until Stu stopped and frowned. “Ruth? Where’s Yo-Yo? Isn’t she coming tonight?”

  We all looked at Ruth. For the past year and a half, the Garfields had been Yo-Yo’s sole transportation to Yada Yada. Most anywhere, for that matter. But Ruth stared back blankly. “Um . . . well, we . . .”

  “Ruth!” several voices chorused at once. “You forgot Yo-Yo?”

  Ruth drew herself up. “So much to think about now to leave the house with twins.”

  “But you didn’t bring the babies tonight, Ruth,” Stu pointed out dryly.

  “You noticed. Ben is taking care of both of them tonight by himself. A good father, he is!”

  Stu unfolded herself from the wicker basket chair where she’d been sitting. “Well, I’m going to call the Good Daddy and tell him to go pick up Yo-Yo and get her over here. I can’t believe you forgot Yo-Yo.” Stu was clearly steamed.

  “No,” Ruth said.

  “Excuse me?”

  Ruth looked at her watch. “By now he will be back home feeding the twins. He can’t take them out again! Feeding. Changing. Burping. Then two snowsuits. Two hats. Four mittens. Strapping them in the car seats . . . an hour it takes!”

  “Fine. Then I’ll go get her.” Stu grabbed her purse and jacket and headed for the back door.

  “Uh, Stu?” I called after her. “You’re the hostess tonight.”

  Stu turned. “So? Estelle can be the hostess.”

  “At least call Yo-Yo first. Tell her you’re coming.”

  Stu let that sink in, then nodded. But she was back in two minutes, frowning. “No answer. I left a message, told her to call here ASAP and we’d come get her.” She flopped back into the basket chair and busied her hands twisting her long hair into a single braid.

  The silence was awkward. I wished Avis would say something or get the meeting started, but she seemed to be waiting. Ruth studied her hands, twisting her wedding ring. Finally, she sighed. “Oh, all right. We forgot. And I am sorry. I will call Yo-Yo and ask her to forgive us. Oy! At my age, when new information goes in the brain”—she tapped the side of her head—“something else falls out. Maybe she should call to remind us . . .”

  I doubted if Yo-Yo would do that. One of us might have to call to remind them.

  Nonyameko placed a hand on Ruth’s arm. “We forgive you, Ruth.” Nony darted a quick glance at Stu, as if to say, Don’t we, Stu? “We know you did not forget on purpose. I am glad you are going to call Yo-Yo tonight. I’m sure she will understand.” She leaned forward, as if shifting gears. “Hoshi is not here tonight, either, but”—she smiled—“no, I did not forget her. The good news is, young Sara agreed to go with her to the Christian campus group tonight—they call it ReJOYce—and Hoshi wants us to pray.”

  The bad news is, my brain filled in, that takes Hoshi away from Yada Yada. But I shook off the thought. Hoshi was doing a good thing. She had “looked for the possibilities” and found a way to befriend lonely, confused Sara.

  Hoshi’s prayer request via Nony opened up our prayer time, followed by praise and thanksgiving that Chris Hickman’s case had not been sent to adult court, and more praise that Nony had helped Avis’s daughter find a doctor who specialized in HIV cases. “Yes,” Avis agreed gratefully. “We have an appointment to meet with him next week—all of us.”

  “Guess God’s been busy since our last meeting,” Adele said, slipping a grin. “Don’t know if y’all know Estelle, here, has been comin’ over to my house to stay with MaDear while I’m at work.” Her grin widened, showing the little gap between her front teeth. “Have to say Estelle is one big blessing.”

  Estelle acted offended. “You talkin’ about my size?” Which got a laugh around the circle, even from Stu. The last of the tension seemed to drain away.

  We prayed and praised, and then Becky brought out her cake—in a nine-by-thirteen pan. “Why y’all didn’t tell me this kind was so easy? Jodi had me makin’ them layer cakes, always fallin’ over.” More laughter. We’d decided to bring individual cards for Florida this time, a virtual card shower, with inexpensive gifts—jar candles, a bookmark, candy bars. Becky gave her safety pins and rubber bands. “Why not?” she sniffed. “Seems like nobody can ever find a safety pin or rubber band when they need one. Well, now Flo can.”

  We whooped. “Good idea, Becky!”

  Stu left the room to answer the phone, and we all looked at each other, thinking the same thing: Yo-Yo returning her call. But when Stu came back, she motioned to Avis. “For you.”

  Avis disappeared into the kitchen with the phone. When she returned, she quickly gathered up her Bible and purse. “I need to go home. Dexter called the house.” She held up a hand, stifling the questions that rose to our lips. “Rochelle didn’t think it was him at first because she didn’t recognize the caller ID, but thank goodness, Peter had told her to not answer any calls until she knew for sure who it was, to let the person leave a message. But when she heard Dexter’s voice leaving a message, she got very frightened.” Avis slipped into her winter coat that Stu brought to her. “Pray, sisters. He doesn’t know Rochelle is staying with us, but he’s obviously looking for her.”

  YO-YO STILL HADN’T CALLED by the time we left Stu’s apartment. Nony, bless her, took Ruth home so Ben wouldn’t have to bring the babies out again. Why Ruth didn’t just drive herself over, I’d never understand. She’d done it two weeks ago when the Super Bowl started an hour before our Yada Yada meeting. But then again, there was a lot I didn’t understand
about Ruth and Ben’s relationship. Despite Ben’s growl and Ruth’s ever-rolling eyes, it seemed like they were devoted to each other. And crazy about those babies.

  Stu made Ruth promise she’d call Yo-Yo that evening and apologize. “I’m going to call Yo-Yo too,” Stu muttered to me as Estelle and I helped her clean up the birthday cake crumbs and paper plates. “I’ll let you know if I hear from her.”

  When I came down Stu’s carpeted stairs and let myself in by our front door, the house was dark. That’s strange, I thought, flipping on the hall light—

  “Eek!” I screeched. Denny was leaning against the archway into the living room, arms folded, a long-stemmed rose in his teeth. “Denny Baxter! You scared me half to death. What are you doing?”

  He took the rose out of his mouth and picked his teeth with the end of the stem. “It’s still Valentine’s weekend. Wanna go out on the town?”

  “Now?” I glanced at my watch. Eight-thirty. I was in my jeans, my hair was a mess, my makeup faded. I didn’t feel like sprucing up on the spur of the moment.

  He waggled the rose at me. “Hate to tell you this, babe, but roller-skating with the Yada Yadas and their assorted offspring—plus fifty other shady characters, strangers all—did not cut it as a romantic Valentine rendezvous. Just you and me. And there’s no school tomorrow. President’s Day. We can sleep in.”

  He could sleep in. Willie Wonka always woke me at six-thirty, needing to go out, holiday or no holiday. And it was cold out there, hadn’t he noticed? Frankly, I’d rather crawl into a nice warm bed about now. But I took the outstretched rose, my mind scrambling how to get out of this without hurting his feelings. “Oh, Denny, that’s sweet. But could I take a rain check for tomorrow, when I have more time to get ready? Tonight isn’t—”

  “Didn’t think so.” He grinned. “Plan B.” He took my hand. “This way, darlin’.”

  Now I was suspicious. He took that rejection too easily.

  He opened our bedroom door. The lights were off, but candles flickered from both nightstands, our dressers, even on the floor. The quilt was turned back. Soft music played from the little FM radio we kept in the bedroom. Now it was my turn to grin. It was obvious what he’d had in mind all along . . .

  But I tipped my head in the direction of Amanda’s room. “Um, kids?”

  “Gone,” he murmured, brushing my hair to the side and nuzzling my neck. “Amanda got a call from the youth group, they’re watching a movie tonight since there’s no school tomorrow. Guess she decided that was better than moping around all evening . . . yeah, yeah, I checked. The movie’s PG. Josh took her, said he’d hang around.”

  I stifled a snort. The car wasn’t even here. What if I’d said, Sure, let’s go out tonight! . . . but all I said now was, “Give me five minutes to jump in the shower, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Go anywhere?” He was already peeling off his clothes. “I’m coming with you!”

  20

  When Willie Wonka woke me up the next morning, I stretched and yawned. Now that was a good night’s sleep. Hadn’t even heard Amanda and Josh come in! But Josh must have brought his sister home before curfew, because the alarm clock I’d set and left out in the hall had been shut off before midnight.

  Might as well plan my day since I was the first one up. A school holiday in the middle of February was usually good for one thing: staying home and catching up on . . . whatever. Laundry. Email. Mending. Lesson plans.

  Yeah, right. Today I was going to do minimal “ought-to” stuff and curl up in the living room with a cup of gourmet coffee and the gorgeously illustrated book my parents had given me for Christmas about gardening in flower boxes. After all, if students could sleep in until noon, why couldn’t we teachers take a day off too? Even Josh had a day off from Software Symphony, though I had no idea why Peter Douglass closed his shop for President’s Day . . . unless it was to coordinate with Avis’s school holidays.

  Then Denny announced he was going to school for a couple of hours to catch up on some work, but he’d be back in time to catch a few college games on TV. I refused to feel guilty. I’d play while he worked, then work while he played.

  The book on flower boxes had me salivating. Perfect escapism for a snowy day in February. Besides, if I wanted flowers this spring, I was going to have to plant them myself. Now that Becky Wallace was no longer living with Stu on house arrest, we’d lost our resident gardener.

  I ignored the kids when they got up, other than to yell into the kitchen that they had to clean up after themselves and to answer a plea where to find the electric griddle. I knew what that meant. Pancakes. Maybe French toast.

  Back to my fantasy flower boxes . . .

  But a few minutes later, I realized my coffee was cold. I wandered to the kitchen to get a refill and to see if Willie Wonka had touched his “special diet.” So far, it had been iffy with the canned dog food, sometimes nibbling, other times giving it a sniff and wandering away with a sigh. Maybe I should call the vet again . . .

  Amanda and Josh were still making their breakfast, stepping back and forth over Willie Wonka, who lay inert in the middle of the kitchen floor. “He said I was getting too possessive,” Amanda was saying, spitfire in her voice. “Just ’cause I got upset when he skated with some other girl. Well, why shouldn’t I? He didn’t even know her!”

  I stopped, uncertain whether to intrude.

  “Sure you didn’t overreact? Guys get squirmy when girls get demanding.”

  “Oh, thanks, big brother. Not you too.”

  “Hey. Hold on a minute. I just mean, do you two have an understanding that you’re an official item? Can’t date anyone else?”

  “Well . . . not exactly. We’re just friends. Special friends, though. At least I thought we were.”

  “Uh-huh.” For a few moments, all I heard were dishes clattering.

  “You really think I overreacted?” Amanda’s voice was more contrite. “But I’d been planning to ask him to skate when it was Ladies Choice, then that . . . that hussy grabbed him first. And he was enjoying himself! Made me so mad.” Her voice rose again. “And then he calls me and says maybe we should break things off, not call each other so much! The jerk! Who dissed who at the rink, huh? Tell me that!”

  Now the dish banging got louder. Then a sigh. “But maybe I should call him, tell him I’m sorry for jumpin’ on him. See if he wants to do anything this afternoon.”

  “Uh, know what, Mandy? I’d give him some space right now. Don’t call. Don’t beg. Don’t chase him.” Josh’s tone was surprisingly empathetic. “Trust me on this one.”

  I looked at my empty coffee cup. Guessed a refill could wait. I turned to go back to the living room but heard sniffles from the kitchen, then Josh murmuring, “Aw, c’mere, bed head.” The sniffles became muffled sobs. I peeked. Josh had pulled Amanda against his chest, letting her cry into his sweatshirt. “Know how you feel, kiddo. Loving somebody ain’t as easy as it looks . . .”

  I FELT SAD FOR AMANDA. A broken heart at sixteen. Wouldn’t help to tell her that most adults looked back at their high school crushes and wondered, what was the big deal? But I wondered how Amanda would manage seeing José at school. After all, he’d transferred from Benito Juarez High School mostly because she was at Lane Tech. Well, because it was a college prep school too. But she didn’t say anything all week. Spent most of her time at home doing homework or listening to music.

  The phone stayed in its perch on the kitchen wall.

  Denny came home Thursday night all excited, saying he wanted to talk to me. After supper, I loaded the dishwasher while he talked and waved a dishtowel around. He and Peter Douglass had been knocking heads about how best to support the Hickman family, and Pastor Cobb told them about a ministry called Captives Free Jail and Prison Ministry that needed volunteers to lead Bible studies at the JDC. “The girls’ units are all staffed, but only about half the boys’ units”—the dishtowel waved with enthusiasm—“meaning they need men to volunteer, the sooner the bette
r.”

  “How does that support the Hickman family? I mean, can you request getting assigned to Chris’s unit?”

  He considered. “Hm. Probably not. But still, if we could get several Uptown . . . uh, I mean SouledOut brothers to volunteer, I think we could add another two or three Bible studies down there at the JDC. Whatever unit Chris is in, it’d be great if there was a Bible study going on, someone from outside to give kids like Chris friendship and prayer support.” He shrugged. “We’re going to try to get somebody from Captives Free to come talk about the jail and prison ministry at our men’s breakfast this Saturday. Carl is pumped! Thinks it’s a great idea.”

  “Can he volunteer? I mean, with a kid inside?”

  Denny shrugged. “Doubt it. Still, I think it means a lot that we’re talking about volunteering at the JDC . . . because of Chris, really.”

  I handed him a bowl that wouldn’t fit inside the dishwasher. “So when are these Bible studies?”

  “Thursday nights at seven—which means I’d probably go right from school.” He held the dripping bowl in one hand, the towel in another. “Wouldn’t get home till nine or ten. I know having dinner as a family is important, but now that the kids are older . . .”

  I nodded, remembering something. “Isn’t that how Ruth met Yo-Yo?—leading a Bible study for women at the Cook County Jail?” Yo-Yo and Ruth . . . My mind rewound to the last Yada Yada meeting. What’s going on between those two? Did Ruth ever apologize for forgetting to pick her up last Sunday? Stu was going to—

  “That’s right!” Denny said. “Man, I forgot all about that. Want me to double-check if Captives Free needs female volunteers? Might be something the Yada Yadas could do down the road, now that Manna House is kaput.”

  “Hey!” I took the still-wet bowl and still-dry towel away from him. “Don’t go volunteering me for anything just yet! Now git, Denny Boy. You’re useless in here.” A series of sharp raps at the back door saved him from getting snapped with the towel. “And by the way,” I called after him, “don’t forget to call Ricardo and ask him to come to the men’s breakfast! Delores asked you, remember?”