Me, Myself and Him

by E. N. Joy

  “Do you have to make so much noise?” Dawson said as he slammed his hand down on the clock to turn off the ringing alarm.

  “Sorry,” Locksie apologized as she stood up out of bed. Prior to the alarm going off, she had been lying in bed, staring over at the clock every few minutes to see if it was time to get up yet. She didn’t know why she hadn’t just gone ahead and got up and turned off the alarm anyway. “I’m sorry, Dawson. I was trying to get over there and turn it off before it woke you up.”

  “Looks like you didn’t make it, now, doesn’t it?” Dawson sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I got a right mind to think you do that mess on purpose every Sunday, trying to send me a message. Well, you can forget it. I ain’t going to church with you, Locksie. When you met me I wasn’t going to church, so don’t trip ’cause I ain’t going now. The only reason why you go is because your aunt nagged you to death.”

  As badly as Locksie wanted to respond to Dawson with an attitude just as nasty as he had, she knew God wouldn’t be pleased, so she pushed her flesh aside. “You wouldn’t be so crabby about me getting out of bed and leaving you for a few hours if you’d just join me,” Locksie said as she headed toward the closet. “And you’re wrong. I’m not going to church because of my aunt. I’m going to church because of God.” Locksie entered the closet and began searching for something to wear.

  “Well, I ain’t about to spend my only day off listening to some man stand in the pulpit delivering his interpretation of the Bible and telling me I’m going to hell for buying a lottery ticket.” Dawson got up and went to the bathroom, leaving the door open while he did his business.

  Locksie shook her head and chuckled at his comment. “Trust me, I used to think the same thing,” she called out, “but it ain’t about that. God is using Pastor Clevens to deliver the message he has for the congregation. Pastor Clevens sits down so that God can stand up. Pastor Clevens shuts up so that God can speak up through him. It ain’t about the carnal man in the pulpit, Dawson. God is just using him.”

  “Well, since God is so good at using people, then I’ll let God use you to come back and tell me what He told Pastor so-and-so to tell us.” The toilet flushed. “What difference does it make who tells me, as long as I get the message, right?”

  Locksie just chuckled and shook her head again, deciding she should probably just go ahead and accept that her efforts to get Dawson to go to church with her would always be a lost cause.

  Last Sunday she had also tried to convince Dawson to go to church with her, but he had declined her offer. She could tell that her new interest—something he had no interest in whatsoever—was starting to bother him even more. She felt that maybe if she could get him to participate with her, he wouldn’t be so disdainful of her attending. Because if Locksie wasn’t mistaken, Dawson was jealous of her new relationship with God.

  “Why you laughing?” Dawson asked, exiting the bathroom after doing a ‘quick three-second splash of water on his fingertips’ hand wash.

  “Because of you,” Locksie said, exiting the closet with a long navy blue dress with white polka dots on it. “You are too much.”

  “And so is that dress.” Dawson chuckled. “I forgot you even had that thing. I remember when your mama sent it to you for Christmas. You said you wouldn’t be caught in hell in that thing. I mean, look at it. Looks like something Pollyanna would wear.” Dawson exited the bedroom, heading for the kitchen, laughing.

  Locksie gave the dress a once-over and then turned her nose up at the garment. Dawson was right. It wasn’t the most attractive dress in her closet. Locksie returned to her closet and began digging through some other dresses. Most were too short, while others were long but had even longer slits practically showing her thighs. Right when she thought she had found a nice, simple white one, she realized the neckline was dang near down to her belly button. Anything decent enough to wear to church, she had already worn the last few Sundays. She couldn’t even repeat an outfit because she hadn’t gone to the dry cleaners. Some of the excitement Locksie felt when she had awakened was beginning to disintegrate.

  “I ain’t got nothing decent to wear,” she mumbled under her breath. “I can’t go to church if I can’t find anything to wear.”

  A month ago, Locksie thought everything in her closet was sharp and had her name written all over it. But now she couldn’t believe she had even left the department store with some of the revealing and provocative pieces, let alone worn them in public for the world to see parts of her body her own mama hadn’t seen.

  The ringing phone interrupted Locksie’s clothing dilemma. “Hello,” she answered.

  “You up and getting ready?” Mary asked.

  “Yes, Aunt Mary,” Locksie said, rolling her eyes in her head. “You don’t have to call me every Sunday to check and see if I’m going to church.”

  “I know, I know. Just making sure you didn’t oversleep or anything. You’d be surprised at the stunts Satan will pull to keep you from going to church.”

  “I’m up, Auntie. But I’m discovering that my wardrobe isn’t conducive to what one would wear to church. I should have gone shopping. Matter of fact, I think that’s what I’m going to have to do. Maybe this Sunday I’m going to have to just pass on going to chu—”

  “The devil is a liar!” Mary shouted, cutting Locksie off. “Don’t you fix your lips to say what I think you are about to say. That’s just the devil trying to give you an excuse not to go praise and worship the Lord. What did I just tell you? He got some dirty, sneaky little tricks up his sleeve, that Satan. You just put on some jeans and a T-shirt if you have to and I’ll meet you at church.”

  “I ain’t wearing no jeans and T-shirt,” Locksie spat. “Look, I’ll find something. Let me get off this phone and see what I can come up with.”

  Locksie hung up the phone and retreated to her closet, although everything in her, instead of going church, wanted to take the afternoon to go shopping for some decent church-wear. But she was not trying to hear her aunt’s mouth, so she continued picking through clothing, deciding that she would definitely go shopping first thing after church.

  A few moments later, Locksie came out of the closet with a purple one-piece pantsuit with an attached belt. She fingered the large flap collar, noticing there was still quite a bit of a dip down the cleavage area. But this will have to do, Locksie thought after looking over at the steadily ticking clock. I’m running out of time.

  She laid her outfit down on her bed, went into the bathroom to get washed up, and then returned to her bedroom to slip into the pantsuit. “Now for my make-up,” Locksie said as she scurried back into the bathroom. She began to apply light, smooth mounds of foundation onto her skin until it was spread evenly and just right. She had already applied her powder, rouge and all of her eye make-up; but she was mid-way through applying her lipstick before she had a sudden thought. I ain’t going to the club, I’m going to church.

  Here Locksie had been going to church Mary-Kay-cosmeticed-down like she was about to kick it. Maybe that’s why some of the members had been acting the way they had been toward her. They probably took her for that wayward woman the men are being warned about in that one book of the Bible she had heard pastor talk about.

  Although Locksie had enjoyed receiving the Word these past few Sundays, she hadn’t equally enjoyed the reception of the members of her aunt’s church. It seemed like there was a clique going on and one had to be the holiest of holies to get in. It appeared to Locksie as though no one smiled at her, and even when Pastor Clevens would ask the congregation to hug three people, she had to practically chase people down in order to get a hug. Maybe this was why—her appearance. Perhaps she had been going about this church thing all wrong. She hadn’t been looking the part.

  Locksie immediately turned on the faucet and began to scrub the make-up off her face. Once it was all removed, she simply applied a light coat of powder and some clear lip gloss. She raced back into the bedroom and retrieved her large silver hoop earrings f
rom atop her dresser. After putting them into her ears, she admired herself in the mirror with a smile. But the smile soon faded.

  “Who do I think I am, J-Lo?” She snatched the earrings out of her ears and replaced them with some dainty pearl ones. “Much better. Now I’m all set.”

  The night before Locksie had hot-curled her hair all over with beautiful ringlets that reminded her of that sexy Janet Jackson picture where Janet’s hair was spiral-curled all over with her hands resting above her head and a man’s hands covering her breasts. On that thought, Locksie made her way back into the bathroom and fumbled around in a drawer for her brush. She fanatically brushed each and every curl out of her hair; afterwards swooping her hair back into a tight ponytail and then twisting it into a bun.

  “Now I’m all set.” Locksie gave herself one last once-over in the mirror. “I hope this is what a Christian is supposed to look like,” she said out loud as she headed out to church.

  “Praise the Lord, saints,” Locksie heard as she entered the sanctuary, two minutes after service had started.

  The usher gave her a look of dismay for her tardiness and then held her hand out sharply, stopping Locksie from taking any further steps.

  “You have to wait,” the usher snapped. “Gotta let the Holy Spirit operate in the church without folks coming in late and interrupting.”

  Locksie became flushed with embarrassment. She could have understood if prayer was taking place and the usher didn’t want her brushing by people trying to find a seat, but church was just now getting started.

  The usher held Locksie at bay a little longer before dropping her arm and letting her by. I could have worn my make-up and kept my hair curly had I know their attitudes up in here wasn’t going to change any, Locksie thought as she spotted her aunt Mary sitting in the pews amongst the congregation. She was dressed in her regular church clothes, which meant the dance ministry wouldn’t be ministering today. Locksie made her way toward her aunt.

  The pew where Mary was sitting was slightly full, but not to the point where room couldn’t be made to accommodate Locksie. But the woman and her husband sitting next to Mary acted like they didn’t want to scoot over and let Locksie sit down next to Mary. Finally Locksie had to whisper to them, “Do you mind scooting down just a tad? I would like to sit with my aunt.”

  The woman sucked her teeth and the husband sighed, but they scooted down—just a wee bit. Locksie looked at them as if to say, “You can’t scoot down just a few inches more?” But the woman shot back with a look that said, “If your big behind can’t fit in between there, then you straight out of luck.”

  By now, the first lady, who was sitting in the front row directly in front of them, turned around to see what all the ruckus was about. After noticing that the latecomer was having people move out of her way so that she could sit next to someone she knew, the first lady sharply said to Locksie, “We save souls around here, sister, not seats. We come to be seated in the presence of the Lord, not next to our sistah-girlfriends.” She turned back around and began praising the Lord with the same mouth she had just hurt somebody’s feelings with.

  Mary rolled her eyes and shooed her hand at the first lady, telling Locksie to pay her no never mind, but to go right ahead and sit down next to her. By the time Locksie sat down, it was time to get back on her feet again anyway, as one of the ministers under Pastor Clevens began to set the atmosphere by cheering on the saints, asking them to give God some praise. Service was awesome as usual, and afterwards, Locksie did just what she promised herself she would do. She headed to the mall.

  Locksie drove to her favorite store, Macy’s. Once inside, she had no idea where to even start as far as picking out church clothing. A rack with a bunch of bright orange, yellow and green colors caught her eye, so she made her way over there. She found a couple nice pieces that she knew would compliment her figure, but then she realized that perhaps that shouldn’t be her goal when shopping for “holy wear.”

  After about twenty minutes of deciding on one thing only to place it back on the rack for one reason or another, Locksie was frustrated. A clerk who had been on duty straightening up racks and working the counter noticed Locksie’s frustration and decided to see if she could be of some assistance.

  “Hello,” the clerk said to Locksie, who had just slammed back on the rack a really nice-looking long black dress. She thought she had a winner until she turned it around and saw that it was cut so low in the back that her bra strap would probably show. “Hello,” the clerk repeated again after getting no initial response from Locksie. “My name is Naomi. Are you looking for something in particular? Perhaps I can help you.”

  Locksie sighed, then realized the woman chattering about next to her had been chattering to her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” Locksie looked up at the clerk, who seemed a little familiar to her. Perhaps she had done her hair before or something.

  The clerk smiled. “I was asking if I could help you find something in particular. You just seem so frustrated, like you’re trying to find the perfect dress for the perfect occasion and aren’t having a bit of luck.”

  “Well, you’re partly right.” Locksie thought about taking the clerk up on her offer, but then she realized the clerk would ask her what was the occasion. Locksie would have to tell her about her dilemma, being a new creature in Christ and not knowing what type of clothes to wear to church. God forbid this complete stranger find out that up until a few weeks ago, Locksie had been a sinner all her life. “But I think I’ll be all right.”

  “You sure?” the clerk said with furrowed eyebrows. “You haven’t seemed to be doing all right thus far.”

  Locksie giggled. “You noticed, huh?”

  “I noticed.” the clerk giggled too. “Really, I don’t mind. So, where exactly do you need to wear the outfit you’re looking for?”

  “Wellllll . . . I’m not really looking for just one outfit. I, uh, well-uh . . . I guess you could say that I’m looking for an entire new wardrobe.”

  “Let me guess. You just lost a ton of weight and you’re celebrating by treating yourself to a new wardrobe?” The clerk clasped her hands together with excitement.

  “Well, uh, no. Not really.”

  “Oh?” The clerk seemed a little disappointed. “Okay, well then . . . You just got you a new man and want to show off a little for him, aye?” The clerk became cheerful again.

  “Nooo,” Locksie said, then she thought for a moment. “Well, actually, I guess you’re partly right.”

  “I knew it. Where’d you meet him?”

  “Uh, well, at church.”

  If the clerk hadn’t been excited for Locksie before, she sure was now. “Church? That’s great. The women that come in here shopping to look good for their beau usually met him at some club. I always say that’s the last place I ever want to have to tell my children that I met their father when they ask me, ‘Mommy, where did you and Daddy meet?’ ”

  Locksie began to finger a cream pantsuit on the rack next to her. “Oooh, this is nice.”

  “Yes, it is. Your man of God is certain to adore you in that. Forgive me for getting off track there a moment ago. It’s just that it’s not too often I get to talk about church and God in the workplace. Anyway, back to you and your beau.”

  Locksie felt the need to tell the clerk the truth, not allow her to go on thinking that she was in some wholesome relationship with some man she had met in church.

  “He’s not really my beau,” Locksie told the clerk.

  “Huh?” The clerk had a puzzled look on her face.

  “The man I met at church. He’s not really my beau.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Locksie couldn’t really read the look on the clerk’s face, but just in case she was thinking something freaky—like Locksie was dressing up for the preacher man, trying to get his attention—she wanted to nip that thought in the bud. “He’s Jesus.” Locksie’s words were barely audible.

  “Excuse me?”

&nb
sp; “It’s Jesus.” Locksie further explained. “I just started going to church a few weeks ago and most of the clothes in my closet aren’t really, you know, church appropriate. I haven’t been to church since I was a little girl back living with my mama, so I just don’t know . . .”

  The clerk smiled and shook her head. “Mm-hmm. Well, not to worry because I’ve met your kind too.”

  “My kind?” Locksie was confused.

  “Yep, women who were used to dressing for a man and now want to dress for the Lord. Well, amen, hallelujah.”

  Locksie smiled and relaxed her shoulders. She felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “First of all, I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve been saved for the last fifteen years, and I was once in the same boat. But don’t think for one minute that a Christian looks a certain way. God knows your insides no matter what you’re wearing on the outside. Now, I know churches like that saying, ‘come as you are.’ And I believe in that, but I also believe in giving God your best. So, when you were in the world and you gave the devil your best by dressing to the nines to go out to the bars, then I think you should give God that same best.” The clerk looked over at the counter and noticed a woman ready to check out. “Let me take care of that customer over there and then I promise I’ll be back to help you pick out some things I think you’ll really feel comfortable in.”

  “Thank you.”

  After the clerk returned, she and Locksie picked out four really nice outfits. Locksie was glad that this particular clerk just happened to be working and able to not only help her, but relate to exactly what she was going through.

  “I certainly appreciate all of your help,” Locksie said as the clerk finished checking her out and handed her her bags of merchandise. “I know you guys don’t make commission or anything, so I really thank you for going that extra step.”