Too Much of a Good Thing

by J. J. Murray

  I have been doing a couch dance. “I’m feeling the Spirit, boy.”

  He sits. “Mama, it’s like you’re having a track meet in here.” He thrusts the phone to me. “Call him.”

  I take the phone. “Oh, all right. If you really want me to call him.” I call the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Joe. Can you hold one second?” I cover the mouthpiece and look at Junior. “Do you mind? We’d like some privacy.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Can’t you go into your own room or something?”

  “Toni’s sleeping.”

  “But I want to finish watching the video.”

  “You’ve seen it a dozen times, Junior.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “Oh, all right.” I stand and try to mimic Crystal’s exaggerated movements, which is hard to do since she’s so much taller than I am. “Dag, I’ll just go into the kitchen, then. Gosh, Junior. You think you own this place or something.”

  Junior smiles. “That was the worst impersonation of Crystal I have ever seen or heard.”

  “I think I was pretty accurate,” I say. I pose in front of Crystal’s door. “Take that, Miss Drama Queen.”

  Crystal’s door opens. “Mama,” she says, “I am not a drama queen.”

  I stand as straight as I can and roll my neck, waving my free hand in the air. “Like, I’m so totally beautiful that I can say whatever I want in this house.”

  She shuts her door. Fine. I return to the couch.

  Junior points at the phone. “You’re keeping Joe waiting, Mama.”

  “Like, okay,” I say, and I strut into the kitchen, hearing a tiny little giggle behind me. I uncover the mouthpiece as I go to the sink. “Sorry about that, Joe. Crystal and I are having a little power struggle.”

  “You are?”

  “Oh, we have one daily, and I usually win. I think I lost this one. So how did it go?”

  “I’m eating sugar cookies,” he says, and I hear him chewing.

  “Huh?”

  “That’s how it went. Rose made sugar cookies for Jimmy.”

  “They sound tasty.” I wish he wouldn’t chew in my ear. I’d rather he’d chew on my ear.

  “They are. I’ll bring you a few tomorrow if there are any left.”

  “Okay.” Was that a gulp? “Um, Joe, what exactly happened?”

  And then ... he explains his miracles, and I explain some of my miracles—I leave out the little part about Crystal hating me—and I start dancing in the kitchen, and Junior’s calling out, “Mama, you’re making too much noise in there!”

  “Hold on a sec, Joe.” I return to the couch. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  “Aw, Mama.”

  “You can finish watching it tomorrow. I need this couch. I cannot properly snuggle up with Joe’s voice in that drafty kitchen.”

  He clicks off the TV and DVD player. “I liked y’all better when you were just talking online.” He drops the remote onto the couch and goes to his room.

  “You’re having a power struggle over the TV?” Joe asks.

  “Something like that.”

  “And wasn’t that Junior’s voice I heard?”

  I sigh. “Yeah, it’s complicated, isn’t it?” I settle my head at one end of the couch, my feet digging under the couch cushion in front of me for warmth. And for whatever reason, my feet have become completely still. “Well, Joe, what should we do next?”

  “We need to have a real family date now.”

  Joe and his family dates. “Or we could go out again, just the two of us.” Where he can nibble on my ear and set me on fire a few times.

  “You know I would like nothing better than to do that, but we need for our kids to get to know each other. We can’t just dump all this on them and leave them hanging.”

  “Climb Ev’ry Mountain,” that song from The Sound of Music trips through my head. Didn’t Maria inherit a whole bunch of kids, too? “I know, I know.” I hate to tell him that the list we made just won’t do, but it has to be done. “You know that list we made?”

  “Yeah?”

  I look at the DVD box and get an idea. Thank you, Tyler Perry. “We could add a Gospel show to that list.”

  “A Gospel show?”

  “Yeah.” I jump up and rummage through the mail. “As a matter of fact ...” I find the little flyer. “There’s a Gospel show this Saturday night at William Fleming High School.” God is in the U. S. mail, too. “Want to go?”

  “A Gospel show, huh?”

  I read from the flyer. “Advance tickets are seven dollars each, and kids twelve and under are free.” Free. I like that word. It’s how I feel, too.

  “That would be ... forty-nine for all of us.”

  I like his math skills. “I’ll pay for them.”

  “I don’t mind paying for them.”

  What day of the month is it? Five days until the rent is due ... “I’ll buy them, and you can reimburse me with forty-nine hot, passionate kisses.”

  “Okay.”

  Darn right it’s okay. I get the better end of the deal. “And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “You can’t fuss at a Gospel show.” I’m sure you can, but when the Holy Spirit is there, the only fussing is going to go on inside a few souls.

  “Sounds good. Should we meet y’all there or take our van?”

  If we’re going to do this, we are going to do it right. “Why don’t you pick us up? Think we’ll all fit in that van?”

  “It will be a tight squeeze, but I think we can manage.”

  Squeeze. I like that word, too.

  “How should we dress?” he asks.

  I laugh. “It depends on if you want to be seen or not. Some folks go all out like they’re in Sunday church, getting their hair did, their nails did, their legs waxed.”

  “Really?”

  “You’ll see them in their great big hats. But y’all don’t have to dress up. Just be casual and kind of churchy. There will probably be folks in blue jeans and T-shirts, too.”

  “Should I wear a tie?”

  “No. A nice sweater ought to do.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  I smile. “Now?”

  “No, I mean to the show.”

  “Well, right now I’m wearing some very sexy sweats rolled up to my knees and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Oh, and I’m barefoot.” Not very sexy, I know, but I’m feeling so goofy. “I plan to wear a simple dress to the show.”

  “Will you, um, get your hair did?”

  I cackle. It sounds so strange coming from his lips. “Yes. Will you get your hair did?”

  “I do need a haircut.”

  We’re so domestic. “The boys, too.” And I smile inside. I didn’t say “your kids” or “your sons.” I said “the boys,” as if I’m already taking ownership. That’s kind of cool.

  “Great. We’ll pick you up at, what, six thirty?”

  Hmm. I’ll be working until one on Saturday, rushing home, getting Crystal to do something with her hair, doing Toni’s hair, doing my hair, ironing, showering, shaving my legs ... It’s going to be close. “Six thirty will be fine.”

  “I don’t mean to cut this short, but it’s been a very emotional night, and I’m exhausted.”

  I pout, but I understand. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  And I’m about to fall over myself. “See you tomorrow for some hot coffee?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  39

  Joe

  Six thirty. She said six thirty would be fine.

  But now it’s six fifty, and we’ve been waiting outside the Terrace Apartments for half an hour.

  Maybe she said seven? No. Six thirty. She said it three times over coffee earlier today.

  I look behind me at a spotless, vacuumed van and three mostly spotless children. Rose spruced up the boys in white church shirts, dark pants, and church shoes. “We look like Jehovah’s Witnesses, Dad,” Joey had
said. They kind of do, but they look more like angels to me. Rose wears a mostly tasteful black dress with only two revealing thigh slits, white hose, and, yes, those red ballet slippers. She shouldn’t stand out too much. If it’s dark, that is. I put on a black knit sweater over a white turtleneck, which Rose tells me is “very chic,” with gray dress slacks and my black church shoes.

  “Call her, Daddy,” Jimmy suggests.

  “That will delay her even more, son.”

  I had already been to the door, only to be told, “Just a minute” by Toni. Fleming isn’t exactly around the corner from here, but Shawna had assured me that the Gospel show wouldn’t start on time, so I’m not worried.

  “How long is this thing supposed to last?” Jimmy asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say. And I don’t care because we will be traveling together as a family, attending an event where we can get to know each other, and leaving together.

  “Here they come,” Joey says, and he slides open the side door.

  “Finally,” Jimmy says.

  Toni arrives at the van first, wearing a colorful red, pink, and yellow dress and shiny black shoes. Junior looks sharp with a white shirt, brown vest, and matching pants. Crystal ... whoa ... I didn’t know she had that much hair. Are those stiletto heels? They have to be four inches high! And that tight mini-almost-there dress? That girl is beautiful, but she’s dangerous.

  And there’s Shawna, wearing a black dress, white hose, and black shoes. I glance at Rose to see if she notices. Maybe Rose will make the connection. Shawna had called earlier to ask what Rose was wearing, I told her, and now Shawna and Rose are almost twins—except for the red shoes.

  They are all standing outside the van. “Okay,” I say, “Shawna will be in front, the boys will be in the back, and these beautiful ladies will sit in the middle.”

  The kids squeeze in and put on seat belts without a word.

  Shawna gets in, leans over, kisses me on the cheek, and straps in. “You look nice.”

  “So do you.”

  She turns to the crowd behind us. “How y’all doing?”

  More silence.

  She leans over and kisses my cheek again, whispering, “Drive fast.”

  When we arrive at William Fleming High School, the parking lot is full, forcing me to park at Ruffner Middle School next door.

  “This is a pretty popular event,” I say.

  Shawna nods. “Gospel shows have a way of getting folks out of the house.”

  As the kids get out, Shawna hands out the tickets to all but Toni, who gets in free. My kids crowd around me while hers do the same around her.

  It’s an awkward moment.

  “Shall we go?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Shawna says, taking my hand and Toni’s hand.

  We move toward the auditorium, my kids beside me, her kids beside her.

  Still awkward.

  Shawna stops, and we all stop. “Hold up,” she says. “Look at us. Salt on the right, pepper on the left. We’re already stopping traffic, y’all. The least we can do is mix it up a bit. Junior, you and Joey go on ahead and get us eight seats, preferably in the same row if you can.”

  They tear off.

  “Crystal, you come around to Joe’s side, Rose and Jimmy around to mine.”

  I have never seen active, healthy, vibrant children move so slowly. I try to move Jimmy and Rose more quickly with my eyes, but they don’t get the message.

  Shawna sighs softly and smiles. “Now, let’s make us a grand entrance.”

  It’s still a little awkward, but we make it by the ticket-takers and move down the aisle en masse—turning a few heads—stopping where Junior and Joey have been guarding eight seats, almost the entire row. Shawna purposely lets Crystal go in first, followed by Rose. Junior and Joey follow, then Jimmy and Toni, then Shawna, with me on the aisle seat. It’s not exactly the arrangement I would have wanted, but I have to trust Shawna’s judgment.

  I look around. Shawna was right. It is a strange mix of dressed up and dressed down, many men and women dressed to the nines, and just as many dressed in their Saturday-at-the-park best.

  “Ready to get your praise on?” Shawna asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  But are our kids?

  40

  Shawna

  Lord, I can feel Your presence, oh, yes, but I can also feel so much tension flowing from the other end of the row. Please, dear God, please, warm up those two young ladies. And, God, whatever You do, don’t let those two tall, skinny women—

  Now Lord, of all the empty seats in this place, they had to sit right in front of Joe and me. Their hair is a mile high, blocking my view of the stage entirely. You know I’d move if I could, but I don’t see eight spaces together anywhere. Lord, if You can, please keep those two skinny women seated—

  Oh, the music’s starting, and now the skinny twins are standing up and clapping.

  I turn to Joe. “Don’t you be staring at their behinds now.”

  “I can’t, um, help it,” he says.

  It’s true. They’re up and shaking it, these two skinny black women with never-gave-birth behinds. So ...

  Up we go.

  Sort of.

  Joe and Toni stand with me, Junior and Joey next, but Jimmy looks confused. I lean around Toni and tell him, “It’s okay. Come on, Jimmy.”

  And Jimmy’s up, looking all shy. He’s not trouble.

  “Put your hands together now, Jimmy,” I tell him.

  Jimmy starts to clap—in rhythm. Which is better than I can say for Joe, who is clapping all over the place in all the wrong places, but he’s my Joe so he can be as uncoordinated as he wants to be.

  I look down the row to see Crystal standing ... and Rose sitting. Hmm. And Crystal’s not clapping. She probably only stood to get away from Rose. Maybe we’re rushing this—

  Where’d the lights go? And why is the music so loud? We aren’t deaf!

  The curtain parts, revealing a small choir in blue and gold robes, and they start singing about cleaning my heart, Lord Jesus. Yes, Lord Jesus. Clean a few hearts here tonight. Wring out all the dirt and fill those hearts with good—

  I look down the row. Where’s Crystal? I lean around the skinny twins and see Crystal practically running up to the front. It’s not time for the altar call yet, little girl! What are you—

  Oh.

  She has found a few of her hoochie friends. Lord, Lord. I glance at Rose, an empty seat between her and Joey and another empty seat on the aisle side.

  I turn to Joe. “I’ll be back.”

  “It’s okay,” he practically shouts over the music. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

  “No, it isn’t.” I won’t have any daughter of mine insult a future stepdaughter of mine.

  I go out into the aisle, walk around the back of the auditorium, and make a beeline for Crystal. She isn’t even clapping, just running her mouth with her friends. I stand behind her until she feels my breath on her neck. Wide eyes greet me.

  “Your seat is back here.”

  “But, Mama—”

  I stand on my tiptoes and get right on up in her ear, so close I could bite it off. “Until you leave my house, you will abide by what I say, now move.”

  “Mama, but I—”

  “Now.”

  “But, Mama, I—”

  I growl. Not exactly a holy thing to do, Lord, but she wasn’t hearing my words.

  Crystal sighs heavily. “See y’all later.”

  I follow her back to her seat, watch her sit, and then I get an idea. Instead of returning to Joe, I sit in the aisle seat on the other side of Rose. “How are you doing?” I ask her.

  “I’m okay,” she says without looking at me.

  “Pretty loud, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  I need to get this child to look at me. “I just can’t sit when I hear this music. Want to join me?” I stand.

  Rose looks at me.

  “Come on. We can sit on the slow songs.”
/>   “I ... I don’t know.”

  I crouch down. “Look, you’re my twin tonight, and I’ll look foolish standing up there in this dress without you.” I look down. “I wish I wore flats. These heels are killing me.”

  Rose rocks forward ... and stands.

  Thank You, Jesus.

  So, everyone’s up but Crystal, but I don’t care. God’s going to deal with her during the show, and I will definitely deal with her afterward. I stare Crystal down. That’s right. Sit there and feel all bad. All dressed up and making us all late because your hair wasn’t right, and here you are—

  Where’s she going?

  41

  Joe

  I see a ripple to my right.

  Crystal is coming this way.

  What do I do?

  Shawna’s face says to stop her, but I don’t have the right. Crystal gets to me, the song swelling, the singers blending in a beautiful a cappella.

  Toni grabs Crystal’s arm. “Sit with me, Crystal.”

  Crystal looks down. Is that a tear on her cheek?

  Crystal looks up at me. “Excuse me.”

  God, what do I do? “I, uh, I feel out of place, too, Crystal,” I say, taking a tissue from my pocket, amazed that there’s even a tissue in there. I haven’t worn these pants—since the funeral. The tissues were for me and my children. I offer the tissue to Crystal, and she takes it.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I step out into the aisle as a woman dances by wildly, um, praise-dancing, I think it’s called. If she really feels the Spirit, she could put an eye out with those long nails of hers.

  Crystal takes a step, clenches her fists ... then stands next to Toni.

  And that’s the way we attend the Gospel show until intermission, sometimes standing (so we can see) and clapping, other times sitting and clapping. The boys seem to be having a good time, and though Rose is standing and clapping, I doubt she’s feeling the Spirit. As for Crystal, well, if ever a child didn’t want to be someplace, it’s her. I thought I fidgeted when I was nervous. This child is one tall, beautiful, dangerous fidget.

  The lights come up during intermission, and while folks get up around us, our row stays put. I turn to Crystal. “I need to stretch,” I say, though I really don’t, since I’ve been standing for most of the show. I step out into the aisle.