An Inconvenient Friend

by Rhonda McKnight

  Was she serious?

  Angelina continued, “We really want this health fair to be a good thing for the community, and honestly, someone with your expertise would do a better job than any of us.”

  I considered what she was saying. She was begging with those big, brown eyes of hers. I could see her now, begging Greg and getting whatever she wanted from him because I wasn’t even a man, and I was succumbing to their hypnotism.

  “I guess I could help, but I’m new to this area, so I don’t know much about the needs here. I’m going to have to have lots of help.”

  Angelina clapped her hands together, then reached out and grabbed me into a hug. “Thanks so much, Rae.” She released me like a rag doll and walked to her place at the podium. “Ladies, ladies, let’s get started.”

  Just then Carol walked in. She flashed me one of those disapproving looks she always gave, reached for her pearls again, and quickly made steps to her side of the room.

  I took a deep breath and reached for my Bible.

  Angelina said a prayer, and then announced that we’d have a brief meeting before we began the lesson for tonight. “Everyone, I’d like to announce that Rae Burns is going to head up the committee for the health fair. Everyone please give Rae a round of applause.”

  Several of the women clapped like I’d won an Oscar, but Carol raised her index finger, stood, and coughed to get Angelina’s attention. “Sister Preston, while I’m sure we can all appreciate Rae’s talents or skills in the area of healthcare, I don’t know that we can have her head a committee while she’s still not a member of the church.”

  Angelina looked annoyed at first, and then she was thoughtful. I guess I was supposed to be embarrassed or something, but the truth was, they could take the job and shove it. I didn’t want to plan any stupid health fair anyway.

  “I suppose you’re correct. I’ll take over as the committee head and Rae can assist.” Angelina winked at me.

  I knew what that meant. She was going to be a figure head, and I was going to do the work. Cool beans. At least my girl could think on her feet, and we’d be working together. That played right into my plan.

  Carol was shaking her head. “I don’t know if that’s what the church bylaws had in mind.”

  I looked around the room at the various women. None of them had made much of an effort to make me feel welcome to this little club. The only reason I was still here or had come in the first place was for Operation Steal Greg. But since I had been coming for a few weeks, and this was supposed to be a place where there was love and stuff, I felt like they could at least pretend to want to throw some my way.

  “Does the church contract with consultants?” I asked, wondering where that had come from, but I knew. For some reason I wanted to show them that I had value; that even though I hadn’t been born in a manger or wasn’t married to a doctor or a lawyer, I was still a person who had something to contribute in life. I stood. “I mean, if the church had a leaky toilet they’d call a plumber, right? If you were building an addition, you’d hire a contractor. I could offer my services as a consultant.” Several of the women smiled and nodded their heads like they were feeling me. “Free of charge, of course,” I added. More smiles.

  “Sounds good to me,” Angelina said. “Unless we have someone else who wants to do it.”

  No one said a word, including Carol. I had noticed over the last few weeks that these chicks were professionals at dodging work.

  “Good. Then it’s decided. Please make sure you sign up on the clipboard to volunteer before you leave tonight. Rae and I will pull together a quick agenda and call the volunteers. Please be prepared for a meeting with very short notice. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

  I sat down and fought the urge to look Carol’s way, because I knew she was eating crow. That I wanted to see. It was amazing how vindicated I felt after their initial rejection by that one group of smiles from the crowd. Acceptance had never really been my thing, but this felt cool.

  Angelina taught the lesson, and I fumbled around in my Bible while she hopped from section to section. It was pretty interesting stuff about people using their God-given talents to do what God wanted them to do. It was a little out there, but the part about us all having gifts had me wondering. The only one I knew I had was getting the attention of men, and I wasn’t sure that was something I would consider God-given. But I had to admit, I’d wondered about the successes of some people. I’d thought about how it couldn’t be all hard work, education, and connections, but I guess I’d always pegged most miraculous success as luck, great timing, a winning lottery ticket of sorts. Not God.

  I left the meeting and hurried home to get dressed for work. The hospital called, and since I needed a shift or two more on the next paycheck, I figured I had to go make this money. I arrived a few minutes early and went in to talk to the nurse in charge. As expected, she was working on the schedule of assignments for the next two shifts. I had perfect timing.

  Laura was an attractive white woman, but her attitude was so stank, one could hardly tell. She was a little pudgy, but had a pretty face. Her piercing blue eyes always made me feel like she knew whether I was telling the truth or a lie. I hated that feeling.

  “Samaria, I’m so glad you could come in.” She clapped her hands together. Her enthusiasm was a little over-done. “I was about to give report.”

  Report was where we nurses met and received information and updates on patients. I worked on a medical surgical floor, which meant most of the patients on our floor were post operative and required a good deal of care. I took a few steps closer to the desk, grimaced, and dragged my leg like it was injured. “That’s why I’m here, I mean in your office. I hurt my knee playing tennis yesterday, and it’s not completely better.”

  “Oh.” Laura pushed her heavy chest back from the desk. Charge nurses hated to hear you came to work injured, because they couldn’t work you like a slave.

  “I was wondering if I could pass meds?”

  Laura raised an eyebrow. She was a stickler for rotating duties. I had passed meds the other night when I worked, which meant on this shift I should have a bulk of the patient care duties. I needed to get in the medication room so I could get more drugs for June Bug. Only the medication nurse had keys to the room. I took another step and moaned. “I guess I shouldn’t have said I would come in.”

  Laura picked up her pen. “No—no, we needed you. So it’s no problem.” I could see her making the change in the assignments.

  Satisfied, I turned and limped out of the room. Now all I had to do was remember to keep limping through the rest of my shift.

  Chapter 11

  Angelina stepped into The Chicken Coup, her favorite lunch spot, and shook off the chill from the cold, wet day. She welcomed the aroma of garlic and other herbs from the barbeque sauce, Sweet Jazzy Reds, which always filled the air. It was her absolute favorite and was certain to help lift the blues that had engulfed her; at least for the duration of the meal.

  The restaurant was small, and she could see her best friend, Felesia Sosa, seated at the table they often grabbed near the large window that looked out on the owner’s amazing greenhouse. It was the place where he grew vegetables for the organic dishes he served.

  “Hey, Mami.” Felesia infused the Latino accent that came and went when she chose or chose not to use it. She stood, and the two women shared a hug. Angelina towered over the short, dark complexioned, Puerto Rican that she had roomed with all four years at Spelman College. Felesia stood next to her as the maid of honor at her wedding to Greg and was the first person to hold Danielle after she and her husband got their fill of clinging to their new baby. Felesia, or Fee as Angelina affectionately called her, was her girl.

  “You look nice.” Angelina admired the Burberry knit dress that clung to Felesia’s curvy figure. Felesia made an obscene salary in her position as the only bilingual senior account specialist for Wylinger MoPar, a manufacturing converter for automobile parts. The two women�
��s choices in careers had been the only major difference between them. Both were only children who’d been abandoned by their fathers and raised by overbearing, bitter mothers. Their fast friendship during the early years at Spelman proved to be an enduring glue that both could count on.

  No one knew Angelina like Felesia, so when she asked, “Mami, what’s wrong?” Angelina knew there was no point in trying to act like she was okay; like her world wasn’t crumbling.

  Angelina reached for a sweating water goblet that was sitting on her placemat and took a long sip that nearly emptied the glass.

  Felesia chuckled. “Dang, chica. Do I need to ask them to bring something stronger?”

  Angelina placed the glass down and laughed at her friend’s question. “I almost wish I did drink. Drinkers erase the world when they want to. I’d love to disappear.”

  “Okay, so you gonna fill me in on what’s got Ms. Optimistic so pessimistic?”

  She hesitated to answer, hating to complain yet again. She lowered hers eyes. When she raised them and met Felesia’s, she knew her laments and groans would be received without judgment. “It’s Greg.” Angelina crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “He’s coming in later and later, claiming he’s working or golfing or any other “ing” to stay away from home, and he won’t talk to me.”

  “You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?” Although there was no one near their table, Felesia still leaned forward like she was guarding a Level 5 secret for the CIA.

  “I don’t care if he’s cheating.” Angelina avoided Felesia’s eyes.

  “Tonterías!” Felesia threw her back against the padded booth. Angelina recognized the word as nonsense. “You care if he’s running around with some puta. You cared the last time he did this. Why not now?”

  Angelina’s heart hammered a painful beat. “It was a one night stand, and it was years ago.”

  Felesia guffawed. “The fact that it was a one night stand didn’t seem to make it any easier for you at the time.”

  “That’s because I knew that he was trying to prove something to himself. You know he’d just had that fertility test ...” Angelina twisted her lips. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what’s going on with him now. I just want a baby.”

  “A baby? With a cheating rat that you’ll have to leave? So you can subject your child to the same thing we went through growing up? No father.”

  “Greg will be a better father.”

  “Oh, like he’s a better husband than our fathers were? Come on, Lena. No way you believe that.”

  “I have to believe it.”

  “No.” Felesia shook her head. “No one has to believe a lie. We choose to believe lies.”

  Angelina released the tight grip on her arms and began to play with her silverware. She continued to avoid her friend’s eyes when she spoke. “I’m not like you, Fee. You’d rather keep your size six figure than give birth. I love children. Look at the work I do. I want to be a mother—again.” She let her words trail off. She suppressed the pain she felt in her heart at the thought of Danielle. Then she let her eyes find Felesia’s. In them, she saw the sympathy and compassion she was looking for.

  Felesia sighed heavily and laid a hand on the one Angelina had on the table. “I know you do, Mami. And you’ll be the best doggone mother on the entire planet, but you have to let God work out these marriage problems first. You can’t put mess on top of mess.”

  Angelina laughed inside. It was amazing to her that Felesia had more faith than she did. Felesia had grown up in a dogmatic church that was more like a cult than a denomination. It took years to get her backslidden friend to attend a non-denominational Christian church, but when Felesia reaccepted Christ as her Lord and Savior, without all the doctrine and ritual, she was souled out all the way.

  “What am I supposed to do? He won’t talk to me, and it’s not like I’m a kid. I don’t have that many child bearing years left. These eggs of mine ain’t getting any fresher.”

  “Make an appointment with him. He’s a doctor, he understands the concept. Schedule a special dinner, and don’t let him wiggle out of talking. Do it at a restaurant, but make sure it’s some place quiet and intimate.”

  “What’s going out going to do?”

  “It’ll let him know you’re serious for one, and it’ll set the tone. Take him out of his home environment where he can go to the bathroom or run down the stairs. If you’re sitting at a table, he’ll have to talk to you.”

  Angelina wasn’t convinced it would work. “I’ll try.” She was running out of options for getting Greg to even consider the idea of seeing a fertility specialist again.

  “You guys been trying the regular way, right?” Felesia asked, twisting her lips from embarrassment.

  Angelina laughed. “Yes, and I make sure to catch him when I’m ovulating. I have one of those kits.”

  “Uh, sounds like a fun zapper to me.” Felesia waved her hand and took a sip of her water. “God is sovereign. You taught me that. Everything works together for the good, for those that are called according to HIS purpose.” Felesia quoted their favorite scripture. “Everything, chica.”

  Angelina nodded, tried to absorb the words, but instead filed them in her memory’s to do box. “So what’s up with you?”

  “Venezuela for a month, Mami.” Her brilliant smile filled the room. “And while I’m down there I’m going to meet me a man who’s muy macho if you know what I mean.” Felesia shimmied her chest.

  Angelina laughed and slapped her hand. “Don’t you get yourself in trouble with the muy macho man.” Angelina shimmied back at her. “You know you been celibate for a long time.”

  “Three long years next month. Me and Jesus gonna have to have a talk about this mess. I need me a husband like yesterday.” Felesia plopped her chin on her fist and sighed.

  “Yeah, well, you been there, done that in a hurry and look where it got you.”

  Felesia tsked and frowned. “You don’t have to bring up my past to remind me. You just make sure you take your own advice. Don’t clock out on Greg yet. Give this stuff some time. You two love each other. It’ll all work itself out.”

  Angelina nodded. They loved each other. She loved him. Did he love her? She wasn’t so sure. The only thing she was sure of was the fact that she was going to have a hard time getting through the next thirty days without her best friend.

  “So tell me about this Katrice.”

  Angelina looked out the window. She noticed a ray of light breaking through the clouds in the distance. Katrice, the very mention of her, brought the sunshine.

  Chapter 12

  “I want you ladies to know, I thought about the health fair all weekend, and last night I had an incredible idea.” I beamed at Angelina and the rest of the motley crew that had been pulled together for an emergency meeting to help me with the health fair. “Let’s not just do the regular old boring stuff like take blood pressures and glucose levels and weigh people. Let’s make it a spa day!”

  Angelina was thoughtful, but I could tell Carol and the other two women were completely thrown by my suggestion. Their eyes skittered between each other, and the two nervous ninnies looked down at their notepads.

  “Hear me out.” I was determined to have my say. “Health fairs are a dime a dozen. You can get a mini health physical at the local CVS or Walgreens if you put fifty cents in a machine. What I’m talking about is a total wellness day.”

  “Go on.” Angelina was not cosigning to a big fat no like the other women, but she was still hesitant.

  “This is a ritzy area, and a ritzy church. If you really want to do something, make it fun. Massages, facials, reflexology. Serve hors d’oeuvres instead of hotdogs. Have the teens in the church carry them around on little trays. Class it up.” I could tell I needed to keep priming the pump, but it was time to do it by being practical. “Stress is killing African American women. I mean, our incidences of heart disease, kidney disease, and every obesity related disease known to man is affect
ing us. Even stuff like infertility. Our stress is so bad some of us can’t get pregnant, and you know that’s never been a problem for us.” I laughed.

  Angelina sat back. She looked like I’d kicked her under the table. So that was it. I’d been wondering for months. Why no children? She couldn’t get pregnant. A rush of adrenaline shot through me. Major marital issue. The kind I needed to know about. I cleared my throat to quell my excitement.

  “I’d like us to come up with some catchy name that has to do with relieving stress. When women come in, they can be screened for all the routine stuff you normally get at a health fair. I’ll even try to get a mobile mammogram machine here, although three weeksnotice is not a lot of time for such a thing. But before ladies leave, they have the opportunity to have a ten minute massage, foot rub, and a facial. We’ll have them attend a short seminar about stress and how to relieve it through meditation, relaxation, and aromatherapy. We’ll make the seminar mandatory before the massage stuff, so we’ll get high participation. Their last impression of the church will be of how good we were to them, and how special they felt. Not just a memory of getting their pulse taken.”

  Carol sneered and snorted. I didn’t know how she did both at the same time, but she managed it. She was looking down her nose at me again, the way she always did, like I smelled bad. “I appreciate your incredible creativity, Rae, but cost? We hope to have over two hundred women during the day. That’s a lot of massages, facials, and foot rub money.”

  The other two ninnies murmured in agreement. Angelina seemed to have recovered from her blow, but she still didn’t say anything. I had to get her on my side. She was the brains of this operation, and she was the official chairperson. If I were going to have to do a dumb health fair, I wanted to do it “Samaria” style; which meant it had to cost somebody some money.

  “Angelina.” I shifted in my super-padded chair, which, coupled with my internal exuberance, caused me to bounce forward. “We could bring in students from the school of massage therapy. The fair is eight hours. Pay six of them twenty bucks an hour. Students are always looking for a way to make money. And we’d only need three of them for eight hours, the other three could be for four or five hours, during heavy traffic. We’re talking less than nine-hundred dollars.”