I Say a Little Prayer

by E. Lynn Harris

  “Can you give me forty-eight hours to give you an answer?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you. I’ll give you a call.”

  There was a small silence, and I wondered if we had been disconnected; then I heard Vincent’s voice once more. “Pray on it, Chauncey. God will send you the right answer,” he said.

  “I know,” I said.

  After my chat with Vincent, I knew tomorrow had to be decision day and I didn’t have one. So I did the one final thing that I knew would help. I turned off all the things in my house that made sounds. I turned off the television and stereo and unplugged the clocks. I went into the kitchen and the bathroom to make sure there was no water dripping. Then I turned off all the lights.

  Finally, I stripped down to my birthday suit (I know that sounds crazy, but I felt purer when I prayed in the nude) and got on my knees on the right side of my bed. I began to pray.

  “Father, Lord God, I come to You in need of an answer. Father, first of all, I want to thank You for waking me up this morning and watching over me today. I thank You for all the blessings You’ve given me. My family, my friends, my business, and the gift of song. Father, You know I’ve had a lot on my mind the last couple of weeks, and I need some type of sign as to what You want me to do. I know I will always fall short in Your sight, but You know my heart and that I try. I want to sing the praises of Your love for me and all Your children. Father, do You want me to sing at the revival when You know I’m in conflict about the message Bishop Damien will bring and what it will do to my spirit? What it will do to my soul? Should I sing at the Day of Absence services, where people who believe and love You will be holding up Your name in praise?”

  I paused, took a deep breath, and continued my prayer. “Father, I know I don’t always do what I know You would want me to do, but I’m trying. I ask You for strength when I make the decision and to not look back. Wherever I end up on Sunday, God, I ask that You be with me, holding me. Father, please be with all the people who are involved and remind us that nothing that we do is important unless we put You first.

  “Forgive me for my sins and thank You for Your blessings and thank You for loving me despite my faults. Amen.”

  I stayed on my knees for a while longer, resting in the silence. I knew God was there; I knew he heard me. Finally, I climbed into bed, letting the softness of my sheets caress my naked body. I closed my eyes and waited for God and sleep to take over.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Morning dawned with a spitting rain, but at least I had my answer. It had come to me in a small voice. I got out of bed and called Pastor Kenneth’s secretary and made an appointment to see him that evening.

  While I was dressing, I thought about the decision I’d made. It was still on my mind as I drove to the office. But when I opened my office door and heard Ms. Gladys singing, “Jesus on the main line. Tell him what you want. Oh,” I smiled even more.

  “Good morning, Ms. Gladys. Is Celia in her office?”

  “Not yet, but there is somebody in your office,” she said with a shrug.

  “Who?” I quizzed.

  “That girl,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “What girl?”

  “Celia’s friend.”

  “Lontray?”

  She slid her glasses down the bridge of her nose and stared at me over the top of them. Then she removed her glasses before she said, “Yeah, her,” losing her diction.

  I walked toward my office wondering what Lontray was doing in my office and why Celia wasn’t in yet. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for another round of Lontray’s flirting.

  When I walked into my office, Lontray was standing by the wall against the large window, studying my framed diplomas.

  “So you got two degrees, huh? I knew you were a smart man,” she said.

  “What’s good, Lontray?”

  “I’m good.” She smiled. “When are you going to invite me to church again?”

  “Where’s Celia?” I asked, ignoring the question about church.

  “She’s at home. Have you seen her lately?”

  “Not for a couple of days. Is this why you’re at my office so early this morning?”

  “First of all, Celia don’t know I’m here, but I figured you’re a little more than just her boss. Even though she be frontin’, I think she is feelin’ you.”

  Where is this coming from? I wondered. My relationship with Celia had always been professional, and although I never felt the need to discuss my sexuality, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Celia knew at the very least that I was bisexual.

  “My relationship with Celia is strictly professional,” I said.

  “So you saying I might have a chance if I go out and get me a couple of degrees? I hear you can get them online now. Is that true?”

  “I think so, but what’s going on with Celia?”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She said something about female problems.”

  “Hmmph. Whatever. Female problems my ass,” Lontray said as she rolled her eyes and took a seat in one of the chairs facing my desk.

  “Then what’s wrong with her, Lontray? And speed it up, because I’ve got a busy day,” I said.

  “You ain’t trying to get rid of me, are you? I think you be frontin’, too, and you really trying to git with this,” she said, motioning toward her upper body.

  “Lontray!” I yelled. I didn’t have time to play her games today.

  “Don’t be hollering at me. I just think you should know that Celia’s female problems are really Marvin problems.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, Marvin be playing Ike Turner on her head,” she said, moving her hands as if she were playing a drum.

  “He’s beating her?” This was my worst fear for any woman.

  “You didn’t hear it from me, but yes,” Lontray said.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Hell, ever since she met the nigga. That’s why she left his ass in the first place, but then he started sweet-talking her. Then the nigga went off when he thought he had her back. I told her she was going to be a lifetime member in the battered women’s shelter if she didn’t leave that nigga alone.”

  I moved toward the door, hoping Lontray would get the hint that I wanted her to leave.

  “Thanks, Lontray. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “If it was me, I would just call the po-po on the nigga. I know you a big dude yourself with all them muscles, but Marvin…that nigga bowed up, so I’d think twice before getting in the ring with him,” Lontray said.

  She got up and started walking toward the door. Lontray opened it and then looked back at me and said, “You want my digits in case you need some backup?” Then she winked at me, but I didn’t respond. She gave me a final smile before she sashayed past Ms. Gladys’s desk and out of the office.

  I waited until I was alone with Ms. Gladys before I shared what Lontray had told me. But Ms. Gladys didn’t seem a bit surprised.

  “I told you it was man problems. You didn’t notice how Celia was wearing more makeup than she usually do a couple of weeks ago?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head and wondering what makeup had to do with this.

  “That’s men folks for you. When I first started working here, I used to notice how Celia didn’t wear no makeup. She’s a real pretty girl, but all of us women, even the beauties, need a little help. A little lipstick and eye shadow ain’t never hurt nobody. I was beginning to wonder if she was one of them funny women, but I know Celia ain’t like that. You can tell that girl like her some men from the way she wear her skirts, and she told me she once paid twenty-five dollars for a pair of panties,” Ms. Gladys said. “What kind of craziness is that?”

  “If it’s true and Marvin is hitting her, what do you think I should do?”

  Ms. Gladys looked at me for a long moment, pulled her large black leather purse from under her desk, and said, “You don’t need to do nothing. This is Mama�
�s work. I’ll take care of Miss Celia.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “That will be between Celia and me, but I will need the rest of the morning off. You can manage on your own for a couple hours, can’t you?”

  “Yes, I think I can. I have a meeting with my pastor tonight, so I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, you tell that preacher man to pray for our girl Celia. It’s hard getting a bad man out of your system so a good one can come in.”

  I started to tell Ms. Gladys, “I hear ya talking,” but I only said, “Okay.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Even though I was firm with my decision, I was a little nervous when I opened the door to Pastor Kenneth’s office. He was reading his Bible, and I laughed to myself when he stood up to greet me. Pastor Kenneth had on rust-colored suit pants, a white shirt, and a skinny tie that matched his slacks. I loved the fact that I had a minister who wasn’t worried about the latest fashion and took pride in being from the country.

  “Brother Chauncey. Come on in, sir. I hope your lawyer found our contract fair,” he said as he extended his hand and pointed to a chair across from his desk.

  “Good evening, Pastor Kenneth. Thanks for seeing me.”

  “No problem. I always got time for my members. Have a seat.”

  I sat down and placed both of my hands on the edge of his desk, one on top of the other.

  “So you got the contract?” Pastor Kenneth asked.

  “That’s what I need to speak to you about….” I paused for a few seconds and then I just blurted out, “I can’t do it.”

  “Brother Chauncey, come on now. Do you want more money?”

  “No, Pastor. This has nothing to do with money,” I said. I removed my hands from the desk, leaned back in the tight-fitting leather chair, and rested my hands on my thighs.

  “What is it, then? I’ve dealt with agents and lawyers before. Is it your agent, or have you signed with a record label and they won’t let you do it? Oh, by the way, I understand you talked with Lucy. Was that a good contact?”

  “Yes, sir, it was. I haven’t met with the singer she wanted me to meet with yet, but I have an appointment set up. Thanks again.”

  “No problem. Now back to the revival. You know, this puts us in a tight spot with the event being only a couple of weeks away. It will be hard to get a singer of your caliber at this late date.”

  “I know, and I’m really sorry. But I’ve prayed and prayed on this, and I think I’m doing the right thing.”

  “Well, Brother Chauncey, if you’ve prayed on it and you feel like this is the answer that God has given you, then we will have to live with it. Doesn’t mean we like it, but the Good Lord doesn’t always give us what we want.”

  “I feel pretty strongly about it,” I said.

  “If it’s not too personal, would you mind sharing with me why you can’t do it? I mean, did I do something? Did Sister Vivian or any member of my deacon board do anything to offend you?”

  “No, sir. Everyone has treated me wonderfully. But I would like to ask you something.”

  “Sure. Ask me anything.”

  “Why Bishop Upchurch?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why have him speak? I visited his Web site, and some of his views on things are very extreme,” I said.

  “Bishop Upchurch and his wife, Grayson, are good, upstanding Christian people. I don’t agree with everything he says in some of his speeches, but he’s preaching the Word. I think we need to hear people like him, not only in the pulpit but in the Senate as well. We’re losing a generation of our youth because they don’t hear the message Bishop Upchurch and Sister Grayson are trying to spread.”

  “So even though you don’t believe in everything he says, you think it’s okay for them to come and preach their hate to our congregation?” I asked angrily. I’d expected more from Pastor Kenneth. I didn’t want him telling me that I needed to hear the word of Damien and Grayson on how I lived my life.

  “I don’t see it as hate, and neither does Sister Vivian. These are good people. I ask that you sit down with him and talk over some of his views before you make a final decision,” Pastor Kenneth said.

  “Meet with him?”

  “Yes. I mean, we can make it happen this evening. Bishop Upchurch is in town speaking at Morehouse, and he’s going to come by and share a meal with me. It would be perfect timing if you’d join us and express to him your feelings, as you’ve done with me.”

  “I don’t think I can do that,” I said firmly.

  “Why not, Brother Chauncey? You’ve always struck me as a fair brother. Put your questions to Bishop Upchurch. Give the man a chance,” Pastor Kenneth pleaded.

  I wanted to tell him that I’d already given Damien Upchurch a chance and had gotten nothing but heartbreak for my efforts.

  “I think I’ll pass on that opportunity. But I would like for you to ask him a question, and if you don’t mind, I’d like you to answer it as well,” I said, and then paused to make sure he heard my query.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Ask him where black gay and lesbian people go who believe in God with all their heart when we’re not welcome in our churches. Not only in Denver and Atlanta, but all over this country. Ask him where we go to be nurtured and express our faith. Where do we go for forgiveness? Do we put our faith in a box like some of our people used to do with their money because they didn’t trust the bank?”

  “That’s a very valid question, Brother Chauncey. Do you want me to answer it?”

  “I would.”

  “It’s sad to say, Brother Chauncey, but the church is like the world. You would think that in church everyone would be loving and accepting, but that’s not the case. There are churches in this country that wouldn’t want you or me because of the color of our skin. They go to school and work with us, but only because they have to. In a church, just like a country club, they can choose their membership.”

  “I understand that, but it still doesn’t explain how black churches can exclude a certain segment of our community because of something we do in private.”

  “You think being black stops us from being prejudiced? I know far more black bigots than I do white ones.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my question. Where do we go?”

  “Do you feel comfortable at Abundant Joy? Has anyone ever said anything unkind toward you?”

  “I love Abundant Joy, but by bringing Bishop Upchurch I sense a dangerous change occurring that I’ve experienced at other churches. Before you know it, we will be another megachurch harboring hate,” I said.

  “Bishop Upchurch is coming because I asked him to come. We have to provide a forum for all voices. I’m not saying I agree with him, but we need people of all backgrounds and opinions in the church and the Senate. If Abundant Joy does become bigger, the center point will be God, His grace, and His mercy. I know that applies to all His children.”

  “I hope you’re right, Pastor Kenneth. Still, I think it’s best that I sit out the bishop’s visit, and hopefully return to the church I love after he’s gone.”

  “I don’t agree with you, but I respect your right to make that decision. I still say you should come to dinner and sit down with Bishop Upchurch and get to know this man of God.”

  I was very angry but I didn’t respond. I was tempted to say I had already explored all the sides of Damien Upchurch I was interested in.

  “He’s going to be here any minute. It’s not too late,” Pastor Kenneth said.

  “What?”

  “Bishop Upchurch is due any minute.”

  “Damien? I mean, Bishop Upchurch is coming here?” I stammered.

  Pastor Kenneth looked at his watch and said, “Yes, but it looks like he’s running a little late.”

  I stood up quickly and felt a desire to run from Pastor Kenneth’s office. I felt sweat forming around my neck and rolling down the center of my chest like lava. I had to get out.

  “Sorry,
Pastor. I have other plans. Enjoy your dinner,” I said as I moved quickly from his office and down the hallway toward the parking lot.

  I walked out into an ordinary fall night, and just before I reached my car I saw the profile of a man getting out of a limo. Even though it was dark, the lampposts covering the parking lots provided enough light for me to see that it was Damien. He was punching his fingers into a gadget that looked like a Palm Pilot or a BlackBerry.

  I stood still and felt my heart thudding in my chest. He put the gadget in the jacket pocket of his suit and turned to look toward the church. Just as I was deciding whether or not to call out his name, he turned his head toward me and our eyes met. I remained silent and still as he walked toward me. Seconds later, he was standing so close to me I could tell the flavor of his toothpaste.

  “Chauncey, is that really you?” Damien asked.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I stammered.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Leaving,” I said softly.

  “Is this Abundant Joy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you work here?”

  “I attend church here, but of course you know that,” I said.

  “How would I know that?”

  “Didn’t you get my messages?”

  “What messages?”

  “Damien, I called you several times and left several messages.”

  “I never got them,” Damien said.

  “Well, certainly Grayson told you I called.”

  “How do you know my wife?”

  “I guess you could say she was stalking me for a minute and then we finally met,” I said.

  Damien had a puzzled look on his face like he didn’t know what I was talking about.

  “You met Grayson?”

  “She didn’t tell you?” I asked. So much for that perfect marriage, I thought.

  “I don’t understand what’s going on. What are you doing at Abundant Joy?”

  “I go to church here. I just told you that,” I said.