Rain Water

by Buttrfli Jones

  Paisley’s face lost a bit of shine, thinking that if she could not serve a purpose in the small home she would not be allowed to come back. She walked dejectedly toward the room that had been assigned to her, taking a moment to concentrate on the sights and scents there in case she was never afforded the opportunity to experience them again.

  Ms. Tandy was not far behind and watched Paisley crawl reluctantly into bed, pulling the covers up over her face to hide the tears that were starting to gather in her eyes.

  “Girl . . . whatchu cryin’ fa? Long as I live here, from today ‘til foreva’, yuh welcome ta come an’ sleep here. Ain’t gone be no mo’ a dat foolishness, sleepin’ home by yo’self while yo’ Mama out runnin’ da streets. But I’ma tell ya now . . . I don’t stands fa no foolishness. Yuh gone be here, yuh gonna be brought up like a lady! Don’ worry yo’ head none. Yuh gone be alright.”

  Paisley sat up on the bed and wrapped her slim, brown arms around Ms. Tandy’s plump frame. “Yea, God tryin’ ta be mah friend again . . .” Ms. Tandy thought as she held Paisley in her arms. Outside they could hear the remnants of the passing rain dripping down the roof’s shingles. Paisley had a million words in her mind to say, but stayed quiet as she felt her life taking a shift.

  “Ms. Tandy . . . I don’t know how to pray, though.”

  Ms. Tandy let out a slow laugh, knowing that the girl was more serious than she needed to be. She thought about how many times she found it so difficult to find the right words to pray and understood that Paisley was one that wanted to do everything that she did well.

  “Ain’ really no way tuh pray, Miss Paisley. Ya jus’ be talkin’ ta God. Be tellin’ Him yuh thankful fa what He do. Sometime yuh cain’t find a word, Chile. Yuh jus’ be cryin’ o’ moanin’ like a ole alley cat. Ain’ nothin’ special ‘bout it . . . jus’ try it.”

  Paisley in her usual reserved way pondered on what she was thankful for. She had no idea about God but she started to talk and the prayer took on a life of its own.

  “Well . . . I am thankful for you. I’m thankful I get to go ta school tomorrow wit’ my hair braided and clean clothes. I’m thankful for the good food you made ‘cause I never had fish cakes and they was good. And this nice bed . . . I never slept in a bed like this. Thank you for lettin’ me stay.”

  Ms. Tandy could not get her own prayer out, being choked up with a long lost foreign emotion. She gave Paisley as soft pat on her back and motioned for her to lie down. She pulled the soft pink blanket up over Paisley’s shoulders and turned off the bedroom light, leaving the door open a crack so that Paisley could see the glow of the bathroom’s fluorescent bulbs.

  Paisley started to slowly drift off to sleep with the sound of water running in the kitchen sink and the scrape of a wooden spoon directing the remaining greens into a storage bowl. Ms. Tandy turned her radio on again and B. B. King filled up the house with a smooth, mellow atmosphere that got Ms. Tandy rocking side-to-side, slowly hugging herself.

  Ms. Tandy woke up in a cold sweat.

  She looked outside of her window and watched as the clouds gathered in an ominous, gray dance against the sky. She felt as if there was a snake slithering in her lower abdomen, trying to fight its way out from her belly button. She sat straight up until she was sitting on the edge of her bed, gripping the sheets as she steeled herself. She stood up swiftly, walking toward Paisley’s room and she quickly knocked before opening the door.

  Paisley was rousing herself from sleep and awoke to stare at Ms. Tandy curiously. In the three years that she had known her, Paisley had never seen the older woman so distraught. Paisley feared the worst, sitting upright to brace herself for whatever bad news she was about to receive.

  “I had me a dream las’ night. Three black crows was sittin’ on mah porch, clear as day!” She raised her right hand to display her index, middle and ring fingers to emphasize her point. “We goin’ ta church dis’ mornin’. Get up an’ get dressed!”

  As quickly as she came she exited the room, leaving Paisley completely clueless about what any of that meant. Although she was perplexed she obeyed, knowing if Ms. Tandy was that worked up there was a purpose for the urgency. Usually Sunday mornings would find Paisley waking up to the scent of something cooking and gospel music playing. Instead she moved around in an unfamiliar mood, the cloud of uncertainty hanging overhead. Paisley had never in her twelve years stepped foot inside of a church and from the warnings Ms. Tandy had imparted about church people, she never imagined that she would be amongst them.

  The two prepared themselves in silence and apprehension with Paisley finishing first, seating herself at the table to eat a peach and a buttermilk biscuit from dinner the night before. Paisley envisioned all of the people that she and Ms. Tandy observed over the years coming and going to church on Sunday morning, so she had an idea of how she would fit into that scene. She had found one of Genevieve’s prettiest pink dresses, one that would make her look like she belonged. She did not want to embarrass Ms. Tandy on her church debut. Her hair had been plaited the night prior by Ms. Tandy to her standards and a brief glance in the bathroom mirror assured her she would not be the source of anyone’s distain.

  As Ms. Tandy dressed, she reflected on her own image. Paisley’s presence had caused the woman to naturally decrease in size and her reflection displayed her perfectly rounded hips and womanly curves. She had gradually got used to the attention men sent in her direction, just as they had when she was a young girl. To be 44 years old she looked to be a woman in her early 30s, becoming livelier daily and heads frequently turned in her direction from men of all ages. She was growing satisfied with the woman that she saw in the mirror, taking her mind back to a time before her experiences weighed on her . . . both emotionally and physically.

  She pulled her thick, heavy curls into a tight bun atop her head in an attempt to look modest. It had been decades since she had stepped foot inside of a church house and she was well aware of what the people of the neighborhood thought about her. She did not want to draw unneeded attention to herself, as all that she needed that day was to meet God in His house. She had long rid herself of the makeshift, table-cloth dresses she once wore and choose a long, white dress, giving the impression that she was a bride in waiting.

  When she emerged, Paisley wanted badly to break into a smile and tell her how beautiful she looked, but inside she imagined that this was not the occasion for vanity. Ms. Tandy was on a mission that morning. As they exited the home Ms. Tandy placed the key in the lock to secure the door and they made their trek toward Mount Olive Holiness Church.

  Ms. Tandy had no vehicle, so she and Paisley walked everywhere they went. Usually their walks would be filled with conversation, as the older woman often sought to impart some knowledge to the younger. This particular walk was filled with silence and no words were spoken between the two with each lost in thought. The sky looked as if it would open and pour down rain any moment as the grey clouds moved swiftly above them. They reached the corner of 4th and Muse when Ms. Tandy stopped abruptly and turned to Paisley.

  “Back where I come from, dem crows come ‘roun’ when trouble stirrin’. My Mama use ta say dey mean somebody gone die. All dis time I ain’t neva dream ‘bout no crows . . . I don’ know too much, but I know when God tellin’ me somethin’. Somethin’ comin’ mah way, Chile . . .”

  Ms. Tandy took Paisley’s hand and they walked the remaining block to the small, makeshift church. Paisley was more perplexed than before, but continued to go forward propelled by Ms. Tandy’s momentum. Paisley had not been raised in superstition and did not fully understand the significance of the dream. Ms. Tandy on the other hand had lived in a culture that took signs and symbols with a seriousness that left no room for dismissal. As they reached the church steps Ms. Tandy took a deep breath, preparing herself mentally for what was inside. She felt like turning around and going back home but she understood that retreat was not an option. Her answer was on the inside of the doors.

  As they en
tered the front doors of the church, a hush fell over the congregation. The choir members subtly softened their praise song as others in the pews turned to see who was coming through the doors. Ms. Tandy kept her gaze low as an usher dressed in a white top, black calf-length skirt and white gloves escorted her and Paisley to an open pew away from the rest of the faithful members. Paisley sat down quietly, feeling as if she was being pulled inside and held captive. People cut them with scornful glances and curious gazes before turning their attention back to the choir in their shiny, royal blue robes rocking back and forth.

  Paisley took in the sights and atmosphere around her. She noticed a sign that said ‘Building Fund’ to her right near the front of the church, as well as the velvet altar front and center right below the podium. She felt a settled peace as the music reached a crescendo and with eyes closed she moved with the rhythm, clapping along with the others in the church as if she always belonged there. The emotion of the movements brought Ms. Tandy to tears, as she reminisced of being a young girl singing old hymns with her mother. She could feel herself getting caught up in the Spirit as the tempo of the music increased.

  A shift was felt as the church members started to throw their hands upward with shouts of “Thank You, Jesus” intermittently screamed toward the ceiling, breaking the settled feeling Paisley initially felt, replacing it with an unease and anticipation of what was to come. She watched with wide eyes at the feet moving in rapid succession as if commanded by a force beyond the person. A heavy woman across the aisle in a long, purple dress started to buck as if atop a horse, hat slowly coming unpinned from her hair. A culmination of moans and praises filled the atmosphere with a sound that was beyond Paisley’s comprehension. She looked from person to person and desperately wanted to cover her ears in fear that she would fall into a trance like the others, wondering what it was that had taken hold of those around her. She looked toward the door for her escape, trying to signal to Ms. Tandy that they needed to get out as quickly as they could.

  Ms. Tandy stood with hands raised and eyes closed, rhythmically moving in time with the others. Paisley grabbed her leg as if to break the spell, thinking that she was the only one immune to the influence. Ms. Tandy slowly opened her eyes and saw the terrified look on Paisley’s face. She bent low to whisper in Paisley’s ear, “Jus’ close yo’ eyes an’ feel it.” Reluctantly she placed her shaking hand into Ms. Tandy’s and closed her eyes. Her feet vibrated with the electricity of the movements on the old, wooden floor coupled with the steady beat of the drums. As the guttural moans met her ears she instinctively felt the need for Ms. Tandy to be there. Those around her shed tears with arms extended, swaying as if a forceful wind was propelling them side to side.

  Unexplainably, Paisley began to cry as every sad moment in her life was realized in that point in time. The heavy burden of seeming abandonment from her mother, the non-existent father, the lack of family, the shame and embarrassment of poverty all hit her young mind and she let it flow out with the Spirit in the sanctuary. She felt an electricity at her temple that spread its way down her slim physique. Her tears started as small drops and transitioned into huge orbs accompanied by uncontrollable sobs. She had no idea what was happening to her and soon the older women of the church who were watching came to envelop her.

  One in particular with a white cloth on her head wrapped Paisley’s face in her large breasts and rocked her back and forth while moaning. “Oh Lawd . . . Do it fa’ her Jesus . . .DO IT!” Paisley had no idea what Jesus was supposed to ‘DO’ for her, but whatever it was she hoped that He could fix her mother. She also hoped He could give Ms. Tandy whatever she came looking for that day. Her thoughts began to subside as the feeling of being held took over. She found comfort in the sincere affection she was experiencing and reasoned that if the experience was Jesus, she needed to feel that daily.

  As the people cried and sang, the Old Reverend made his way down the center aisle, stopping periodically to sprinkle blessed oil from a vial in his right hand on to the palm of his left hand. He laid his oiled palm on the head of those he passed in the aisle, taking time to pray a prayer over each one as God directed him. His portly body moved in rhythm and he eventually found his way to Ms. Tandy and as he approached the fever-pitch faded, the music descended and all eyes fell in her direction. He extended his leathery oiled hand and placed it on her head as she reverently stood still as a stone statue, almost expecting that he was to find his way to her.

  “God tole me ta tell yuh one thang . . . Yo’ future gone be greater than yo pas’. Ya hear me? Haggai Two an’ Nine!” The members hung on his every word, nodding and interjecting their “AMEN”s as he spoke. Paisley kept her eyes firmly on Ms. Tandy’s face, expecting to see some sort of visual transformation take place at his words. However, Ms. Tandy kept her head in the Old Reverend’s steady hand, letting the words take root in her being.

  “You been walkin’ roun’ carryin’ yo’ pas’ like a stone roun’ yo neck. Devil been tryin’ ta tell you dat you is worfless an’ bad . . . Dat even YOU is too much a sinna’ ta be forgiven. But you know betta’, dontcha?” The tears started to fall heavily and without sound. Ms. Tandy could feel the heaviness on her mind roll away with the tears and she whispered a “Yes” so low that only she and God understood.

  “God been proteckin’ ya an’ HE ain’ gone letcha fall. Ev’rythang from t’day gone be betta’. You been runnin’ from God fo’ a long, long time. Is time ta come home.” He looked around at all of the expectant faces for emphasis. “IS TIME TA COME HOME!”

  He turned to the congregation and walked back toward his pulpit as the congregation descended on Ms. Tandy like a swarm of honeybees. Instead of attacking her, they covered her in prayer with their hands pointed in her direction. For all of the harsh words she had spoken against them, and the looks of disdain that they had sent her direction, the words of Old Reverend gave them permission to invite her into their circle. She opened her arms and accepted the prayers from all around and felt a lightening that circled her being. Ms. Tandy felt as if the weight she had carried for twenty years had finally lifted and the fear of the morning was replaced with peace. Paisley found her through the tangle of open arms and embraced her, holding her as an anchor.

  She squeezed Paisley and opened her eyes, almost as if she was finally realizing where she was. Ms. Tandy wrapped her arm around Paisley’s shoulder and slowly led her toward the EXIT sign, not looking back. The people of the congregation looked in her direction with puzzled looks, almost regretful that they had offered her their time or prayers. Unbothered, she continued making her way out of the large oak doors not feeling an ounce of regret.

  She had gotten what she came for.

  They made their way down the church steps toward 622 with a feeling of newness and freedom. Ms. Tandy knew that something was coming, but she felt more equipped to face whatever it is. Paisley walked in silence, trying to process the experience.

  “Ms. Tandy, is that how it is in church every time?”

  Paisley had never experienced anything of the sort, but in her mind she wanted to go back. Aside from the dancing and raised voices, she felt very loved and protected there. She felt free being able to show emotion while blending in with the crowd, seemingly a collective of sad souls needing saving. She silently wished that her mother could have been there. The incidences of seeing her mother’s face had become few and far between. She was thankful for Ms. Tandy taking her in, but the want for her mother grew in pieces each day.

  “Sometime. Sometime it be quiet an’ yuh sit an’ listen to da preacher talk ‘bout de Bible. Mos’ times it be ‘bout da music an’ sangin’.”

  The further she got away from the church, the more Ms. Tandy became resolute in her belief that she did not want to return. She wanted God . . .she wanted Him to give her a Word every now and again. However, being around all of the people who were so ugly to her in everyday life did not seem fun on Sunday mornings.

  “I wanna go back sometime, Ms.
Tandy. If you wanna go.” Paisley searched her face and hoped that Ms. Tandy would say yes. Paisley needed to feel that feeling again. She loved the hugs. She loved the music. She wanted to see what else there was to going there aside from the negative images that Ms. Tandy had once taught her.

  “You’s free ta go anytime. Jus’ won’t be wit’ me.”

  Paisley did not take the conversation further, imagining that Ms. Tandy would possibly come around. Ms. Tandy noticed that they had not let go of one another’s hand since leaving the church, which was perfectly fine for both of them. The years had created an unbreakable bond between the two. There were many times that Ms. Tandy pretended as if Paisley was her own daughter, lavishing all of the love that she felt onto her as an opportunity to fill the void. With everything that she had lost in her life, some things by her own actions, Paisley showed her that even the worst sinner could be loved by somebody.

  As they reached the corner of 6th Street, Ms. Tandy saw a vaguely familiar silhouette in front of her small home pacing back and forth, though she could not remember where she knew it from. The man was tall and slim with curly brown-red hair against sienna skin. Something inside of her grew excited and simultaneously she wanted to vomit as the realization hit her of who it was.

  “It cain’t be . . .”

  She felt as if she was looking at a ghost. She let go of Paisley’s hand and broke into a desperate run, racing in his direction. Her abrupt change caused Paisley to worriedly break into a run, aiming to keep pace with Ms. Tandy.

  “What’s wrong?!”

  Paisley yelled as the words fell on deaf ears. Ms. Tandy frantically tried to reach the stranger with a tunnel vision, not hearing or seeing anything around her save him. He could hear feet against the pavement and he turned around in time to cause her to freeze mid-sprint.