Ray of Hope

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “But what I said was the truth,” Ma Ray said.

  Sahara shook her head. “Ma Ray, you don’t have to keep this up just to impress me. I’m telling you, I’m impressed. You were using a metaphor about being a prostitute. And then you used the word emo. That was off the scales for some of those folks there.”

  Ma Ray got up out of the rocking chair.

  “Where are you going?” Sahara asked as she sat up straighter.

  “Stay right there. I have something I want you to see.” Ma Ray went to her closet. It took her about five minutes. She came back carrying a large hatbox. She sat down in the rocking chair and opened the box. Inside, there was a scrapbook and a few old, yellowed clips of newspapers. Ma Ray set the box on the floor and opened the scrapbook.

  “I want to show you something,” she said to Sahara. Sahara kneeled so she could see better. Ma Ray turned the scrapbook more toward Sahara. “See her? Well, that’s me.”

  Sahara bucked her eyes. “That’s you? In that thing? That’s you, Ma Ray? You?”

  “That’s me. And that’s me.” Ma Ray pointed to other pictures, mostly with her posing all foxy with lots of men.

  “Wow, you were a party girl for sure. And you were hot—hotter than me, even.”

  “You sound disappointed,” Ma Ray said.

  “No, I just thought I had it going on. But I can see from these photos, you would easily give me a run for my money.”

  “In more ways than you think,” Ma Ray said. “I was fine as wine way before my time. And my onion, as the men like to refer to women’s derrière, has caused a great many men to cry like a baby.”

  “Ma Ray, I’ll tell you like I tell Mama sometimes. TMI! TMI!”

  “And that means?”

  “Too much information. And in this case it’s ETMI: Entirely Too Much Information!”

  “Boy, I’m gonna have fun with Tootsie next week. TMI and ETMI.”

  Sahara took the scrapbook and sat back down on the floor. She turned to the other pages. “There are so many photos of you in here.”

  “And none of them I’m really proud about now,” Ma Ray said.

  Sahara looked at Ma Ray. “Then why did you keep them?”

  “I’m not sure. I think at the time I kept them so in my old age I could revisit a time ‘back when.’ Back when I was hot. Back when I was beautiful. Back when I was fine as wine and had a twirl in my swirl. Back when men were knocking down doors to get to me. Back when I had a steel-tight memory. Like you young folks now, I saw folks age when I was young as well. I know what the outcome will be if you keep living. I suppose, I thought there might come a day when I might wish to stroll down memory lane and I’d need a little help with that stroll.” Ma Ray took the scrapbook from Sahara and closed it. “The thing is: My latter days have been so much greater than my former, so much that I’ve not given this book or that life another thought.”

  “So, why now?” Sahara asked.

  “Because I’m running a risk of possibly losing you, my granddaughter, to the world. And I refuse to go down without a fight. The devil has come into our camp to take what doesn’t belong to him, and I’m going back into his camp and taking back what’s ours. Sahara, if you have to see me in a different light than what you’ve known before, then so be it. If I can get you to understand that what you’re doing is nothing new or grand, then all of this is worth it.” Ma Ray gave Sahara a weak smile. She picked the hatbox up off the floor, reached into it, and pulled out the news clippings. Ma Ray handed Sahara the yellowed, brittle papers. “Take these and read them.”

  “They’ve almost disintegrated.”

  “After you, I hope I won’t have a need for them ever again,” Ma Ray said. “Go on over to the bed and read them. Take your time; I have all the time in the world.”

  Sahara went over to the bed and sat down with four news clippings. She handled them carefully, ensuring they didn’t fall apart in her hands.

  Chapter 43

  And the young men that were spies went in, and brought out Rahab, and her father, and her mother, and her brethren, and all that she had; and they brought out all her kindred, and left them without the camp of Israel.

  —Joshua 6:23

  Ma Ray put the scrapbook back in the hatbox. She closed her eyes as Sahara read. Every now and then, she would hear Sahara read something out loud—as though speaking it into the air would change what her eyes were reporting.

  “‘Rayna Armstrong … a known prostitute in a community filled with drugs, sex, and corruption … Detective Salmon Towers … one of a few Coloreds on the police force … partner, Beau Azra … raided … shoot-out… isolated community …’” Sahara looked over at Ma Ray. “Salmon was Granddaddy,” Sahara said. “You were the Rayna Armstrong they were writing about. Beau Azra? That’s Uncle Boaz’s name.”

  Ma Ray nodded. “Yes, your uncle Boaz was named after your granddaddy’s partner and friend, Beau Azra. That man lost his life saving your granddaddy.”

  Sahara continued reading, again speaking various words and sentences out loud. “‘The prostitute, identified as Rayna Armstrong, was credited with helping save these two upstanding detectives before the raid went down. Dealers killed … some taken into custody… the biggest operation in this city’s history. No charges filed against Armstrong because of her prior cooperation in this operation.’” Sahara looked at the rest of the articles. Getting up, she came over to Ma Ray and held one of the articles out to her. “Is this what the neighborhood looked like after it was over?”

  Ma Ray looked at the photo in the article. “That was my street. And that’s nothing compared to what it actually looked like in person.” Ma Ray began to rock the chair. “Some houses were pretty much demolished. That was a scary day that day. Lots of gunfire … shouting … yelling. The people who write those articles don’t always capture the human side of the story. All they care about is details and creating sensationalism.”

  Sahara sat down at Ma Ray’s feet again. “So you were really a prostitute?”

  “Yes, I was.” Ma Ray looked into her granddaughter’s eyes. “Not something I’m proud of, but it was my life once.”

  “It’s so hard to believe that. You were married to a preacher. You played the piano for the church. You’re a prayer warrior. You’re nothing like the person described in those articles. I’ve seen you shout and dance in church, even if you don’t dance so well.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Ma Ray said with a laugh. “I still got some pep in my step.”

  “You know what I mean, Ma Ray. You dance with such a joy and love for the Lord. I can’t imagine you being this person in those photos”—she nodded at the scrapbook—“or the person they were writing about in those articles.”

  “Detective Salmon Towers, who everybody called Sal, showed up at my house, my place of business if I give full disclosure here, with Detective Beau Azra. The two of them were looking for someplace to hide. You see, back in my day, a lot of the illegal activities took place in our communities, meaning the black community. There were shootings and illegal things going on twenty-four seven.”

  “Sounds like today, in some of our communities still.”

  “That is the sad part of this story. That in some cases, nothing has really changed. In fact, in some places, it seems to have gotten worse. This shouldn’t be. This is America. We put a man on the moon. I don’t understand how the most powerful country in the world can have this kind of stuff… war zones, in some cases, going on in places where decent folks are merely just trying to survive.” Ma Ray shook her head. “That’s why we have to keep praying but keep on both ourselves and our elected officials to care enough to clean up our own communities. But I don’t want to get on that soapbox tonight. I’m going to stick with the discussion at hand.”

  “Wow, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this. Ma Ray… Rayna Armstrong, written about in the newspapers.”

  Ma Ray went back to her story. “Detectives Sal and Beau showed up, almost in a
panic, at my door claiming they were being pursued. They said they needed a safe place to hide. Well, you can imagine I wasn’t falling for that cockamamy tale, a good-looking, light-skinned black man in the mix or not. I knew how tricky the authorities could be. You never knew what crooked cops were up to. Most folks knew what was going on at my little house. I figured it was a setup, and I wasn’t about to fall into that trap. But there was something about the look in Sal’s light green eyes that convinced me they truly were in danger. They needed my help. So, I let them in. And I hid them.”

  “You hid them?”

  “Yeah. In my attic. And I’m not talking about some fancy room attic. I’m talking a crawl space. It wasn’t five minutes after I hid them that folks were almost beating down my door. Two were policemen; one of them was the drug king in the community. They asked me where the two officers were that had come to my house. I acted like I didn’t know what they were talking about. They said folks told them they’d seen the officers at my door.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “Scared? Who? You talking about Rayna Armstrong?” Ma Ray laughed. “Baby girl, I was absolutely terrified! We’re talking about two policemen and a guy that could make me literally disappear without a trace. Not that anybody other than my family would have cared enough to look for me or try to find out what happened. But still …”

  Sahara put her hand up to her mouth. “I can’t believe this. I’ve never heard anything about this ever. This is like a gangster movie, only my own grandmother is the star of this story line. So Mama doesn’t know about this? Uncle Boaz, either?”

  Ma Ray pressed her lips tightly together, then shook her head. “No. After this was over and my life became transformed, I buried this and never felt a need or a reason to bring it up. I mean, who would? No one wants to brag about a past life like mine. God changes things, you walk into a new life … a new beginning, and you leave that old stuff behind you.”

  “Well, you certainly left yours behind, almost without a trace.” Sahara readjusted her body. “Like the three Hebrew boys that were thrown into the fiery furnace, and when they came out, there wasn’t even the smell of smoke on them. Okay, so, you had two rogue policemen and a drug kingpin at your door, and two detectives hiding in your crawl space attic. You were scared, then what?”

  Ma Ray pulled back and tilted her head slightly at Sahara. “Calm down, this is not a movie I’m recanting. This was my actual life. And as scared as I was, I realized it was my life. That’s why I knew I had to not show fear and not lose my cool. Back then, there weren’t the kind of laws to protect you like there are now. No warrant necessary to come in. All of them could have busted in my house without presenting anything to do it and done whatever they wanted, and there wasn’t a thing I could have done about it.”

  “Wow, this is something!”

  “So, I used my charm and other assets to distract them, all the while trying to convince them there’s no way I would ever let ‘The Man’ in my place. Not to hide. Back then everybody in our community called police The Man. I did acknowledge the officers had come to my door. But I told them I’d sent them on their merry little way, just like I was about to send them on theirs. Lawrence—that was the drug king—wasn’t buying my act. The policemen could tell I really didn’t care for people with badges, so they thought I was likely telling the truth. My daddy, bless his heart, lived a few houses down the street from me. Somebody must have told him the police were at my house. He got there as soon as he could and acted like we were this religious group of people who didn’t tolerate men coming inside and being alone with a single woman.”

  “I’ve heard of a religion like that. Men who aren’t the father, brother, or husband of the woman aren’t allowed to ever be alone with her,” Sahara said. “It defiles the woman and is a huge problem in their religion.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s what my daddy was going for. Anyway, it worked. One of the policemen asked me if I knew which direction the two officers may have gone. I pointed them in a direction. It really didn’t matter which way I pointed, since I was sending them on a wild-goose chase either way.”

  “And all this time, I thought you were pure boring,” Sahara said, laughing.

  Ma Ray chuckled. “I guess, for the most part, I am. Even back then, it wasn’t a great life. It sounds interesting as I’m telling it now. But the truth is, Sahara, I wasn’t fulfilled. I had those men wanting to be with me, paying money to be with me, and I was so very empty on the inside. None of that fulfilled me. I didn’t feel loved. Even though a monetary value was placed on what I did, I didn’t feel as though I really was valuable. Think about it: men paid money for my time and service, and I didn’t feel valued. That’s a sorry indictment. Now, you—”

  “I somehow knew this would come back to me,” Sahara said. “But the difference in where you’re trying to go with this is: I am not a 304 or a pro. I don’t sell my body or any service like that, Ma Ray. I don’t do that.”

  “You’re not a pro in the sense of slapping a monetary price on your body for sex, but if you’re doing what I’ve been told you’re doing—”

  “Mama always exaggerates,” Sahara said. “Mama wants me to tell her things, and when I won’t open up to her, she jumps to all kinds of overly dramatic conclusions. Let her tell it, I’m having sex with everybody and his brother. Well, I’m not. I’m not. She thinks I’m doing drugs. Now, I will admit I’ve tried it, but it’s really not my thing, so I don’t do it. When I try to tell Mama that, she still wants to feel like she’s some kind of victim, so she blows everything way out of proportion. I suppose it works; she was able to pawn us off on you for the summer.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold your horses. I’m not going to let you say those things about your mother—”

  “See, that’s exactly why I don’t like to talk. I try to say what I think and what I feel, and people like you, Edmond, my mother act like I’m wrong to speak my mind.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say. It’s fine with me if you want to express what you feel. I was just going to say that I’m not going to let you say those things about your mother without me challenging it,” Ma Ray said. “Your mother loves you. She was just at her wit’s end, and she needed my mother wit. She didn’t pawn you or your sister off on me. That’s an insult to me.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma Ray. I didn’t mean to insult you. But you have to admit, you know we came here because Mama was talking about sending us off to some boot camp or something. I know you love us. That’s why you put yourself up to save us.”

  Ma Ray ticked her head a few times. “I see you and your sister’s potentials, and I’m highly upset that both of you are throwing your life away. And for what? To be popular with a bunch of knuckleheads? That’s not a strong person. Any dummy can follow a knucklehead. It takes a strong person to chart their own course and not allow those who are less than them to derail them.”

  “I know, Ma Ray. I’ve gotten that since I’ve been here with you. I’ve messed up…. I keep messing up. I want to do right, but then I don’t know what happens. Something takes over, and before I know anything, I’ve done something I wish I hadn’t and can’t take back. You come to a place of wondering, What’s the use? What difference does it make? Then someone like you comes along and challenges me to examine my life and my motives and to get myself together.”

  “Well, then, I’m doing my job. As someone who loves you dearly, I’m doing my job. And if you don’t get that, then that makes you a knucklehead.” Ma Ray tapped Sahara’s head softly with her knuckles.

  Sahara released a girlish laugh.

  Chapter 44

  And Joshua saved Rahab the harlot alive, and her father’s household, and all that she had; and she dwelleth in Israel even unto this day; because she hid the messengers, which Joshua sent to spy out Jericho.

  —Joshua 6:25

  Sahara stood and hugged Ma Ray. “So, tell me. How did you and Granddaddy end up together? You know I love a good romanc
e story.” Sahara sat back down.

  “I don’t know how much of a romance story this really is, but it does have its moments. After the thugs left and it was safe for the officers I’d hidden to come out of the attic, Sal and I talked for a few minutes. My life was tore up from the floor up. Still, I could see there was something different about him. So I told him I knew they were planning to come in and take this place down, and that it would be soon. I knew God was in his life and that God was going to be with him and give them the victory. People in the community talked about two officers that couldn’t be bought. That’s why Lawrence wanted them taken out completely. Those thugs were running scared.

  “So, I got Detective Salmon Towers to promise me that, since I’d shown them kindness, he would return the favor. I asked him to ensure me and my family be spared during whatever was scheduled to go down in our community in the end.”

  “Wow,” Sahara said. “My grandmother—Eliot Ness and The Untouchables.”

  “Child, what do you know about Eliot Ness and The Untouchables?”

  “Ma Ray, we have cable. They show the classic shows on the cable channels.”

  “Anyway, I had these red curtains in the front of my little house—”

  “Like you do here,” Sahara said. “Only these are drapes.”

  “Yeah, like I do here. I hadn’t thought about that. I guess that means I like red hanging at my windows.” Ma Ray smiled. “Sal told me to twist the curtains to look like a rope. That way they would know not to touch my house. But I had to have my entire family inside the house if I wanted them to be saved. I did what he said. No less than two weeks later, everything went down. And, I mean everything went down. The only house pretty much that remained untouched and was left standing was mine.”