by Pat Simmons
“We have each other’s back. You know that. I always forget about the stark contrast. You’re this Egyptian Nubian queen who escaped from one of Pharaoh’s tombs. Every time I see you, your hair keeps getting longer. Within weeks, it will be swinging at your waist.”
Rhoda stuck out her tongue.
“Seriously, despite the stares and the questions you two get, is it really worth it?” For the first time, I wondered if Noel and I received stares. Unlike William, Noel didn’t draw attention until he signed, but then I was too infatuated to really notice.
Rhoda frowned, thinking. “I want people to be envious of our love…”
Check. I am, I silently admitted.
“I want our love to be the showstopper, not a taboo vanilla and double-dutch chocolate couple who should know better. Inside that white guy,” she paused and made quotation marks with her fingers. “He’s the man I adore. Yeah, he’s good looking, sexy as God made him, smells good, bow legs—”
“Rhoda! I didn’t ask for a sentence-praise or a biography of William Wilkerson.”
Grinning, Rhoda fanned her face. “Hey, you started it, but when it boils down to it, we both love the Lord. We’ve attended the same church for almost two years. When God filled him with the Holy Ghost, I rejoiced something fierce. I had no idea that I was rejoicing for the man who would become my future husband.”
Nodding, I exhaled. Rhoda was too cheerful when I was looking for misery to keep me company. I got up and walked to the stove. Focusing on the feast set before me, I shamelessly helped myself to hefty servings of Rhoda’s chicken, collard greens, and yams.
Returning to the table, I bowed my head. I prayed for God’s blessings on my food, since my love life seemed to have missed it.
CHAPTER 38
A few weeks later, as I rolled out of bed and dropped to my knees, I praised God for His goodness, mercy, and the so many blessings in my life. But this particular morning, I reached into a secret place in my heart and poured out my soul.
“When I woke, I hoped that the hurt would be gone or lessen, but it’s still here. Jesus, only You can heal my broken heart. Please help me get over this first love and find my true love. Amen.”
Evidently, God wasn’t ready for my Amen as the Holy Ghost possessed my tongue and manhandled it like a cowboy on a bull in a rodeo. His power was a reminder that He heard my cry and I wasn’t alone.
Then without realizing it, God had changed my focus. In the mornings, I worked alongside the set designer in the studio. Occasionally, we visited the theatre shop in the afternoons. Then there were the production meetings that sometimes lasted late into the evenings.
The demanding schedule kept my mind off Noel and praise in my mouth for the wonderful opportunity God had given me. If Goodman offered me a job, it was definitely worth relocating.
On light work days, which weren’t many, Rhoda would meet me downtown. Together we would scout out our favorite shops on Michigan Avenue and dine at the boutique-style eateries.
I knew she had sometimes heard my prayers and probably silently joined in, but she never pried. But it was a matter of time before Rhoda would give me her unlicensed, unprofessional, and soul-searching therapy session for free.
One morning, while I sat in Rhoda’s kitchen sipping on coffee, she started a cross-examination. “Talk to me, Mack. Things just aren’t adding up. A man doesn’t walk away from a committed relationship, especially not from his fiancée after a disagreement.
Ever since Rhoda solved a Rubik’s Cube puzzle, she thought she was a sleuth at anything. Shrugging, I grabbed the carton of Egg-Beaters and poured a portion into a small bowl. Afterward, I returned it to the shelf in the refrigerator.
She hadn’t taken my previous hints that the subject was off limits and detrimental to my mental recovery, so I changed the subject. “Well, not much, the upcoming production of The Boys are Coming Home is a little more than a month away, but the rush to complete the stage is demanding, and—”
“Friends don’t play games with each other, Mackenzie Norton.”
Uh-oh, not my full name. Rhoda was serious.
“Sister-girls don’t speak in Morse code, and saints don’t shy away from the truth. Instead of planning a fairytale wedding in St. Louis, you’re in my Chicago kitchen.” Rhoda used a spatula to flip turkey sausage patties then flopped on a barstool and waited for an answer. Antsy, she got up and paced the floor. “We had to have missed something?”
We missed something? Evidently I missed a whole lot, I thought to myself. “Should I remind you I’m in Chicago to work at the prestigious Goodman Theatre for an opportunity of a life time?”
“Mack, I thought the chance at love was the opportunity of a lifetime. I remember one minister saying, in a lifetime, a person must seize the opportunity. So, let’s go on everything again.”
“Rhoda, I’ve dissected and reconstructed the scenario I don’t know how many times.” Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples. “I still can’t get over my shock that he yelled at me then the coward left.” I slapped my hand on the table, causing my blood to flee to another part of my body for safety. “Hey, your skillet is smoking.”
“Like you’re yelling at me.” Rhoda jumped up and raced to the stove. Wrapping a potholder around the handle, she lifted the skillet off the stove and laid it in the sink. “The man is deaf.”
“Small technicality.” Rhoda was beginning to annoy me. Her interrogation was making me think twice about possibly relocating to Chicago. She was determined to be multiple thorns in my sides and back.
Suddenly, Momma’s wise words floated through my head—all things in life are important, but go after the most important. That is exactly what I plan to do, Momma, I thought. Although the seed of Noel’s love would continue to grow, that didn’t mean I couldn’t constantly prune it.
“What’s the worst thing the brother could’ve done?” Rhoda was determined to pry until I totally confessed.
“Without faith it is impossible to please God. Noel knew every scripture about faith, yet he lacked the evidence to believe God for his own miracle.”
“Excuse me?”
“Noel missed his opportunity for a healing, Rhoda. If it was me, I would’ve been the first one in line. I just don’t understand.”
“I see.”
I waited impatiently for Rhoda to become as outraged as I had. “Is that all you have to say?” I hissed, lifting a curious brow.
“Well, faith does come by hearing.”
“Rhoda, tell me something I don’t already know.”
“I’m not talking about physically. I’m talking about spiritually. God gives us allowances for our imperfections. You didn’t. Noel has insecurities like we all do, and he has every right to work them out.”
“Listen, Rhoda, don’t tell me couples don’t have disagreements. I know you and William haven’t always agreed on everything.”
“Very few, but we’ve never stopped talking or loving each other.”
“You’re not hearing me. All this time I thought Noel was walking by faith, seeking God in every area of his life. Where was his faith that night?”
“Is that what you truly believe, Mack? Because the Bible says God gives everyone a measure of faith? A measure.” She demonstrated by calculating the small space between two fingers again and increasing the space. Does every person who is involved in an accident recover?
“People who are sick and dying are begging for a healing to live, and some have not only faith, but also have confidence in God that He will do it. I think you were wrong to question his faith.”
Fingering a napkin, I was embarrassed to admit it. “I thought about it after the fact, but I mean, even if God didn’t heal him, I think Noel should’ve still walked to the altar and proved God. Anyway, I tried to apologize. I wanted to understand what was going on in Noel’s mind, but he didn’t return my texts or emails. If the man holds that type of grudge, then maybe Noel wasn’t meant for me.”
We both were silent.
Closing my eyes, my mind began to drift. I thought the conversation was over until Rhoda jumped backed into the ring.
“Do you think it was your hair? I mean, everyone doesn’t appreciate the just woke up look, then run his fingers through your hair, and while you’re at it, comb it, too.”
“What?”
Rhoda was wound up. “Maybe it was your deodorant. You know I always had a problem with that baby-fresh scent. It smelled more like baby-needs-to-be-fresh scent from that cheap dollar store. I thought you stopped wearing that anyway.”
“Noel loved my hair. He often played in it. As for my deodorant, it’s unscented.”
Purposely, or accidently, Rhoda’s delirious ramblings took my mind off Noel and made me concerned about her mental stability. Maybe her sugar level was dropping and she wasn’t even a diabetic. “You need to eat something besides your burnt sausage.”
“Listen. A man doesn’t profess his love, empty his pockets for a diamond ring, and then—” Rhoda reached across the table. For small delicate hands, her grip was tight and unforgiving. “Then explain this,” she said, pointing to my ex-engagement ring. “The thing you keeping twisting when you think I’m not looking. Why do you keep wearing it?”
“To keep hope alive?” I offered as a plausible guess before gritting my teeth.
CHAPTER 39
I removed my ring, and purchased a gold chain to wear instead. I didn’t want to think or focus on anything but Goodman Theatre, which housed two theatres under one roof. The Albert Ivar Theatre was the larger one with seating for more than eight hundred guests. Down the hall, doors opened to the smaller, more intimate Owen Bruner Theatre.
I couldn’t wait to see how the individual efforts of the cast, stage crew, and director would eventually come together. The director impressed me after he had transformed Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing into the musical The Boys are Coming Home.
I arrived in downtown’s North Loop after an hour commute aboard the Metra’s train from Chicago’s suburbs. Not accustomed to the onslaught of exposed poverty, I always carried extra money for meager offerings to give to the homeless. Okay, I’m getting side-tracked, but change is good, right?
I mingled with other foot traffickers on the sidewalk who steered me toward North Dearborn Street. My cell phone chimed and I answered without checking my caller ID. “Hello?”
“Guess who was at church yesterday? Noel,” Valerie snitched before I could guess. When she got a hold of a piece of gossip, I was her first depository, which most of the time, I ignored. Unfortunately sometimes, I was guilty of absorbing the nonsense.
God, You know I can’t handle it if Valerie’s next words are “and he was with, I conversed with the Lord.
“Want to know what he asked me about?” Valerie supplied the answer. “You,” she said displeased. “Yep, you heard me right.”
Thank You Lord for answering that prayer. “Me?” my hand patted my chest to soothe the unexpected palpitations. A few commuters gave me concerned stares as I lost the pace with the other pedestrians. They probably hoped I wouldn’t suffer a heart attack and disrupt their rehearsed walking route to work.
I couldn’t decide if my estranged fiancé’s query annoyed or flattered me. “Please don’t tell him anything.”
“Girl, I’ve got your back. I won’t. Hey, I’ve got to go. I just got to my desk.” Valerie disconnected without a good-bye.
Curiosity nagged me, but pride slapped some sense in me not to linger on that call. By the time I walked through Goodman’s glass doors, I had refocused, pushing back my conversation with Valerie.
Later, I fought back tears as I watched the portrayal of the interracial love affair between Brad and Maggie in The Boys are Coming Home.
Valerie didn’t call again that week, and Sunday morning, I looked forward to whatever sermon Rhoda’s pastor would deliver. Her church was small, but the sanctuary was always packed. The Mark 4 message was simply, but with a twist.
“Saints, did you ever notice that when you plant grass seeds, weeds will sprout and try to choke out the grass? How could that be when we don’t plant weed seeds? As a matter of fact, I don’t know any nurseries that sell bags of the landscaping nuisance, but with every good blade of grass, watch out for the weeds. Seeds need to be monitored and nourished,” Elder Melvin Clark preached, waving a Bible in the air for the pulpit.
He continued, “God talks about the ground or the receiver of the seed, but I’m challenging the sower—the planter today—yes, you. Are you throwing God’s Word out there, or are you taking your time and searching for the perfect spot to build your garden?”
Did I make sure my seeds took root and flourished? Was I to blame for neglecting to follow up where I planted a seed? While I performed a self-examination on my techniques of witnessing, my gaze strayed to the church’s Deaf Ministry. It was barely noticeable, almost hidden in a corner with one teacher and three students. My heart yearned to participate.
Rhoda nudged me. “You’re missing him, aren’t you?”
I blinked, irritated more by her intuition than the interruption. Shrugging, I looked at the preacher. “I miss interpreting,” I corrected.
Rhoda lifted a brow, twisting her lips. “Humph, lying in church.”
William, who was sitting on the other side of Rhoda, squeezed her fingers. “Shhh.” He winked at Rhoda then me.
After the benediction, William treated us to dinner at the Olive Garden. There was no need for conversation as we stuffed our mouths. Our smacking and moaning briefly reminded me of Noel. I always enjoyed hearing the sounds he made when he ate.
An hour or so later, we returned to Rhoda’s townhouse where we relaxed in the living room. The pair huddled on the sofa. I chose the ottoman as my back support and the floor as my cushion as we enjoyed jazz music serenading us from Rhoda’s HDTV.
“Mack?” Rhoda’s voice harmonized with the music.
“Hmm,” I slurred with my eyes closed.
“About Noel…”
My eyelids flew open. Not again. “Listen, Noel is history.”
I thought that nipped any further probing until William asked, “What was the thing that attracted you to him?”
So my friend had put William up to do her dirty work. What more was there to tell? So I rehashed what Rhoda already knew. “His voice, his looks, his mannerism…”
William grunted. “That’s all?”
“Shut up, Heath!” For some reason, I was annoyed with his belittling remark about my attraction to Noel. As a smart aleck, I closed my eyes and lifted my hands to sign, “Noel approached me after a Thanksgiving dinner at church. I don’t know how he did it, but he manipulated his voice to a hushed tone, almost like a whisper in my ear. Whew, I could’ve slid off my chair like spilled milk. After that, God is my witness, I was hooked. The magnetism was strong from the beginning. I enjoyed signing to and with him, yet I rather talk to him just to listen to his voice.”
“Yeah, I could tell from our conversations you were hooked,” Rhoda interrupted.
My lids flew open. “You understood me? When did you…how did…why?” I stuttered flabbergasted.
“I took an introduction class and I have a few how-to-sign books.” Shrugging, Rhoda played the game. “I figured if my best friend’s man was deaf, then it was my responsibility to learn how to communicate on his territory. I only recognized a few phrases, but enough to know you still loved him.”
Tears floated in my eyes. I sniffed to contain them. “Rhoda, I don’t know what to say, except thank you. I’m sorry it was in vain. How ironic? You would learn ESL because of Noel, but you rebuff going to an auction with me? Whose friend are you?”
“Yours.” Rhoda lifted her brow.
“Right.” I recalled the first time Noel attended an auction with me. “Get this, Miss Brownlee. Noel went with me more than once. He never appeared uncomfortable because he couldn’t hear. As a matter of fact, one time, he mimicked the auctioneer. Noel’s eyes danced with mischief. I began mo
cking him as he imitated the guy until Noel barked out a laugh. We were getting out of control, so I slapped my hand over his mouth…”
Sighing, I shook my head, smiling at our antics. “He played dirty when he pecked kisses on my fingers, teasing me. In the most subtle ways that man knew how to show me he loved me, or so I thought.”
“Go on. Tell us more,” William said. “We’ll ignore that last comment.”
I rolled my eyes. “We began covering each other’s mouth to keep from laughing. Playfully, I pinched his fingers with my teeth. Retracting his hand, he accidentally raised it. I don’t how his white bidding card got in the air, but we became proud owners of an antique miniature jewelry box.”
“How much?” William rested his elbows on his knees.
Lifting my chin in triumph, I answered, “One thousand dollars.”
He whistled. “A thousand dollars, you’re one expensive woman.”
“Mack, you and Noel lack some serious communication skills,” William signed.
‘Monkey see, monkey do.’ Why wasn’t I surprised? Whatever Rhoda got into, William’s hand was right there in the mix. His signing was better than hers. Unfortunately, I had no rebuttal.
CHAPTER 40
My mouth confessed that Noel Richardson was history, but my heart—the stubborn thing—tightened its muscles and refused to provide life support.
It became a mental warfare as the two battled for dominance, and Matthew 12:34-37 gave the ammunition …out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speakeath…every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the Day of Judgment …and by thy words thou shalt be condemned. That was enough for me to shut my mouth until the rapture.
After my morning ritual of prayer, I showered and dressed before walking downstairs. The aroma of Blueberry pancakes dared me to eat just one as I walked into the kitchen.
