by E. N. Joy
“Here are your entrees.”
Deborah jumped, startled by the waiter’s quick return; too quick of a return as far as she was concerned. She didn’t want to eat again until she’d finished every single page of Lynox’s book.
“It’s good, huh?” Lynox said as the waiter walked away. He could tell Deborah was enjoying the work by the way she ignored the waiter when he’d asked her if there was anything else he could get for her.
“As a matter of fact, Mr. Chase, I think I owe you an apology.” When Deborah was wrong, she wasn’t afraid to admit it. “Your work surpasses anything I’ve ever read before. If the rest of this manuscript is just as well written and interesting as what I’ve read thus far, I’m liable to create a bidding war among the publishing houses over the manuscript of a first time author.” Deborah smiled, thinking inside how Lynox’s manuscript could be the ticket to the vacation home in Maui that she’s always wanted.
“I told you so.” Lynox, once again, had no issue with exercising his confidence with authority. “Now I know it’s hard to do, but put the manuscript down and eat your lunch. It might get cold.”
Deborah looked down at her salad, and they both laughed. She laughed. She didn’t sniff. She laughed. Without even realizing it, she began to loosen up. Her guard came down even more. The next thing she knew, half her salad was gone and she’d shared her story with Lynox about how she’d gotten into the literary business. Lynox, in return, shared with her what inspired him to begin writing.
Before Deborah could even stop herself, she was laughing uncontrollably at remarks Lynox was making that just a few minutes ago she would have deemed as arrogant. The more he spoke, the more confident he sounded. This confidence suddenly took on an attraction all by itself.
While Lynox spoke, Deborah thought about how, for the first time in a long time, she could be wrong about a man. This Lynox character didn’t seem so bad after all. But just to be sure, she sniffed. Ummm, she thought as she inhaled his intoxicating cologne.
“So I see you’re not wearing any rings.” Lynox pointed to Deborah’s empty ring finger on her left hand.
“Does that mean you’re not married?”
“I guess so,” Deborah replied. She looked over at Lynox’s bare ring finger on his left hand and turned the tables. “I see you’re not wearing any rings either. Does that mean you’re not married?”
“Married?” he chuckled. “Who has time for women period, let alone a wife, when you’re penning something with more pages than the Holy Bible?” Lynox laughed.
Deborah laughed along with him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But, and pardon me if you take offense, you just don’t seem like the type of guy who would lack female companionship.”
And it happened just like that; the conversation went down a road Deborah didn’t foresee allowing herself to be taken down, let alone be in the driver’s seat.
“It’s been hard. But I’ve been married to this woman right here for the last year.” Lynox tapped the manuscript. “It just didn’t seem fair to expect a woman to play second fiddle to what some would have deemed as a hobby or extracurricular activity. So it’s been quite some time since I’ve dated.”
“I know what you mean,” Deborah sympathized, pushing her locks that she’d just had tightened the day before behind her ear. Her modest diamond earring now showed. “That’s how I am when it comes to my work. I like very little interference.”
Lynox leaned in to the center of the table. “Looks like we have a lot in common, Miss Lucas.”
With Deborah’s guard now completely down she replied, “Looks like we do, Lynox.”
The next few seconds were awkward as Lynox sat there staring at Deborah. He admired her perfect cheek bones and perfectly rounded nose. He usually went for the woman with a little bit more meat on her body, but he was pleased by all 135 pounds of the woman who sat before him.
Deborah decided to clear her throat and excuse herself to the ladies room. She didn’t have to use the bathroom, but she knew she needed to go pray . . . again.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go use the ladies room.” Deborah wiped her mouth with her napkin, and then stood up.
“Oh, no problem,” Lynox said, standing as Deborah walked away.
Once in the bathroom, Deborah went into a stall and let out a deep breath. “Lord, in the name of Jesus, send down your power,” she prayed under her breath. “Send down your strength. I need it now more than ever to hold me back from doing something I have no business doing with somebody I have no business doing it with. Please, Lord, provide some type of interference right now in the name of Jesus. Amen.”
Deborah stopped praying when she heard someone enter the bathroom and turn on the faucet. She flushed the toilet although she hadn’t used it and exited the stall. She walked straight over to the sink and turned on the water faucet as well.
“Sister Deborah?” the woman standing next to her at the sink stated.
Deborah looked up at the woman standing next to her and recognized her to be Helen, a fellow New Day church member. And also a member that Deborah had always made it a point to avoid at all cost.
“Uh, hi, Helen,” Deborah spoke, then immediately cast her eyes away from Helen.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Helen turned off the water, then grabbed a paper towel.
“Yeah. I’m, uh, here on business.” Deborah washed her hands as if they were covered in mud. She scrubbed and scrubbed as steam from the blazing hot water poured down on her hands.
Helen noticed the steam from the running water.
“Is that hot enough for you?”
“Huh?” Deborah looked up at Helen. She had no idea what she was referring to.
“The water.” Helen nodded toward the sink. “It looks scalding.”
Deborah hadn’t even realized until Helen pointed it out that she hadn’t turned on any cold water. As if the stinging pain from the heat was just taking effect Deborah pulled her hands from under the water.
“Here you go.” Helen handed her a paper towel as she turned the water off.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
There was silence until Helen spoke again. “Well, anyway, it was good seeing you. See you at church this Sunday?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Deborah said as she tossed the paper towel into the trash container. Deborah then hurried past Helen who remained in the bathroom to freshen up her make up. She felt like Mother Doreen there for a minute as she made her way back to the table, wiping the visible beads of sweat from her forehead.
“Is everything okay?” Lynox asked, observing Deborah’s flushness. He stood as she sat down, then he rested back in his seat.
“Oh, yeah. Everything is good.”
“Good.” Lynox reached across the table and took Deborah’s hands into his. “Now where were we before you ran off to the bathroom?”
“Lynox!”
A ringing voice startled Deborah and Lynox, and probably half the restaurant as well. It was the same voice Deborah had just heard moments ago, only now it was more pierced and louder.
“Lynox Chase,” Helen sneered, giving him the look of death. “So this is why you couldn’t have lunch with me?” Helen nodded her head toward Deborah without taking her eyes off of Lynox.
“Uh, Helen,” Lynox stuttered. He then looked over to Deborah in embarrassment. “Helen this is—”
“I know darn well who this is,” Helen said, cutting him off. “But what I want to know is what you’re doing here with her? Let me guess. She’s the reason you don’t return my calls?”
Deborah couldn’t hide the look of embarrassment as the restaurant patrons turned their attention to her table. This explained why Lynox hadn’t wanted to sit at the first table the hostess had led them to. He was too nervous about one of his women spotting him. Looks like sitting off in the corner hadn’t faired too well either.
Figuring it was time to step in and see if she could calm the mad, black woman dow
n, Deborah decided to speak up. “Look, Helen. This isn’t what it looks like,” Deborah tried to intervene.
“Oh, I know. It’s just business.” Outlining the venom in Helen’s tone was sarcasm.
“Excuse me, Deborah,” Lynox said to Deborah as he stood up. “Let me go take care of this, and then—”
“Oh, you don’t have to take care of this.” Helen ran her hands down the length of her size fourteen curvy body. “Trust me, this gets taken care of, and you won’t be the one doing it anymore.”
“Look, Helen, I don’t appreciate you trying to insinuate—”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” Helen said, cutting him off.
Lynox was becoming agitated by Helen’s loudness and rudeness. “Fine then,” he said as he sat back down. “I didn’t want to do things like this, Helen, but you’ve left me no choice. I mean, you said it yourself; I declined your lunch invitation. I haven’t returned any of your calls. Couldn’t you take the hint? Do I have to be Vanna White and spell it out for you?”
The reaction Helen gave to Lynox wasn’t one he was expecting. And he almost went into shock when the strawberry lemonade splashed all over his suit. Lynox jumped when the cold liquid hit him, soaking up his manuscript as well. He picked up the wet pages and shook his head. He then looked down at Deborah with pity. “It’s obvious we’re not going to be able to take care of the business we came here to take care of,” he said to Deborah regrettably. “Perhaps we can schedule some other time to meet.”
Whatever was the look Deborah shot Lynox as he gathered his things and walked away. She wished she would have walked out with him. Anything rather than be left alone with Helen.
“Really, Helen, you’ve got things all wrong,” Deborah explained. “Lynox’s and my meeting was strictly business. I don’t know how well you know Lynox, but he’s an author. And it’s no secret that I’m—”
“Funny you should use the word secret, seeming you’ve got one yourself, and I don’t mean your little rendezvous with Lynox.” A mischievous grin spread across Helen’s lips like butter on bread. But I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of anything. Surely you’re reminded of it every night when you close your eyes and try to sleep, huh?”
Deborah’s lips began to quiver. She couldn’t have been any angrier with Helen than at that moment. She was angry that Helen was absolutely right. Not only had Deborah gone through many sleepless nights, but sometimes it was even hard for her to look at herself in the mirror. She was angry that Helen knew this about her.
“But don’t worry, Sister Deborah, I won’t take your little secret and run with it the way you just took my man and ran with him.” Helen looked Deborah up and down. “But don’t push me. Like the Bible says, everything in the dark eventually comes to light. I’d hate to have to be the source of that light.” Helen picked a tomato out of Deborah’s unfinished salad. “Enjoy your lunch.” She popped the tomato in her mouth, and then walked away.
Of all people Deborah encountered, it had to be Helen. Perhaps this was meant to be the interference she’d prayed for from God. Next time, she’d have to be more careful of what she asked for.
Chapter Six
Tamarra was feeling pretty good about her scheduled dinner with Maeyl at The Olive Garden. The time of the date was just two hours away. She hoped all would go well, considering it was the first real date she’d had since divorcing her husband. Prior to now, she’d only given two other men the time of day. One was a guy Paige had convinced her to ask out. It had taken Tamarra an entire month to build up the courage to approach the man. Unlike Paige, Tamarra had never had to exercise her women’s liberty—times have changed—what’s good for the man is good for the woman tactics. But Paige had assured her that it was a new day, and unless she wanted to spend the rest of her life wallowing in her past failed marriage, she’d better get with the times.
Mother Doreen was old school and had voiced her opinion against women being the aggressor in a relationship. Being the supportive person that Mother Doreen was, she had suggested to Tamarra that if she were going to ask a man out, then she couldn’t think of a better place for them to go than to church.
So Tamarra decided to take both the advice of her now best friend, Paige, who she’d only known for a little over a year, and the advice of Mother Doreen, a woman she’d known since walking into New Day Temple of Faith nine years ago. She asked the man to accompany her to Sunday service, promising they’d go to lunch afterward. Tamarra even put the cherry on top of this women’s lib thing by offering to pick up her date.
Whoever told Mother Doreen that church was the perfect place for a Christian to ask a nonChristian to go to for their first date should have asked somebody; somebody like Tamarra. It turned out to be a disaster. Tamarra should have foreseen as much on the drive over to the church. She compared their ride to church that morning to the ride Damien, the little boy in the movie The Omen, took to chruch.
At first Tamarra thought he was just nervous about their date when sweat began to pour from his forehead. The same way sweat shot from his pores, so did his questions about church.
“They don’t make you stand up and speak when you’re a first-time visitor do they?” he asked, loosening his tie. “Is it Communion Sunday? Does your church use real wine? I could use a drink.” Chuckle. Chuckle.
Tamarra assured him that New Day was very welcoming and that he’d feel right at home. She thought that would make him feel more relaxed, but the questions kept coming and nothing she said seemed to comfort him.
By the time they arrived at church, he looked like he’d done a few laps in the pool with Michael Phelps. He was drenched in perspiration. Tamarra had made a mental note once she got to know him better to suggest to him a stronger antiperspirant as she tried to ignore the stench being released from his armpits.
During service, at a time when the spiritual realm was high thanks to the anointing of the praise and worship team, a cell phone went off. Even though Tamarra closed her eyes and said a quick prayer that the ringing cell phone belonged to anyone other than her date, she wasn’t so lucky. Lo and behold, she opened one eye only to see her date shutting off his cell phone. And there it was. His Caribbean themed ring tone had breached the Spirit.
Needless to say, their lunch was nixed. Even-though her date had tapped her on the shoulder during the reading of the announcements and told her that he was going to the bathroom, and then never returned, she wouldn’t have gone out to lunch with him anyway. As far as Tamarra was concerned, he’d done her a favor by keeping her from losing her Christianity. She had already made up in her mind that she wasn’t going to waste the four-dollar gallon of gas dropping him off back home. She’d had every intention of leaving his butt right there on the church door steps, chalking it off as the worst date ever. With that being said, her date with Maeyl could only be better.
In preparation for her date, Tamarra stood over her bathroom sink and ran some water on her hands. She then ran her wet hands through her hair, which she wore short and natural. She reached underneath the sink and pulled out a bottle of foam setting lotion and put a few pumps in her hands, then scrunched her hair. The natural curls began to tighten. Voila! That took care of her hair. She’d already showered and she didn’t wear make-up, with the exception of lip gloss to keep her lips moist, so her next step was getting dressed.
Just before stepping into the shower, she decided on a mustard colored linen skirt and tunic outfit with matching ankle strap sandals. She slid into her clothes, then walked over to her dresser so that she could accessorize. An hour later, she was ready. With a half hour to spare before she had to leave her house to meet Maeyl, she decided to go to her special prayer place.
After her ex-husband had their roomy two-bedroom home built, Tamarra had immediately secluded off a corner in her finished basement and turned it into her special place of prayer. Not that God couldn’t hear her prayers wherever she was. There was just something about this designated place that made her commun
ion that much sweeter.
Tamarra prayed that God would go before her on this date and prepare the atmosphere. She prayed that God would send His angels to go fight off anything that might try to taint her time with Maeyl. She also prayed that if Maeyl was a devil in disguise like she’d surmised her last date to be, that He’d make it so that Maeyl didn’t even show up to meet her. After closing her prayer, she grabbed her purse and keys, then headed toward her evening’s destination, confident that God had answered her prayer even before she had finished it.
Once Tamarra arrived at the restaurant and fifteen minutes later was still waiting in the front lobby area for Maeyl to arrive, she guessed God had answered her prayer and made it so that Maeyl didn’t even show up. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or upset. Pleased that God had kept her from experiencing any heartache that falling for Maeyl might have brought on, or upset that God didn’t at least allow her to get a free meal out of the deal first.
“Why’d I have to go and ask God to do that?” Tamarra chastised herself. Her pastor had warned the New Day congregation on more than one occasion not to ask God for something or ask Him to do something if they really didn’t mean it. Tamarra questioned whether she’d really meant it.
Another fifteen minutes went by, and Maeyl still hadn’t arrived. She didn’t need God to come down and show Himself in a burning bush for her to get the message. Maeyl wasn’t coming.
“You leaving us?” the hostess asked Tamarra as she headed out the door.
“Yep. Have a good evening,” was all Tamarra said as she exited through the doors. Heading to her car she heard someone call out her name.
“Tamarra! Tamarra!” the voice called, sounding out of breath.
When Tamarra turned around she saw Maeyl, bearing a bouquet of flowers, doing a light jog toward her.
