by Nia Arthurs
“I’ll do it!” I heard a voice say. Everyone looked my way and I realized that the voice was mine. Wait… what?
“Sure,” Mrs. Reyes looked pleased. Everyone bowed their heads and waited respectfully for me to begin. Still stunned that I’d volunteered myself for this thing, I opened my mouth and closed my eyes.
“Jesus, thank you for this food that is… organic. Bless the hands that made it and the hands that will shove it into their mouths.” I heard a snicker to my left and peeked over at Archie. “May the little chickens that gave their life for this meal have extra large grain feeds in animal Heaven. Amen.”
“Amen!” the gang pronounced robustly.
“Nice prayer, Susan.” Spencer patted me on the back and I couldn’t quite figure if he was mocking me or being serious. I could never tell with Spencer.
“Let’s go eat!” Pastor Stanley’s wife announced and we slowly filed into their tiny kitchen to feast buffet style. We automatically formed a line. I observed that the old people and Melody were given dibs. Was that a Belizean thing?
When the line moved forward and it was our turn to deck our plates, I noticed Archie filling his plate with everything but vegetables.
“Don’t you eat veggies?” I asked him.
“Nope,” he remarked proudly, as if that were something to be proud of.
“Why not?”
“If I was supposed to eat grass, God would not have invented beef.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.” I debated as we moved down the line, “Vegetables are good for you. You should at least eat some of it.”
“Good luck with that, dear.” Mrs. Reyes passed by me with her plate filled with small portions of everything. “I’ve been trying to get him to eat healthier for years.”
“I’m very stubborn, Mrs. Reyes. I’ll get him to eat them.” I stated confidently.
“I can hear you.” Archie narrowed his eyes at us. I pinched his cheek,
“We know.”
“How exactly are you going to convince me to eat the green stuff?” He asked, gazing down at me in a macho man stance.
“Easy.” I sashayed in front of him and whispered in his ear, “Blackmail.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“Really, over vegetables?”
“I’ll let the cat out of the bag, right here, right now.”
“You suck, do you know that?” he frowned, forking one skinny leaf of lettuce unto his plate.
I scoffed, “Are you kidding me? That’s pathetic. Here you go, hun.” I grasped the salad fork and fisted a huge chunk unto his plate.
“Ranch dressing makes it more bearable,” I murmured softly to him. Though the annoyed crease of his forehead remained, he smiled slightly.
“Thanks.”
We followed the other couples. There weren’t enough seats for us all to sit soundly on a sofa or armchair.
“I’ll go back for a chair in the kitchen,” I told Archie, handing him my plate to hold.
Instead of taking it, he nodded toward a free space beside Melody. “It’s okay. You can sit in the sofa. I’ll hit the floor.”
“You don’t have to do that, Archie.” Mrs. Reyes said, “You are more than welcome to the dining room seats.”
“I’ve got it.” He insisted and so without much more discussion, we settled into our places, me in the sofa and Archie on the floor near my feet.
“You two look cozy.” Melody whispered in my ear as the room conversed without us.
“Oh, you know. We’re just getting to know each other better.”
She grinned wide, “That’s usually how it starts.”
Actually Archie is only pretending to be interested in that way because he wants to win back Nicole.
“Yeah” I said instead, “I guess it does start that way.”
“Susan, you want some more lemonade?” Archie asked me.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
Archie nodded and ventured into the kitchen for a second helping.
“Hey remember your veggies!” I yelled after him. He stuck his tongue out at me and I sat back, satisfied. Mrs. Reyes connected her thumb and pointer finger together in an “okay” sign and I grinned. I liked being right about things.
“You two are so cute,” Melody squealed.
“Who’s cute?” Spencer turned toward us. “Who’s cute, babe?”
“Susan and Archie.”
“What’s so cute about them?”
“They’re getting together, honey.” Melody said as though it were obvious.
I innocently forked food into my mouth and allowed her to carry the conversation.
“Isn’t Archie with Nicole?” Spencer pointed out.
Melody sighed as though her husband was too slow for her tastes, “Spencer, Archie and Nicole broke up yesterday and now Archie and Susan are getting together.”
“Since when?”
Melody kissed her husband and smoothed his brow, “You poor thing. Just leave the relationship part of things to me, okay?”
“He’s so clueless,” she mouthed to me before rolling her eyes. I giggled behind my sip of lemonade and when Archie returned from the kitchen, I winked at him, secretly pointing to Melody and her husband, who seemed to be having a hard time accepting that Archie and I were “interested” in each other so soon. Archie and I shared a secret smile before he took his seat at my feet once more.
“I enjoyed your message today, Pastor.” Mr. Reyes leaned back in the sofa and held his wife’s hands. “I’m always talking to my girls about choosing the right partner.”
“Thank you,” Pastor Stanley dipped his head and accepted the compliment, “I believe that marriage is the second most important decision you will ever make in your life, apart from accepting Christ.”
Everyone nodded along. I tried to sit still but found that I couldn’t. I raised my hand.
“Uh, yes?” Pastor Stanley nodded awkwardly at me. Apparently the raised hand was the wrong move.
“Yeah, sorry. What’s the big deal about marriage? I mean, buying a house is very important. A mortgage lasts forever. And finding the right job that is both fulfilling and world-changing… I mean those are pretty significant things.”
Pastor Stanley chuckled, “Good point, Susan. Let me meet that with a question. What happens when the economy drops and you lose your house? Or the company downshifts and you lose your job?”
“What if I fall out of love with my husband and I get a divorce?” I countered the question that he countered my question with, with a question. “Nothing is forever and that’s exactly my point.”
“Ah, but that’s also my point. On our own, nothing lasts forever, especially feelings. What do the kids nowadays call intercourse?” he asked me.
I panicked. I knew a ton of modern lingo for “The Do” but none of it was fit to say in church or worse in front of a preacher.
“Making love.” Archie commented from the floor. I felt his support and yet chills raced my spine when his silver eyes caught mine as he said those words.
“Right, ‘making love’ as though it needs to be manufactured.” Pastor Stanley laughed.
“It’s just a term.” I retorted.
He countered, “It represents our misunderstanding of the term. Love should already be there when a man and a woman join together. Why does it have to be made? The kind of love that lasts forever is agape. It forgives over and over. It gives and expects nothing back. It would die for you without a second thought.”
I thought back to my relationship with Brian. Those stipulations definitely did not relate to us. “Wait, but what about women that suffer physical abuse. Your saying they should stay with their husbands?”
“They can leave their husbands, but they must remain single. Check Mathew 19:8.”
“That’s crazy!” I protested.
“It’s truth.” Pastor Stanley said gravely. “When I preach, I want my young people to leave the service understanding the heaviness of ma
rriage. It is a big decision and it should be entered into cautiously.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job of scaring me.”
He nodded to Mia and Melody sitting in the opposite sofa, “Obviously, I wasn’t scary enough.”
The group let out a laugh and the tension built from the debate on love, marriage and divorce fled. When the topic turned to less controversial things, I found that Pastor Stanley without his gray jacket and tie was kind of a funny guy. These people weren’t religious or pushy and I was right at home in their midst. I had to watch my language to make sure that no four letter words escaped, but apart from that I had a lot of fun.
When the evening wound down, I said good bye to all of my friend and to the Pastor and his wife and got into the vehicle with Archie.
“That was kind of enjoyable,” I admitted.
“Which part?”
“All of it.” I yawned. “I’m glad I’m here.”
“I’m glad you’re here too, Susan or should I call you Vegan.”
“I am not a Vegan,” I laughed, “Should I call you Carnivore.”
“I should call you Mom.”
“I’m sure your mom wasn’t half as stubborn as me.”
“I don’t think anyone is as stubborn as you, Vegan.”
“Whatever.” I yawned again. “You know you love me.” I could tell that he was grinning even though my eyes were closed. “Hey Archie,”
“Yeah?”
“Lying to our friends is hard to do.”
“Yeah,”
I yawned and spoke at the same time, “I hope Nicole is worth it.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Something pushed on my shoulder. I moaned and turned the other way, hoping whatever it was would leave me alone so that I could sleep.
“Susan, Susan, wake up, you’re home.” I groaned and cracked open my eyes. The overhead light in the cab and blinded me and I flung an arm over my face.
“Mf Moff Mff Mfife,”
“What was that?”
I gathered some spit and then properly enunciated, “Take off the light.”
“Oh, sorry.” He quickly did as I bid.
As soon as the cab was flooded into darkness, I returned to my comfy rest. The vehicle’s A.C temperature was perfect for sleep. All my apartment had in the way of a cooling system was a standing fan that blew more hot air than cool. I would be pried out of this calm oasis of breeziness before I left it voluntarily. Archie’s slow chuckle felt like a warm blanket.
“Come on, Vegan. I need to get home.”
“Meh.” I protested.
I heard his seatbelt unbuckle and the door open and close.
Yes, at last… peace.
Unfortunately, my door burst ajar and a rush of hot breeze licked at my face. I winced. I felt Archie’s hands at my waist and my eyes shot open.
“I can’t see.” He muttered, feeling around for the seatbelt button. Sleepily, I guided his hand to the correct place. He released the buckle and raised his head to look at me. Our eyes caught and held.
“Your eyes look like,” I paused for a yawn, “slices of the moon.” I confessed and then froze. Did I say that out loud?
“You did.” He read my mind and I hid my face in my hands.
“I’m sorry. I’m a sleep-talker.”
“It’s okay.” He helped me out of the car. His touch seared me and I stepped apart from him as soon as I could.
“I can take it from here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, avoiding his gaze.
“Okay,” he stuck his hands into his pockets anxiously, “Hey, have a good night, Vegan.”
“You too.” I said and stepped backward without watching where I was going. I stumbled over a loose rock and almost tripped.
“Whoa,” Faster than lightning, Archie was beside me, holding me up.
“I’m not normally this clumsy.” I declared softly shaking his hands from my arms.
“I’m not normally this heroic.” He returned. “I think I’ll walk you up, just to be safe though.”
I shrugged. As long as he didn’t touch me again. My hormones went haywire when he did that.
“Do you want to catch up tomorrow?” he asked me casually.
I peered over at him, “As friends or as a fake date.”
“As friends.” He grinned, “I think you’ve gathered by now that I’m not very good at pretending.”
I shrugged, “That’s fine with me.”
We stepped up to my apartment door and I unlocked the knob. I turned to Archie,
“Goodnight.”
“Sleep well, Vegan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I replied, the words getting lost in another yawn.
He smiled, “You say the sweetest thing to me.”
“There’s a lot more where that came from, honey.”
Archie shook his head and gave a final wave before diving out of sight. I sighed and locked the door, more than welcoming the comfort of my bed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ashanti greeted me with a smile on Monday morning. In her hands, she grasped a foil covered bundle.
“Morning, Ashanti.” I said, plopping myself wearily beside her.
“Good morning, Susan,” she replied and handed me one of the small bundles in her hand. It felt soft and smelled heavenly.
“Thank you.” I accepted the gift from her, “What is it?”
“It’s fried jack stuffed with scrambled eggs, cheese and ham.” She informed me, unwrapping her own and taking a huge bite of it.
Confused, I eyed the food. This morning, I popped a toaster strudel into the toaster and called it even. The fragrance of the fried jack called to me and though I still was not sure what it was, I too unwrapped the food in my hands and ate a small piece of it. I moaned in pleasure.
“This is so delicious. How does it taste so crispy yet so soft?”
Ashanti shrugged, “My mother kneaded the dough with her hands before frying it in the pan. I think that is why it is so good.”
“I love it.” I enthused as I greedily scarfed down the breakfast item. “You gotta teach me how to make this, Ashanti. It’s divine.”
She ducked her head but I could tell that she was pleased. I craned my head toward the street and noticed that the bus was nowhere in sight. I checked my watch again. I’d woken up a little late this morning and had rushed out here, thinking that I would miss the bus. I was surprised that it hadn’t arrived as yet. Normally, Juney –our bus driver- was more reliable than this. And yes, I knew the name of my bus driver. Being stuffed next to him and my fellow passengers every day warranted that I at least know the name of my torturer.
“Why hasn’t the bus arrived yet?”
She shook her head, “Maybe it broke down.”
“That sucks.” I frowned as I took the last bite of the stuffed jack, “Is another due any time soon?”
“They will send another one.” She stated confidently. “If not I will be late for work.”
I glanced over at her. She wore a light pink T-shirt and long jeans pants. I had no idea that Ashanti worked. She looked way too young to be working.
“Where’s your job?” I asked her.
“I work at the call center by the roundabout.”
“Wow. Is it fun?”
She slanted her eyes at me and I figured that my question was a dumb one.
“It’s not. People yell at you and curse you out and you cannot tell them anything.”
“Oh. That sucks.” I agreed. “I always thought that you were in school.”
She shrugged, “I have an Associates degree. I graduated sixth form last year.”
“But why…” I started to ask her why she didn’t go to university but stopped myself. College was very expensive and I did not want to make her feel ashamed or uncomfortable. Thankfully, the bus rolled into sight. Ashanti exclaimed,
“It’s here!”
We got up quickly. Under my new friend’s
careful tutelage, I’d let go of my innate Southern manners and had learned to elbow my way to the front of the pack like a gladiator. Sometimes, if I made it, I could sit at the edge of a seat. As the bus slowly pulled up to the curb and opened its doors, I silently let loose a war cry and politely shoved my way to the front, fighting the throng to launch myself unto the bus steps and locate a free seat. Today, I was lucky enough to secure one close to the front. Unfortunately, Ashanti had allowed a family of school children and their mother ahead of her. I caught her eye and mouthed, “Sorry”. She only shrugged and held on to the bar at the front of the bus. Though I felt sad for my friend, I was glad that I’d beat the crowd this morning.
After being let off the carriage, I trekked toward the Roskowski building for my class on Law and Ethics. Although I sometimes had nightmares about Mrs. Peters, I had to admit that hers was my favorite class. Today’s oral presentation dealt with topics of conflict such as homosexuality, abortion, and religious freedoms. We’d been assigned to pick topics out of a hat. Our instructions were to put away our individual biases and argue the point in a class debate. I’d selected anti-abortion. I looked forward to the task because I liked to argue. I liked to win even more.
Thanks to the late bus, I arrived in class only seconds before Mrs. Peters. My heart almost beat out of my chest when I realized that I could be late. Mrs. Peters was a no-nonsense kind of person and for her, the only acceptable excuse for bending the rules was your death.
“Good morning, let’s begin.” She stated as soon as she entered. After sliding the strap of her purse off of her shoulder, she took out a tablet and then proceeded to her seat at the back of the class. Mrs. Peters graded us on our vocal projection, and I think she went to the back just to fail us easily.
“Monica Villanueva,” She called. Monica was the chubby Latina girl who had egged on her pal, Persia on my first day of class. Sad to say, I still had not made any friends from this course. I could feel Monica’s nerves from all the way in the back row. Fortunately, she did a decent job arguing the civil human right of every individual to marriage. Apart from her stuttering and frequent usage of the word ‘furthermore’, I gave Monica a B+. A quick glance at Mrs. Peter’s face, however, scared the crap out of me. The lecturer’s wrinkled, brown expression was thoroughly unmoved.
