Somewhat Saved

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  If it weren’t for the sudden appearance of the security guard, Sister Betty was certain someone would’ve gotten hurt during the shoving match. The proverbial straw broke when one of the female servers toppled over a chair and landed with a bowl of fruit on her head like a hat. The server’s screams then brought down the head of security, who joined the other security personnel.

  The head of security was a portly, middle-aged, white man. He stood erect with a scowl as he surveyed the conference room damage. His eyes narrowed while he opened and closed his fists. He looked as though he’d be adept at punching cows with his bare hands or doing likewise to the Mothers Board. He promptly informed the members that their conference luncheon was officially over. He wouldn’t commit as to whether he’d recommend that the Jaeger honor their contract for the remaining two weeks. And he was bound to inform any other facility where they’d planned to hold their conference finale about their behavior.

  While Sister Betty and several other women slipped out, he was still snipping away at Bea and Sasha. The two old women had stood huddled together as the head of security blasted away with spit flying everywhere. With their invisible, lopsided halos spinning, they’d tried to look pitiful. They somehow managed to look guilty, still, despite the phony tears.

  While the church mothers were dismantling the conference room on the fourth floor, Zipporah took her paperwork to the departments Mandy had directed before she returned to the shelter.

  Zipporah tiptoed inside the shelter and scribbled her name on the sign-in sheet. She’d made it illegible on purpose, hoping it would allow her time to make her next move. Whatever came next, she hoped it wouldn’t be Miss Thompson.

  Sister Betty thanked the Lord that through the goodness of a couple of strangers who had helped her to secure a cab, she’d made it back to the Luxor.

  One of the first things she did was to take a quick shower. She was still tired and decided to lounge in her robe instead of dressing. She remained so put out she didn’t place her cross around her neck. It lay on the dresser, but it didn’t stop her from kneeling to pray.

  “Lord, what is this all about? I still don’t know why you have me here with all this confusion going on. You said in Your word that You were not the author of confusion. Please give me an answer before these folks make me lose my testimony.”

  She prayed until the tears ran down her cheeks and seeped into the corners of her mouth. She drank enough of the salty tears to elevate her high blood pressure. “I need an answer, Father God. I need an answer now.”

  She was about to thrash around on the hotel room floor for the third time when she thought she had finally heard God answer her. She dismissed the thought when she realized that what she’d heard was a series of light raps on her hotel suite door. She rose and for modesty sake, clutched her robe so tight only her tiny chin peeked out.

  “Who is it?” She’d risen too fast and had started feeling a bit heady. She wasn’t completely sure if she’d completed the sentence. She asked again, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Auntie Betty. It’s your godson.”

  The voice sounded familiar. It was almost like hearing music playing. She tightened the grip on her robe collar and asked again, softer this time, “Who is it?”

  “Auntie Betty, it’s Chandler.”

  Without thinking she flung open the hotel door. In her excitement, her small hands let go of her robe collar as she reached out to hug him.

  “Oh, my Lord.” Her eyes widened as did his. Only Chandler’s wide-eyed expression was followed by a loud gasp. As Sister Betty reached out to hug her godson, her robe parted. All the nakedness Eve tried to hide from God behind a fig leaf, Sister Betty exposed to the young man she’d not seen in a long time.

  While Sister Betty tried to hide her embarrassment from her godson inside her Luxor Hotel suite, Sasha and Bea were on the way to bring more.

  Bea and Sasha were tired. The Las Vegas heat seemed to sap every bit of energy they had. However, they kept just enough to continue arguing in the taxi ride back to the Luxor.

  “Do you believe how that man spoke to you?” Sasha complained bitterly as she pointed her finger at Bea.

  “He was fussing at you ’cause you started that mess.” Bea swatted at Sasha’s accusing finger.

  Bea and Sasha argued back and forth for the entire ride. Each accusation tossed around was more unbelievable than the other. They bickered in the hotel lobby, although not as loud. Elderly or not, they had enough sense to hide their fussing behind smiles and the sunglasses they’d picked up earlier in the day. After all, they didn’t know if someone would, again, want their autographs. They stood for a few moments posing in the lobby, but no one asked for their signatures or took pictures. So they continued chiding one another on the elevator. Each accused the other of bringing shame to their newly found, supposed, celebrity status.

  “I’m gonna pray for you, Bea.” Sasha leaned against the elevator wall as well as her cane. So much quarreling had left her wheezing as though she were having an asthma attack. She’d add more but she couldn’t.

  “Make sure you remove that log from your own eye before you start complaining about me to the Lord.” Bea was in no better condition.

  Sasha was the first one to get off the elevator. As usual, she waddled her tiny behind directly in Bea’s direction. Tired or not, Sasha was always determined to have the last say so.

  All Bea could offer was a weak, “Make sure you have your butt downstairs on time this evening. We’re supposed to lead the prayers if they change their minds and let us back in the conference center.”

  Of course, things only got worse. Bea had forgotten her room number, and of course, her perpetually weak bladder wasn’t cooperating or trying to wait until she remembered. She searched her pockets for her keycard and then finally remembered that Sasha was holding it. She’d given it to her earlier so she wouldn’t lose it. Now she was about to lose her dignity if her Depends pad didn’t hold out. Somehow she’d managed to remember which room Sasha was in. Why she could remember 666 and not remember her own room, she didn’t know.

  Her eyes were immediately drawn to a small figure down the hall. It was Sasha. She was fussing and knocking at the hotel door with her cane. She was so mad she didn’t care that Bea was suddenly standing next to her.

  It was another few minutes before they finally figured out that Sasha was trying to enter her room with Bea’s keycard.

  Bea was about to snatch her keycard from Sasha’s hand when she actually had a lucid moment and lied her way out of her own situation. “I knew you’d need my help. You looked so tired so I decided to offer my assistance.” Bea fumbled her words trying to make the lie work.

  Sasha was too tired to argue with Bea’s silliness. Instead, she kept quiet and used the correct keycard to enter her room.

  If Sasha hadn’t been so exhausted and had paid closer attention, she’d have noticed that Bea was now hopping around like a bunny on crack. But she didn’t. So when Sasha pulled the keycard out and the little green light on the door clicked and opened, Bea spun into action.

  The clicking sound was all Bea needed to hear to send her bladder into overdrive. Bea shoved Sasha aside and raced inside Sasha’s bathroom. She’d forgotten or didn’t care that Sasha didn’t offer folks the use of her own bathroom back in Pelzer. Bea depositing anything other than money in her hotel bathroom was unacceptable.

  When Bea sheepishly came out of Sasha’s bathroom it was on.

  “You old cow, who told you that you could use my bathroom?” Sasha’s eyes grew large as she, as usual, raised her cane in Bea’s direction.

  “Well, heifer, would you have rather I raised one leg and squirted your door?” Bea’s energy was renewed by the visit to the bathroom even if her clarity wasn’t. She swatted Sasha’s cane aside like she would a fly.

  “You couldn’t even raise anything if you tried.”

  Sasha was wrong. Bea could raise something and so could she. They were at it again
. Only this time they raised more hell.

  If they didn’t have separate hotel rooms, they’d have torn down the Luxor.

  12

  “Have mercy, I’m so embarrassed.” It took Sister Betty several tries just to get her slip over her head. She could’ve stepped into it but she was still upset. “Lord, I’ve shown him parts of me that no man except You has seen since my youth.”

  No matter how much Sister Betty babbled from inside the other part of her hotel suite, it didn’t matter. It’d taken her almost ten minutes trying to get over her embarrassment of having her godson see her nakedness. As for Chandler, he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

  While his godmother struggled in the other room to put on clothes and a straight face, Chandler stood at the hotel room window and looked over the Las Vegas skyline.

  It was no sense trying to pretend he didn’t feel embarrassment; he certainly did. However, he also felt love for his godmother. She and his grandmother, Ma Cile, had been friends since his mother’s youth. He smiled as he recalled the time he and his cousin Lil Bit argued over whether or not Sister Betty had received a telephone call from Jesus. He’d argued that she hadn’t and of course, Lil Bit said she had. Ma Cile dispensed a whipping that day. She’d set their little butts on fire and threatened to burn the ashes. It made whether they believed the telephone story or not a moot point.

  “I’m back. Sorry it took me so long.”

  Chandler turned around slowly just in case she’d forgotten to close a clasp or left something unbuttoned.

  They chatted as though everything was fine although the cloud of embarrassment still hung. She offered to order room service and fussed about him as though he were still that young boy she’d affectionately called June Bug.

  “So, June Bug, tell me how you’ve made out here in Las Vegas.”

  “I hope you don’t plan on calling me June Bug when we’re in public,” he teased. “I’m a grown man and you might give the ladies the wrong impression.”

  “Wouldn’t wanna do that.” Her eyes finally twinkled as they always did when the two of them were together or chatted.

  “Why are you visiting Las Vegas? You didn’t give me any particulars in the voice message you left,” he said.

  “I know you must be surprised that I even learned how to leave a message on one of those answering machines. Ever since I moved into that la-di-da neighborhood, I don’t do too many things on my own.”

  “I saw the pictures of the house. It’s fabulous and I’m so happy Mother Eternal loved enough to provide for you and my grandmother.”

  Sister Betty and Chandler spent the next hour or so reminiscing over some of the childhood pranks he was famous for or blamed for committing. It was the first time in several days when her mind wasn’t focused on the Mothers Board or her main nemeses, Bea and Sasha. She was also delighted that he had finally settled down after seemingly losing himself as a promoter in the music industry.

  “Didn’t you work for one of those record companies?”

  “Yes, I did. I almost sold out to the devil,” Chandler declared sadly. “It’s a business where truth seldom wins and it’s the first one to the crap pile who eats less of it.” He sounded angry and ashamed, and he was.

  “Well,” Sister Betty finally asked after hearing his story, “are you still saved?”

  “Somewhat.” That’s all he could say. “I guess I’m just somewhat.”

  Some other time she would’ve used this opportunity to preach to him. She’d let him know that God always welcomed the prodigal son and that he was justified by his acceptance of Jesus. She’d remind him that God was married to the backslider. Opening her Bible, she’d have pointed out how in the book of Psalms, when David ran to God in worship and confession, God always forgave him. But all she could do was sit and listen to Chandler talk about what had occurred in his life over the past several years.

  “And, forget about marriage or much of a dating life. . . .”

  He hadn’t realized that her mind had momentarily drifted until she’d yawned and asked him to repeat what he’d said.

  “I was talking about women.” He laughed, knowing that he probably made her feel a little uncomfortable mentioning something so worldly.

  “You’d better hurry up and get a wife. You know Ma Cile wants great-grandchildren.” She winked and stifled another yawn at the same time. She didn’t realize how tired she still was.

  The poor attempt at disguising her tiredness hadn’t escaped him. “Listen, I left a mess of a situation back at the conference center. I need to see about it.” He stood and offered his hand to help her to her feet. Ignoring her feeble protest about wanting him to stay, he kissed her on her cheek.

  Suddenly, she was grateful she hadn’t mentioned that she’d been a part of that mess. She’d repent later. “Okay, if you must leave, you make sure that we get together again.”

  “We’ll get together and have dinner, I promise. I’d love to show you Sin City.” His voice grew deeper as he mentioned the word sin.

  “You need prayer.” She couldn’t resist giving a playful tap to his hand to show her supposed disapproval at his choice of words.

  Chandler laughed at her rebuke and made sure he heard her lock the door before moving on. He had already pushed the elevator button before he realized she’d never said why she was in Las Vegas. The elevator door opened and he promptly forgot about it.

  For an unknown reason thoughts about the young woman he’d interviewed earlier took over. She wasn’t particularly his type. She was pretty enough, so that wasn’t it. However, she’d be working as a cocktail waitress in the casino. He didn’t have time to wait for a woman to arrive at his station in life, or at least to make the type of money he now earned. He didn’t want to take the time to see if there were any other ambitions. He was a “right now” man. By the time the elevator landed at the lobby floor, he’d decided Zipporah Moses was just another pretty face and nothing more.

  13

  Sasha took her time nibbling on a cracker and drinking the hotel’s weak tea she’d made. Her mood was considerably better after a night’s rest. She wore a wide grin as she looked in the mirror. She’d showered and put on the hotel-issued robe. It was much too big, although the tag read, “Small.” It was the first time she’d had an opportunity to look around her hotel room. It was lavish in comparison to the scantily furnished home she owned in Pelzer.

  It didn’t take long before Sasha found herself bored. The Bible she carried but seldom read lay abandoned on the coffee table. She tossed about the idea of whether to carry it to the conference center or use one of the Bibles she saw in a pile there yesterday. She then remembered that she didn’t know if the conference would continue there. What could she do to pass the time? Before she could decide, she heard soft taps at the door and someone say, “Hello, I’m here to clean your room.”

  “And it’s about time.” Sasha stood slowly as though opening a door took great planning. After Bea had used her bathroom she refused to use the toilet in it until it was cleaned again. Of course, she wasn’t about to do it herself. So she’d had hotel services send a maid. She’d claimed the maid had done a poor job earlier, and she wanted it redone immediately. How her lie impacted the job of the already overworked maid wasn’t a consideration.

  “Come on in so you can get started.” Sasha barely looked at the woman. If the woman had robbed her she couldn’t have given a description.

  “How are you, today? Can I get you anything, Miss Pray Onn?”

  Sasha didn’t answer, preferring to ignore the woman, as if replying would break the maid’s concentration.

  Whether Sasha answered or not didn’t seem to faze the maid. She went about her work, ignoring Sasha, too. To pass the time while the woman worked, Sasha picked up her Bible from the table. When she thought the maid was not looking she’d peer over it and watch.

  The woman looked almost as old as Sasha. She was certainly as thin. Everything the maid did seemed to be methodical.
If nothing else she was organized.

  When she was finished, she again asked Sasha if there was anything further she needed. “Do you need an extra towel or anything?”

  “No.” Sasha didn’t look up. She kept her eyes upon the page of her Bible.

  “Well, you have a blessed day,” the maid said as she suddenly started humming a hymn. And then she stopped.

  “Miss Pray Onn.”

  “What?”

  “Bible is upside down.” And with that said she walked out of the hotel room still singing the praises of God.

  Sasha’s face turned red, almost dark red. Her blood boiled from the embarrassment. The maid was right. The entire time she’d tried to make herself seem superior her Bible was upside down in her hands.

  In the meantime, down the hall, Bea was keeping out of trouble by sleeping as much as she could. She’d tried experimenting the night before by mixing several different herbal teas she’d discovered in the room. Like a bad dream those teas had started to return like the gift that just kept on giving. It was like a chain reaction. Every time the tea returned and caused her stomach to growl, she rushed to the bathroom. Now she was starting to feel a sense of normalcy, and it was almost noon.

  One of the first things Bea noticed when she finally got herself together was the blinking light on the telephone. She wasn’t sure what it was for so she ignored it. There was a note slid under her door that informed her that the housekeeping services would be offered again later. Apparently, she’d slept through any knocking on her door.

  In the meantime, things for Sasha had worsened. The embarrassment of pretending to read a Bible upside down, a blow to her ego, was nothing compared to the phone call she’d just received from the Reverend Leotis Tom. His words did nothing to soothe her surly mood. He spoke to her as though she were a child and not the president of the Mothers Board. And how dare he insinuate that the conference was about to be cancelled and it was hers and Bea’s fault.