Right Package, Wrong Baggage

by Wanda B. Campbell

  Matthew returned from playing catch with some boys he’d met in line before Pamela could thank Micah and find out what else he had done. “Are we done yet?”

  “Yes.” Pamela breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  “Micah, are you going to coach my team?” Matthew tugged Micah’s arm.

  Micah looked down at the little boy he considered to be his son. “Yes, but don’t think you’re going to get any special treatment.” Happily Matthew ran off to tell his new friends.

  “What about me?” Pamela asked. “Do I get any special treatment?”

  “You, my dear, get everything,” Micah said after kissing her hand.

  Chapter 8

  There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

  Micah read the scripture for the third time. “I will not allow myself to feel condemned any longer,” he declared. Micah had been telling himself that quite often lately. The closer he came to disclosing his past to Pamela, the more guilt and doubt tried to creep in. The more shame tried to overwhelm him. The more fearful he became.

  “God has forgiven me. I am a new creature; old things are passed away and all things are new. My mind is new, and my spirit is new. The enemy no longer has control over me.” Following his professions, Micah closed his Bible and knelt on his knees to pray once again.

  Later, seated in his chair, Micah was enjoying the peace that had enveloped him when the phone rang. He didn’t want to answer it, but the caller ID displayed a number from the 773 area code in Chicago. It was his mother calling. She’d remembered his birthday.

  “Hello, Mother.” Micah prayed she was sober, but that was not to be.

  “H-happy bir-birth-day.” Helen’s voice sounded as if she were waking up from a comatose state.

  “Thank you. I’m surprised you remembered.” Micah tried to sound pleasant, but the thought of his mother being sloppy drunk before noon disturbed him. It shouldn’t have, but it did.

  “Of course I re-remem-ber the b-birth of my on-ly ch-child.” By the time Helen finished the simple sentence, Micah had a headache.

  “How are you doing? Do you have any food?” Micah rubbed his forehead.

  “I’m f-fine. The lights are on. I d-don’t need no f-food.”

  Micah wanted to get off the phone. Trying to hold a conversation with his mother was nearly impossible. It was hard to cope with the defeat and hopelessness that permeated through her voice. The despair was bringing him down. Micah decided a long time ago that if his mother insisted on destroying her life, she’d have to do it alone.

  “Mother, thank you for calling, but I have to go.” Micah didn’t know why, but he added, “I love you.” He hadn’t told his mother that in years, but it felt appropriate at that moment. He hung up, and then knelt on his knees again, this time to pray for his mother.

  Later, seated on the futon, Micah checked his watch. It was only two o’clock.

  “The day sure drags on when you don’t have anything to do,” he mumbled. Normally, he spent Saturdays with Pamela, but she and Matthew had something else planned for the day. She wouldn’t tell him what the plans were, but promised to be back in time to share his birthday dinner with him. Micah grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then pulled out his coach’s handbook for the T-ball league. He was just about to doze off when the phone rang, alerting him of a visitor. Grateful to have company, Micah hurriedly let AC in.

  “Happy birthday, man.” AC greeted him with a brotherly hug.

  “Thanks, man. What brings you around here?” AC sat on the futon. Micah leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “Come on, man, you didn’t think I’d let my boy’s birthday slip by without stopping in, did you?”

  Micah shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t verbally respond. He wasn’t accustomed to friends who genuinely cared.

  “Man, you know me better than that.” AC leaned back. “So how does it feel to be entering the last year of your twenties?”

  “You tell me, you left the twenties years ago.”

  “Whatever, man, it’s only been three years.” AC stood and posed. “Tell the truth, I don’t look a day past twenty-five.”

  Micah smirked. “Yeah, in dog years. If you keep eating all those cakes and pies my aunt keeps making you every Sunday, you and the Goodyear blimp will pass for twins.”

  “Forget you, man. I have a sweet tooth, and everybody knows it. There’s nothing wrong with that as long as I exercise. Besides, First Lady can bake.”

  “Flexing your arm from the plate to your mouth is not exercise,” Micah chuckled.

  “I guess you’re exercising your arm every Sunday when you’re trying to relieve me of my goodies.”

  Micah shrugged his shoulders. “It’s like you said, my aunt can bake.”

  Micah went on to share the details of his early-morning call from his mother with AC and his plans to have dinner with Pamela and Matthew.

  “Sounds like you have some free time. Let’s run over to your uncle’s house. I just know the first lady made you a peach cobbler,” AC suggested while casually looking down at his watch.

  Micah really didn’t want to go anywhere other than to see Pamela and Matthew, but the idea of warm peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream was too tempting. Micah would never admit it to AC, but his sweet tooth was just as bad as AC’s if not worse.

  “Give me a minute to change clothes.”

  “Jess, hurry up; they’ll be here soon!” Pamela yelled. The only response Jessica offered Pamela was the sound of her lips smacking together.

  Pamela turned to her father and Pastor Jackson. “Are the two of you almost finished with the balloons?” Her voice wasn’t as loud as with Jessica’s, but Pamela was just as firm.

  “Baby, we have it all under control,” her father answered.

  Pamela whirled around. “Mama, are the hors d’oeuvres ready? First Lady, is the table set?” Pamela continued drilling everyone like she had stripes marked on her shoulder that identified her as a high ranking-military official, until she noticed they all were laughing at her. “What’s so funny?” she asked, looking around the room.

  “You’ve got it bad!” her mother started.

  “No, she has got it real bad!” the first lady added.

  “Baby, your nose is wide open.” Her father patted her shoulder. “It’ s all right; Micah is a good man.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Pamela knew exactly what they were talking about. She was in love, and by her anxious behavior, everyone knew it except the man she loved. That would change tonight. “I just want Micah’s first birthday party to be a success. I want him to be happy, that’s all.”

  “And you want to be the one to make him happy,” Jessica teased.

  “And not just today,” Pastor Jackson added, causing Pamela’s face to flush. She wasn’t familiar with this playful side of her pastor.

  Her mouth fell open when Matthew asked, “Mommy, is that why you’re always smiling and singing about Micah at home?” Everyone continued laughing, but Pamela failed to see the humor.

  “Matthew, go and change your clothes before Micah gets here!” Pamela stomped into the kitchen to check on Micah’s peach cobbler. She wasn’t mad; she just didn’t want everyone to know they’d figured her out.

  “Shush!” filled the house when AC’s car pulled into the driveway. Pamela quickly straightened her clothes and fingered her hair. She looked around the room with pride. The house was decorated from top to bottom with Micah’s favorite superhero, Spiderman. A life-sized blowup of the Marvel character was positioned at the door to greet visitors. Balloons and streamers in the form of spiderwebs covered the ceiling. Pamela even had Spiderman plates and napkins.

  The buffet table was loaded with all of Micah’s favorite foods, most of which she’d made herself. Fried chicken, ham, catfish, macaroni & cheese, greens, hot water corn bread, candied yams, green beans, meatloaf, mashed potatoes & gravy, pine
apple coconut cake, sweet potato pie, and, of course, peach cobbler. She kept Micah’s own personal cobbler and homemade vanilla ice cream inside the kitchen.

  Pamela surveyed the guests. Micah would be so happy. She beamed. Several coworkers from the cable company were present and a good number of members from Praise Temple. The entire church baseball team was there. She guessed at least seventy-five people were present to celebrate Micah’s first birthday party.

  After ringing the bell a couple of times without a response, Micah used his key.

  “Surprise!” thundered through the house.

  Micah was shocked to the extent he almost fell backward. He would have if AC’s stomach hadn’t blocked him. He was speechless, listening to the crowd sing Stevie Wonder’s version of the “Happy Birthday” song. He looked back at AC who was grinning. His eyes then surveyed the group trying to figure out who was responsible for the pleasant sight before him. Who thought enough of him to go through all this trouble? The second he looked into Pamela’s wet eyes and smiling face, he knew.

  As he took quick long strides in her direction, Micah felt like he was floating. He didn’t feel his feet touch the floor. When he finally reached her, Micah hugged her so tightly, that he thought he might suffocate her. He loosened his grip, but didn’t release her. Pamela was right where he wanted her, and he didn’t care who saw.

  “Thank you, baby,” he whispered repeatedly in her ear. “I lo—”

  “I helped too,” Matthew said, patting Micah’s arm.

  Micah released Pamela and picked up Matthew so that he held him with one arm; the other arm still around Pamela.

  “Thank you, little buddy.” Micah kissed Matthew’s cheek, and Pamela’s mother made him repeat the pose so she could snap a picture of the three of them.

  “I helped too,” the first lady said. “I want me some sugar too.”

  Micah laughed so loud, he nearly roared. The contentment that bubbled within him poured out and filled the room. Inwardly, Micah wished he could have been graced with his mother’s presence. He went around the room greeting and thanking his guests. He had no idea this many people cared enough about him to celebrate his birthday with him.

  Pamela watched him for a few moments, then went to find Jessica to solicit her assistance with serving the food. She spotted Jessica standing away from the crowd speaking with AC and decided give her friend some space.

  “Minister Combs, is that you?” Jessica asked AC, taking note of the black dress slacks and sweater he wore.

  “Sister Jessica, you know it’s me,” AC smirked.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you without your big, bright, shiny suit.” She was teasing, but the look on AC’s face told her he didn’t appreciate her making fun of his taste in clothes. He softened his glare when she added, “Your outfit complements you well. You should dress like that more often.” With that she turned and left.

  “Wow!” Micah said, looking at the smorgasbord before him. “Baby, you’ve outdone yourself. Did you cook all of this?”

  Before Pamela could answer, her mother and the first lady started in again.

  “Did you hear that? He called her baby.” Dorothy nudged the first lady’s arm.

  “Look at her smile; she likes that,” First Lady baited back.

  “Wonder what pet name she has for him?”

  Pamela ignored the nosy women. She didn’t like the endearing term, she loved it. Tonight was the first time he’d openly affectionately addressed her, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Baby, aren’t you going to eat?” Micah asked when Pamela sat down next to him after handing him his plate.

  “I’ll eat later; I want to make sure you’re satisfied first.”

  “If only you knew how satisfied I am, Pamela Roberts.” She blushed and giggled uncontrollably. “I’ve never been more satisfied in my life.”

  Pamela sat there with him, and in between bites he shared his food with her until Jessica called her into the kitchen. Pamela rolled her eyes and pouted before leaving Micah’s side.

  “What is it, Jess?”

  “I need help refilling the chicken.” Jessica paused. “And I want you to admit to it.”

  Pamela placed her hand on her hip and cocked her head. “Admit what?”

  “I saw you out there. Admit it; you’re in love with Micah. Deeply in love I might add.”

  Pamela waved her friend off with the back of her hand. “Girl, please. Bring that tray over here so I can refill it before someone starts fighting over the last chicken wing.”

  “You know how black church people can act when there’s only one piece of fried chicken left at a buffet table,” Jessica laughed then added, “You still need to admit how you feel.”

  Pamela took the tray and turned her back to her friend. “Why don’t we talk about you? I saw you over there talking with Anthony Combs.”

  Jessica smacked her lips. “All I did was tell the man to stop wearing those loud shiny suits.”

  “Are you sure I didn’t hear you say, I like you. I need you’?” Pamela teased.

  “You know, Pam, the first step to recovery is to admit that you have a problem. Go on, girl, admit that you’re in love with Micah.”

  Pamela handed Jessica the tray and turned back to the stove and stirred the huge stock-pot of collard greens.

  “All right, I’ll admit it,” Pamela said just as Micah appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “I’m in love with Micah, but don’t say anything because I haven’t told him yet.”

  Pamela’s back was turned so she didn’t know Jessica had scurried out of the kitchen the second Micah appeared. “I love everything about him,” she continued. “His smile, his eyes with those cute eyelashes. Girl, I can’t get enough of those. I love the sound of his voice, his laugh, I even love the way he chews his food.” Pamela giggled. “I love the way he smells and the sweet things he does. I love his devotion to God and his integrity. There, are you happy? I’ve said it. I’m in love with Micah Stevenson!” Pamela’s giggles stopped abruptly at the sound of Micah’s voice.

  “I love you too, Pamela.”

  Pamela gasped and dropped the big spoon into the pot of greens. She was too afraid to turn around. Pamela stood there frozen with her eyes bulged and mouth gaped, trying to figure the easiest way to wring Jessica’s neck.

  Micah walked over to her and gently turned her body to face him. Pamela hung her head to avoid eye contact with him. With his thumb and forefinger, Micah lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “Pamela Roberts, I do love you. I love your smile. I love the way your cheeks flush every time you blush.” The soft feel of his fingertip against her cheek made her knees weak; she placed her hand on the stove for support. “I even love the way you snort when you laugh. I love the way your nostrils flare when you’re angry and how you chew your food exactly twenty-eight times before swallowing. I especially love how you give of yourself unselfishly, like tonight.”

  “Micah-I-um,” Pamela couldn’t form words. This was not the intimate moment she’d imagined. She wanted her first declaration of love to be made while they sat under the stars or ate by candlelight—anywhere but in the kitchen over a large pot of greens.

  Micah moved in closer. “Do you really mean what you said? Are you really in love with me?”

  “I was going to tell you later on tonight; it was part of my present to you. I guess it doesn’t matter now,” she whispered.

  “How you feel about me will always matter.”

  Pamela allowed him to wipe the happy tear from her cheek before speaking. “Yes, Micah, I meant it. I love you.”

  “My love,” Micah said just before kissing her softly on the lips, and then wrapping her into a warm embrace. “You’re the only woman I have ever loved, and the only one I want to love,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Pam, we need some more greens out here.” Dorothy barged in. Instantly they separated.

  “Coming, Mama,” Pamela stuttered and at same time reached for the spoon.r />
  “Maybe I need to eat in here since this is where the action is,” Dorothy said, observing her daughter’s red cheeks and Micah’s sudden interest in the picture of a fruit bowl hanging on the kitchen wall.

  Micah relieved the bowl from Dorothy’s hand and Pamela quickly refilled it.

  “I’ll be back to check on y’all,” Dorothy warned before leaving them alone again. She’d barely made it through the door when they burst into laughter and resumed their embrace.

  For the remainder of the evening, Micah and Pamela were inseparable. Micah kept his arm around her or held her hand, making it plain that both he and she were spoken for. The new level of intimacy in their relationship didn’t go unnoticed by their families either. Pastor Jackson and the first lady couldn’t stop smiling and pointing in their direction. Henry grinned proudly and patted Micah on the shoulder when he sat beside him. Pamela guessed Jessica had told everyone about what happened in the kitchen because Jessica was careful to stay out of Pamela’s arm’s reach. Like always, wherever Micah went, Matthew was close by.

  The best part of the evening for Pamela, outside of Micah’s profession of love, came when Micah opened his presents. He was so overwhelmed with emotion that he found it difficult to talk. “Thank you,” were the only words he could manage after opening each package. Micah didn’t trust himself to speak. He could hardly control the quiver in his voice with just those two words. Pamela and the First Lady read the cards.

  After the last gift, Micah went into the bathroom. He needed to be alone in order to release his emotions. He turned on the faucet, then leaned over the sink and cried tears of joy. This was the first time he’d experienced anything like this; people coming together to celebrate him without a hidden agenda. If he combined all the Christmases of his childhood, it wouldn’t compare to the gifts he received today. They weren’t grand gifts, but they were simple things he liked. Each gift was picked with him in mind, unlike the unlabeled gifts he used to get at the community center from the security guard disguised as Santa. From the Starbucks and Barnes & Noble gift cards to the Oakland A’s and Chicago White Sox memorabilia, he liked and appreciated everything.