No Ordinary Noel

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  At first, it sounded like a cattle stampede. Shoes and canes of every sort made clicking sounds as the seniors rushed to the floor, although by the time some made it half the song had played.

  Most of the seniors danced until they dropped, and the rest just stepped over them and continued dancing a combination of the butterfly, the can-can, and the laffy taffy. There were several with hip replacements who still managed to form an electric slide line and those who could dip did so. All their moves were homage to Le Freak. But then the ever playful Brother Casanova decided they hadn’t enough. “Aww, don’t stop now. Y’all ain’t threw back enough. Just push the rest of those Has-Beens to the side, and see how ya handle this next one.”

  Along with one CD after another, Brother Casanova danced a little jig inside his clapboard DJ booth and worked those oldsters. From Aretha’s “Rock Steady” and Chubby Checker’s “The Twist” to Labelle’s “Lady Marmalade,” Brother Casanova gave them flashbacks enough for a lifetime. When he saw they were slayed by the spirit of music, he ended that segment with his signature theme song, Ruby Andrews’ “Casanova (Your Playing Days Are Over).”

  In the meantime, Sister Betty and Trustee Noel swam through the crowd of dancers. They sometimes pushed aside canes, walkers, and folks that never should’ve been on the dance floor.

  Sister Betty suddenly stopped. She nodded to Trustee Noel and led him toward the corner where a woman sat alone.

  “May we join you, Congresswoman Bigelow?” Sister Betty waited for the old woman to give a signal that she at least knew someone spoke to her.

  “Sister Betty, you know I don’t drop drawers for Washington politicians anymore. I don’t know how many times I hafta tell you to just call me Cheyenne, please.”

  “Of course,” Sister Betty replied. She’d forgotten just how uninhibited the old woman was. “May we sit down?”

  “Wasn’t that what y’all were about to do before those geriatric old fools danced and went crazy?” Former Congresswoman Cheyenne nodded toward the empty seats next to her and added, “You know you can hear a lot when you watch closely.”

  Trustee Noel and Sister Betty sat down with the congresswoman seated in their middle. Sister Betty introduced the trustee to the former congresswoman.

  Trustee Noel managed to nod coyly at the woman introduced as Cheyenne. He didn’t want to stare, but found he couldn’t turn away. He gathered by her demeanor she was a very unusual woman.

  Cheyenne Bigelow was just slightly older than Sister Betty. She had an extremely long, bluish-tinged braid that rested over her shoulder. She wore a short pink dress, revealing blue spidery veins on her thighs that matched her ice-blue eyes. She caught the trustee staring at her and raised her flask to toast something invisible followed by a deep swig.

  Sister Betty put her hand to her mouth and coughed. When the trustee looked her way, she twisted her mouth to show her displeasure. She wanted him to stop staring at Cheyenne.

  Once she’d gotten the trustee back on track, Sister Betty spoke. “It’s been quite some time since we saw each other at the Seniors Prom a few months ago.” She didn’t want to raise her voice over the loud music so she moved her chair closer and motioned for the trustee to do the same. “You look amazing and well.”

  Then she changed the subject. “I’m sorry about asking you to meet me here. I’d forgotten how loud the music would be. This was supposed to be a Seniors Prom gathering to remember the old times.”

  “You weren’t too far off the mark; especially that part about remembering the old.” Cheyenne’s eye’s twinkled as she leaned in and conspired. “These are old church folks, after all.” She spun her cane around and pointed toward the spot where Elder Batty Brick had returned to continue with the program. “I see my favorite embezzler is still on the Lord’s side. I hope the Lord is still counting the money after that old swindler collects it.”

  Sister Betty wanted to speak but she didn’t. She was too happy that Cheyenne came out that night and was in such a good mood.

  When they’d last seen one another in Belton, Cheyenne had dropped some interesting if not downright ridiculous tidbits on Sister Betty. The way Cheyenne had spoken at the Belton Seniors Prom as she sneaked a sip or two from a silver liquor flask told Sister Betty that the old woman didn’t care for some of her own church members. She called them “hypocritical geriatric fluff.” And although he wasn’t old, after a few more long swigs that time from her flask, Cheyenne hadn’t had too many good things to say about Reverend Tom, either.

  Sister Betty had dismissed Cheyenne’s observations due to the flask, especially when she’d ranted about the reverend’s high moral standards. “Reverend Leotis Tom needs to come down off his high horse before that same high horse tosses his arse. Even his grandmamma didn’t act all highfalutin.”

  Sister Betty, mired in her recall moment, forgot she sat in the present and didn’t realize her jaw had dropped.

  “Don’t look so shocked at me swigging from this flask.” Cheyenne turned to Trustee Noel and winked. “This ain’t nothing but some tea with lemon and honey.” She then swung back around to Sister Betty and added, “You’ve forgotten that acting crazy was how I kept getting reelected. And Lord knows, crazy would be a qualification for certain nowadays.”

  Sister Betty said what she was certain was on the trustee’s mind as well. “Why do you need to act senile? Has someone said or done something to you?”

  Cheyenne cackled and tapped her side. “Honey, please. This rheumatoid arthritis may have my joints, but I’d still shoot any summa-gun before I’d let him scare me. I’ve been in politics long enough to know you gotta hold your cards close to the chest.”

  Sister Betty softened her voice and asked, “Even with your own church and such, you need to do that?”

  “Actually, I’m especially leery when it comes down to your church and its leader, more so than mine.”

  Cheyenne picked up her flask. She pretended to drink and made a motion showing she was checking out her surroundings. She again turned to Trustee Noel. She pushed her seat closer and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

  When Cheyenne pulled away from the trustee, he immediately started pulling on his sprig. Sister Betty realized whatever she’d said, she’d made him more nervous than Sasha ever could, but she didn’t want to come across as jealous so she said nothing.

  “And Trustee Noel”—Cheyenne turned back and looked him square in his eye—“you make sure that when you go and get my plate none of the green food touches anything that’s yellow, like an ear of corn. Separate it if they’re serving succotash.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be certain your food is segregated.”

  “And you also make sure that the icing on my red velvet cake isn’t running over more than an inch from the top. You got that?”

  “Yes, ma’am, not more than an inch,” Trustee Noel nodded. “Can I do anything more for you?”

  “No, I don’t need anything else. You just remember what I told you. I still have friends and connections with the IRS. They may wanna talk to you about all that money you just got.

  “That oughta give him something to do and think about for a while.” Turning toward Sister Betty after the trustee was completely out of sight, Cheyenne added, “I believe you need a toilet break.” She reached for her cane. “I know I do, and we could use the privacy. C’mon. Ain’t nobody gonna look twice at two old women trying not to wet their drawers.”

  While they walked toward the hallway bathroom, Cheyenne stopped and used her cane to point toward the kitchen. “I almost forgot to tell you. When you first sat down Bea and Sasha were going at it. Those two old clucking hens should’ve been plucked long ago.”

  Trustee Noel’s nerves were so shot he’d forgotten he hadn’t put on his janitor throwback outfit. He would have to carry plates of food back from the buffet line and hope none spilled on his new JCPenney suit. He couldn’t believe how things had changed since he’d first picked up Sister Betty for the prom.


  He hadn’t felt this let down since he’d overheard his grandma telling his grade school teacher to sit him in the back of the room. “If you sit Freddie away from the pretty students they may not laugh and tease him so much because he ain’t cute.” It would not have hurt so much if his grandmother wasn’t blind and had never laid an eye on him.

  And now he was a millionaire still living in a roach motel. Added to his misery, he had to play fetch for some crazy ex-politician’s quirky feeding fetish. He began seriously to rethink the idea of moving his membership and his body out of Pelzer completely. Maybe he’d save a lot of heartache if he did, especially if he could convince Sister Betty to leave, too.

  The trustee had just passed the kitchen on his way toward the buffet line when all hell broke loose. As soon as he heard their voices, he knew BS had started.

  “You knew those were my teeth in that glass when you emptied it into the sink,” Sasha screamed above the music as she pointed her cane to accuse Bea of the travesty.

  “Why the ham and cheese did ya put them in a doggone glass in the first place? They looked like a nasty piece of gingerroot to me.” Bea moved from side to side as she dodged the business end of Sasha’s cane. Her wide hips knocked pots and pans off the counter.

  “It ain’t none of your business why!” Sasha poked at Bea the same as she would the middle of a piece of fried baloney. She jabbed at Bea and missed again. “You old blind battle ax.”

  Bea dodged again and screamed, “I forgot ya don’t know nothing about teeth with ya bald-headed mouth.”

  “I may be old but you are an educated ignoramus and you can’t read,” Sasha screamed. “You so ignorant you spread KY Jelly on a biscuit. You couldn’t see or taste the difference, either!”

  The two old women spilled out from the kitchen onto the dance floor.

  Brother Casanova threw on “Kung Fu Fighting” to give the scuffle some flava.

  “Oh hell!” The words escaped Sister Betty’s mouth before she could pull them or Cheyenne back to safety.

  Watching Bea and Sasha go at it was like watching old reruns. The ending never changed and collateral damages always occurred.

  One minute after Bea and Sasha squared off, Elder Batty Brick fled the floor and Brother Casanova finally stopped the music.

  Trying to play it off as a joke, Elder Batty Brick laughed slightly and said over the microphone, “Well, never let it be said that the Mothers Board at Crossing Over Sanctuary don’t know how to entertain. I believe even Lucifer has gathered his demons to watch and learn a thing or two.”

  Since Brother Casanova hadn’t adjusted his hearing aide since he entered the door, he didn’t know what Elder Batty Brick said or how dumb it sounded. So he threw on the theme song to a Rocky movie and turned up the volume.

  Suddenly, one side of the room cleared and everybody pulled out their cell phones with their fingers on speed dial to call the cops, or the local television news desk if necessary. Several seniors had their hands on unlicensed pistols. Meanwhile Cheyenne went on to the bathroom because she really needed to go.

  Sister Betty waved her Bible around, aiming it like a machine gun. With her free hand, she pulled her spray canister of blessed oil from her bag.

  But BS continued.

  “Ya got a lot of nerve lying on me like that. Ya rabid old Smurf.” Bea looked around. She needed to see if Sasha’s KY Jelly accusation had an effect.

  Everyone had a deadpan look and tried acting as if they weren’t interested even though they stared real hard at her.

  Bea spun around to face Sasha again. She’d turned so fast she was already facing Sasha by the time her huge wiggling breasts caught up.

  “I smell somethin’.” Bea stopped and sniffed the air before addressing Sasha again. “Ya stink. Everyone knows yo’ ugly dress made outta Doctor Scholl’s Odor Eaters.”

  And that’s when all except Sister Betty put away his or her cell phones. Church folks and a few alley cats who paid at the door pulled out paper cups, shot glasses, and flasks from their hips. The alcohol percentages were high at that moment. Cups and flasks filled with everything from Pepsi to Smirnoff, and anywhere from 10 percent to one hundred and eighty proof magically appeared. Everyone, including Cheyenne Bigelow, who’d returned from the bathroom, took a deep swig or two and found a seat to watch the showdown that was already in progress.

  Bea and Sasha started moving toward each other, but they moved so slow by the time they came face-to-face, they’d forgotten why they fought.

  Just as one of the church mothers was about to rumble, the door to the fellowship hall opened.

  Sister Betty stood closest to the door and it took a moment to realize who stood there. “Oh my Lord!” She didn’t mean to yell so loud, but she had. Naturally, all eyes left the BS fight and turned to see what had caused the fear in her words.

  “Reverend Tom?” Sister Betty didn’t have to finish the sentence. He entered with his coat unbuttoned and his face unshaved, and looked as though he’d already been in a fight and lost badly.

  Cheyenne leaned on her cane and whispered to Sister Betty, “This is how a fool looks when he thinks too highly of himself.”

  Chapter 20

  “Pastor!” Further words were unnecessary as Sister Betty’s feet moved ahead of her mind. She wasted no time in rushing toward the door. It was hard to tell by her stride and the way she knocked over a few chairs if she even realized she’d dropped her Bible onto a table and the blessed oil canister on the floor.

  While the others stood dazed and undecided, Trustee Noel quickly put aside his displeasure with his pastor and made a move. His skinny body wound through the crowd like a snake. In just a few seconds, he joined Sister Betty, who’d already reached the reverend’s side.

  “We weren’t expecting you,” Sister Betty said as she led the pastor to an empty seat. She wanted to say more, but by that time, Cheyenne had joined them.

  “It makes no sense at all,” Sister Betty whispered. “He said he wouldn’t come. He was on a shut-in.”

  Trustee Noel paid no attention to what Sister Betty questioned. His pastor looked terrible. Grabbing a water glass off the table, the trustee filled it and offered it to the reverend.

  Reverend Tom accepted the water and after taking a few sips, he looked around the room and waved his hand over the crowd, but he still did not speak.

  Trustee Noel stepped back a few feet to see what would happen next. He wasn’t too certain about his pastor’s reaction once the man realized who’d given him the drink of water.

  It wasn’t that Trustee Noel thought his pastor would flip over a cup of something cold to drink, as he had over a twenty-five million dollar tithe offering, but Trustee Noel had seen enough drama for the night. He turned and galloped to the other side of the fellowship hall. All that did was place him with the ones he least wanted to be near, Bea and Sasha.

  The only way to stop the gawking was to start the Bachelor Auction. The seniors began to bid on hope, faith, and some of the most uncharitable bachelors around. Sasha had promised some of the single women she’d stack the deck in their favor and she did. It wasn’t ten minutes after the bidding closed and the winners were announced that Sasha placed high on the top of their hit list.

  One of the singles, Miss Vickie, who was also a Christian comedienne, had flown all the way from Dallas for a shot at matrimony. Perhaps she wasn’t specific enough about the man she wanted. Miss Vickie was all of five feet nine. Her bachelor was shy of five feet by about five inches. Miss Vickie accepted the additional sky miles added to her winnings, hoisted the short fella onto her shoulder and carried him out of there.

  Meanwhile Sister Betty and Cheyenne took the reverend into the hallway. Walking toward the elevator to his office. Sister Betty spoke. “Glad to see you did come,” she said for the second time. She was surprised he finally answered.

  “I only came because Miss Cheyenne called and said you needed me.”

  “I needed you?” Sister Betty turned from
her pastor and looked at Cheyenne, who walked away and pressed the elevator button without saying a word.

  “You don’t need me?” Reverend Tom’s face was a mask of silent questions. He looked worse than he did ten minutes ago.

  The elevator door opened and Sister Betty, Reverend Tom, and Cheyenne entered.

  When they were in the study they sat for a moment and allowed their minds to clear. The music was still a little loud and they could hear murmurings from the seniors below. It wasn’t enough to interfere with a conversation, but was just enough to let them know there was a party going on.

  Cheyenne finally admitted that she’d called Reverend Tom even before Sister Betty and Trustee Noel had approached her table. The reverend hadn’t seemed agreeable when she first asked him to counsel her about a problem she supposedly had. However, as soon as she threw Sister Betty’s name into the mix, he agreed to show up. She apologized for using trickery to get him to come and prefaced it by telling him it was for his good as well as his church.

  From the way the reverend appeared, disheveled and out of sorts, they could only guess that his fast and prayer hadn’t gone quite the way he’d wanted.

  “You don’t have that glow that comes from being alone with the Lord,” Sister Betty observed. “I don’t hear the shout of victory coming off your lips or see the glint of favor in your eyes.”

  “That’s because it’s not there.” The reverend hung his head. “I’m only trying to do what’s right.”

  “Do what’s right for whom?” Cheyenne wasn’t a member of Crossing Over Sanctuary but her question cut and when she asked she looked the reverend square in his eyes. She spoke as if her tithes paid the mortgage.

  “Cheyenne,” Sister Betty blurted. “This is a man of God.”

  Cheyenne never took her eyes off Reverend Tom. Her defiant look dared him to speak. “This man may be a man of God,” she snapped, “but this man is a fraud.”

  Chapter 21