No Ordinary Noel

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  The two other Cheater Brothers voiced their concerns as well, mirroring their brother’s.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Reverend Tom wanted to leave so they could plan for the ribbon cutting ceremony. He didn’t have time for games.

  “You can stop them from withdrawing their monies. You have to do that!” The order came from Skimp Cheater.

  That’s when the reverend learned how seriously his members wanted to go to that Promised Land. They’d gathered to drown Pharaoh’s bank army.

  While the Promised Land closing went on in the conference room, his members stood in the teller lines closing their accounts. By the time the Cheater Brothers found out what happened the only one left in line was Sasha, and she wanted her money in a hurry. Of course, Reverend Tom, Sister Betty, and Trustee Noel didn’t want it rumored that they hadn’t participated. For the next thirty minutes the three, along with Sister Lizzie overseeing the transactions, withdrew their vast savings, IRAs, and any other monies available connected to that bank, then closed the accounts.

  The Cheater Brothers were so outdone they ignored the chiming of the clock that alerted them to check the Wall Street status. That had never happened before. They realized once the news got out they’d be the laughing stock of the banking industry. One look at the impish grin on the overly qualified Sister Lizzie Hellraiser’s face told them she’d make sure it was known.

  Chapter 29

  Cuttin’ the Ribbon

  Folks didn’t know what was more newsworthy. Was it that the weather in Pelzer the Tuesday after Christmas was in the fifties? Or was it as most people believed, Crossing Over Sanctuary had made it to its Promised Land?

  Local and out of state news reporters from television and radio covered the dedication. The media’s arrival became fodder for some of the “showed up without invitation” self-appointed and self-righteous gospel queens and kings.

  Those men and women’s careers had long expired in the gospel world, but they still knew how to entertain. Folks doubled over with laughter as they watched the stampede to compete for face time in front of cameras that were pointed elsewhere. The competitors shoved decorum aside and tripped over their long flowing furs and walking sticks.

  The reverend and congregation walked in and around the structures, those already built as well as those in progress.

  The camera caught him weeping as he explained the battle to get to the Promised Land. He cried again when he read the letter from President Barack Obama congratulating him and the church for their dedication to community service. There was even a separate letter from the president encouraging Trustee Noel “. . . to keep exhibiting the spirit that makes America great.” It was basic enough for any recipient to read into it what they wanted.

  The Cheater Brothers wept, too, but they wouldn’t explain why they did. They didn’t have to once the camera turned toward Sister Lizzie Hellraiser. She used all her legal skills to waterboard them with their sinful ways. When she finished with the here to fores and other legal jargon there wouldn’t be a single threat of a lawsuit to follow.

  If there was one wrinkle in the ceremony or the walkabout, Bea and Sasha caused it. It happened when the reverend showed the new senior apartment building and health care center that were in progress. The apartment building would have ten floors and each floor would hold ten apartments. The waiting list was already full and, sadly, some would have to look elsewhere. No one who’d filled out an application knew whether it’d been accepted or not, yet Bea and Sasha began to argue how they wouldn’t want to live next door to each other.

  “I’m Mother Sasha Pray Onn, the President of the Mothers Board,” Sasha said into the camera. “I wouldn’t live in the same building with She-Rilla if it was free of charge,” she told one of the news reporters as she pointed at Bea.

  Of course, Bea took offense. She grabbed the microphone from the reporter and barked, “I’m Mother Bea ‘Baby Doll’ Blister, Vice President of the Mothers Board. I want ya to know that Sasha Serpent Pray Onn is one nasty ole heffa. I wouldn’t want her living in my building. She don’t even keep a clean house.”

  Sasha took a bigger offense and snatched the microphone from Bea’s hands. She turned and told the news reporter and the entire television viewing audience as she pointed to Bea, “She-Rilla don’t know what she’s talking about. I let my flies out every day for exercise. She can’t claim to do the same for hers!”

  “There you have it,” the television reporter said to the camera once he caught the microphone Sasha threw at him. “Church mothers gone wild.”

  The reverend quickly distanced the church affiliation from BS and proceeded with the ceremony. In about forty-five minutes, it was over. The journey to the Promised Land, all the gratuitous speeches, the keys, and the Pelzer proclamation handed to the reverend were finished. They held hands, prayed, sang, and then went their separate ways.

  It was Trustee Noel’s idea that later the Reverend and Sister Betty meet him at Porky’s Soul Food Shanty to celebrate. He’d already invited a few others and informed Porky that he was bringing business his way. He didn’t want to disappoint his landlord.

  Against their better judgment, Sister Betty and the reverend gave in to the trustee, and agreed to meet him there about seven o’clock.

  Several hours later, inside the Soul Food Shanty, the blue, white, green, and yellow Christmas lights hung with most of the small bulbs missing. A huge wreath with missing pinecones dangled from a nail on the front door. The wreath covered the latest egg launch by some unhappy patron. Christmas had come and gone, but even when it wasn’t a holiday, business was slow.

  Porky was up to his elbows in drama. He tried hard to convince the usual small group of loiterers to leave, but it was customary for the underprivileged to gather there. Most of them stopped by after work. Some had already spent their paychecks between the job and the bus stop. They came to Porky’s to fill up on free helpings of false machismo, watered down non-alcoholic beverages, and pork rinds. With nothing to do and no money to spend, they spent time vigorously debating the same subject they had for weeks: the stupidity of Porky’s now famous tenant, Trustee Freddie Noel.

  “Why in the world would that man win millions of dollars and still stay in this ratty roach hellhole?” The question came from a young man who still had a WILL WORK FOR A SAMMICH sign hanging about his neck. To add insult to injury, Porky stood less than five feet away and heard it all. Before Porky could answer or produce a weapon, someone took up the debate.

  Old man Sheffy was an elderly white wino and a long-time freeloader at Porky’s place. He had teeth so yellow and sharp they looked like a gold serrated dagger between his puffy pink lips. He always had something to say even if he had to cut short whatever he was doing in the bathroom to say it. His pants were half down and he had toilet paper trailing from behind.

  “I always thought that trustee was a damn fool and now I know he is one for certain.” That said, Sheffy took his place on his regular stool without pulling up his pants.

  In their delusions, everybody in the place excelled in economics, but none had a dime to show for it. They held hands, with the exception of Sheffy, whose hand no one wanted to touch, and sang Christmas carols and tried to recall the lyrics for rapper Kurtis Blow’s “Those Are the Breaks.”

  While the inmates downstairs in the Shanty asylum talked about Trustee Noel, he began getting dressed upstairs. Every item he picked out had a “What will Sister Betty think” thought behind it.

  If JCPenney didn’t make it through the economic downward spiral, it wasn’t because he hadn’t done his part to help them.

  Without benefit of any church fashion counsel, the trustee laid out a mixture of the old, the new, and several oh-hell-no outfits. Of course, he ended up choosing the latter.

  Against his better judgment, but because he wanted everyone to get along for the sake of the Promised Land, he’d told Porky to let the other customers remain. The way he figured, the church sho
uld never let things get out of hand again. There’d been too much blame leveled and even if they had cut the ribbon, they needed to start anew. Including Porky’s destitute patrons was a good PR move.

  After they’d promised to meet Trustee Noel at the Soul Food Shanty, Reverend Tom and Sister Betty thought of every excuse they could not to go. It wasn’t just because of its nasty cuisine, but because something crazy always happened there. When they couldn’t come up with a good excuse, they left to join the trustee.

  He had invited others as well. Elder Batty Brick was one.

  Although Elder Batty Brick had promised to keep the celebration a secret, he didn’t. Ever since Bea cashed that check for the five thousand dollars and made him a red velvet cake, she gave him more power than any blue pill ever could. He refused to leave her side and was at Bea’s whim. So of course, when he set off for the Soul Food Shanty, he had Bea along.

  Brother Casanova had an invite from the trustee as well. Unfortunately, on his way he ran into Sasha at the grocery store.

  He felt bad when she complained about how the economy treated her like an unwanted stepchild. “I can’t even buy this package of moldy cheese,” she said, pointing to a wedge of blue cheese.

  When Brother Casanova turned down the volume on his hearing aid and tried to escape down the canned food aisle, Sasha blocked his way and declared loudly, “Lord, I don’t know what else to do. I’m trying to hold on to my one hundred and forty dollars and twenty-six cents tithes refund a little longer. I can’t even afford a bus back home.”

  With people looking at him and shaking their heads as if he was the cheapskate, he offered her a lift. He hadn’t intended to take her to the Shanty, but she’d badgered him into stopping at Mickey D’s, then complained about the cost of a Happy Meal, so he caved in.

  Trustee Noel wanted to keep the celebration intimate. There was a slight chance he might be alone with Sister Betty, so he paid Porky to let him rent the Shanty’s back room. It was a room where Porky used to store his extra goods, but he hadn’t served anything good since 1999 so it had gone unoccupied.

  Porky hurried and gave a couple dollars to two of his loiterers to clean up the place. The young man willing to work for a sammich grabbed the money and started cleaning. In a short time he’d removed two cans of hardened paint, five or six occupied mousetraps, ran a damp mop over the floor, and used a half-dry rag over the fixtures.

  Ole man Sheffy stood around with his pants still close to the ground and pointed. He picked his nose, then used that same finger to point to the things he thought hurt the décor and ambiance. “Just make sure you remove the table and chairs,” Sheffy ordered. “They can sit Japanese-style on those old pieces of cardboard. That’s the way we do it back in the alley.”

  When it was finished, the two men had the nerve to charge Porky extra to avoid filing for Worker’s Compensation. Neither man had lifted anything beyond an elbow and a wine bottle for years and claimed they’d hurt their back muscles.

  As for the menu for the evening, Porky offered to cook. When Trustee Noel reminded him that he wanted something particular, Porky reminded the trustee that he didn’t cook particular and wouldn’t know where to buy it or how to clean it. It was all last minute, but the trustee managed to get in touch with Alice “Grandma Puddin’” who said she’d handle it. Of course, he had to pay extra because she was tired from the renewed interest in her old stripper occupation since the Seniors Prom.

  Everything was ready for the celebration. After that night in Pelzer, the Christmas season would never be the same. Even Old Satan threw more coal on the fire, popped some popcorn, gathered his demons, and looked up to watch.

  In the meantime, Trustee Noel was in his room dancing and twirling that hair sprig. Nothing could erase the grin from his face while he sang his favorite Little Richard line, “Good Golly Miss Molly, sure love to ball.”

  Chapter 30

  Reverend Tom and Sister Betty could barely find a parking spot. Every square inch on the block that surrounded the Soul Food Shanty was taken. The Christmas holiday weather was unseasonably mild and warm, causing a great deal of slush and mud. All they had to do was follow the footprints that led to the Shanty’s front door.

  If Sister Betty thought the seniors had rocked that prom the other week, she was in for a big surprise. They’d been amateurs.

  She and the reverend’s jaws dropped when Bea met them at the door. With “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus” blasting in the background, Bea sashayed over. She wore a halo of mistletoe that sat upon a wing-tipped, mauve-colored wig. Her hump was hidden under a fuchsia and black fur-trimmed gown. She wore a pair of stiletto heel boots she’d had cut down into flip-flops. She was a hot mess, but she felt good because there was money left over from her five thousand dollars.

  “Come on in here and take a load off ya selves,” Bea said. “I’m helping out with the celebration.”

  Bea was about to say something more when Elder Batty Brick’s husky voice called out to her. “Bea, come back over here. Bring a slice of that red velvet cake and meet me in the back.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t stay and chat. My new man is calling me.” Bea turned and with her back arched a little more than usual, she seemed to float to where Elder Batty Brick sat waiting.

  Reverend Tom’s voice finally returned about the same time as Sister Betty’s. They looked at one another, each wanting to say something, but even with a voice, they couldn’t.

  The reverend slipped out of his coat and helped Sister Betty out of hers as they looked around.

  Folks from all over Pelzer had squeezed into the Shanty. The Trustee’s private celebration had turned into a public party. Apparently, Trustee Noel thought he owed a celebration, as well, to old man Sheffy and the other less fortunate who’d been a part of his life for so long.

  The reverend and Sister Betty understood the unconventional guest list, and admired the trustee for his ability to remain humble.

  Sister Betty, as usual, hadn’t come prepared to partake in such a lavish celebration. She thought she’d shake it up a bit by wearing a gray and white long skirt and top. The only thing she had in common with some of the other guests was that she was wearing a wig, too.

  The reverend, on the other hand, fit in just fine. After being stuffed into his robe most of the day for the ribbon cutting celebration, he was wearing a stylish, dark blue jogging suit. Some of the other men had dressed informally, except they hadn’t changed clothes in weeks. The smell and wrinkles confirmed it.

  Reverend Tom and Sister Betty decided to go with the flow until they spotted Brother Casanova. He kept moving around with Sasha almost tied to his hip. They laughed as poor Brother Casanova tried to shake her off his leg as though she were a piece of lint, or a small puppy in heat.

  Finally, their host came downstairs. Trustee Noel wore a beige golf cap and a casual three-piece chocolate brown suit with the vest unbuttoned. Under the vest he wore a white muscle shirt that looked absolutely ludicrous and useless on him.

  If he wasn’t sure he’d picked out the hottest oh-hell-no suit he got confirmation quickly. No sooner had he stepped off the bottom step when laughter and a chorus of “oh hell no” rang out. He couldn’t stop grinning; he was that meow the cat looked for.

  Trustee Noel gave a let’s get this party started nod to Porky. He smiled and watched Porky drag his tired butt over and adjust the dirty chef hat he wore. Then the two strode into the center of the room.

  A picture of Ma and Pa Kettle never looked as messed up as those two did. It took a moment for the laughter to die down, but as soon as it did, Trustee Noel spoke. His self-confidence had grown tremendously over the past few weeks and it showed when it shouldn’t. The same hand he normally used to twirl that hair sprig he now used to lay on Porky’s massive shoulder.

  Porky closed his eyes and fell asleep standing up.

  “I’m so glad to see y’all,” the trustee said. “God is good, the weather is unseasonably warm, ain’t too many fo
ols in the place tonight, and we’re gonna have a good time.”

  Glaring at Porky, Freddie Noel grabbed his golf cap by its lid, pushed it back and to the side, then jabbed one of his skinny fingers into the meaty part of Porky’s shoulder to wake him.

  The none-too subtle push prompted Porky to wake and scream out, “Yeah, he sho’ loves to ball.” Trustee Noel paid money for that, too. I’d a come out cheaper if I’d just hired Little Richard.

  Earlier when the trustee asked Porky if he could imitate Little Richard, Porky claimed he could. The truth was that the closest he ever got to imitating Little Richard was putting one leg on a stool.

  Trustee Noel made the rounds, personally shaking hands, giving the ladies pecks on their cheeks, and almost breaking his wrist when he tried to high-five a couple deacons.

  Moments later he finally reached where the reverend and Sister Betty stood. No shame in the trustee’s game as he feigned a chest bump against his pastor and exclaimed, “You da man!”

  Reverend Tom was again speechless. In all his life, he’d never given or received a chest bump before. He quickly looked down at his cross to make sure the Jesus image was okay.

  And then to show how much he’d totally changed—or lost—his mind, Trustee Noel kissed Sister Betty on her lips.

  Shocked, she jumped back and fished around inside her pocketbook for her spray can of blessed oil. She didn’t know what he’d do next. If he tried to chest bump her, too, she would knee him in the groin.

  “My oh my,” Trustee Noel smacked his lips as though Sister Betty was a two-piece and a biscuit. “You look beautiful. There ain’t nothing like a seasoned-woman of God.”

  The trustee didn’t know what hit him. One minute he stood telling Sister Betty in his own way how good she looked. The next minute Sister Betty and Reverend Tom had hauled his skinny butt back up the stairs to his room.