No Ordinary Noel

by Pat G'Orge-Walker

  But before they dragged him away, Reverend Tom said to the shocked guests, “One of y’all bless the food, then please go ahead and eat, drink non-alcoholic drinks, and be merry. We’ll be back in a few.”

  Upstairs in the trustee’s room Reverend Tom and Sister Betty questioned his sanity.

  “What has happened to you?” Reverend Tom asked the question while he surveyed the room cluttered with new clothes.

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with me,” Trustee Noel replied. He began to feel put upon and they had no right to do that. Didn’t he just help them find the Promised Land? “Y’all got no right to drag me off in front of company like that. What did I do wrong?”

  The trustee’s last question was directed at Sister Betty. Everything he’d done lately was with her in mind. Yet, she’d helped to embarrass him.

  Just as the reverend had noticed a huge change in the trustee, Sister Betty did, too. She saw the new clothes and the new television still boxed in a corner. She also noticed the enormous pile of gift-wrapped Mary Kay boxes in another corner. Although neither had exchanged a gift, Christmas was over unless he had a head start on next year’s.

  It looked as though the trustee had caught a sale from every store in Pelzer. She looked again in the corner and couldn’t figure why he’d purchased a great deal of Mary Kay.

  While the reverend and the trustee had their heart-to-heart, Sister Betty sat on the only chair in the room. It was hard to imagine that, over the years, she’d never heard the trustee voice an opinion above a whisper, say an unkind word about anyone, or wear anything that didn’t smack of a used clothes store. Even when he’d won his millions, for a long time, he’d remained the same. The change, in her opinion, began when he’d tried to rescue his church. Why had that happened?

  She stood, and over the music and chatter that filtered its way upstairs, she asked, “Reverend Tom, can I have a few words with Trustee Noel alone please?”

  While the reverend and Sister Betty raked the trustee over the coals upstairs, downstairs, the party turned in a new direction. The crowd began celebrating by discussing various ways the Promised Land would improve their lives.

  Alice “Grandma Puddin’” Tart stood behind a long table with a string of holly about her sagging neck. A torn hairnet covered her gray wig, but she was overjoyed. While she scooped and tossed mashed potatoes, corn, roast chicken parts, collards, and peas onto their plates, she told the other guests, “Thank the Lord, they got a new medical center in the Promised Land. I can’t wait to be able to see a doctor without giving up my mortgage money for a couple pills.” She danced a little two-step as she continued to heap generous portions.

  “Just having a window to look out and see the highway will be the high point for me.” The excitement came from ole man Sheffy. He’d slept under the highway for so many years he almost wept at the thought of seeing it from a distance. He pulled out an envelope from his pants pocket that no longer hung around his knees. “I got my notice today. I got an apartment in the Promised Land.”

  One by one, the guests shared their hopes and desires of blessings to come for the new year. The few who knew for certain they’d made it into the Promised Land cried and thanked God.

  Reverend Tom stepped off the bottom step just in time to hear all the testimonies, hopes, and dreams of those in the community. “This is what it’s always been about,” he murmured.

  Suddenly the unexplained change he’d seen in the trustee diminished for that moment. Only weeks ago people had lost hope in the government, faith in him, and wondered how God fit into the chaos. That night some of those same breathed a sigh of relief and mentally decorated their new homes. Listening to the joy and relief from Alice “Grandma Puddin’” was a blessing in itself.

  He waded into the crowd and began to party with them. He didn’t even mind when a young man asked him to bless a “sammich” as he called it. “Thank you, Mr. Leotis,” the young man said.

  That night Reverend Tom didn’t mind coming out of the mental pulpit he carried twenty-four-seven. He was going to enjoy those same blessings with the others and on common ground.

  Chapter 31

  Upstairs, inside Trustee Noel’s small room everything Sister Betty wanted to say flew out the window. It’d taken off as soon as he went down on one knee. She was never certain of his age, but had figured it was pretty much close to her own. If that were true, then they had a problem. Whatever he got down there to do, she couldn’t help him rise when he was finished.

  Out of respect, he flipped his golf cap back around to wear it the correct way. He wouldn’t look so hip-hop or like a sixty-five-year-old fool.

  Sister Betty didn’t recall putting her hand on that spray canister of blessed oil. She only knew that the next moment, she had doused him from his golf hat to his ugly black penny loafers.

  If she thought a can of prayed-over PAM was going to stop that trustee, then she was as wrong as she’d been about God giving her a break.

  “Sister Betty, please.” Trustee Noel shoved the canister away from him and tried to pry open the small ring box in his hand. His hand kept slipping off the lid because she’d sprayed him good with that oil. “I just want to ask you something.”

  She reeled back and let go again, circling him with the spray lever set on BLAST THAT DEMON. “Don’t you try and touch me. Watch it now, ’cause I’m touched by God alone.”

  If she’d been the hot Super Saint mama he thought she was, then he’d have gone up in flames. She wasn’t playing about setting his world on fire.

  Yet nothing she said deterred Trustee Freddie Noel. He thought he was the Jay-Z of the church. “Jay-Z said it was a hard knock life and Beyoncé says I need to put a ring on it!”

  Sister Betty hit him upside his head with the can.

  While the trustee and Sister Betty fought over the rules of engagements upstairs, Bea and Sasha finally squared off again, inside Porky’s kitchen.

  From the time they arrived, most of the guests had placed a bet on how long it would take those two fighting hens to start pecking. Some folks made a lot of money that night and figured out their tithe portion.

  The BS fight started as it usually did, with Sasha accusing Bea of stealing. Actually, it was a continuation of their fight from the Seniors Prom. The untimely arrival of Reverend Tom had put a halt to it that night. A simple question reignited the feud.

  Alice “Grandma Puddin’” had scooped until her hand hurt, but the guests kept coming back for more. Even Porky ate two helpings despite never getting compliments on anything he cooked. She knew she could put her “foot in a pot.” For years, people gave that compliment when she served up a meal.

  Sasha had a strong reputation for tossing a meal or two, also, and Bea was the known Queen. But Alice didn’t like Bea as much as she liked Sasha, so she directed her attention to Sasha.

  When Alice saw Sasha still had food on her plate, she straightened her apron, walked over and asked humbly, “Mother Sasha, cook to cook, how does the food taste?”

  And that’s when Sasha realized she’d placed her teeth in a cup, but didn’t remember where she set it down. Of course, she never answered Alice’s question. She bowed her head and slipped into her mouth an extra pair of teeth she’d brought. But she wasn’t letting it go. She was going to blame Bea like the last time. She calmly walked over to where Bea stood, still attached to Elder Batty Brick.

  “Bea,” Sasha said sweetly. “May I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

  Chapter 32

  It wasn’t easy separating Bea and Sasha. It took the combined strength of Reverend Tom, Elder Batty Brick, Brother Casanova, and Porky.

  The men had just started to discuss holding another meeting for community outreach at the Soul Food Shanty when they overheard the commotion. In an instant, they dashed into Porky’s kitchen and found the old hens pecking.

  Before the Christian Cavalry and Porky arrived the old women had managed to bust an angel figure holding a ribbon with JOY TO THE WORL
D written upon it. Not too far from the angel lay two holly wreaths that had been one. Even the silver pinecones bound with a beautiful, deep purple sash looked like wood chips. They’d torn that kitchen asunder.

  Sasha panted, completely out of breath. She felt strange, so she put her thumb quickly in her mouth and felt nothing but gums. She had lost her spare false teeth as well as ripped the slit in her skirt up another two or three inches. Of course, she’d forgotten to wear drawers again, too.

  Bea suffered as well. The men were shocked to see tiny rows of micro gray hairs, making it look like she had a head full of toasted sesame seeds. Her bright mauve-colored wig lay on top of the toaster that had turned on during their fight. The smell of synthetic hair and Royal Crown hair grease was enough to shut down the place. There was a faint odor of urine or some knock-off brand of Summer’s Eve feminine deodorizer.

  Up in his room Sister Betty didn’t need to help Trustee Noel to his feet. He hopped up and was on his way out the door before she said another word. The two of them heard the commotion downstairs and that put an end to the trustee’s disastrous marriage proposal.

  Instead of following him out of the room, she collapsed onto his bed and looked around his tiny room. Nothing at that moment made sense. Her world was as out of order as his room. In all her visions and knee pains, she’d not seen this one coming.

  She questioned her feelings. Did she enjoy the quirky man’s company? Yes. Had she wanted to become more than friends? Yes. She’d like that, but not at that moment and especially not at the Soul Food Shanty. She felt as though he’d taken her to a cliff overlooking a beautiful valley, told her to fly with him or to drop like a rock.

  And where was the romance? A woman her age, despite years of being single, still wanted romance. At least, she thought she did. Sister Betty rose and went to the small window in the room. She looked out at the moonlight and the stars, and smiled. “Well, Lord,” Sister Betty whispered. “You certainly know how to call the shots.”

  Just as she turned away from the window, the door opened slightly. With a big grin on her face, Cheyenne walked in the room.

  The two old women embraced and Cheyenne apologized for not returning for the ribbon cutting ceremony. “My old rheumatoid held me prisoner again,” she explained. “I should’ve known that as soon as I felt the weather had warmed up a bit and I came back to Pelzer, it would get cold again.”

  “I know how you feel,” Sister Betty said with a smile. “My knee’s been revolting for days.”

  “I see Bea and Sasha got the party started again.” Cheyenne shook her head and switched her cane to the other hand. She pointed to the floor and added, “One day those two old birds gonna figure out just how much they really like one another. When they do this is gonna be one boring town.”

  Sister Betty didn’t agree with Cheyenne’s observation. She thought it was absurd. “I’ve known Bea and Sasha for about as long as I’ve known you. I’ve never seen them do anything but bicker, fight, gossip, and gamble.”

  “That’s right,” Cheyenne said. She eased down onto the trustee’s bed and laid her cane to the side. “And who do they fight with?”

  “They fight each other.”

  “Do you ever see them fight anyone else?”

  “Rarely,” Sister Betty replied. “They usually reserve a beat down, as the young folks say, for each other.”

  “And do you think anyone else would put up with their nonsense?”

  “No, I don’t.” Sister Betty suddenly started laughing. It felt good. She’d wanted and needed that laugh. “So, they fight one another because they don’t have to worry about the outcome. Come to think of it, I ain’t never known either of them to get really hurt or go to a hospital.”

  “And they never will. Other folks would’ve nailed their old butts to the wall a long time ago. That’s why they always end up at the same place, the same time, and pretend they didn’t want to.”

  Dispensing with thoughts of Bea and Sasha, Sister Betty took a moment and recounted the ribbon cutting ceremony. “Oh, I just thank the Lord.” She became excited when she told Cheyenne who’d attended.

  “Oh, and I thank the Lord,” she repeated after she gave an account on how the reverend made his confession before the congregation. “He didn’t hold back. The reverend admitted how he’d distanced himself from the members and thought he was so much better.”

  Cheyenne interrupted with a question. She hadn’t become as excited as Sister Betty appeared to be. “Did he tell them that his grandmother was a whore?”

  “Yes, he did. He not only talked about how her money had blessed him and the church, then he accepted how others’ monies had done the same.”

  “Good for him,” Cheyenne said and winked. “There’s hope there after all.”

  Once that conversation was exhausted, Cheyenne began to laugh and look about the room.

  “What’s so funny?” Sister Betty looked around the room, too.

  “Just wondering when you are going to give Trustee Noel his answer and take him out of this dump. He doesn’t seem to want to leave on his own, even though he can buy the whole block.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sister Betty hadn’t mentioned one word about what had happened earlier. She was certain Cheyenne hadn’t time to talk to the trustee. Why would she?

  “Honey, I helped him pick out the ring when he took me out to lunch the other day.” Cheyenne squirmed on the bed to get comfortable.

  “The other day, what are you talking about?”

  Cheyenne explained that she’d felt bad about how she treated him at the Seniors Prom and reached out to apologize. During their conversation, he asked questions about Sister Betty and confessed his growing feelings.

  “He said you and he ‘fit like a hand in a glove’,” Cheyenne quoted. “I told him not to lay a glove on you, but do like Beyoncé said, and lay a ring on you instead.”

  “You had no right to tell him that.” Sister Betty became annoyed, but only a little bit.

  “Oh Betty, please,” Cheyenne rebuked. “It ain’t like the two of you got from now on to get it together.”

  “That’s not the point,” Sister Betty replied. “We’re not in love.”

  “Have you ever been in love besides being in love with Jesus?”

  Sister Betty didn’t quite know how to respond. The only time in her life she could recall having such feelings was when she was a teenager. At seventeen, she’d given up her virginity in her parents’ barn, become pregnant, then lost the baby months later. She’d not been close to feeling like that since.

  Sister Betty hadn’t meant for Cheyenne to see the pain on her face, although she was certain she had. “I guess I don’t know what love is.”

  “Honey, look,” Cheyenne said as she moved over so Sister Betty could sit closer. “The time for all those pie in the sky, moonlight kisses, and star spangled banner playing are over for you and Freddie. Y’all are too close to crossing over to waste a lot of time on regrets. I’m not telling you that you have to marry him next week, but if you feel anything close to what his feelings are, then be honest and give it a chance. I can tell you one thing . . .”

  “What’s that?” Sister Betty asked, although not sure if she wanted to know.

  “This particular Christmas season and that particular Freddie Noel ain’t no ordinary Noels.”

  Trustee Noel barged into the room with that golf cap folded and crammed in his hand with a wild look upon his face. It meant one thing. Something had gone wrong, very wrong.

  “I’m sorry, Sister Betty, but I need Miss Cheyenne right away.” He started rocking side-to-side and was about to yank that sprig of hair completely off his scalp.

  Cheyenne reached for her cane. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Has something happened downstairs?” Sister Betty asked. She fought hard against showing any jealousy since he’d asked for Cheyenne and not her.

  “I’m sorry Sister Betty. You ain’t fit for this type of mess an
d dousing folks won’t work. I need Miss Cheyenne’s help.”

  Cheyenne finally inched her way off the bed, checked her hair to make sure it was still pinned, and slowly made it to Trustee Noel’s side. “What is wrong with you? Is it Bea and Sasha?”

  “No ma’am. It’s much worse,” the trustee’s yellow complexion looked jaundiced.

  “What can be worse than Bea and Sasha?” Sister Betty couldn’t imagine anything worse than the trouble they made.

  “Again, I apologize to you, Sister Betty.” He was so frantic he almost lifted Cheyenne off the floor. Without stopping to see if she was ready to leave the room, he pointed at the boxes in the corner and told Sister Betty, “Why don’t you just help yourself to any of those Mary Kay gifts. We’ll be back shortly.”

  And that’s when Cheyenne looked at the stack of gift-wrapped Mary Kay boxes and fell out laughing. She turned and faced poor Freddie and asked, “Did you get all those boxes from where I think you got ’em?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Cheyenne replied as she led him out of the room. “It was your first time, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it was.” Freddie glanced back at Sister Betty and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  Chapter 33

  During the time Cheyenne and Sister Betty were upstairs, people came and went inside the Soul Food Shanty. Many stopped by because they’d heard about the private celebration and wanted to be included. If the media came by, they wanted to be there.

  However, one had more on her mind than a mere television appearance. She watched for most of the evening with her eyes glued on the reverend and the trustee. She waited until most of the accolades were given and cell phone camera shots were taken of the two men before she made a move.

  The two men had separate appeal; one had the looks, the position, the style, and the youth. The other had nothing more than a million bucks. She struggled to choose.