Practicing What You Preach

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “Yes, ma’am. Although Angela did a lot of it, I did have my part.”

  She nodded once and sharp. “Well, you did a nice job. You tell your grandmother, Cora, I said hello. She is still living isn’t she?”

  “Yes. When she remarried she moved to Jacksonville, Florida, with her husband.”

  “I remember she told me she was getting married. She’s a good woman, your grandmother. I’ve not met many like her.”

  “I’ll tell her you said hello.”

  Arletha left. I looked at Angela and Brent. The photographer was taking a picture of Brent, his mother, father, and grandmother, and I couldn’t help but think how much it would have meant to Angela had her grandmother been there to take a photo with her.

  But if you were to ask me my real thoughts when it comes to Arletha Brown possibly being kin to Angela, I would have to come down on the side of no way. And as much as I hate to say it, Arletha was right not to go down there and speak to Angela. It just would have made Angela start thinking of what she didn’t have at this moment. And today had been too good a day to end it like that.

  Chapter 14

  Wherefore receive ye one another, as Christ also received us to the glory of God.

  —Romans 15:7

  The reception was packed to capacity. The individually candlelit tables were decorated with red and gold: red tablecloths, gold canelike chairs, and gold chargers holding white china surrounded by crystal. Dozens of red roses standing tall in golden vases alternated with white ones on adjoining tables.

  Everybody was having such a great time. The first dance of Mr. and Mrs. Brent Underwood was electrifying and romantic and spiritual—it was poetry in motion. People say I’m a sap for love. I suppose it’s true. Everything was so beautiful and so genuine. I couldn’t believe I had actually been a part of this great day.

  And true to form, when the music opened up for everybody, the dance floor filled up quickly as the live band Brent had hired began to play the theme song for the electric slide. Young, old, black, white, those who could dance, those who couldn’t, all out there having a good time, laughing as they dipped and did all the other moves associated with the slide. Two people had already asked for my business card to plan their wedding.

  Later, when things began to taper off, Aaliyah came over and sat beside me.

  “Hi,” she said, dressed in her white satin dress I was told her father went out and bought especially for the wedding after the other girl was unable to participate.

  “Hi, yourself.” I smiled. “Are you having fun?”

  “Lots,” she said. “But I always have fun when I’m with my daddy. He gives me a lot of attention. My mother says too much. She says he’s spoiling me.”

  “Well, I don’t think there’s such a thing as spoiling a child, myself. I think your daddy is great the way he is with you. That’s what I think. You’re a very lucky little girl,” I said.

  “My daddy says there’s no such thing as luck. He says we’re blessed!” She threw her arms in the air as though she were throwing something up when she said the word blessed.

  “You know, your daddy is not only right, but he’s a really smart man.” I touched her hair that had been styled with Shirley Temple curls.

  “Well, thank you,” a voice behind me said, startling me just a tad.

  “Daddy!” Aaliyah said as she jumped up and hugged him. “Dance with us.”

  “What?” Marcus said.

  “She wants to dance”—Aaliyah pointed at me—“and so do I.”

  “Oh, she does, does she?” Marcus asked, smiling.

  I was about to protest (I didn’t want him thinking I had put her up to that) when he continued speaking to his daughter. “And who is she?”

  “She is her,” Aaliyah said, pointing at me again.

  “I never said I wanted to dance.” I looked directly at Marcus. “I never said that.”

  “But she does want to,” Aaliyah said. “And I want to, too. We can all dance together, the three of us. You know, Daddy. Like the way we used to with me, you, and Mommy.” She started jumping up and down. “Please, Daddy. Please.” She gave him her puppydog look. I knew he was a goner then.

  “Well, Aaliyah, first off her name is Miss Melissa,” Marcus said, holding his daughter’s hand.

  “I know, I know,” Aaliyah said as she bounced a little. “She was the one who told me when to walk out today and to throw out the flowers, not too fast, not too slow, just right.”

  “And you did an awesome job today,” Marcus said to her. “In fact, you both did.” He was now looking at me with a slight grin. He held out his other hand to me. “Well, you heard my daughter. She wants us to dance together.”

  “Oh, you two go on. I’m fine right here. It’s been a long day, a good one but long.”

  Marcus grabbed my hand and pulled me up before I could protest anymore. “That’s precisely why you need to enjoy yourself. It’s bad to work at something and not enjoy the fruits of the labor. Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint a sweet little girl, now would you?” He looked down at Aaliyah, who smiled at her daddy’s words.

  So we danced. The three of us together. And I must admit: that evening, with the two of them, was the most fun I’d had in a long, long time. I laughed, I danced, I felt like I belonged. I didn’t feel as though anyone wanted anything from me except to be in my company.

  And Marcus is quite the dancer, especially when inspired by his daughter.

  Angela and Brent were getting ready to leave the reception. Brent hadn’t told Angela where he was taking her on their honeymoon. But from everything I was picking up, I knew it was somewhere exotic. I hadn’t thought any more about Arletha until I spotted her standing off to the side, watching intently as Angela and Brent waved good-bye to everyone. I was about to go over and speak to her when Gayle walked up.

  “Don’t bother,” Gayle said.

  “What?”

  “Don’t bother trying to go say anything to Arletha. I saw her earlier at the reception. Whenever I tried to approach her to speak, she walked away from me.”

  “I talked to her at the wedding,” I said, as I watched Arletha leave.

  “She was at the wedding?” Gayle asked.

  “Yes. She said she was coming to the reception. I tried to get her to let Angela know she was there while they were taking pictures. She insists she’s not who we think she is and she only came to the wedding, and I suppose this reception, because she had nothing better to do.” I took a sip of the punch I held in my hand. “She told me she would speak to Angela during the receiving line. Do you know whether she did or not?” I asked.

  “She didn’t. In fact, Angel has no idea she was even here. In a way, I’m sort of glad. I feel bad that I brought this up in the first place. If I had known—”

  “But you didn’t know. And personally, I think you did the right thing by telling her what you did. It could have turned out wonderfully. Had Arletha been her grandmother, it would have been the best gift she could have gotten during this time. As it turns out, she wasn’t.”

  “I’m just grateful that Arletha stayed in the background, keeping Angel from knowing she’d come,” Gayle said as she looked around the room. “It wouldn’t have served any purpose, and Angel deserves this day of happiness without all of the ‘what ifs’ it would have generated. I’m just trying to figure out why Arletha decided to come to a wedding for someone she just met on Wednesday. That’s the part that’s puzzling me. It doesn’t make sense. You say you’re no relation, but you come to a wedding and a reception.” Gayle shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “If you knew Arletha Brown, it would make sense. She probably really was bored. We sent her an invitation. She thought we were bold to send one after she told us she wasn’t the person we were looking for, so she throws it all back in our faces. It was like a dare, a challenge to her. From what I remember, she hated people challenging her. That seems to motivate her even more to fight.”

  “I guess,”
Gayle said. “So, what’s up with you and the best man?”

  “Nothing’s up,” I said. I could feel my face beginning to warm up.

  “I saw you two dancing over there.”

  “It was the three of us. His daughter is a little doll, and she wanted to dance.”

  Gayle grinned. “Yeah. Okay. I get it now. But from the outside looking in, it looked like it was just the two of you. In fact, when I noticed, and I by no means was gawking or anything, it looked like there was no one else in the room except the two of you.”

  “I don’t know him like that. I know him from his visits to the place where I work, but I don’t really know him. And we did have one sort of date a few weeks ago, but I—”

  “Don’t know him,” Gayle said, finishing my sentence. “Yes, I heard you already.”

  “I didn’t even know he was a minister. I just learned that last night,” I said.

  “And that makes a difference how?” she teased me.

  “It doesn’t make a difference. But he’s divorced and that does make a difference.”

  “Him being divorced makes a difference? I don’t get it,” Gayle said. I could tell she was serious about that.

  I really didn’t want to get into my thoughts and rationales regarding dating a man who is divorced with Gayle tonight.

  “It’s just a quirk with me. You know, some people won’t date outside their race. Some people won’t date people who are a certain shade of color. Some won’t date certain heights or certain weights. I mean, I have a friend who loves heavy men. She won’t give a skinny man the time of day. Some women won’t date men who are younger than them.”

  “That’s me. I don’t date younger men.”

  “See,” I said. “Well, me, I don’t date men who are divorced.”

  “Divorced or divorced with children?” Gayle asked.

  “I have nothing against a man with a child. In fact, were I to meet a widower or a never-married-before man who had a child or children and I liked him, I wouldn’t have any problems with dating him.”

  “Okay, so it’s just divorced men?”

  I sighed. “Yes, just divorced men, period.” I was looking for an out now. “I need to take care of some things before the reception is officially over. It’s been a long day,” I said.

  “Well, you did a fantastic job, both you and Angel. This has been quite a memorable day. My family can’t believe how great this all turned out. Little old Angel from Asheville doing it up big time.”

  I saw Marcus pick up a now exhausted Aaliyah. She laid her head on his shoulder.

  “Yes,” I said in response to Gayle’s statement. “It certainly has been that—a great day.”

  Marcus spotted me looking in his direction. He winked and nodded, then carried his daughter toward the exit.

  Chapter 15

  For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.

  —Ephesians 2:10

  After I got home from church, I lay down on my bed and took a long nap. I was completely exhausted. Marcus called me Sunday evening, thirty minutes after I woke up.

  “How was church today?” Marcus asked.

  “Anointed as always. Pastor Landris really brought the Word home today,” I said as I continued to lie on the bed.

  “I was wondering if you’d even make it to church today. I have to give you your props: that was some kind of a wedding and a reception you put together. You’re good.”

  I smiled. “Well, I thank you. But I have to be fair and say that Angela did a lot of the work herself. She called me in for reinforcement.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re being much too modest. Angela told me herself that she never would have pulled all of that off so wonderfully had it not been for you,” Marcus said. It was amazing how much deeper his voice sounded over the phone than in person.

  “Well, don’t get me wrong, I did a lot of work for sure. And there were plenty of things she didn’t think about that I suggested and handled.” I sat up on the bed. “I just don’t want to mislead you and make you think I did everything all by myself.”

  “Can you just say thank you and leave it at that?”

  “Excuse me?” I wasn’t totally following him.

  “When someone pays you a compliment, can you just say thank you instead of trying to take away from what great thing they’ve said to you?”

  I thought about what he had just said and I blushed a little bit. “I thought I did say thank you.”

  “You said thank you, and then you used the word most folks use that generally means forget everything I just said and pay attention to this part only,” he said.

  “And what word is that?” I stood up and began to walk around my bedroom.

  “But.”

  “But?” I repeated.

  “Yes. You said, ‘Well, thank you, but’ and that one word practically erased the thank you.” I could hear a smile in his voice. “Learn to take a compliment. When someone says you did a great job, just say thank you and close your mouth after that. No one needs to know what you messed up on while doing the great job. Just practice that. You know, become more conscious of how often you’re using that nasty little qualifier after someone says something nice to you. Stop sabotaging yourself. Trust me—there are enough people out there to tear you and what you do down without you jumping on the bandwagon to help.”

  As I thought about what he had just said, I started smiling. He was right. I did have a habit of saying something negative after anyone said something nice to me. No one had ever pointed that out to me before. I suppose I thought I was using humility by pointing out my flaws and shortcomings when in essence I was sabotaging my self-esteem.

  “Let’s practice,” Marcus said. “You did an outstanding job with that wedding and reception yesterday. It was a beautiful day from start to finish.”

  “Thank you,” I said, then realized just how awkward it felt not adding something to that. I really was fighting the urge to say something more. “So, how is your daughter doing?” I asked, opting to hurry and change the subject away from me.

  “Believe it or not, she’s knocked out right now. When she was younger, I always made her take a nap around two or three in the afternoon if she hadn’t taken one by then. After she turned five, it became harder to get her to cooperate. She fights me about taking a nap now, saying that she wants to play with me, or she’ll try and distract me by hugging and kissing me, telling me how much she loves me.”

  Marcus laughed a short laugh. “And when I insist she lie down, she just closes her eyes and pretends to go to sleep, then five minutes later, she gets up and acts like she’s just waking up. She’s a great little actress, I must say.”

  I thought about when I was little. I remember being five and doing the same thing. “I think when children get to that age, they just don’t want to miss out on too much. And I’m sure that, having you for her father, she really doesn’t want to miss any time with you.” I couldn’t believe I had just spoken that part out loud. I clasped my hand over my mouth to keep anything else from slipping out.

  “Well, thank you, but I’m sure it’s not just me she doesn’t want to miss out on,” Marcus said.

  I now grinned. “Oooh,” I said like a little child, “you just said a bad word.”

  “What?” he said, and I could imagine the wheels turning as he replayed what he had just said. “Oh,” he snickered. “My bad. I used the dreaded ‘but’ after my thank you.”

  “I suppose that just proves how hard it is to practice what you preach,” I said. “And speaking of preach, why didn’t you tell me you were a preacher?” I flopped down on the couch in my den.

  “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you much of anything, remember? We went out that one time, and after that, for some reason, you cut me off completely. So does it matter that I’m a preacher?”

  I took one of the pillows from behind my back that was bothering me and moved it. “N
o, it doesn’t matter that you’re a preacher. I just had no idea.”

  “Is that why you thought it would be great to go to Bible study for a first date with me? You thought that would turn me away?” Marcus asked.

  “I wasn’t trying to turn you away,” I said.

  “Yes, you were. You have a fear of getting too close to men. I don’t know what happened, but somebody burned you and now you have a wall up to keep most men out.”

  “So you’ve seen me at work about ten times when you visit with Dr. Brewer once a month for whatever reason you come by. Go to Bible study with me one time. Talk once or twice to me on the phone. See me at a wedding. And now you think you know everything there is to know about me and you feel you can effectively analyze me?”

  “Don’t forget we did eat a burger together,” Marcus said.

  “What?”

  “Oh, and we danced together, too,” Marcus said. “Don’t leave that off.”

  “What?” I said with annoyance.

  “Last night, we danced together. You were recapping our life together and you left off the dance.”

  “We didn’t really dance together,” I said, throwing my feet up on the couch. I could feel the heat coming into my face, but it wasn’t anger. It was a warm feeling accompanied by a few butterflies in my stomach. “Not really,” I added.

  “Yes, we did.”

  “It was me, you, and Aaliyah. That hardly counts as you and I dancing together.” I said it with pretend aggravation in my voice, though I was far from being aggravated.

  “So, you didn’t enjoy going out with me that one time?”

  That came out of the blue. “Yes, I enjoyed it.”

  “Then why did you seem to turn cold on me?” Marcus asked. “I called you and you were different. What did I do that turned you off from talking to me?”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Then how about we go out again? Your choice of place and time.” Marcus waited as I struggled to find the right response.