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Authors: Victor McGlothin

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BOOK: Down On My Knees
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2
Beautiful Words
S
aturday morning at eleven sharp, Grace scurried around inside the ladies' powder room just off the main chapel of church as she mixed in Golden Glimmer eye shadow with a delicate brushstroke of Mocha Madness foundation to even out the hue. Chandelle was a blushing bride-to-be, but her skin tone was much too rich to apply the makeup directlyfrom the small container, as intended by the manufacturer.
“I don't know what that cosmetics company was thinking when they marketed this precious-metal line to sistahs withoutadding a touch of bronze,” Grace grumbled while dabblingher own mixture of ingenuity and good old-fashioned know-how underneath Chandelle's eyebrows. “Someone ought to crash their next sales meeting with some of this here to set them straight.”
“I know you're going to make me so beautiful, Grace,” Chandelle whispered, holding her eyes closed. “I saw the photos from Maryland's wedding, when she was shoving them in everybody's face at the job. The way you put her face together like a movie star sent me running to your office.I wasn't too proud to beg, either.”
Grace tilted her head to the side as she thought back to the memorable scene that had happened two years earlier. “Yeah, I do recall a skinny little college grad fresh off the bus traipsing into my office and interrupting my conference call.” She laughed when the memory came back crystal clear, as if it had happened yesterday.
“Miss Hilliard, Miss Hilliard!”
Grace mocked, while trying to imitate Chandelle'sexcited voice.
“I know you don't know me, but I just peeped Maryland's wedding album, and her makeup was so tight that no one even noticed her ugly dress.”
Other women in the busy room snickered.
Chandelle chuckled lightly herself as she reminisced. “How was I to know you were a corporate big shot? All I knew was that you had a rep for being nice to everyone, and that you'd worked magic on Maryland. You probably won't admit it, but that chick needed it more than most. That's when I figured there was hope for me. After you said yes, all I needed then was a man.”
“Be nice, now,” Grace warned. “Maryland has already taken the plunge, and now has an adorable set of twins and a backyard. You still need the minister to ink your deal, so lighten up. Not everyone is a natural beauty like you, Chandelle, with a line of men beating her door down for the honor of sharing their last name.”
Chandelle blushed, casting her eyes away. Grace had helped her to realize how insensitive she had been to Marylandand other women who couldn't pass for a Fashion Fair model with a shake dancer's behind. Suddenly Chandelle reached across the small vanity to hug Grace. “You're right, but then, you always are,” she said. “I had no business putting anybody down that way. I should be happy that Maryland's happy. There are way too many black women who never get the chance to wear these white satin shoes or sit here and have friends and family fussing over their special day. My bad.”
“Uh-huh, now close your eyes again so I can finish what I showed up early for,” Grace advised, “to help you look your very best on your special day. Besides, I'm sure there's a young man waiting to get all this fluff out of the way so he can get on with the honeymoon.”
“Who you telling?” Chandelle huffed. “We've put all that on hold a few months ago, so I'm praying that I don't pop when the preacher says, now he can kiss the bride.” She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and then stared at herself in the mirror. “Ohhh, Grace. It's, I'm so ...”
“Get a hold of yourself, girl,” Grace demanded. “If you cry on me and have my masterpiece running down your face before all those people get to be blown away, you'll be assignedto the copying machine for a month.”
“I won't cry,” Chandelle whimpered. “I won't. I'm just so nervous and so glad that I have a friend like you.”
“Good, then straighten up and get ready for the biggest event of your life next to pushing your way into this world.” Grace brushed a few renegade strands of hair away from the younger woman's face. “Now, that's more like it. There's nothing to be nervous about. Just think of all the joys to come after the ceremony, and you'll be fine. I've seen enough wedding ceremonies, up close too, so I know what I'm talking about. Been a bridesmaid nearly twenty times.” Without giving it much thought, Grace smiled brilliantly as she gave her work a final once-over. “Chandelle, all these people came to see your blessing, live and in Technicolor, so enjoy it.”
“Thanks so much, for everything,” Chandelle replied, beforeher curious gaze and statement spun Grace's world in a whole other direction. “All those times, Grace, leading someone else down the aisle, you've never once thought about jumping the broom yourself?” If Grace had seen it coming, she might've ducked. “Well I'm sure that you'll settledown when you get tired of running men, on your terms,” Chandelle concluded. “Not many women get the chance to walk in Grace Hilliard's shoes, either.”
Before Grace had the opportunity to dissect or debate what her younger associate had presumed about her personal life and the men in it, the stern wedding planner knocked on the door to announce the time had come for the ceremony to begin. “I know Chandelle didn't just try to tell me about my business,” Grace said to herself. “If she wasn't getting marriedtoday, I'd strangle her.”
Little did Grace know that her private life wasn't all that private. Over the years, several of Grace's coworkers had caught wind of her fun-and-games arrangements with no strings attached; so it was speculated that she hadn't marriedbecause she already had a great career, a gorgeous home, an expensive car, and a wonderful son with his head in the books instead of on some gang-related most-wanted poster. In reality, Grace had been too busy building her reputationas a savvy marketing executive in a male-dominated environment and raising the kind of son any mother would be proud of to realize she had never been asked to become some man's wife, at least not by one who was serious and sober at the same time. Chandelle's assumptions forced Grace to challenge each decision she'd ever made regardingthe men she allowed to rent space in her head, or those she'd rationalized to be worthy enough to jump in her bed.
Although reasonably disturbed, Grace tried to convince herself that Chandelle was too young to comprehend life on her level and was grossly incorrect about her personal affairs,but the truth was irrefutable. Now, Grace remembered something she'd read in the Bible, regarding the validity of truth and consequence emanating from the simple minds of children. She was standing outside the wedding chapel before it hit her like a ton of bricks.
Out of the mouth of babes
, Grace thought to herself. Chandelle was born in the early 80s and was already getting married. Suddenly, Grace was deflated when it occurred to her that she was enrolled in college before the bride realized that ponytails and pink dresses weren't the only things differentiating girls from boys. Where had all the time gone?
The chapel was buzzing with anticipation. Three hundredguests became animated once the procession march began and the entrance doors opened. Just as she had many times before, Grace accepted the arm of a willing groomsmanand followed the parade of bridesmaids, adorned in elegantgold and cream gowns, into the presence of excited onlookers, but this wedding was different from the others. Instead of merely witnessing the happy couple agree to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, so on and so forth, she observed every single detail from beginning to end.
Well-wishers, family, friends, and those who attended out of curiosity, envy or worse glanced expectedly down the aisle. The bossy wedding planner reprimanded Grace when she failed to smile during the procession. “This is a joyous occasion, so act like you would if it were yours,” the woman insisted, through clenched teeth, as she marched by. After cursing under her breath, Grace agreed that, althoughthe wedding planner's delivery lacked tact, she was absolutely correct. The guests had received costly invitations,marked this particular date on their calendars, wrapped thoughtful gifts, gotten dressed, and arrived on time to witness two people in love confess it before God and everyone else.
Ribbons and bows matching the bridesmaids' dresses were fastened to the ends of each pew. The lights were brightly illuminated.“Pomp and Circumstance” rang throughout the hall while two professional photographers and an imposing video-camera crew captured each millisecond for posterity's sake. Grace looked on, thoroughly impressed by the grand spectacle. She tried to remember an instance where she was more absorbed by an event that didn't directly benefit her. When nothing came to mind, the thought of only going through the motions during all of the previous ceremonies caused her to feel somewhat disappointed. There had been numerous occasions to celebrate, holy unions of friends and loved ones, but she'd merely managed to watch while neglectingto actually see the significance of a heavenly communionthat God himself had ordained. Out of nowhere, Grace found herself looking forward to her own special day.
She stood with the other two attendants, gushing and wonderfully arrayed in designer taffeta gowns, but neither of them shared Grace's mixed emotions when the officiating minister appeared with a handsome groom and entourage in close step behind him.
The small ring bearer, wearing a dashing miniature tuxedo, held onto a white satin pillow for dear life. As he tiptoed toward the taped X marking his spot in the well-choreographed production, Grace winked at the child's mother, who was hand signaling further directives from the second pew. A darling flower girl followed his path while flinging red and yellow rose petals to and fro, like she'd been shown during the rehearsal. Her dress was a scaled-down replica of the bridesmaids' .
After the little girl reached her position, she stuck out her tongue in reply to a heckling sibling who was making funny faces at her from the safe confines of the crowd. It was difficultfor Grace to concede that she missed out on all of this before, but she had.
The groom sighed deeply, with a stream of tight breaths as the pianist dove into the wedding march. “Here comes the bride,” the minister said, to notify the groom that his life was about to change. The audience rose to its feet. Despite having chatted with the woman of the hour moments before,Grace stretched her neck, along with the audience, to catch an early peek of Chandelle. Her friend glided down the aisle effortlessly as if she'd practiced endlessly, graciouslyaccepting a chorus of oohs and ahhs. It appeared as if Chandelle's fiancé was going to faint after laying eyes on her exquisite strapless wedding gown. When she exchangedinitial glances with him, the poor man was visiblyawestruck by her appearance. Afterwards she mouthed “thank you” to Grace, whose eyes had begun misting uncontrollably.
“You're welcome,” Grace mouthed in return, yet to realizethat she had the most to be thankful for. Within hours, Chandelle's makeup would be washed away, but the gift she'd given Grace would last for the remaining days of her life. For that, she would be forever grateful.
After Chandelle's brand-new husband promised to love her, come hell or high water, he held her around the waist like she was made of glass, then he kissed her so eagerly that it bordered on obscenity. The minister turned his eyes away, thoroughly uncomfortable with the sensual tongue dancing exhibition that took place on the very spot where deacons served Holy Communion every Sunday morning. The audiencecheered when Chandelle was announced as “Mrs.” with a new last name. They laughed heartily when they saw the smeared lipstick ring circling her husband's mouth. Chandelle'sspecial day was a true blessing, and one that the Lord had fashioned just for her.
Grace continued taking it all in, posing with the wedding party for one photo after the next, wondering why she hadn't taken the same interest in the one thing most women have longed for since they were little girls refining their mudpie skills or improving on their Easy Bake Oven metal-sheet-caketechnique.
During the reception, Grace felt out of place, so she raised her glass to the happy couple, sipped a flute of champagne,then left the festivities shaken and stirred. She decidedthat an entire world existed on the outer fringes of hers. From that point forward, she was intent on paying attention to other positive things she hadn't given any thought to but should have. Although Grace had no plans of racing frantically through the streets with expectations of landing a husband, she was inclined to examine her current relationships,just in case there was a diamond in the rough she might have overlooked.
3
I Said to Myself
“
A
ndré,” Grace hollered as her son dashed from her silversport-utility vehicle. “Don't forget your Bible and make sure you stop by the office to tell Sister Jones what I said about the women's retreat. I'll attend, but I'm not going to present this year.”
André reached into the backseat, grabbed a black book bag, then turned toward the church activity center, on his way to Bible class, when his mother called his name again. “Dré!”
“Yes, ma'am,” he sighed. “I'll give Sister Jones the message,but she likes to hug too much.”
“She's getting old, baby, so let her squeeze on a fine young man if that makes her day.” After André considered the compliment within his mother's orders, he stuck his chest out and grinned.
“All right, Mama,” he said, appraising the situation differentlythan before. “But no kisses. Her mustache itches.”
Grace shook her head, holding in the laughter fighting to get out as she pulled away from the curb to search for a parking space. She slammed on the brakes when an old woman whipped a 1975 model Lincoln Continental in front of her car. The boat-sized deathtrap rambled nimbly into an availablespot. “Ooh, somebody's gonna make me cuss this morning,”Grace said under her breath, seething. By the time she'd circled the lot and lucked out on another open parking space, Grace was running later than she planned. She reasonedthat her favorite pew, seven rows from the back, would be full, so she decided to relax and take her sweet time for once. It actually felt good to have three male ushers stumbling over themselves to find her an alternate seat.
“Good morning, Sister Hilliard,” one of the ushers welcomed,with opened arms of course.
“You sure do look nice, Grace,” another of them complimented,reserving his sly appraisal until she was a few paces ahead of him.
“Thank you, brothers, praise God,” she replied, to shift their minds back on the Lord's business, instead of locked on her fitted coral designer suit.
After taking a seat and adjusting her long skirt, Grace collected a songbook, attendance card, and a tithing envelope.Since she was sitting on the opposite side of the auditoriumthe church's edifice seemed a bit unfamiliar, different somehow. There were several more families with younger children around her, and various young couples who appearedto be participating in the time-honored Southern tradition of
church dating,
the nonthreatening getting-to-know-youdate allowing interested parties to be seen in publictogether without committing to anything more serious than that. Now, that took Grace back to a time when showing up to worship without a man on her arm caused other men to wonder why such an attractive woman arrived unescorted. When they learned that she had a child, they stopped wondering.It was peculiar to Grace how single men with illegitimatechildren found it in their hearts to cast stones or reclassify her for being in the exact same situation. That level of hypocrisy convinced her to blow every one of them off once they came to their senses years later. Growth and maturity taught them how much of a woman a single mother had to be, taking care of finances, keeping house, preparing meals, staying fit, and raising the children, but Grace thought it better to keep her bedroom affairs out of the Lord's house, and fellow Christians from the church out of hers. That way, she didn't have to be concerned about a brother spending Saturday night with her, then cozying up to his next victim on Sunday morning. She'd seen it all before, and it turned out just as ugly every time. Inevitably, Grace felt better about doing her dirt outside the confines of the church, as if God wouldn't be so apt to notice the sins she committed elsewhere.Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Albert Jenkins, the congregation Casanova. When he slithered by with a stack of programs, Grace avoided eye contact while accepting the handout.
Albert was the nice-looking, fair-skinned, smooth-operatortype. He anxiously waited for church service to begin so he could start putting in his bid for baby-mama number five. Even though the elders had pulled his coat, reprimanding him for his lascivious behavior, the preacher's son was determinedto maneuver his way through the church on a bullet train to hell. As Albert caught three of his child-support-checkrecipients eyeballing him, he moved farther away from Grace before being forced to lie about his lewd intentions, to all three of them, after the final prayer. Every church had at least one skirt-chasing menace. Albert Jenkins was the shamelessscourge of Fellowship Union.
Once the church's chicken hawk moved on, Grace thanked God for His speedy answer to her silent prayer, but she hadn't anticipated the little extra He'd thrown in just for grins. Suddenly, everything appeared more pleasant than before.The song leader started in with “Mansion, Robe and Crown,” young fathers wrangled in their little ones, and dutiful mothers doted over infants and tussling toddlers not yet ready to settle in for the next three hours of songs and soul-stirringsermons. Observing those families in bloom was blissful for Grace. Listening to proud fathers giving instructionsto their children about do's and don'ts during worship service was priceless. Sure, Grace loved André more than life itself, and showered him with as much kindness and understandingas one parent could, but she recognized at that instant that he'd been missing out on a slice of life she could never provide, a father-son relationship with a caring role model.
Throughout the remainder of the service, Grace thanked God for giving her the strength and presence of mind to have done right by her son, at least the best she could by herself. After blotting her eyes with a folded Kleenex tissue, she was certain that her household was in order and her son had receivedthe best of everything she knew how to give him. But what had previously surpassed being adequate, now appearedto be sorely lacking. She daydreamed throughout the sermon, with her mind wavering over providing more of a family unit for André and being true to her own passions. She'd seen several marriages falter within the first year because,contrary to the common belief, not every one of them was a match made in heaven. Some of the couples had no business signing the license or pretending love had anything to do with their “I do's.”
As Grace filed out of the sanctuary, she made a mental note to pray for discernment, fearing that she had become her own worst critic. André had been sitting in his usual place, at the very back of the auditorium, among other teenagerswho had earned the trust of their parents to camp out without chaperones. This was André's first month of freedom,a freedom Grace thought seriously of rescinding. “Hey, Ma,” the boy called out when she puttered by, her head loweredin deep reflection. “Mama!” his voice rose.
Grace's eyes fluttered when she heard her child above the chatter. “Yes, Dré,” she answered from the throes of careful contemplation.
“I'll meet you by the car,” he shouted, then disappeared into the maze of parishioners before his mother had the chance to ask why. André cruised through the outside doors, then over to the west side of the building, where the high schoolers met to engage in fellowship in a manner that suited them. They were clueless to the fact that so many marriages had begun in the west wing of the activity center, cultivated over time under the watchful eyes of God. When André sensed that his brief stint of adolescent exchange had grown to a close, he doubled-timed it to the Volvo before Grace showed up to embarrass him with his peers looking on.
“Did you get to say everything you needed to say?” she asked him, while backing her vehicle out of a tight spot. Of course, André wanted to avoid the question altogether, but he knew Grace was merely letting him know that she knew what he'd been up to.
“There wasn't much to say,” André responded softly, with a hint of reluctance. “At least not yet,” he added as an honest afterthought. “I've got time.”
Merely the thought of her child preparing his lines to spring on someone's daughter stayed with Grace long after she'd dropped him off at Skyler Barnes's house, André's friend and high-school basketball superstar.
Since when did Silly String and chasing spiders morph into macking to young girls and looking for the right time to make a move on one he'd developed feelings for?
Grace asked herself.
Linda Allen was seated at a booth and sipping from a tall glass of peach-flavored iced tea when Grace arrived for their once-a-month Sunday brunch at Ursula's Chicken and Waffles. Linda, pleasantly plump, high yellow with a cropped hairstyle and big brown eyes, was decked out in a casual denim outfit that suggested she'd passed on yet another worshipservice, but Grace had her own issues to contend with, so she didn't bring it up. Shelia Chatham, the most scandalouslycarefree member of the trio, entered just behind Grace. Shelia, cinnamon brown and conceited, was dressed in her Sunday best and yapping into her cell phone a mile a minute. “Yeah, that was kinda nice. Can we do it again? Oooh, especiallythat,” she crooned seductively into the small telephone.Shelia placed an index finger up to her thin lips to quiet her girlfriends. Grace and Linda looked at each other with matching shame-on-her expressions. “Uh-huh, baby, you know just how to set me off. What? Yeah, baby, I'm naked right now,” Shelia added, rolling her eyes whatever-style.She was annoyed by the male caller but thought it necessaryto put in work for a payoff on the back end. All of her male friends, as she commonly referred to them, were instructedto show up at her place with little trinkets of appreciationfor her time, or not show up at all. “I'm about to step into a hot bubble bath right now. No, you can't. Richard, I need some me time,” she said. “Just cause I'm about to get wet doesn't mean I want to get you wet, too.” Shelia glared at Linda when it appeared she might bust out laughing and ruin her fantasy chat with the man she'd met the week before.“I let you paint my toenails Friday night, so they don't need any attention right now. I gotta go. Don't make me hang up on you. Find something else to do until I can call you back. Bye!” As soon as she clicked the flip phone closed and shut Richard out of her mind, Grace struggled to hold her tongue. “What?” Shelia hissed. “Don't be looking at me like that.”
“Like what, Shelia?” Grace challenged, knowingly.
“Like you're the kinkiest heffa this side of the projects,” Linda chimed in.
“Uh-uh, Linda!” Shelia objected, throwing her hand up to accentuate her point. She shook her finger to warn against their mad dash into her affairs. “I know how y'all get down, so it would behoove the two of you to do what? Let it go and leave it alone,” Shelia suggested with her patented get-your-nose-out-of-mine smirk. She opened an oval-shaped silverplated compact case, one of her many gifts from a married admirer. After eyeing her reflection in the mirror, she snickered heartily. “Y'all are just mad because I'm gettingpaid to have my toes sucked and polished, and you're not.”
“Ewwh, that's nothing to be bragging about,” Linda countered.“Now, if you were getting something else sucked by that fine specimen of a black man, Tyson Sharp, like my girl Grace does, then I'd be sipping on some hater-ade instead of this peach tea.” Linda paused long enough to perform a self-appraisalbefore fanning herself with an open hand. “See, all this is what keeps my stock up. Men fall for these adorable bedroom eyes, this rich butterscotch complexion, this bountifulbooty I got from my mama's side of the family, or the way I moan when a brotha's got his tongue gliding up and down it.”
“Tell her, Linda,” Grace said jokingly. “Would you tell her.”
“Ain't got to, Grace, she already knows I can make the tail wag the dog, and then some. It's honey sweet and deep,” Linda added, in the event that anyone missed her act of self-aggrandizement.The ladies always shared a laugh over silly sniping sessions which reminded them that secrets rarely survived in their midst. Grace's monthly tryst with Tyson and her infrequent encounters with his fill-in, Greg Anderson,were common knowledge among the tightly knit circle. Shelia's personal business was worthy of two bestselling novels, and Linda couldn't play the prude after following a musician from gig to gig, up and down the New Jersey Turnpike,sixteen months ago. She blamed it on missing her exit, when the truth involved her burning up the highway for the private and uninterrupted encores he laid on her deep into the night. Regardless of how ridiculous the situations they found themselves in, the trio was always there for one anotherto help sort out the dramatic details and pick up the pieces when it was all over but the crying. Shelia, Linda, and Grace were simply a small faction of black women trying to get their kicks without allowing random emotions get in the way of having a good time.
When the waiter appeared, he introduced himself, then announced the brunch specials. Shelia rolled her eyes when the young, muscle-bound man stared past Linda's outstandingattributes and seemed rather intrigued by her short, wavy hairstyle. “Uh, is there something you want?” Shelia snapped rudely, as the others peered up from their menus.
“Uh-huh, but not from you,” the waiter retorted rudely, smacking his lips. “I would kill for my hair to behave like girlfriend's over there. I am sick with envy over those waves. Who does your hair?” The young man's flamboyant personalitycaught Grace by surprise. She turned away, covering her mouth with her manicured fingertips. At first glance she would not have guessed that he was gay, but his keenly arched eyebrows, pouty lips poking out like a disgruntled five-year-old's, and his wishing that his hair would behave like Linda's removed any doubt that he was openly out and about. Grace had heard more than her share of tragic stories about women getting involved with men on the down-low and then later discovering they'd been paying rent on closet space. However, the waiter wasn't even thinking of making a pass at one of them.
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