Mama B: A Time to Speak (10 page)

Chapter 18

Thank God, the church air finally got fixed. I know everybody was happy, but I was double-happy ‘cause all them women’s meetings was ‘bout to wear me out. Not just Cynthia’s, either. The usher board, the nurses. Cooking class came back again. Goin’ by the calendar, it had only been a matter of weeks. Goin’ by my nerves, months had went by.

Maybe because Nikki and Cameron were there, too. Nikki had done went on three interviews in a row one day, and she felt pretty good about every last one. “Cameron and I will be out of your hair pretty soon.”

They weren’t any trouble, really. Only time I had to get onto Cameron was when he left his shoes here and there. At first, we had a little problem with him wetting the bed. Nikki fussed at him, but I told her that’s how little boys—and some big boys—do. They bladders sometimes slow to catch up with they bodies. Got to stop their liquids early in the evening if you don’t want no accidents.

Rosetta Eaglefoot, down the street, had two grandsons around Cameron’s age came over to spend some time with her for the summer. Once Cameron found out about them, we didn’t hardly see him none through the day. The boys played indoor games and whatnot at Rosetta’s house. Then, ‘round six or so, the three of ‘em, plus some more kids must be visiting, come racing up and down the street on bicycles and playing baseball. Cameron came home every night stinking like a hog, hungry as a cow. He ate, took his bath, and fell off to sleep like he been working on the railroad all day.

For the most part, Nikki wasn’t no problem, either, except Libby and I come home from helping at the food pantry one day and heard Nikki on my house phone cussin’ up a storm like
she
wrote the book they was reading at that wild book club meeting two weeks prior.

Oh, I mean, she was going at it. Didn’t know we had stepped in the front door, evidently. Tell you, she was callin’ somebody everything but a child of God.

“Nikki! Watch your mouth!” I fussed, clapping my hands with every word.

Shock all on her face. She slammed the phone down. “Oh, Mama B and Miss Libby, I am so sorry. I am sooo sorry.”

Libby made light of it. “I ain’t heard cussin’ like that since Peter was in the navy.”

“Please forgive me, Miss Libby.”

“What you cussin’ like that for, anyway?” I asked her.

“It’s J.T. Ooh! I can’t stand him! He had my phone turned off.”

I asked, “Was he payin’ the bill?”

“No. Actually, I was paying
both
our cell phone bills.”

“Now, I know you got more sense than that,” I snapped.

“We were both on the same plan,
my
plan, but he used to pay it when we were together. When we broke up, I only had two more months left before I could drop him without an early termination fee, so I decided to go ahead and keep him on until August. I don’t know what J.T. did, but somehow he turned off both our phones, plus I have a five hundred dollar disconnection penalty!”

Libby gave Nikki a slight smile. “Well, at least you got a reason for being mad as a hornet.”

Nikki took a deep breath and sank down to the couch, covering her hands with her face.

I asked, “What phone company was you with?”

“P-R Wireless.”

“Hmph. Well, your Aunt Debra Kay works for Junction Connections. Maybe if you give her a call right quick, she can get you another phone and another line.”

Nikki didn’t look up. “But all the places I put in applications with have
this
cell phone number and the email address tied to
this
account.” She pointed to the worthless plastic and glass on the table. “If somebody was trying to call me today and give me an offer, I wouldn’t even know.”

Libby pressed, “Hon, you think if you called him back, you two could talk it out?”

Nikki shook her head. “He’s unreasonable. He says the only way he’ll turn it back on is if I come back to him.”

“Don’t sound like a good option to me,” I advised her. “Anybody that spiteful got a serious problem.”

She hopped up from the couch and grabbed her purse. “I’m going to the library to create a new email account and send it to the places I know have an interest in me.”

Libby and I watched Nikki walk out the door, then looked at each other.

“She sure is a go-getter,” Libby gave a compliment. “Just like her grandmother.”

That same day, me and Libby went to visit Geneva again. We had packed plenty food for Pastor, but we just missed him. Instead, Deacon Bledsoe, LaTonya, and one of Geneva’s nieces were sitting up with her. They said Pastor had gone back to the house to get a change of clothes.

By this time, they had done moved Geneva to another wing of the building. Real quiet in that hallway. Time was winding down fast for Geneva, Pastor had told us the week before. Said she wasn’t really eating much. Had a hard time swallowing. And she was going in and out of consciousness.

Just so happen, she was woke when me and Libby come to either side of her bed that day. “Geneva?”

She barely opened her eyes. “B.” Her voice was scratchy, scarcely there.

“Yes, it’s me. And Libby Maxwell.” Me and Libby leaned in real close. “We came by to see you and give Pastor some food.”

“Mmmm. Thank.”

“Don’t try to talk, hon,” Libby said. “Keep your energy.”

“Won’t need it.”

I checked her arms to see if the medicine might be talking for her, but she didn’t have no tubes. “Geneva, don’t talk like that. You got a lot more left to do. You ain’t but sixty-three years old.”

“Jeez wuh thirty-three.”

Libby giggled. “You sure right, hon, and He saved the whole world in His lifetime.”

Geneva raised her arm slightly. “Mmm hmmm. Saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“Him.” She swallowed. “High. Liff-ed up.” A peaceful grin come cross her face for a second. “I’m ready.”

A tear escaped from my eye and landed on her arm. I hoped she didn’t feel it.

“No worryin’. Won’t be long. Time diff’rent there,” her voice creaked to a stop.

Libby kissed Geneva on the forehead. “B, I’ll meet you outside. Good-bye, Geneva.”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

Libby left the room before her own tears showed. She wasn’t too good with death right then seeing as her own Momma just passed away the year previous.

I know that feelin’ too.

I hurt for Pastor, for us all. Live long enough, and you’ll be at somebody’s bedside near the end, right before the heart rest or the family decide to turn off the machines. Everything get real clear then.

I had been beside more than one person say they done had a taste of the other side. None of ‘em want to come back, and by what I done read in the Bible, I can’t rightly blame ‘em.

So I got real close again. “Hold on, Geneva. Long as you can. God is a healer. But if you want to go, we’ll understand.”

Her lips trembled. “Ed.”

“Like you said, he’ll be there before you know it. All of us will.”

She tapped at my finger with the little power she had left.

Now, I ain’t no superstitious woman and I don’t believe in ghosts and all that stuff. But I done read in the Bible where the rich man saw Lazarus, so it sound to me like dead peoples can recognize each other. If Geneva was on her way to heaven…I know it’s selfish…but I had to ask her a favor. “Geneva. If you see my Albert…tell him I said hello.”

She gave me her last grin. “Affa Jeez.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes,
after
you talk to Jesus.”

Chapter 19

My hair appointment ran long, but Libby said she’d wait for me at the midtown café. Good thing, too, ‘cause I sure needed to pray with her. Those women at the beauty shop gave me an earful about my own church!

“The Pastor’s wife is on her last leg, and the new pastor is going to take over soon. Some people don’t like the new pastor, but they mostly old biddies. Just want to keep the church from moving on.” Naomi Jester—a woman who went to high school with my late husband, which made her way too old to be gossiping like that—told everybody.

Well, wasn’t but three beauty operators and me and Naomi in the salon. Come to a total of five people, but Naomi toutin’ this story like she done practiced it a few times.

“At Mt. Zion?” my hairdresser, Kendra echoed.

Naomi confirmed, “Yes, at
Mt. Zion
!”

Kendra finished rolling a section of my hair. “Isn’t that your church, Mama B?”

“Sure is.” I said it loud enough for Naomi to hear. She knew that.
Had
to know. She was must have been hoping I would give her some more information to add to the story.

“Whose side you on, B?” Naomi asked, leaning toward me, just waiting for me to drop a morsel of sin.

“Ain’t no
sides
.”

“Ouch!” Naomi squealed.

“Miss Naomi, you have to sit still while I’m pressing your hair.”

Served her right.

Nobody but Libby I would go to about something like this. Ophelia was good aboutkeepin’ her cool and keepin’ down confusion in a meeting. But if and when she get to talkin’ on the phone a lot, sometimes things slipped out. Not saying anything bad about her. That’s just the way it is. The more you talk, bigger chance something get said that don’t need to be said.

Anyhow, Libby the kind of friend who know how to shut her mouth even if mine happen to keep runnin’. And I do the same to her when I have to ‘cause ain’t neither one of us perfect.

I tell you what, though, I didn’t hardly make it into the café good when I seen who sittin’ at the table with her. None other than Dr. Wilson! He had on a white, starched button-down shirt and blue jeans with some big cowboy boots.

Libby smilin’ from ear to ear in her pink sundress. They talkin’, laughin’ when I walked up to the table.

“Hey, B! Look who I found,” Libby very nearly sang to me. She motioned toward him with her hand like she one of them models showin’ off a prize on The Price is Right. “You remember Dr. Wilson?”

“Yes, I do. How are you, Dr. Wilson?”

“Fine,” he said. He stood up to shake my hand. I noticed his eyes were a lighter shade of brown than I remembered. And then I wondered why I would remember something so silly anyway.

“I was just keeping Libby company until you got here.”

“Oh, there’s no need to rush,” from Libby. Her silvery-blonde hair bounced at the curled-up ends while she nodded for me to agree.

I didn’t.

Now, I know Peasner a small, friendly town and all, but Libby had done took it too far, in my opinion. I drawed up my eyes and looked at her real quick. She shrugged her shoulders like she Miss Innocent.

Dr. Wilson showed all thirty-two of his teeth and peered all in my face. “B, Libby was telling me that you—”

“It’s Beatrice.”
He don’t know me like that.
I took my seat.

“I apologize.
Beatrice
, Libby was telling me that the two of you volunteer at the food pantry. You must know my daughter, Eva. She volunteers there, too, some weekends.”

I tipped my head. “Yes, I do know her. Lovely young lady. You must be proud of her.”

“Very. She’s finishing up her master’s degree in education.”

“Wonderful. Well, it was nice seeing you again.”

Libby kicked my foot under the table. I glanced up at her and she—what Cameron call it?—
mean-mugging
me. I did it back to her while Dr. Wilson was busy looking down at his cell phone.

“Forgive me, ladies. I have to take this call.” He held the phone to his ear, got up, and walked outside. Probably the only place to get good reception.

“B, what in the world is wrong with you?”

I fussed, “Why you got this man sittin’ here at our table?”

Waitress come over and took our order in the middle of the debate. We picked up right where we left off.

“Ain’t no harm in having somebody else join us for lunch, is it?” she asked like she had no idea.

“Dr. Wilson ain’t just
somebody
. You said he was sweet on me, and the way he starin’ all in my eyeballs when he talk. I don’t like it. I think he flirtin’ with me.”

“He
is
flirtin’ with you, B. Still don’t see the problem.”

I took a sip of ice water. “I ain’t on the market.”

“You single, ain’tcha?”

“I’m
widowed
. Besides, he way too young for me.”

“Oh, B, Dr. Wilson got to be at least sixty-five.”

“And I’m seventy-two. Seven years gap between us.”

“At our age, I don’t think seven years gon’ make you a tiger, B.”

Couldn’t help but laugh. “I think they call it a cougar.”

Libby shook her head and squeezed a lemon into her glass. “Tiger, cougar, leopard, whatever. You ain’t it. Besides, I think he’s rather tall, dark and handsome.”

“Libby, you ain’t no good judge of black men. Dr. Wilson ain’t near handsome as Albert was.”

She dipped her chin almost to her neckline. “Honey, nobody gon’ be able to compare with Albert. You fell in love with him before he lost all his hair and got wrinkles. But I think you ought to at least open your mind up enough to make new friends, be it Dr. Wilson, or whoever.”

I tilted my head to the side and gave way to the rumble of laughter in my belly. “Libby, what I look like makin’ friends with a man at this point in my life?”

“B, it’s not—”

“No, listen. Let’s say I start courtin’ a man. How long you think we got to get to know each other and get a relationship goin’?”

She looked me square in the face. “No two people know how long they gon’ have together, no matter what age they are. Like Geneva said, won’t be long before we all on the other side. Just got to be thankful for every day.”

Sometimes, people say stuff that just sink right inside your heart. I swallowed real hard ‘cause I know Libby know what she talkin’ about. Her first husband died in a work accident two weeks after they got married. They was both only nineteen years old at the time. She hadn’t even had time for a groove to set in on her ring finger before he was gone. “I hear you, Libby.”

Dr. Wilson come back at the same time the waitress brought our food. “I apologize again, Libby and Beatrice, but I have to head to the hospital.”

The waitress, a young lady with a long, brunette ponytail that almost hit her behind, asked him, “Did you want to order something to go?” That girl wanted her tip, I see.

“No, thank you. But I’ll take their check.” Dr. Wilson motioned toward me and Libby.

Me and Libby both pushed our backs against our chairs, turned toward each other real slow. Probably looked like we had done rehearsed it.

“Why, thank you, Dr. Wilson,” Libby said first.

I added, “We certainly do appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.” He bowed a little at the waist. “Beatrice, I’d love to treat you to lunch again. Well,” he stumbled, “both of you, if—”

“No need in me tagging along,” Libby rescued him.

I do declare, beads of sweat popped out on Dr. Wilson’s forehead while he waited for my answer.
He actually nervous
. “Yes, Dr. Wilson. I’ll agree to lunch.”

“Wonderful,” he said. “May I have your phone number?”

“Let me give you my email address,” I offered instead.
Got no time to be sittin’ on the phone talkin’ to no man.
I wrote my information on a napkin and handed it to him.

“Have a great day, Dr. Wilson,” I sent him away.

“Frank.”

I supposed if I had a fit about what I wanted him to call me by, I should oblige him as well. “Okay. Have a great day,
Frank
.”