Mercy Me (22 page)

After we finished eating, Jim and Sadie went back upstairs, and Beatrice insisted on my going in the living room to keep Percy company while she cleaned up the kitchen. So I had to sit in there and listen to all that hogwash he was dishing out.

“Boy, that was a good meal,” he was saying. “Why, I've eaten in the best restaurants all over this country, and I'm here to tell you, Beatrice has got them all beat.”

He propped his feet up on the coffee table and picked his teeth. “I like a shapely woman,” he said, “and Beatrice is one shapely woman. At her age she makes forty-year-olds look like slobs. Nice headlights.”

Well, I plum boiled over. “For your information, Percy, them headlights, as you call them, are not for real.”

His feet came off the coffee table, and he sat up straight. “Whadda you mean?”

“Beatrice has had surgery there—for cancer.”

He looked shocked. “You mean . . . ?”

“Both of 'em.”

Percy Poteat had nothing more to say. When Beatrice finished in the kitchen and came out in the living room, he stood up, stretched, and said he was going up to bed.

The next morning, before daylight, a noisy motor woke me up. Somebody was cranking a motorcycle. It had to be Percy. I jumped out of bed and looked out the window just in time to see him taking off down the road. I knew in my heart he was gone for good, and I thanked God.

Half an hour later, Beatrice got up and went to work as usual. I don't think she knew Percy was gone, and I
didn't tell her. She would find out soon enough. I just hoped and prayed she wouldn't find out that I'd had anything to do with it.

After I read my Bible and prayed, I messed around in the apartment, doing a little housework, rinsing out my panty hose, and going through a couple of magazines. That conversation with Beatrice had left me unsettled. I turned on the TV, but even that did not take my mind off of what was going on.

Before Beatrice came home from work, Carl came to the apartment. I let him in and invited him to wait for her.

He was not a bad-looking man. At least he had an honest face. However, the pigtail poking out beneath his baseball cap was not something any woman would like. He took off his cap, and I could see he was plenty bald on top. As we sat in the living room talking, I wondered why being bald was such a problem for a man like Carl.

He knew all about me, he said. I could've said the same about him, but I didn't. He seemed shy, so I asked him about his work.

“Well, I was in the exterminating business, but I sold it today. That's why I've come over here. I want Beatrice to celebrate with me—go out to eat at the fish camp.”

“That's nice,” I said. “You two can go out on the town. There's plenty of leftovers for me here.”

“Oh no. We'll want you to go with us.”

I smiled. “Well, we'll see.” I couldn't think of anything more to talk about. I wished Beatrice would hurry up and get home. I settled back in the recliner.

Finally, he ventured, “I got my price for the business—more'n enough to settle my affairs.”

“That right?”

“I'm going to ask Beatrice to help me pick out an RV.”

“That's nice.”

“Maybe not a new one . . . there's a good used one I've looked at . . . not many miles on it.”

“I see.” For the life of me I couldn't think of anything more to say except that Beatrice ought to be home soon.

“I wish she'd marry me.” Right out of the blue, he said it!

“Well, why won't she?”

“I think it's . . . well, I dunno.”

Well, I could see plain as day that I had to help this man. “Carl, is there a wig shop in town?”

“Sure, we got a wig shop.”

“What would you think of going downtown to that shop and buying yourself a rug?”

He didn't need a minute to think that one over; he was quick to answer. “Esmeralda, I've thought about that a thousand times! But I just can't settle it in my mind that the Lord would be pleased. It seems like it's pure unadulterated pride makes a man get a toupee.”

“Well, what's the difference if you do a comb over or if you wear a rug? It's one and the same thing when you come right down to it. We women get perms and use everything we can get our hands on to look our best. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look your best. After all, we are the temples of the Holy Spirit. Carl, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but that pigtail of yours
is not a decoration, it's a detraction from whatever good looks God has favored you with.”

I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. “You mean . . . you mean—”

“I mean it don't look right for a Christian man to go around looking like a leftover hippie.”

He sat on the couch, twirling his cap with his finger and looking kind of excited. “Esmeralda, I never thought of it thataway. Tomorrow morning I'm going to the barbershop, and after that I'm going downtown to that wig shop.”

I could hear Beatrice at the door fishing for her key. Carl got up to open the door for her, and I tell you the truth, he looked like he could eat her up.

She gave him a worried little smile. “Hello, Carl. Hello, Esmeralda.” She laid her pocketbook on the sofa and started for the kitchen. “Esmeralda, you talk to Carl while I get supper ready.”

“Beatrice, you're not cooking tonight!” Carl said. “I sold the business today, and we need to celebrate. I want you and Esmeralda to go out to eat with me.”

“Oh, that's good. Did you get your price?”

“Yes. And I want you to go with me to pick out an RV.”

A funny little frown clouded her face. “Well, you see, it's like this . . .”

I popped out of that recliner. “Carl, will you excuse us a minute? Beatrice, let's go in the kitchen.” I led her into the other room and closed the door behind us. “Percy's gone. He left this morning before daylight.”

“What do you mean, he's gone? What did you do to—”

“I didn't tell him to leave, if that's what you mean.”

“Then why did he go?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “He left of his own free will.”

Well, I was surprised at the way she took it. She just plain looked relieved. “Well, I guess there's nothing left for me to do except pray for him.”

The three of us went out to dinner that night, and when we came home, I went to bed and left them sitting in the living room, talking.

Carl didn't leave until midnight. When Beatrice came to bed, she thought I was asleep and shook my shoulder. “ Esmeralda, are you asleep?”

“No,” I said.

“Esmeralda . . . I'm going to marry Carl.”

“Oh? When?”

“As soon as this buyer's loan goes through.”

I sat up and gave her a hug. “Oh, Beatrice! I'm so happy for you.”

“I am too,” she said and laughed a little. “Carl says he'll have money enough to pay all my medical bills, as well as buy the camper. Do you think I should let him pay my bills?”

“I don't see why not. What is money for except to pay bills?” And I laughed.

Beatrice laughed too. “Carl said with what money we have left over and Social Security, we'll be able to travel.”

“Well, Beatrice, I can't wait to tell all your friends in Live Oaks! We'll throw you the biggest wedding the town has ever seen!”

“Oh, I dunno. We don't want to spend a lot of money on a wedding.”

“You won't have to spend a lot. Just leave everything to me! I don't suppose you've decided where you'll go on your honeymoon?”

“Oh yes. We're going to the Grand Canyon.”

On that bus going home, I had a lot to go over in my mind. You might think I would be all caught up in making plans for Beatrice's wedding, but that was not uppermost in my thoughts. The thing I kept turning over and over was that conversation Beatrice had with me when I first got to her apartment. I'd always thought pretty well of myself, but those things she'd reminded me of . . . well, back then, I must've been a real warhorse.

I wasn't so sure I was much different now, though she said I was. Those first things she'd told me had hurt a lot. But I didn't hold it against her. In fact, the Bible says, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend.” And the things she said about my changing, well, that was a comfort.

As I rode on that bus going home, I began to understand how the Lord used that cross I'd carried for all those years. I hated to think it took that much suffering to make changes in me, but at least all that pain had not been wasted.

I knew I had a long way to go yet. A long, long way. I hoped I wouldn't ever rest on my laurels and think I had arrived. After all, once a body stops changing, it comes to rest, and you know what that means—you're outta here, six feet under and pushing up daisies.

Margaret A. Graham
is the author of seven nonfiction books, one juvenile work of fiction, and two novels, including
Katie.
She conveys her deep love of the Scriptures as a speaker, Bible teacher, and newspaper columnist. Graham resides in Sumter, South Carolina.