Mama B - a Time to Love (2 page)

 “Oh shoot,” Eunice gushed angrily,
“I’ve missed my ride back home.”

“You want me to call ‘em for you?” Libby
asked.

Eunice shook her head. “I don’t know her
name or her number. I just hitched a ride to Peasner with her. Told her I’d
meet her back at the gas station on Main by four so we could ride back into the
city. Didn’t know I was going to get held up here. I’m sure she’s gone by now.”

I could hardly believe my ears. “You rode
here with a total stranger?”

“She was nice. Had two little kids in the
car. She said I reminded her of her own mother.” Eunice smiled. “Plus I gave her
gas money. Fifty dollars, which was more than enough to get us here and back.”

Libby lectured, “Eunice, women our age
can’t go around hitch-hikin’ and pullin’ cash money out of our pocketbooks in
front of people we don’t know!”

Eunice shrugged. “Well, I’ve had a few
incidents, but I’ve been okay so far.”

 “By the grace of God,” I let her
know.

Eunice nodded. “Probably so.” She led the
way outside. Without looking down, she reached into her fanny pack, pulled out
a cigarette and a lighter. Seem like in one motion, she lit it, stuck it in her
mouth, and took a long puff to get it going. She turned her head to the side
and blew the smoke away from Libby and me. “Looks like I won’t be coming to
this center anymore. So, thank you both for sticking your necks out for me with
the youngster and with the police. We old ladies have to look out for each
other sometimes.”

Eunice swung that cane forward and
started down the building steps and across the parking lot. Me and Libby stood
there shocked for a second until the Holy Spirit finally gave us the sense to
speak.

“Eunice,” we called in unison.

She planted her cane and turned her neck
toward us. “Huh?”

“We can’t leave you out here,” I
protested, walking toward her with Libby trailing behind. “You want us to get
hold of your son again?”

She waved her hand. “No. He won’t come.
He only puts on a show for his name’s sake.”

“You got any other kids? Grandkids?”

“Not in Texas. Not any that give a rat’s
behind about me. But that’s neither here nor there. I’ve made it this far, I’ll
keep on going. Don’t worry yourselves about me. You’ve been very helpful
already. Thank you.” She turned again and began her awkward stride toward the
sidewalk.

Now, I know when people are puttin’ on a
show so you can feel sorry for ‘em and offer to help. You know how they
do—they mouth say one thing, but their body language and their eyes say
another. They got to hold they face to the ground so them crocodile tears can
slide down. Still, they got to sneak a look up at you every couple of seconds
to see if you buyin’ their sob story.

But that wasn’t the case with Eunice. I
got a good feelin’ if me and Libby had let her walk away, she wouldn’t have
turned back, not once. As I watched her hobble onto the sidewalk, the Holy
Spirit started pinching my heart.

To be honest, I was waiting on Him to
pinch Libby’s heart harder than mine so she could be the one to do all the
reachin’ out. I mean, she the one married to a preacher. She the one actually
remembered Eunice’s name. Plus, I didn’t have no intentions on driving Eunice
home to Mesquite that night. I had other plans.

Eunice kept on hobbling down that road.

“B, we have to do something,” Libby
whispered to me.

We?
Didn’t
we
just tell Eunice not to mess with
strangers? That same rule should have applied to me and Libby, too.

Eunice’s body was getting smaller and
smaller in my vision. “I can’t take her back home. I got things to do.”

“I sure can’t. My cheek’s puffing up. I
got to get home and get some ice before the swelling makes it up to my eye and
I can’t even see,” she informed me.

One look at her confirmed the medical
situation.

“Libby, you know me and Frank go dancing
on Friday nights. I got less than an hour to get ready as it is,” I nearly
pleaded with her.

She blinked her normal eye. “Well, now,
you and Frank been dancing every Friday for several weeks now. Seem like the
world wouldn’t stop turning if you missed one evening.”

I wagged my finger in her face. “Watch
out. You the one got me started goin’ out with this man. No sense in changing
your mind now.” I could have added that I sensed she’d been a teenchy bit
jealous about how I’d been going out more with Frank, seeing as our dating and
dancing had cut back on the amount of time I spent walking and volunteering
with Libby. But I kept that information to myself.

“I know, I know, B. Don’t have a cow. I’m
just teasin’ with you. But we gotta do somethin’ before she gets to the end of
the block.”

I took a deep breath. Libby was right. If
I’d turned on the news the next morning and seen a report about Eunice found
somewhere in a back alley, I’d have to fight that guilt off until the day I
died.
Okay, Lord, I hear You
. “Eunice! Wait!”

Even after we finally convinced Eunice to
get in our car, we still didn’t have a plan. Frank and I had a standing Friday
night date. Truth be told, I would have been more upset about missing it than
him. The only option I could think of was Eunice going home with Libby,
spending the night with her and Peter until Saturday morning. Then I’d come
over and me and Libby could take Eunice home together, since Peter didn’t drive
no more.

But Eunice shot that idea down from the
back seat of Libby’s car. “Oh no, ma’am. I will not spend the night under a
roof with another woman’s husband. That kind of arrangement always turns out
bad for me.”

Me and Libby could hardly keep from
laughing. If Eunice thought Peter had a mind to take a peek at her, she must
have been living in 1965. Plus, Peter was slower on his cane than Eunice. But if
this woman say she got a problem with other women’s husbands, who was I to tell
her she didn’t?

“How about this,” Libby suggested. “Eunice,
you’ll stay at my house until B gets back from her night out with Frank. Then
she and Frank will pick you up from my house and take you back to B’s house
until tomorrow.”

“Frank won’t be spending the night?” Eunice
quizzed.

“Oh, no. Me and Frank ain’t married.”

She smacked. “That don’t mean nothin’.”

“It means something to me,” I quipped.

Lord, what kind of person you done
brought to me now?

Frank
wore his favorite dancing shoes—the black, shiny ones with brown on the
tips and sides. To me, they looked like bowling shoes, but he insisted they
were comfortable and made him feel like Frank Sinatra.

I suppose if he could sing, he might have
something going there, but Lord knows Frank’s singing voice was not meant for
the public. Oh, he’d tried a few times to hum a few bars in my ear while we
danced. Them off-key tunes shoulda been kept between him and Jesus.

My Albert couldn’t sing, either, but that
man could sho’ ‘nuff whistle. I ain’t never heard nobody whistle
Precious
Lord
and
My Soul Loves Jesus
the way Albert did. Seem like he was
anointed to whistle on Sunday mornings while we was getting dressed for church.

You know, mostly it be the little piddly
stuff you miss about somebody when they’re gone.

When I went out with Frank, I always had
my moment of remembering Albert before I kissed the past goodbye and moved on
with the present. When Frank and I first started going out, I was upset about
this hurdle I had to jump over every time I strapped myself into his car and
smelled his unforgettable aftershave. No, he wasn’t Albert. He wasn’t the man
I’d known, loved and trusted for over forty years.

He was Frank. And this wasn’t then, this
was now. The hurdle was still there, but I expected it, and I expected to jump
over it. I noticed it got smaller and smaller every time we went out.

“Hello there, lovely,” Frank greeted me as
he opened the passenger’s side door.

“Hello there, my handsome escort,” I
replied, stepping up into his Range Rover.

He shut my door and walked around the
back of the car. In that moment, I got a short taste of the music he’d been
listening to. Sounded like that Beyonce girl everybody’s always rantin’ and
ravin’ about. Every time I seen her on TV, she looked half-naked, bless her
heart. Now, the girl
could
sing, but I wondered would folks like her as
much if she put on some clothes.

Anyhow, I reminded myself that Frank was
a grown man and he could listen to whatever he wanted to in his own car.

When he’d gotten settled back into his
seat, he took it upon himself to switch the CD changer to another selection.
The music of gospel artist Myron Williams came coursing out from the speakers.
Inside, I smiled at Frank’s respect for my preference and thanked God for
teaching both of us to get over each other’s differences. We both loved the
Lord. Just, I was more Pentecostal-like saved and Frank was more Baptist-like.
In the Bible, Paul said there was no such thing as
this
kind of
Christian and
that
kind, though, so I probably needed to set it out my
mind.

 “You ready to cut this rug with me,
B?”

“Whew! After the day I had at the food
pantry, I need to dance the night away.”

On the way to the studio, I told Frank
all about what happened with Eunice and why we needed to pick her up from
Libby’s house.

Franks forehead dipped low. “She’s going
to stay at your house tonight?”

“Yes. I know, it’s strange, but I got
peace about it.”

“If you say so,” slurred out from him. “I
pray that everything works out. I’ll keep my phone’s volume on high in case you
need to call me.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. But thank you
anyway.”

Seeing and hearing Frank’s concern was
only a preview of what I’d get if I told my oldest boy, Son, about Eunice
staying with me. He’d probably come over and take fingerprints first. Between
him and Frank, I wasn’t sure which one was the most protective.

Me and Frank wasn’t no kind of couple,
but you know that’s just something men do—they look out for the people
they care about.
Real
men, anyway. I wasn’t complainin’.

We was one of the first couples there
that night. A little early. Instead of rushing inside, Frank turned off the
engine, powered down our windows a few inches and sat. A cool fall breeze
whisked through the car. Almost too cool.

I reached down and raised my window a
bit.

“Sorry about that,” Frank apologized.

“No problem.”

Then he sat there for a minute, looking
out the window. “Sure is a nice night out.”

“Yes, siree.”

Frank’s car sits up high, so I got nosy
and looked down into the person’s car parked next to us. The front seat was
clean enough, but the back seat might as well have been on that Hoarders TV
show.
Lord, let me stop judging people
.

 When I flipped my head back around,
I was deadlocked with Frank. And there he was looking at me with those “goo-goo
eyes” is what we used to call ‘em.

“Wonder if Miss Gavina needs any help
setting up,” I declared while scrambling to find the latch so I could get out
of the vehicle.

“Wait,” Frank stopped me. “B, I need to
talk to you about something.”

All of a sudden, I felt claustrophobic. I
rolled the window all the way down so I could get some air.
Oh Lord, what he
want?
“Yes?”

Frank repositioned a little higher in his
seat. “I don’t know about you, but I really enjoy our time together.”

“Me, too,” I could honestly agree.

“And I’ve been thinking.”

He waited so long to speak, I had to ask,
“About what?”

“About me and you.”

Chile, when Frank grabbed my hand on that
armrest, I almost lost my breath.

He squared his eyes on mine. “B, I’d like
to be more than your friend and dancing partner.”

Oh, Jesus. What do I say?
Me and the Lord hadn’t had no kind of
conversations about me and Frank being more than friends.
God, why didn’t
you warn me?

Then, the Holy Spirit reminded me that
I’d had some hints. Frank wanted to sign us up for next year’s couples
dance-a-thon. He’d brought up the idea of me attending his daughter’s 40
^th
birthday party. The thing was, every time I got a hint, I tucked it in the back
of my mind, instead of talking to God about it. Now that it was time to have a
discussion, I was at a loss for words.

“Frank, I don’t quite know what to say.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you
could…say what you’re thinking.”

“Well, I’m thinking that…um…we got a good
friendship going here and I’m fine with that. I thought you were okay with it,
too.”

He gave a conciliatory nod. “Yes, it is a
good friendship. But being with you has reminded me that I miss close
companionship. Affection. You know?”

Maybe last month I could have said I
didn’t know, but the truth was, I did. You watch a movie with somebody and you
want to talk about it for the next couple of hours, but you can’t when that
person’s already gone home and it ain’t decent to call so late.

“I do understand what you’re saying,
Frank. I just…I don’t know how to
do
…how to
be
more than friends
with a man. I ain’t never had no boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. You know,
me and you come from a day when a girl got married and had her first real kiss
all in the same day. We didn’t have all this middle ground folk have today.
Friends with insurance or whatever they call it.”

“Now, B, come on. We
did
court
back then,” he countered, his eyes still gleaming at me. That Frank sure did
clean up nicely.

“Yeah, but courtin’ was a family affair.
In my day, I courted right there on my parents’ couch with my Momma in the
kitchen, the next room over. And my little brother stuck his head in the room
every five minutes.”

Frank and I laughed at the idea. Times
were different back then. Folk didn’t do all this tryin’ every Tom, Dick, and
Harry on for size. When we courted, we couldn’t give all ourselves to a man.
Some folk say that was wrong because we didn’t really know each other real
private-like until we got married. But I tell you one thing, when the right one
did
come along, we didn’t have our heart all calloused up from so many
rough relationships. It’s better to go in fresh and naïve than bruised and
carrying a whole lotta baggage, if you ask me.

Of course, me and Frank wasn’t exactly
fresh. Neither was the man asking me to marry him. Really, I didn’t know
what
he was asking me. Fiddlesticks, I was too old to be playing games and trying to
read minds. “What exactly is your definition of more than friends?”

His eyes rolled up into thinking position
while I waited for his response. “I want…hmm…how can I put this? I want the
opportunity for a closer relationship. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work
out. But I want the chance to…hold your hand.”

Okay.

“Rest my arm on the back of your seat.”

Okay.

“Kiss you goodnight.”

Now you done crossed the line.
“I was alright until you got to the last
part.”

“Kissing?”

“Yes, kissin’,” I repeated. “All that
kissin’ and neckin’ is too much. I can’t agree to kiss nobody I wouldn’t just
as soon spend the rest of my life with. And I don’t see myself signin’ up no
time soon for that route.”

“I’m not asking you for a lifetime
commitment. I…really, I don’t know what I’m asking, B.” He sighed in
frustration. “All I know is I haven’t felt this way about anybody in a long
time and I thought this was what I was supposed to ask, but it looks as though
I was wrong.”

I chuckled. “Don’t feel bad, Frank. Looks
like neither one of us knows what we’re doing.”

“You can say that again.” He laughed,
too, and the worry wrinkles smoothed out of his forehead. “B, let’s just go
inside and dance before I make a fool of myself and make you even more
uncomfortable.”

“Now
that
I can agree with.”