Boaz Brown (27 page)

“That’s why it’s so important for us all to come out of our little shells and live. Get to know one another beyond what we see in the media and what we’ve heard through the generations. Sometimes the truth isn’t in the facts, and the facts don’t always tell the truth. The truth is in the experience.”

I played around with my ice cream, pondering Stelson’s words while he went to the restroom. It was as though he wanted to leave me there alone to weigh his words, let them settle into my fabric. I had a decision to make. The only thing that kept me from opening up to Stelson was ignorance and fear. I hadn’t had any significant relationships with white people, and I was afraid I might forget who I was if I did.
But am I going to throw away this gift because it came wrapped in different wrapping paper?

When Stelson returned, I was ready to give him the green light. “This is new for me, Stelson. I’ve never had any kind of relationship with a Christian man, black or white. You have to give me some credit here, for my lack of experience. I’m gonna give this a shot.”

“So, this is a relationship, then?” he asked.

“Are you asking me to categorize this?”

“Yes.”

I thought about the question. “It might be,” I answered.

“Well, just in case it is, I want you to know that I hope we’re in agreement to pray about the direction it goes—whether it’s a friendship, a fellowship, whatever.”

“I agree.”

“Well, it’s done, then.” He held up his ice-cream cup and we toasted.
Okay, that was goofy.
But it felt good.

Just to our left, two women laughed and got their dates’ attention. One of the sisters rolled her eyes at me and went back to the low whisper she’d been using before. Now, I had seen enough eyes rolled to know that she was not pleased with what she saw.

I willed myself to focus on Stelson, and we talked a little about our Christmas plans. He planned to be in Louisiana for the weekend, but he’d be back on Monday to prepare for yet another business trip to Florida the following week.

“Busy man,” I remarked.

“Unusually busy,” he said. “We rarely do this much business so late in the year.”

The couples next to us got up from their seats and walked toward the door. I was glad to see them go. They’d been talking about us since we toasted, and I didn’t know how much more of it I could handle.

I had had it up to my neck with people staring at us everywhere we went. As they reached the doorway, one of the men yelled to the other, “Yeah, man. You better be careful out there tonight. Bundle up! They say there’s a whole lotta jungle fever going around.”

I looked up and caught the brother’s glance at me. I felt myself standing, my feet preparing to carry me straight up to this brother’s face. “Hey! Hey!” I called to him.

“LaShondra.” Stelson grabbed my arm.

The brother yanked his coat tighter, smiled at me, and continued on out the door.

“LaShondra.” I felt Stelson’s hand gripping me tightly.

“Let go of me.”

“LaShondra, honey, that’s not gonna help anything,” he said, coaxing me back to my seat.

It took me a moment to pull myself together. It had been a long day, and I’d been a spectacle the whole time. I took a deep, calming breath.

“Maybe that’s what’s really bothering me more than anything,” I said to Stelson after my pulse slowed. “Maybe it’s this constant pressure, with everyone staring us, talking about us. It’s ridiculous. Don’t you feel it, too?”

“Yeah, but it’s not new to me. I told you, I’ve been out with the entire rainbow. You learn to ignore ignorance. It’s not your fault or our problem.”

We did our best to finish our ice cream in peace.
It’s just me and Stelson. I can do this.

And just when I thought all my marbles were back in place, I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard my best friend’s voice say my name.

“Shondra?”

I jumped like I used to when my momma came through the door as I was doing something I knew I shouldn’t be doing. “Oh, hey, Peaches.”

She looked at Stelson, then back at me. “I thought you were.
. .
um. . .“

“Peaches, this is my friend, Stelson. Stelson, this is my best friend, Peaches.” To say that it was an awkward moment would be an understatement. Peaches was looking at me like,
what in the world?
And here was Stelson, just cheesin’ away, oblivious to the situation at hand.

Stelson got up to shake her hand. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you, Peaches.”

“My name is Patricia.” She barely let him touch her fingertips. Peaches clutched her purse and looked at me again, still not sure what to make of things.

“Um, Stelson, would you excuse us for a moment?” I asked him.

“Sure,” he said, grabbing my empty ice-cream bowl so that he could dispose of it for me. “I’ll go ahead and get the car warmed up.”

Peaches took his place across from me. “Get the car warmed up!”

“Peaches, it’s not.
. .
well..
.“
How do I unravel this mess?

“Go ahead—say it’s not what I think it is, so I can tell you that you are flat out lying.” She slapped her hand on the table. “Go ahead—tell me that you were not at this parlor having ice cream with whoever that was just now.”

“Let me start at the beginning. His name is Stelson Brown.”

Her nostrils flared, and she breathed heavier as she bit her lip, smearing lipstick onto her teeth.

“Okay.” I came from a different angle. “We met at my job—he’s the engineer that I invited to the career fair last month at—”

“He’s
white,
Shondra.”

“I know.” I nodded calmly, hoping she would see the humor in her observation.

“You didn’t tell me that you were gonna be hanging out with a
white
man today. Come to think of it, you lied to me. You said you couldn’t go shopping!”

“I told you that I had plans already.” I lowered my voice, hoping she would follow suit.

“You did not say anything about plans with somebody else—let alone a white man! See, you’re already actin’ like ‘em. Evasive! Coverin’ up stuff lyin’ through omission!”

“Peaches, I did
not
lie to you. I have never lied to you. You know me better than that.”

“Know
you? Pulleaze!” She raised her hands as if to say “stop” and stood up. “You might as well have lied to me— matter of fact, I would prefer a lie right now. I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that he’s white or the fact that you kept it from me.”

“And is there any wonder why?” I asked her, drawing my back to the bench.

She cut her eyes at me and waved her hand as though she were warding off a dog. “Go on with your little white man.” She got up and took her place behind the last person in line.

She was beyond reason. And yet, I hurt for her and with her. We’d shared everything, but I had let the fact that Stelson was white come between us.

I couldn’t say another word to her. I just left her there and walked back to the car, wondering if this Boaz was worth all the trouble.

Chapter 13

I
begged Sister Lewis to substitute for me in children’s church and promised that all the materials she’d need were in the plastic tubs. “There are crayons, scissors, and glue to complete the activities. The kids can look at the charts and tell you whose turn it is to pray, pass out the materials, and distribute the snacks. Again, thanks so much for sitting in for me today. I just.
. .
I really need to be in service.”

She looked at me, perhaps noting the swelling in my eyes. “Sure, Sister Smith. I understand.”

I let my mind drift out of the church from time to time—back to the night before. After another disappointing breakup, this time with one who said he just wasn’t happy with the relationship anymore. I’d plopped myself down on the third pew and had a big, fat pity party, crying through everything—even the offering. I knew that my heart couldn’t take much more of this slashing and patching.

I paid attention long enough to hear Pastor mention that the tape library had acquired a set of tapes for singles by Missionary Preston of the New Hope Church of God in Christ. She wasn’t much older than me—probably in her early thirties—and I’d listened to her teach a few times when I was in the Purity Class at Gethsemane. I was the first one at the table picking up a set after service. I listened to it all the way home.

“I think that the crux of a happy marriage lies with God, as does everything else in the life of a Christian,” she preached. “When two people who are already committed to Christ come together, they complement each other. Those two whole people don’t have to beat around the bush when it comes to what they will or will not accept in a relationship.” There was a break as the congregation cheered her on.

“You see, the world has made this courtship and marriage process way too hard. If people would stop
actin’
married before they
get
married, we’d probably cut the chase time in half.” There was a hum of laughter. “I mean, think about it. People who weren’t looking to be married would stop tying up those of you who are seriously seeking a mate. Yet, that’s not how the world operates, and that is precisely why relationships between men and women of the world will continue to decline. But that should not and does not have any bearing on what
you
can expect as a couple united in Christ. I believe that God arranges marriages between His people.”

That was all I needed to hear.
That’s what I want, Lord: a marriage that
You
arrange.
It was then—with one request—that I stopped long enough to get back to square one. And it was there, at square one, that God met me and began to teach me to honor Him, to honor myself; and to get ready for my man of God.

* * * * *

I spent Christmas morning at my parents’ house, opening gifts and eating everything in sight. They loved their watches that Jonathan and I chipped in to buy, but Daddy said he wasn’t gonna wear his to the bank. “They’ll think I’ve got too much for a black man. They might report me to the social security administration or something—put me under audit.”

“Daddy, please. Can we have one day without reference to racial prejudice?” I begged him.

“Humph.” He let the sound jerk him backward and then settled back into his slump.

“I’ll wear mine to church this coming Sunday.” Momma admired it in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. The watch fit snugly just above her plump wrist. “Yeah, this is perfect. Won’t be slippin’ and slidin’ all down my arm.”

“Nothin’ slips and slides up and down your arm anymore,” Daddy joked.

“Mmm-hmm,” she moaned, and rolled her eyes at him.

“It looks pretty on you, Momma.” I hugged her. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, baby,” she sighed, with her eyebrows drawn in tightly.

“What?” I asked her.

“I just hate to see you all alone at Christmas. Don’t you have any men friends? I know you get tired of hanging around here every year with just me and your daddy.”

“Momma, please—not today, okay?”

“All right.” She pulled me in tightly for another hug. “I’ll leave it alone. You goin’ by the Millers’ house today to see Peaches and Eric?”

“I might,” I said. “I don’t know. I do have a gift for Eric, but Peaches. . . she and Eric might not be there.”