Sister Betty Says I Do (23 page)

S
harvon, Thurgood, and Delilah each gave a questioning look and wondered if they'd been transported to some strange reality show without their permission. None of them wanted to follow Sister Betty's orders to leave until they no longer heard the sound of her crying.

“I'm not going anywhere and leaving her like this,” Sharvon told Delilah and Thurgood. “She's in no condition to deal with all this drama.”

“With all of us out of her sight,” Delilah told Sharvon, “it will give her a chance to regroup.”

“You go and we'll stay here quietly a little while longer,” Thurgood added. “Dee Dee and I gonna hold hands and quietly pray before we go.”

A short time later, carrying a small Louis Vuitton overnight bag, Sharvon waved good-bye to Thurgood and Delilah before she got in her car and drove away.

Thurgood and Delilah said a quick prayer and left without checking in on Sister Betty one last time.

“The Betty we saw back there was not the Betty I've known all my life,” Thurgood told Delilah as they drove away. “I've a mind to turn around and go back there. I'm not feeling right about leaving her alone in that condition.”

“She'll be all right,” Delilah replied. “She needs time.”

“I hope you're right, because if I didn't know any better,” Thurgood said, “I believe she wanted to cuss us out. And I ain't never in all my years of knowing she was under the Lord's direction heard an uncivil word come out of her sanctified mouth.”

“She's in love, Thurgood,” Delilah said as she looked out the passenger-side window. “Love in the hands of the inexperienced will make them say and do some crazy things.”

“Speaking of crazy,” Thurgood replied, “I'm wondering if we should've gone ahead and told her about Freddie's health.”

“I'm not sure if we should've or not told Betty that Freddie has cancer. I think we've gone as far as we can with meddling at the moment.”

“As usual,” Thurgood said, “you're right.”

“I know,” Delilah replied before turning around to face him. “But you're gonna tell her, anyway, aren't you?”

“Only if Freddie doesn't tell her about it first. And it'd better be real soon,” Thurgood answered.

“Thurgood,” Delilah sighed, “you know who I really feel sorry for?”

“Who, Dee Dee?”

“Reverend Leotis Tom.”

“I almost forgot about him and his part.”

“Thurgood, Betty feels as close to him as a real mother would. She may forgive us. I'm not certain if she'll forgive him.”

Thurgood grimaced. “It looks like Betty's walk with the Lord is under attack from all sides, and from the way she went off back there, I'm not certain how she'll handle him not telling her that he knew Freddie held her responsible for calling off their wedding.”

“That may be the least of her problems where Leotis is concerned,” Delilah replied.

“What else would she be mad about?”

“She's bound to find out sooner or later that we knew about Freddie having cancer and kept that from her, too. After all, from what we already know, Leotis knew about it before we did.”

“Damn!” Thurgood made a U-turn and headed back to Sister Betty's.

“D
on't you think you ought to straighten out things with Sister Betty before you wear grooves in your face from smiling so much? She may not want to hear anything about a wedding until you do.”

“You just keep driving, Reverend. It's my face, and I'll smile till it cracks if I want to.” Freddie pulled down the car's visor and slid its cover so he could see his reflection in the mirror. “God just gave me a new lease on life.”

“Amen to that.” Leotis broke out into a grin. “I don't know what you told God, but He's certainly shown you favor.”

Freddie closed the cover to the visor. He adjusted his seat belt against his bony frame and began to laugh. “Yes, He has.”

“You're completely finished with the multiple myeloma trial, and you don't need the stem cell transplant.”

“I sho' am, and I sho' don't.”

“And for the foreseeable future you'll have to see the oncologist only every three months.”

“I sho' do.”

“Well, Trustee Noel,” Leotis said, “it's almost six o'clock, and I haven't eaten since we started out this afternoon. Would you care to share a meal with me?”

“I sho' don't,” Freddie replied. “You can eat after we stop at the florist.”

“Why are we stopping at a florist?”

Freddie looked at Leotis and laughed. “You don't need to have dinner with me. You need to hook up with Thurgood Pillar. Right now I think I got more playa tendencies than you.”

Leotis waited in his car, smiling as he watched a jubilant Freddie point the florist toward several flower boxes. After Freddie purchased what looked like one huge handheld garden, they were on their way again.

“You do realize that if you start bringing her flowers like this after you're married, she'll think you've done something wrong, don't you?” Leotis began laughing. “You'll be in for a world of hurt behind some flowers.”

“At least I'll have a wife to get mad,” Freddie said as he returned Leotis's laugh. “You, on the other hand . . . ” He stopped speaking as the smile slid from his face.

Leotis saw it, too, as he turned the corner completely onto his block. It was Thurgood's rental car parked far from the curb in the front of Sister Betty's house. “Hold on, Freddie.” He pressed on the accelerator, and within a couple of minutes he'd parked the car in front of her house.

No sooner had Leotis and Freddie still holding the bouquet of flowers raced out of the car and onto the porch than they ran into Thurgood, who'd just stepped outside. His face was expressionless, but he kept wringing his hands.

Freddie tried pushing Thurgood aside so he could enter the house. “What's going on?”

“She'll be fine,” Thurgood said as he gently pushed Freddie back, keeping him from getting past.

“Why are you blocking us from going inside?” Leotis stood with both hands on his hips, as though it made him look more like an adult. “You can't keep us outside. Why can't we go inside?”

Thurgood continued to block the door. “Delilah has already spoken with her.”

“What in the world was Delilah doing with her that we can't do?” Freddie asked. He paced back and forth several times before trying to dodge under Thurgood's outstretched arms, which were still blocking the doorway.

“They had a woman talk, and since ain't none of us laying claim to being such, we can't go in until Betty asks us to.”

“Who says so?” Freddie asked.

“I say so.” Sharvon had walked up the steps to the porch, carrying the same bag she'd left with earlier. “You two need to just go on about your business. We can take care of our cousin without your help.” Sharvon didn't wait for a reply before turning to Thurgood. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“You go on inside. She's in there by herself for now,” Thurgood said. “Delilah was in there a little while ago and tried to calm her, and when she couldn't, she told me to keep the car. She's called a cab and gone off somewhere, telling me it wasn't none of my business and to just sit tight until she gets back.” Thurgood cocked his head toward the house. “I come out here because inside, things aren't getting any better.”

Sharvon began glaring at Freddie. But the scowl appeared tame compared to the eye stabs she then sent toward Leotis. Without saying another word, she went inside and slammed the door, almost decapitating one of Thurgood's fingers.

“Don't take it personal,” Thurgood told Leotis. “She's a bit on edge today. Although, it seems she's extra mad at you.”

“I seem to have that effect lately.” Leotis turned to say something to Freddie, but he'd suddenly disappeared. “What in the world? Where is the trustee?”

“Oh, he sneaked around the side of the house while you were jawing about the aggravating nature you seem to have with women.”

“Why didn't you stop him? Sharvon told us to stay out, and you told us, too.”

“Reverend, please, that man is in love and is fighting cancer. What's he got to lose by ignoring me and Sharvon?”

Freddie found Sister Betty's side door ajar. He stood outside for a moment to determine if he could hear any voices and from which room they came.

He didn't have to wait long. He could hear the exhaustion in Sister Betty's voice, and he knew her well enough to know that she'd been crying. Freddie inched the door open farther. He heard her voice coming from the direction of her bedroom. He crept down the hallway until he came within a few feet of the hallway bathroom that separated her bedroom from one of the others.

“He should've been the one to tell me, instead of Delilah and Thurgood,” Freddie heard Sister Betty say. “What kind of woman did he think I was that I couldn't handle something like that?”

“Who's she talking to?” Freddie murmured as he leaned against the wall for strength. He still carried the bouquet of flowers in his hands, and already some petals had begun falling to the floor. “Is she talking to herself now?”

Inside her bedroom, Sister Betty glanced quickly into her mirror. Her jaw was set, despite the motion of one hand tracing the creases that outlined her jowls. Her face remained expressionless as she bent her neck forward, as if to get a closer look at the dark bags under her eyes. She smiled bitterly, noticing the bags seemed even darker against her brown skin, as though some blind person had given her a make-up job.

With her small hands carving through her wig, Sister Betty smiled wickedly before she suddenly snatched the wig from her head. She sent it flying toward the dresser. And the wicked smile remained on her face, not revealing whether she cared that the wig had landed on the floor or not. She'd already removed her partials when they loosened minutes ago and interfered with her sobbing. It didn't seem odd that she was wearing nothing but a slip and one house shoe. Her short braided hair had already begun unraveling, and now it made her look wild and crazy, the nappy braids resembling tiny snakes like on the head of Medusa.

Suddenly a pout appeared. It'd happened fast, removing any doubt that she'd taken leave of her senses as she addressed the person in her mirror. Sister Betty bit her bottom lip as she lifted a hand and pointed as she began to argue. “Betty Sarah Becton.” She gave a curt nod to her reflection. “You've given almost your entire life to service,” she told her reflection. “Everybody came first—your church, your friends, your family—everybody but you. And you were happy. God met your every need. You've got more money than you'll ever need, and the more you gave away, the more it kept coming back to you.”

Sister Betty spun around, bumping her shin on a chair, and the pain reminded her that it indeed was she who was suffering. She grabbed the Bible off the nightstand and held it out before her with trembling hands. “I know you're real,” she explained to God before she began thumbing rapidly through the pages of the Bible. “I won't argue that. But here I am again, standing before you, full of doubt when it comes down to me and what I thought you wanted for me. I know the Word says that you are a jealous God. . . .”

The tears began dropping, and she wondered where they'd come from, because she felt dry and empty. But Sister Betty was determined to say her piece to God. “I know you are a jealous God, and if you strike me dead, then so be it,” she said as she held up her Bible, as though reminding God of what He'd said. “In Exodus thirty-four, verse fourteen, you said, ‘For thou shalt worship no other god, for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.' ”

Still inside her bedroom, Sister Betty dropped her head and placed the Bible back on the nightstand. Challenging God, she pleaded, “So I need to know who it is that I have put before you.” Her knees began to shake; she went to her bed and sat on its edge to continue. “It can't be my Freddie, because I never stopped going to church or serving you. Having him made me want to serve and praise you even more.”

Outside her bedroom Freddie cringed at the mention of his name. His head swung from side to side out of desperation.
Oh, Lord, what have I done to her?

Sister Betty's eyes found the picture of her and Leotis taken on the day when the church broke the ground for the Promised Land development. “Certainly not my pastor,” she told God. “You commanded that we serve our leaders, and I've done that. I've done more than that. I—I—I . . . ” Her voice began to trail off. “I became his spiritual mother. You told me to do that in a dream!” One small hand pounded the other, and Sister Betty's voice became stronger as she railed against heaven. “I've done everything you told me to do, and yet, you've not removed one stumbling block between Freddie and me.”

Sister Betty suddenly felt the blood rushing to her head. Pulsating beats from her heart felt as though they would push through the walls of her chest. Beads of perspiration popped on her forehead as sharp stabbing pains shot up and down one of her arms. She felt disoriented as a weak hand shot forward, desperately trying to grab hold of anything or anyone, but she reached out too late, and she collapsed onto the floor, calling on the one name she always had. “Jesus!”

“I thought I told you to wait outside,” Sharvon hissed. She quickly moved to the other side of Sister Betty's bedroom door frame, blocking him from opening the door farther.

Freddie hadn't heard Sharvon come up behind him until she tapped him on his shoulder, and at that moment, he'd heard Sister Betty call out the name of Jesus, and she'd complained about him, as well. Now standing there with his strength renewed, he'd had enough of Sharvon ordering him around and interfering in his and his beloved Honey Bee's business.

“You can't tell me when I can and when I can't go inside this house! This ain't your house!” Freddie's voice rose, matching the frustration that'd built up. “I'm going inside that room, and if you try and stop me, you'll find out that I'm just one pistol shot away from removing all the headaches in this house! Now, move out of my way!”

Freddie shoved Sharvon aside and pushed in the bedroom door. Sharvon followed him and gasped when she saw Sister Betty struggling to get up off the floor.

Freddie quickly tossed the bouquet on the floor. He and Sharvon, each with a hand under her armpits, began to lift Sister Betty off the floor.

She shoved their hands away. “I can do it.” She grabbed the edge of her mattress, and after several attempts she pulled herself onto the bed and sat on its edge.

Sister Betty pointed to her wig, still lying on the floor. Sharvon reached it first. She shook it and tried to reshape it before she brought it to her cousin. Sister Betty quickly placed the wig upon her head and tucked in all the natty braids she felt peeking out from under it. Looking around, she found her partials still lying at the bottom of the glass. Reaching inside the glass, she grabbed the partials, shook off the excess water, opened her mouth, and rocked them from side to side until they fitted perfectly.

Neither Sharvon nor Freddie had said a word the entire time Sister Betty tried to regain her composure. She'd put the wig back on her head and the teeth in her mouth, but she still looked crazy wearing a slip and one house shoe. They took turns looking from Sister Betty to each other, wondering who was brave enough to say something.

Finally, Sister Betty broke her silence. Turning to Sharvon, she pushed her shoulders back, crossed her legs, and said, “Sharvon, I want you to leave.”

Sharvon's lips fell open to protest, but not in enough time.

“I don't want to hear a complaint or a refusal,” Sister Betty told her. “I'm apologizing for putting you out earlier, but for right now, I need you to find someplace else to be.”

After sneering at Freddie, Sharvon threw up her hands and silently left the room.

Not wanting to anger Sister Betty any further, Freddie began picking up the flowers off the floor. When he picked up the last petal, he refused to let her see the sadness in his eyes, and without speaking, he, too, headed toward the door.

Sister Betty uncrossed her legs. As she sprang off her bed, the one house shoe she wore flew off, hitting Freddie in his behind. She didn't flinch or apologize. “You stay put, coward.”

“I won't go nowhere if you don't want me to go,” Freddie said weakly as he turned around.

Sister Betty and Freddie continued talking. She fussed, and he listened, mostly with his head hung, beaten down with her truth. They shared how each had gone to God and their Bible. Both had operated under the belief that God would show them the other's true feelings and that God would fix things.

“I guess I expected God not only to give me something but also to put it directly into my hands, without me so much as lifting a finger,” Freddie admitted. “Just tell me what you need.”