We both laugh, and I feel more relaxed. I order a cup of tea from the waitress.
“Okay,” I acquiesce, “it wasn’t that bad. It’s just that I would’ve rather been a spectator for my first meeting. I don’t know the Christian dating rules yet.”
“What rules?” she asks with a highly skeptical look.
“Like, is it okay to date more than one saved lady at a time? I don’t know. Is it okay to get someone’s phone number at the singles’ ministry meeting? Is it okay to fornicate on Saturday if I repent on Sunday? I just don’t know.”
Dorcas picks up her purse and sunglasses and stands. She is ready to go.
“Sit down, girl,” I say with a laugh. “I’m joking.”
Dorcas chuckles. “It seems like neither one of us is funny.”
“I think you might be right!”
She sits back down and leans forward. “But while you’re talking about it, I do think you have another admirer at Freedom of Life.”
“Who?” Of course I know she means Emoni.
“The bishop’s daughter. I think she wants to get with you.”
She’s fishing. Smart girl.
“I thought you said she was digging that trustee dude.” My tone gives her absolutely nothing to work with. Game recognizes game.
“Sometimes I don’t know about her and Oscar, because he’s asked her to marry him so many times.”
“Seriously? She keeps turning bro man down, huh?”
Dorcas nods slowly. “Yep.”
“I think she’s just being hospitable to me.”
“I know Emoni, and she doesn’t get that excited about most new members. You’ve been to three services, and already you’ve got the bishop’s daughter smitten.”
“And what about you? Are you smitten?” I ask playfully.
Dorcas pretends to ignore my question. “So, you’re from Cleveland. What brings you all the way to Atlanta?”
“Well …” I should’ve thought of an answer to this question before I left home. It’s not like I can tell her that I’m writing a story about Bishop. “I’m pursuing my writing career. I’m afraid there weren’t many opportunities in Cleveland.”
“What do you write?”
“Freelance essays and editorials, mostly. One day I plan to write a novel.”
Dorcas seems truly interested. “You’d definitely be good for our church newsletter. It’s not huge, but it has at least ten thousand readers monthly.”
“I know. I showed Emoni a writing sample yesterday, and she was excited to have me volunteer.”
“Well, well, well. It pays to have crushes in high places.”
“The heavens have smiled upon me.”
“So it would seem.” Dorcas’s eyes dance flirtatiously, accentuating her mascaraed eyelashes.
I venture again. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Are you smitten?”
“I don’t know yet. You haven’t given me enough to be smitten about.”
“What else do you want to know about me?”
“Hmm … Where are you working in between your freelance gigs? Our apartment building isn’t cheap. And I peeped that Hummer you’re driving.”
This is too easy. Well, almost too easy.
“Are you serious? You want to know if I’m paid, huh? You a gold digger?”
Dorcas purses her lips and frowns. “Why can’t a woman ask about a guy’s financial status these days without being classified as a gold digger?”
I comically wipe my brow. “Whew! I’m glad you’re not a gold digger, because I’m broke.”
“You are?” She looks disappointed.
“Seriously, I am. But my parents are rich.”
“Oh, so you’re a trust-fund brat?”
She says it with such disdain that it sounds like an insult. “I guess so. For now, anyway. I’m about to blow up.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’m only doing these freelance gigs until I get my book deal. I’m thinking I can pull a five- or six-figure advance, like Omar Tyree or Eric Jerome Dickey.”
“Wow. No one can say you aren’t ambitious.”
Do I detect a hint of sarcasm? “I’m just trying to chase a dream. What about you? What do you dream about?”
“What I really want to do,” says Dorcas as a wistful look comes over her face, “is open a school for physically challenged kids.”
I don’t even know how to respond. She’s got noble plans and ideas. I want to land a book deal. She must think I’m shallow.
“Wow. That’s great.”
She smiles. “I didn’t mean to get all ‘save the world’ on you. It’s just that my sister had cerebral palsy. She died when we were teenagers, and I’d like to do something to honor her.”
“That’s a beautiful thing, Dorcas. I’m an only child.”
“I have five brothers, and I had one sister. I always wanted to be an only child.”
I put my hands up in feigned fearfulness. “Five brothers? Oh, I cannot holler at you.”
“They’re harmless.”
I wave for the waitress. “Unh-uh. I don’t believe it. Girl, I’m paying this check right now. Forget you ever met me.”
Dorcas is cracking up and holding on to my arm, trying to keep me at the table. After a couple of moments, I stop struggling and really look at Dorcas. She’s grinning playfully, blinking up at me with those big, beautiful brown eyes.
I think I might be the one who’s smitten.
DIARY OF A MAD BLACK BLOGGER
What’s cracking, cyber homies and homettes? I’m sending out a bat signal to some of you saved folks, ’cause a brotha’s got a dilemma. Here’s my question: If you’re kicking it wit a church girl, how soon is too soon to pop the question?
Whoa! Not that question! A brotha ain’t going out like that. I’m talking about how soon can I invite her for a sleepover? Aw, don’t act like y’all don’t know. Saved women talk a good game, but they be giving up the panties, too.
I see all y’all super saints talking about me. I can see y’all through my computer screen. Well, I just got baptized! I’m not all the way saved yet.
Dang. Writing that just convicted me in my spirit. Literally. Y’all forget I asked that, and please keep me in your prayers.
COMMENTS
Sister Mary 11:03 p.m.
The blood of Jesus is against you. I’m gone pray for that girl you trying to coreupt.
Tyrone 1:00 a.m.
Keep the real talk coming. I be seeing girls from the club in the choir stand every Sunday!
Jia 2:14 a.m.
Oh for heaven’s sake, Sister Mary. You are hurting my eyes with all that bad spelling. And if you hate this blog so much why do you keep coming back?
Emoni
F
or Darrin’s first assignment on the Freedom of Life newsletter, I’ve invited him to cover a fund-raiser dinner for the community recreation center. Daddy is speaking, and it should be an easy way for Darrin to showcase his writing skills.
It also gives me another chance to show him what he’s missing out on by not getting with me. I overheard Dorcas telling one of her friends that she and Darrin had gone out for tea one afternoon. Supposedly, it was their first date.
If I have anything to do with it, it’ll be their last.
Even Daddy brought up the new couple. He said at the dinner table, “I hear Dorcas is dating that young man who got baptized at Bible study.”
“Is she? Wow, that was fast,” Sascha replied with a laugh.
“Well, he seems like a decent young man” was Daddy’s judgment.
Sascha added, “Emoni, I thought you wanted him, or somebody else, what with this new look you got goin’.”
“What? I haven’t paid him any attention. I can’t even tell you what he looks like.”
Everyone sat at the table giving me a blank stare. They can go on with that. I’m not that obvious.
I’ve picked out a black and silver gown to wear to the fund-raiser; it accentuates all of my curves and cinches in at my waist.
“Whoa,” says Tyler as he peeks into my room. “That dress is nice. What’s gotten into you lately?”
“Nothing. Just trying to step my game up a little bit. What about you? Aren’t you going to the fund-raiser?”
“Nah. I gave my ticket away to one of the deacons.”
“But you go every year.”
He nods slowly. “I know. But Pastor David asked me to go with him to speak to troubled youths at a detention center.”
“Pastor David?” I flinch at the informal title for a supposed man of God.
“That’s what he likes to be called. He says it makes him more approachable.”
It hurts me to hear my brother speak about this Pastor David with the same respect and reverence that he used to have for our father.
“You really like Pastor David, huh?”
A smile spreads across my brother’s face. “Sis, you have no idea. His vision is my vision. We are on the same page.”
“You and Daddy aren’t?”
“We aren’t even in the same book.”
Tyler kisses me on the cheek and leaves my bedroom. I can hear him bouncing down the stairs, taking three at a time like he used to do when we were little.
My next visitor is Sascha. She’s wearing a skintight pink suit and has her hair in an updo. Against everyone’s wishes, she’s going to tonight’s festivities with Kevin.
“Are you going to wear a scarf to cover up that sucker bite on your neck?” I ask.
Sascha pushes me out of the mirror. “I thought that faded.” She inspects her neck closely. “There’s nothing here, Emoni. You get on my nerves.”
“Scared you, didn’t I? You need to be more careful.”
Sascha rolls her eyes at me and goes downstairs. I follow her, and the entire family, minus Tyler, piles into Daddy’s Cadillac.
After a twenty-minute drive through little to no traffic, we make our entrance into the ballroom. Immediately, I scan the room for Darrin, who is already seated at our reserved table. He and Dorcas are having an animated conversation. I feel my temperature start to rise.
I stride confidently over to them. “Darrin, aren’t you supposed to be reporting on this event?”
“Wow … uh, good evening to you, too, boss.”
I don’t crack even a hint of a smile. “Good evening, Brother Darrin. I hope you’re taking notes.”
He pulls a little notebook from the inside jacket pocket of his tuxedo. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Good.”
A little embarrassed over my outburst, I take my seat at the table and pretend to read the program. They look great sitting there at the table, like one of those candid photos that magazines take for marketing campaigns. Dorcas is wearing a stunning sleeveless off-white gown, and her hair is styled in a French roll, accentuating her long yet graceful neck. Darrin can’t seem to take his eyes off her. My stomach drops when I can’t see myself anywhere in that picture. What was I thinking?
They continue their conversation where they left off. “So, you think you can handle hiking on Stone Mountain?” Dorcas asks.
“Puh-leeze. Girl, I used to sled down a bigger hill than Stone Mountain.”
She laughs. “You did not.”
“I did so. We called it Grandpappy Hill.”
I feel like a desperate intruder. The worst part is that they sound really good together, like their meeting was destiny or something. Oscar spots me and hurries across the room, and for a change, I’m actually happy to see him coming.
Oscar takes a seat next to me and whispers in my ear, “What is he doing here?” The hairs on the back of my neck stand up from Oscar’s hot breath. It takes every bit of Holy Ghost in me not to cringe. I ignore the question in favor of making brief eye contact with Darrin. He smiles at me and winks.
“Sister Emoni, you look beautiful tonight. That dress really looks good on you,” Darrin comments while Dorcas nods in agreement. I don’t need her to cosign Darrin’s compliment, though. She can go on with that.
“Thank you, Brother Darrin,” I say.
Oscar clears his throat as if nobody saw him sit down. Darrin says, “Brother Oscar.” He extends his hand for Oscar to shake.
Oscar ignores this and replies, “It’s Trustee Williams.”
“Oh … my bad, Trustee.” Darrin lowers his hand slowly, seeming to notice the negative vibe that Oscar is putting out there.
Oblivious to all of the bad blood, Daddy and Mother sit down at the table. Daddy says, “Brother Darrin! Good to see you. Emoni has been raving about you all week.”
“Daddy!” I feel like hiding under a rock. Could I be any more embarrassed? No. I think not.
“Good evening, Bishop and First Lady,” says Darrin with a smile. “First Lady, you look lovely.”
Mother looks from Darrin to Dorcas and raises an eyebrow. “Thank you, Brother Darrin.”
Darrin grins and winks at me again. He turns his attention to Dorcas and teases, “Have you been raving about me, too, Sister Dorcas?”
This is not going well. He is not supposed to be using my embarrassment to flirt with that heifer.
Dorcas does not respond. Maybe it’s because I’m looking half past evil, or maybe she’s embarrassed, too. Mother gives me a consoling look that is not helping matters at all. What a nightmare.
Oscar asks, “Dorcas says that you’re a writer. Have you published anything?”
Darrin says to Dorcas, “So you
have
been raving about me.” He then answers Oscar’s question. “I frequently write editorials for our local newspaper. I’ve also had several of my essays published in small magazines.”
“Doesn’t sound too lucrative,” notes Oscar. “How can you afford to relocate? And you drive a Hummer, too, right?”
Darrin replies, “You’ve done your research. My parents are quite wealthy. They’re footing the bill.”
“What does your father do?” I ask, trying to muscle my way into the conversation. Plus, I really am curious.
“He’s in the transportation business. He has a fleet of vans that pick up people for their doctors’ appointments, shopping, whatever,” Darrin explains. “He’s got three major contracts with the city.”
“Maybe I’ll get to meet your father and talk to him. I’d like the church to have a transportation service,” Bishop responds with much interest.
Darrin turns to Oscar. “Does that answer all of your questions?”
“For now.”
The waitstaff brings the first course of the meal around to the table. It’s a hearty lobster bisque.
“This is really good,” says Mother after tasting her soup.