Cover Girls (19 page)
Tonya and Michelle stared at her for several minutes. They were silent and appeared to be stunned. They were probably thinking about how costly their miscalculation was going to be.
Tonya spoke first. “Mrs. Judson, I don’t know anything about your life. I’m really not sure what you’re talking about.”
Michelle was more agitated. “You know what?” She stood and put her hand on her hip. “I’ll be doggone if I’m going to let somebody go off on me like she’s lost her mind. Especially for some job. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.”
They were good. The two of them were very good. Delores probably would have believed them if she hadn’t been there at the restaurant and heard it for herself. “I heard everything. Of course, I was supposed to, wasn’t I? Yesterday at lunchtime, you two saw me leave and you followed me to that restaurant.”
“We didn’t follow you, Mrs. Judson.” Tonya looked very calm; she looked as though she knew the answer.
“I suppose it was just a coincidence that we ended up at the same restaurant and that we were seated in booths next to each other.”
Michelle looked ready to jump. “I don’t know
what
you talking about, woman. I didn’t see you no where.”
“So it was just coincidence that you were talking about abortion and about child molestation? Do you think that I’m stupid enough to believe that?”
Michelle put both hands on her hips. “I don’t know what you’re stupid enough to believe. But I know you’re stupid enough to be in my business. Lady, you are messing with the wrong woman.
That’s
what I think.” Michelle lifted a hand and pointed at Tonya. “She’s the one that always speaks like she’s got honey in her mouth.” Michelle pointed at herself and stepped forward. “I’m the one that will go to town on your—”
“Michelle, wait a minute.” Tonya stood between them. “Wait a minute, okay?” She looked at Mrs. Judson. “I understand now. You overheard Michelle and me talking in the restaurant yesterday.”
Mrs. Judson glared at Michelle and spoke to Tonya. “How very perceptive of you.”
“You think that we made up the whole conversation—that we knew about problems in your life and we made up the whole thing.”
“Of course. How else would you know about Claudia and Carl Jr.? How else would you know that she’s going to have an abortion?”
Michelle lowered her fists. “Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness, Tonya. This is just like in the Bible!”
Tonya waved her hands. “Jesus!” She looked at Mrs. Judson and then at Michelle.
“I think we all need to sit down.”
T
onya and Michelle sat down. Tonya waved her hand, again. “Mrs. Judson, I think you need to sit down.” Delores stood behind her desk trembling. What was going on? “This is my office. You can’t tell me to sit down.”
Michelle whistled. “Girl, this is just like the woman at the well.”
Delores could feel her knees weakening. She sat down. Did they think she was going to actually fall for this Three Stooges routine? She played along. “What woman at the well?”
“There was this woman at the well in Samaria that they talk about in the Bible. Jesus came by and he was able to tell her all about her life. It was a miracle. That’s how she knew He was real. I can’t believe what just happened. God is really real!”
Delores looked at Tonya. “What is she talking about?”
Tonya radiated tranquility. “Mrs. Judson, I know that you know that I believe in God.”
“We
all
know you do. You make certain of that.”
“Mrs. Judson, I say before God that Michelle and I didn’t know you were in that restaurant. We didn’t know your life story—we still don’t know. I assume Carl Jr. is your son, but I don’t know who Claudia is. Mrs. Judson, you are a very private person. How would Michelle and I know the details of your life?”
“You could have intercepted my cell phone calls.”
“Have you talked about your family situation over your cell phone?”
Only the school knew Delores’s cell phone number, and she hadn’t used it since she’d returned to work. “Maybe you listened to my land-line telephone calls.”
“Mrs. Judson, your line isn’t accessible on our phones.”
Michelle chimed in. “That’s right, it sure ain’t.”
“Mrs. Judson, we don’t know anything about your life. That’s how you want it, and that’s how it is. I respect you, Mrs. Judson, but I wouldn’t tell you my personal business. I wouldn’t tell you that I had an abortion—well, I have told you, I guess. But I didn’t do it intentionally. You’re my employer, not my friend.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “I know that’s right. It ain’t no way in—no way in the world I would tell you about my momma and . . . ain’t no way in the world I would tell you that . . . about her boyfriend. You can take that to the bank!”
Delores felt her stomach cramping; the muscles felt like they were forming into knots. “You’re trying to tell me that all this was coincidental?”
“No, Mrs. Judson, I’m trying to tell you that it was divine. When you look at people who believe and wonder why they keep holding on, why they believe when times get hard, or why they believe when books and men all around us tell us we’re foolish, it’s because of things like this.
“God keeps showing up in our lives. It would be easy to dismiss Him if He showed up in neat, tidy little ways. If God were just a little breeze it would be easier to dismiss Him.
“It would be coincidence if we ended up at the same restaurant. Maybe still coincidence if we were seated next to each other. But Mrs. Judson, how could my story and Michelle’s story just happen to be your story? If you think back through your life, there are some things that just cannot be explained away as a random event.”
Michelle nodded. “Just like the woman at the well.”
Delores combed through the events, trying to put the pieces together. It couldn’t be. She sat forward in her seat. “I don’t even believe in God. Why would a God go through all of this for someone who didn’t believe?”
“Most of the miracles that the Lord did when He was here, He did so that people would believe. God wants you to know that He’s real, Mrs. Judson. He wants you to know that He’s watching over you. God wants you to believe.”
Michelle had bowed her head. She was weeping. “Maybe He didn’t do it just for you, Mrs. Judson. Maybe God did it for me, too. He did all this just so I would know that He loved me, and that it was safe to come home. The Lord wanted me to know that no matter what I have done, He knows, and He still wants me to come home. He wants
me
to know that He’s real!”
It was disconcerting to see Michelle cry. Delores looked at her while she questioned Tonya. “If God really exists, why would He bother doing all this for me? He’s God of the whole universe. How could such a busy God have time for me?”
“Because, Mrs. Judson, God says that He knows every hair on our heads.
7
He says that He knew us before we were formed in our mother’s womb.
8
The Lord is not like we are. He makes time for us and He says that He longs to draw us under his wings like a hen gathering her baby chickens.
9
He says that He is the Great Shepherd and we are the sheep of his pasture. No matter how many sheep He has, if one is lost there is nothing He won’t do to find that one lost sheep. We may not mean much to ourselves. We may not mean much to each other. But we are precious to God. The Lord came here to earth and walked among us as a man so that He could gather the lost sheep. He is still doing it today.”
Delores put her hands over her face. She pressed her fingers against her eyes. “But I have nothing in common with the two of you. Why would God choose you two as examples for me?”
“Maybe because God enjoys using the least among us. The Lord uses the least likely people to show the way. Jesus chose lepers, prostitutes, and swindlers to show other people that He was real. He chooses the foolish—the least likely—to confound the wise. He shines His spotlight on the people that everyone else would like to overlook.”
Michelle lifted her head. Her face was wet. “Maybe He wanted all of us to know that we make too big of a deal out of the small things that separates us. We may not have the same amount of money. We may not be the same size or the same color. We may not come from the same neighborhoods or the same kinds of families, but we share the same heartaches. We all feel alone sometimes. We all feel rejected sometimes. We all are sad sometimes. We all feel like our world is falling apart sometimes. We all feel misunderstood.
“We need each other, we can help each other. We all need answers. The answer, no matter what our differences, is the same: Jesus’ name is still the same.”
Delores was tired and confused. Nothing was making sense. She looked at the clock. It was late; everyone else had probably gone home.
Could He or would He send someone over the wall?
She needed time to think. It was best not to commit to a decision under these circumstances. She needed to take control.
She cleared her throat. “It’s getting late. It would be best to finish this discussion at a later date. I’ll have my secretary put you ladies on my calendar. In the meantime, I will consider our meeting. I’m not convinced that I shouldn’t fire both of you, but I’ll weigh everything that we have discussed here. I will be fair. When we meet again, I will give you my decision.”
C
arl tapped his pipe on the ashtray. “I just don’t think it’s the right thing, Delores. I’ve tried to make peace with it, but I don’t think it’s the right thing. I don’t think it’s the right thing for Claudia.” His cheeks sagged and his mouth turned downward. His hair seemed more gray. Carl looked weary. “I know what you think is best. It would be convenient, Delores, but I don’t think it would be the right thing.”
She could tell that making the statement had taken the wind out of him. Carl never defied her. He never disagreed with her. How many hours, how many days, had he rehearsed what he was saying? How many scenarios had he run through in his mind? How many times had Carl thought,
I will say, then she will say . . . ?
Delores knew it was hard for him. Carl loved peace. Maybe, even more than that, Carl hated conflict.
It was hard for him. She should make it easy. She should, but she couldn’t. “What do you mean, exactly, by
it,
Carl? Do you mean the abortion? Are you afraid to say
abortion
?”
Carl flinched and his face flushed. Would he give in? She hoped he would, so that she wouldn’t have to hit him again. She hoped that he would cover his head and stay on the floor. Delores didn’t want to destroy him. The argument was emotional, but its toll felt almost physical.
He put his pipe back in his mouth and adjusted his glasses. “I don’t think Claudia should have the abortion. I don’t think we should do it.”
“What do you mean you don’t think
we
should do it, Carl? You’re not having a baby. No one’s going to be pointing at you. Claudia’s the one that’s pregnant, or have you forgotten that? I’m just trying to help her so that she can move on with her life. She’s thirteen, for heaven’s sake! What is she going to do with a child?”
Delores hoped that Carl would take the count—that he would take the count and walk away still a man.
“That’s exactly my point, Delores. She’s a child; we are involved.”
Carl staggered to his feet. He threw a punch even though he could barely see. “We’re responsible for her, and since she can’t be responsible, we’re also responsible for her child.”
“Carl, you said yourself that there wasn’t room in our lives for a child. We were sitting right here in this room, right here at this table. What is this—some fit of conscience? Some holy crusade? Don’t tell me you’ve found God since the last time we talked about this?” It was not right, she knew, to hit him with what had been troubling her. It was not right to try to shame him into denying God because she was ashamed of her own uncertainty.
God keeps showing up in our lives.
Tonya and Michelle were common women who didn’t know any better. Delores knew better than to turn to religion. She wasn’t going to turn to an opiate out of desperation. It was not right to shame Carl, but all was fair in war.
“Of course not.” Carl looked away from her. He did not, Delores could tell, want to look her in the eye. “Religion has nothing to do with this.” He looked back at her. “I’m talking about making a logical, rational decision. I don’t think we’ve considered the full ramifications of this. There are issues beyond scandal, Delores. We have to think about Claudia’s emotional, physical, and mental health.”
“Do you think it’s going to be healthy for her to have people talking behind her back or even calling her names to her face? Do you think it’s in her best interest to ensure that no decent man of any potential is ever going to want to marry her? Do you think it’s in her best interest for her immature body to be stretched and damaged trying to give birth? Tell me, Carl, how is this going to help?”
He looked over the top of his glasses. He was so open to her. He was so vulnerable. Delores could see the water pooled in his blue eyes. “I don’t know that anything is going to help, Delores. I just don’t want to do anything that will hurt. I just want to do the right thing.”
“Here we go, again. The right thing.
The right thing.
The right thing is whatever we think it is—if you’re really just making a logical decision, Carl,
we
determine the right thing.”
“Of course, I agree with you Delores.” His shoulders curved and his body slumped. “I don’t want to fight about this. You know I hate fighting with you.”
“We’re not fighting, Carl.” She lied, hoping that he would stop resisting. “We’re just discussing our options.”
“I don’t feel good about this, Delores . . . it isn’t right. We can’t do this just so people won’t know that we aren’t perfect. There has to be something more to who we are as a family, who we are as people, than our reputations.”
She didn’t want to tell him. Why was he forcing her? Why couldn’t he just let go? Why couldn’t he do what he always did and just lie down?
