Faithful (10 page)

Natalie cocked her head and looked at her.

“I mean everybody
we
know,” Gretta said.

Phyllis stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck to see over the sea of heads. “I see some pink and green balloons way over there.” She pointed to the far right corner of the restaurant and motioned for them to follow.

As they made their way over, Phyllis marveled, too, at the change. Ten years ago at this event, she was bumping into people she knew from the moment she hit the door. Now every face was foreign and young, as if a new age had been ushered in and hers had left the scene. But when she passed the last group of young men and women toward the end of the bar and moved into an area of seating in the corner, she gasped in delight.

Two long tables were pushed together and decorated end to end with the sorority's pink and green colors, from the balloons that adorned the backs of the chairs to the beautiful apple green cloth gift bags at each place setting, to the cake prominently displayed in the middle of the table, to the sparkly pink confetti sprinkled about. And gathered around those tables were the familiar faces of her era. Her contemporaries hadn't left the scene at all. They had just carved out their own private party.

“It's about time y'all got here,” Sonya called from beside the table. She left her conversation and headed toward them, then stopped in her tracks. “Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “I know that's not Phyllis.”

In short order there was a flurry of greetings for all four women, but the buzz centered chiefly around Phyllis.

“Look at you!”

“You look
gorgeous
!”

“Girl, turn around.”

Phyllis hugged people she hadn't expected to see, people she'd forgotten about, and—a big surprise—two of her favorite “big brothers” on campus—Randy and Vic. Vic used his large frame to cut through the circle, exclaiming, “Phyl! What's up, woman!”

“Hey, Vic!” Phyllis's voice was muffled as he bent her backward with a consuming hug.

Vic stood her straight again. “Where you been hiding? I ask about you from time to time and all I hear is, ‘She's out in the Midwest somewhere.'” Before she could answer, he stepped back with a smile.

“And check you out. Me and Randy put on all this weight, and you've been taking it off.”

Phyllis chuckled, noting his face and midsection.

“Man, step aside.” Randy nudged Vic out of the way. “Phyl liked me better anyway.” He nearly lifted her off the ground with a hug.

“I guess we're chopped liver.” Natalie folded her arms as she looked to Stacy and Gretta for agreement. “They haven't said boo to us.”

Vic turned. “Oh,
now
you want attention.” He shook his head at the shame of it. He and Randy had had a crush on Stacy and Natalie. “All those times I tried to give you my undying devotion.”

“And that's the truth!” Gretta said, bursting with laughter.

Natalie laughed, too, and the guys rushed to make up for their oversight, giving each of them a big hug.

Over an hour later, after spending a few moments with each person she knew, Phyllis settled herself at the table. Her sorority sisters were chatting up a storm, finishing what looked to have been tasty entrées.

Phyllis stared at their plates. “Did anybody order me anything?”

“We kept calling you to come sit down.” Gretta munched the last of her buffalo wings. “And you kept putting up a finger, telling us to wait. Girl, I was starving.”

“I didn't know y'all were ordering,” Phyllis said, looking pitiful on purpose.

“We told the server you'd be ordering when you joined us, and he said he'd put a rush on it.” Sabrina edged her appetizer plate over to Phyllis. “Meanwhile, I saved you a couple stuffed potato skins.”

The next couple of hours passed quickly. More alumni from their era had trickled in steadily, making for fresh waves of laughter, conversation, and picture taking.

Phyllis and Daphne, another sorority sister, were returning from the restroom when Daphne elbowed her. “There's Rod Clarke. And he's still
fine
.”

Phyllis looked to her right. Rod had lost his wife in a tragic shooting last year. Michelle was a real estate agent and went one evening to a home she had listed for sale. The owners had moved out, but the three-million-dollar estate was staged with expensive furniture. When she walked inside, she happened upon a burglary and was shot on the spot. Stacy had forwarded her the online coverage in the
Washington Post
, and Phyllis had shed tears as she read accounts of the shooting and thought of its effect on Rod and their children. She'd been acquainted enough with Rod to exchange pleasantries, but she didn't know him well.

Rod and Michelle had been college sweethearts. He was one of the most sought-after guys on campus, and not just because of his looks—all the ladies agreed he was a special kind of fine with his buttery brown skin and eyes that seemed light brown one minute, hazel the next—and not just because he was genuinely nice, but because they couldn't have him. He was something of an enigma. But he only had eyes for Michelle, and word was, he had the nerve to be faithful.

Phyllis and Daphne could tell he was looking for familiar faces, and they stood in place as he neared them. Above average height and medium build, he wore a simple navy blue cable knit sweater and jeans. The only evidence that a couple of decades had passed was the few threads of silver near his temples. When his eyes met theirs, he smiled immediately.

“Hey,” he said with recognition. Then, pointing at them, “Don't tell me. Daphne and . . .” He searched his memory. “I know you look familiar, but it's not clicking.”

“Phyllis.”

He looked at her quizzically, as if still trying to verify it in his mind. Phyllis knew it was her weight loss that was throwing him. She also knew why he remembered Daphne so readily. She was one of the ones who tried to woo him from Michelle.

“It's good to see you both,” Rod said. “You look great.”

“It's good to see you too, Rod. Where's my hug?” Daphne moved forward and embraced him.

Phyllis remained where she was. “I hope you don't mind, but I want to offer my condolences. What an awful, awful tragedy you've been through. Please know that many of us were praying for you.”

Daphne took a small step back. “I wasn't able to make the funeral, but I'm sorry.”

Rod nodded slowly with a sigh. “I really appreciate your support, and I felt your prayers,” he said. “I really did. I can't begin to explain the supernatural peace God has given me. Even before they caught and convicted the perpetrators, I had a peace.” He glanced aside. “Helps to know she's with the Lord. That's one thing I'm so thankful we shared— our love for Jesus.” He paused. “God is good.”

Phyllis was almost moved to tears. These were the most words she'd ever heard from Rod, and they were beautiful words, spiritual words. She hadn't expected that.

“You're both still in the area?” Rod asked.

“I've been gone for a while,” Phyllis said. “I'm in the St. Louis area now.”

“I'm here.” Daphne perked up as if her answer would lead somewhere. She was still eyeing him when he turned to survey the crowd.

“Have you seen Leo or Temple or any of those guys?” he asked.

“They're over by us.” Daphne hooked her arm through his. “We'll show you.”

Rod was surrounded in no time, the crowd clearly surprised to see him. Back at her table, Phyllis asked Stacy, “Did you know Rod's a Christian?”

Stacy nodded over the top of her glass of water. “He gave an awesome testimony at the funeral.” She looked over at Rod. “He's truly allowed God to use him through this. The tragedy gave him a platform, because people are amazed he's been able to go on the way he has.”

Phyllis looked over at him too. “I didn't know he spoke at the funeral.”

“I didn't tell you?”

“I remember you told me about the sermon—”

“Gretta! Sonya!”

Startled, Phyllis turned and saw Ria standing at the side of the table, signaling with her digital camera for them to come.

“Daphne! Natalie!”

Stacy chuckled. “Ria, you're a shutterbug from way back, when you had that little Instamatic.”

“I know.” Ria chuckled too. “You should see how many scrapbooks I have from college days.” She called the ladies again who hadn't budged from their conversations. “We've got to get a picture of everybody before people start leaving,” she said. “What if someone doesn't show up tomorrow? We need to capture the moment.”

When everyone had assembled, Ria passed her camera to one of the guys. The women posed in front of the table, smiling broadly.

When the crowd returned to mingling, Rod walked up to their table. “Guess I missed the celebration.” He peeped at the crumbs inside the cake box.

No one heard but Phyllis, who was nearest him. She pointed to her place at the table. “You can have my piece.”

He lifted the coveted slice playfully, giving her an opportunity to change her mind.

She dismissed it. “Help yourself.”

He grabbed a fork from the pile. Savoring a bite, he said, “Thank you. This is good. You don't like chocolate cake?”

“Just the opposite.” She sighed mournfully. “Chocolate is my weakness, so I have to refuse it on occasion, let it know who's the master.” She laughed.

Rod swallowed a bite, nodding. “I hear you. It's lawful but not profitable, huh?”

“Exactly,” Phyllis said with a touch of surprise. “That's actually the verse that helped me.”

Rod gave a puzzled look and waited for more.

Phyllis felt embarrassed, tucked her hair behind her ear. “It just . . . helped me to be disciplined about losing weight.”

“I knew it was
something
,” he said, pointing his fork, “but I couldn't put my finger on it. You were . . . a little heavier back in college, right?”

Phyllis smiled softly. “You're being kind. I was a lot heavier.”

“And that verse helped you lose weight?”

“I wish it were that simple,” Phyllis said. “It was that verse and many others, prayer, and basically, the power of God in my life. It wasn't until after I became a Christian that I was able to have some control over eating and discipline regarding exercise.”

“That's an awesome praise.” Rod put the empty paper plate on the table. “So what led to your becoming a Christian?”

Daphne walked up next to him, but when she heard the topic, she kept moving.

“A neighbor invited me to church a few years ago,” Phyllis said, “and the pastor's message just spoke to me. I met with him afterward, and by the time I left the building, I knew I was a changed woman. How about you?”

Rod smiled as he thought about it. “Believe it or not, it was on the playground, fifth grade, Waylan Thompson. A few of us boys were talking about what we were going to have when we went to heaven. It's wild that we were even thinking about heaven, but we were naming mountain bikes and televisions and lizards, all that kind of stuff.” He chuckled. “And I was a bad kid. I was the one who got the other boys in trouble.”

Phyllis exaggerated a look of shock.

Rod nodded with wide eyes. “Oh yeah, big time. So when I was going on about what I would have in heaven, Waylan, who couldn't stand me 'cause I teased him all the time, said, ‘Rodney, you won't even
be
in heaven. You don't even know how to
get
to heaven.'” Rod cracked up at the memory.

“I told him I would go to heaven when I died just like everybody else, and oh man, he started clowning me, saying, ‘Rodney is stupid; he doesn't even know how to get to heaven.' The other boys started laughing, too, though I doubt they knew either, and for days this thing just bothered me. Finally, one day I pulled Waylan aside and said, ‘All right, Waylan, how do
you
think a person goes to heaven?' He looked at me to see if I really wanted to know or was I trying to tease him. When I convinced him I was serious, he started talking. Can you believe that boy shared the Gospel?”

“No way . . . and let me guess. You and Waylan became best friends.”

Rod rubbed his chin as if trying to remember. “Um, no. Wish I could say God did a mighty work and turned a troublemaking boy into an angel overnight, but . . . nope.” He smiled mischievously. “I didn't tease him as much, though.”

She put a hand to her hip and scolded him with a finger. “See, you were one of the ones I would have pulled aside and given a talking-to. I had a thing about teasing with my students. It was not allowed.”

Rod laughed. “So you're a teacher?”

“Only for two years. Then I got married, we moved away, and I had a baby. I've been home with the kids ever since. But I taught sixth-grade history at a middle school in P.G. County.”

“Really?” Rod said. “I'm a middle school teacher in Baltimore. Science.”

“I didn't know that,” Phyllis said. “How long have you been there?”

Rod was smiling. “Eleven years,” he said. “I'll probably never leave. I love those kids. The phys ed teacher and I started this awesome mentor program—”

Stacy tapped her on the shoulder, her purse and gift bag in hand.

“Phyl, we need to get going,” she said. “It's almost twelve thirty, and it'll take us at least forty-five minutes to get home.”

Phyllis looked around and saw a thinned-out crowd. “Okay. Let me get my things.” She turned back to Rod. “I want to hear about this mentor program,” she said. “Will you be at the tailgate tomorrow?”

“I hadn't planned to,” he said. “Actually, I hadn't planned to come tonight. Some of the guys had been encouraging me to come, and I said I wasn't up for it. But then my mom and dad wanted the girls for the weekend and I was home doing nothing, so—here I am.” He glanced around briefly. “I'm glad I came. It was good to see everybody, and I haven't laughed like this in a long time. So I'm thinking—”