Joy Comes in the Morning (11 page)

I drove Taylor, myself, and my father to the engagement party in my four door Pontiac Sunfire. Lil' Pink, I called it, because of its bright carnation pink color. Everyone knew that it was my favorite color. Taylor didn't have her own car because she thought it was a waste of good money
.
She said she'd always have a man, and he'd always have a car. Besides, she was saving her money to open her own fitness center one day. So I was always stuck chauffeuring her around between dates.

Joshua, Malcolm, and Marisol were meeting us at the party, along with Joshua's parents and Lilah
.
Aunt Dorothy's house was the biggest one on the block. It was a split level house covered in beige and tan stones. There was a carport and a curved driveway that allowed visitors to drive in and out in a circle. So we pulled up behind Joshua's car and anxiously ran in to greet everyone.

I felt beautiful in my powder blue sundress with matching platform sandals and the small flower stuck in my shiny bob. I hugged Joshua first, spoke to the few other guests, hugged Lilah, and then hugged Aunt Dorothy, although I couldn't get my arms all the way around her. “Thanks for the party, but you didn't have to—”

“Don't mention it, sweetheart. You deserve it. And everyone else, well, they just come along with the package.” Aunt Dorothy was always honest if nothing else. She would speak her mind in a heartbeat and leave you gasping for air.

I swatted her with my purse. “You're such a mess.”

“Girl, take it back, 'cause the good Lord can't bless no mess.”

“You haven't changed a bit in all these years,” I said.

Aunt Dorothy smiled. “I'll take that as a good thing.”

“Better than that. It's a God thing.” I patted my Aunt Dorothy gently on the back.

Aunt Dorothy touched her face. “You look just like your mother when she was your age.”

“Really?” I wished I could see Mom's face at that moment.

“Oh, yes,” Aunt Dorothy said. “You and Taylor both, of course.”

“I miss her so much.” I leaned my head on my aunt's shoulder.

“So do I. She was my only sister. God rest her soul.”

“Just like Taylor is mine,” I said.

“Like it or not, it's the truth.” Aunt Dorothy smiled. “And you two ought to be close.”

“Just because we're twins doesn't mean it works out that way.” I curled up my lips.

“I can see that, but it's a real shame though.” Aunt Dorothy shifted her wig. “You two used to be inseparable.”

“We were kids.”

“Sometimes kids know more than adults.” Aunt Dorothy pointed to Taylor as she walked out the front door.

Talking to Aunt Dorothy made me remember Mom and how she was always getting on us about stuff. She'd frown up her round face, and it was always “Alex this” or “Taylor that.” I guess she never had much patience for mothering, especially not for mothering twins, which was odd considering the numerous awards she won for working with kids. Don't get me wrong, she'd have us wearing cute matching outfits, matching hairdos, and she'd hover lovingly around us, but when we'd mess up, it was like the end of the world. She never did say half as much to Taylor, though, when she messed up. Sometimes it was almost like she condoned her behavior with the way she shook her head, smiling and saying “Taylor, chile, you're something, really something.” I always wondered about that. When we were ten and Taylor was missing in Macy's Department Store, it was me who got in trouble for not keeping an eye out for her. When we were fourteen and she failed three classes in freshman year, I got blamed for not helping her study, and when we were twenty-one and Taylor stopped coming to church, I know Mom wanted to blame me for that too. Although she never could get the words out, I could see it in her eyes.

“Excuse me.” I went out behind Taylor and found her standing up against the mailbox. She was wearing a tight, red haltered jumpsuit, and she had her weave braids pulled back in a ponytail.

“It's too late for the postman.”

“It's too stuffy in there for me.” Taylor pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“You'd rather be out and about, right?”

“You got that right.” Taylor stuck the cigarette in her mouth and inhaled.

“I thought you weren't going to smoke in the house.” I tried to mask my disappointment.

“I know. I only do it sometimes when I get stressed out.” Taylor puffed the smoke into my face.

“I see. So you'd rather be out here destroying your lungs than inside at your own sister's engagement party.” I coughed, and then stepped back, waving the smoke away with my hands.

“Whatever. I just can't kick it with a bunch of senior citizens.”

“Oh, come on. The only seniors are Dad, Aunt Dorothy, and Sister Trudy.”

“And that's one too many,” Taylor spat out.

“Oh, come on, you can't be serious.”

“Like a heart attack.” Taylor inhaled again.

“A little wisdom won't hurt us.”

Taylor picked up her foot and began to fiddle with her stilettos as if her feet were hurting. “Won't hurt you. I'm not trying to hear anything they have to say, bless their aging hearts.”

“That's so mean.”

“I'm sorry. I know this is your engagement party, but I'm just having a really bad day, that's all. Please go on without me.” Taylor put her foot down and started to examine her fingernails. “I don't know why Aunt Dorothy would plan to have a party on a Thursday evening of all days. Doesn't she know that people work?”

I wondered where her selfishness would end.

“It's not that bad. You know Auntie works a double shift on Saturdays, so you know it had to be held on a weekday.”

“I know, but this ain't my type of party.” Taylor rolled her mascara drenched eyes. “My kind of party doesn't even get started till 'bout midnight.”

“Aunt Dorothy went through a lot of trouble to throw me this little party, so the least you can do is be nice about it.”

“Oh, I'll be nice.” Taylor put on a fake smile, revealing one gold tooth in the front of her mouth. I couldn't believe my sister, who had the same conservative upbringing as me, had turned out to be so ghetto.

The door opened, and Aunt Dorothy called Taylor and me inside for dinner. I noticed that the Benningses had arrived fashionably late, of course, and were propped against a wall as if they were afraid to sit down. They gave me their standard hug before we all sat down at the table. Dad led us in prayer, and Aunt Dorothy did the serving. We ate potato salad, barbecue short ribs, baked macaroni and cheese, collard greens, black-eyed peas, and rice with gravy. Then everyone watched as Joshua and I sliced the chocolate fudge ice cream cake. Dad made a short speech on how happy he was for me, and then snapped a few pictures with his digital camera. Pastor Bennings prayed over our future union, and we mingled in a state of pseudo happiness, each of us afraid that at any moment, any one of us could blow.

When I looked over at Joshua, he was carrying Lilah on his shoulders. I smiled at her, and she turned her head. Something inside me stirred, and for a moment, I was far away from the celebration. Only a few weeks to the wedding, yet I wondered how long I could go on with this façade? I worked the room, laughing and talking in my usual friendly way. Then I found Lilah at the other side of the room, leaning over a dish of shrimp puffs. She looked up at me and smiled with her eyes.I picked up a fork and offered her a shrimp puff from the dish. “Would you like one?”

“Yes, please,” Lilah said.

I watched as she put it playfully into her mouth, daydreaming about what it would be like to have a child of my own. As I admired her, I noticed that her brown eyes were getting puffy and watery. Within seconds, Lilah's face started breaking out in hives. Her lips and tongue were swollen. I stood there in utter disbelief as her condition deteriorated before my eyes. Then Lilah started to cry uncontrollably.

I picked her up and brought her over to Joshua.

He grabbed Lilah from my arms and began to comfort her with his words and his touch. “What happened to her?”

“I don't know. All I did was give her a shrimp puff,” I said.

Needless to say, she was allergic to shrimp. How was I supposed to know that? The Benningses gathered around Lilah, moving frantically. Joshua called 911 while Aunt Dorothy, who was a registered nurse, made Lilah lie down on the antique couch with her feet elevated slightly above the height of her chest. The other guests became anxious. Mrs. Bennings turned to Joshua and whispered, “I just don't understand why she'd offer the child anything without checking with us first.”

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” I kept saying over and over again until it echoed in my brain. My head swirled as I watched the paramedics take Lilah out on a stretcher. “Joshua, I—”

But he had disappeared inside the ambulance. His parents followed closely behind in their Lexus.I stood in the doorway of Aunt Dorothy's house, praying that Lilah would be all right.

I followed them to the hospital, and then lingered in the distance. Nothing could've made me feel worse. I had made Joshua's little angel sick. We hardly made eye contact at the beginning. He filled out the appropriate papers, whispered something to his parents, nodded at me, and disappeared behind the double doors.

Immediately, I began to pace the floor.

“Don't worry, dear, it's not entirely your fault. We should've been watching her more closely,” Mrs. Bennings said.

I put my hands over my face. “Thanks, but I feel so bad.”

“Mirriam, please. You're upsetting the child.” Pastor Bennings waved his hand as if to quiet his wife, but there was no stopping her.

“Nonsense, she's a grown woman. She's strong. I'm quite sure she is capable of handling this. She'll be a wife and mother soon, so she'll have to be strong.” Mrs. Bennings smirked.

“I never knew that Lilah had allergies.” I shook my head repeatedly.

“Right. I see Joshua hasn't even covered the basics with you yet,” Mrs. Bennings huffed. “And the wedding is when again?”

I knew where this was going. It was Alex bashing time, and I wasn't going to be a willing participant. I gave a closed tooth grin and glided out of the room. I wasn't about to lose my religion for the likes of Mrs. Mirriam Bennings.

Two hours later Joshua emerged with a smiling Lilah. “Go give your grandparents a hug,” Joshua said. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

Mrs. Bennings bent over to scoop Lilah up.

“I'm sorry I scared you, Grandma.” Lilah threw her arms around her grandmother's neck.

“Oh, Grandma's little pumpkin. It's not your fault.” Mrs. Bennings looked over at Joshua and me from the corner of her eye. “We were supposed to protect you.”

“Stay away from the shrimp dishes, young lady,” Pastor Bennings said.

“They gave her a shot of ephedrine to reduce the swelling, and she has a prescription for antihistamine also.” Joshua looked at his daughter. “Thank God she's okay.”

Mrs. Bennings smiled. “Indeed.”I left at two o'clock that morning feeling terribly drained.

When the alarm clock buzzed, I opened my big, dark brown eyes to a brand new summer day. As I reached over to turn off the alarm, I could feel the sun streaming in from my window onto my bare arm. It was Friday. I was grateful that I had been able to put my engagement party disaster behind me and that Joshua had forgiven me for what had happened to Lilah. It had been a long night.I heard my sister singing in the living room, shook my head, and turned over in my bed. Suddenly, I remembered the promise she made to me about attending the Annual Women's Day program. When I first asked her if she wanted to attend the church function, I really expected her to throw something at me. However, as I began to explain more about the event's focus being the empowerment of women, I managed to convince her. Aunt Dorothy also reminded her of how much fun she and I used to have at these kinds of events. A smile grew on my lips as I thought about my sister being back in the house of the Lord.Unable to sleep any longer, I crept onto my bedroom floor. I peeped out into the living room and saw Taylor doing her routine leg curls and ab crunches on her exercise mat. I shook my head because that girl was absolutely relentless.I slipped by her and headed straight for the kitchen. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Taylor mumbled, then jumped up and followed me into the kitchen.

“You want some?” I held up a package of frozen waffles.

“Nope.” She took a granola bar and a sports shake from the cabinet.

“Oh, so it's like that?”

Taylor snapped her fingers. “Yep, it's like that.”

“So you're ready for the women's program today?”

“I guess so. I ain't got nothing to lose anyway,” Taylor said. “Even though I'm probably just wasting my time.”

“Well, we'll see about that. Women's empowerment should be very interesting.”

Taylor sucked her teeth and left the kitchen. “Maybe.”

Later on that evening, as we rode together in my car, we strained to recall moments from our childhood when more than just our faces were alike. I could tell Taylor was probably a little nervous because she started squirming in her seat as soon as we pulled up in front of the church. It had been a long time since Taylor had gone to church; not since Mom died. Not that she was hanging out at the altar before our mom died, but at least back then she had a reason to visit on occasion. Mom wouldn't have had it any other way. Now that she was gone, Taylor had no reason. In fact, now that Mom was gone, it was almost as if she were soulless.

I looked up at the tall brick building, with its provincial steeple and stained glass windows. The sunlight intensified its beauty. Taylor looked good in her peach colored slacks with a split up the legs and a sleek low cut blouse, while I wore one of my simple sundresses. We saw a few groups of ladies standing together talking and hugging. My eyes searched for Aunt Dorothy's face through the crowd, but I didn't see her yet. I did, however, see Mrs. Winifred, and I cringed inside my own skin. She was wearing a big bronze colored hat with feathers on it, and a bronze colored dress with sequins. There was the red haired hottie standing next to her, and I struggled to maintain my composure.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Mrs. Winifred put her bony hand on her hip. “Ms. Carter, the other Ms. Carter that is. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I wish I could say the same.” Taylor responded right before I pulled her away.

We narrowly escaped the stares and open arms of those who were so surprised to see her. Some people asked where she had been, and others just whispered or made funny faces. Church folk were something to see.

Mrs. Arnez, an older Spanish woman, greeted us at the French doors and ushered us into the sanctuary. She handed us each a program, and I glanced at the theme in bold letters:
T
HE
I
NNER
B
EAUTY
OF
W
OMEN
. I tried to point this out to Taylor, but she just pushed my hand away, obviously fueled by skepticism.

Taylor whispered, “What can a bunch of church mothers teach me about beauty?”

As we walked down the aisle, we saw Aunt Dorothy. She was wearing a long blue sequined dress and a big matching hat. She put her wrinkled hands around our necks as if we were children and squeezed my sister and me together. She smelled like spearmint. Then she pointed her big finger and told us to move closer to the front. Sister Patrice, one of the younger ushers, led us to our seats.

We finally sat down somewhere in the middle section of pews, and I looked ahead at the altar, the emerald colored pulpit and matching chairs, and the colorful floral arrangement. I remembered that the last time Taylor set foot in this church was for Mom's funeral, and I closed my eyes, hoping to blink away the memory. Believing that maybe my sister had the same memory, I reached over and squeezed Taylor's hand.

“I've got to go up now.” I patted her on the shoulder before I walked away.

“No problem,” Taylor said.

I went to the front and assembled myself with the praise team. We sang, “With Long Life He Will Satisfy Me,” and “Lord, You're Awesome,” two songs I was almost sure that Taylor had never heard before. Some things had changed since she had been there last. Finally they sang, “Behold the Lamb,” and as I looked out into the audience, she appeared to be listening attentively.

By the time I sat down, I was praising God on the outside, crying for my sister's heart on the inside. We sat through prayer, several selections from the choir, and a special message from Dr. Sonia McDowell, a minister and national women's advocate.

She was a petite woman, much shorter than I would have expected, but she seemed strong and self assured. She wore a gray pin striped skirt suit and a gray pin striped hat over her medium length bob. Although she must have been in her late forties, her skin seemed to sparkle under the lights. She had a small body, but she made up for it with her big voice. She not only preached about the inner beauty of women, but she demonstrated it, walking up and down from the platform, back and forth from behind the pulpit with a style and grace even Cleopatra would admire.

At times she ran across the platform like she was on fire, telling about her personal experiences with relationships, telling about her former self-destructive ways, telling about a spirit of condemnation. The funny thing was, some of her old ways sounded a lot like my sister's present ways. And some even sounded like my own. I listened and absorbed what I could as a shame came over me. I could relate to her struggle, and yet, she testified that the Lord had helped her. Taylor leaned over close to me. “I wonder why the Lord never helped me.”

We sang, we laughed, we clapped, and the crowd roared as we were taken on a journey inside ourselves, a place I was certain Taylor hadn't been in awhile. Maybe never.

When the program was over, we walked out together. “That was good, wasn't it?” I said to my sister.

“Yeah, it was.” Taylor put her hand up to wipe her eye. “I hate to admit it, but there was something special about this service.”

“We've got workshops going on here tomorrow too, you know.”

“Workshops?”

“In health and nutrition, beauty tips, family, career management, etc.”

“Sure, that's my thing,” Taylor said.

“Okay. Then we'll come again tomorrow,” I said.

“If I don't have anything better to do.”

“Of course,” I said, careful not to pressure her too much.Suddenly, Taylor began to pat her eyes with tissue. I could tell she was holding back and I hoped with every breath, that she would come and surrender her life to the Lord. That would make it a perfect day. People were beginning to crowd the sidewalk as they were dismissed from the church. We waved good-bye to Aunt Dorothy and started the trek to my car parked up the street.

As I neared my car, we heard footsteps coming up behind us. Maybe someone at the church needed me for something. Someone was always needing something. I turned around quickly and stared into a familiar face. Every nerve inside me stood on end. “What in heaven's name are you doing here?”