Mama B - A Time to Dance (Book 2) (5 page)

Derrick
questioned, “Something wrong with her, mentally?”

“Yeah, Gwen been
put through a lot and she put herself through a lot. She didn’t come out quite
the same way she went in,” I explained all he needed to know. No sense in
giving the devil praise for all his terrible works.

“Huh.” He stood
still with his eyes wandering off into space for a second. “Mama B, do you
think some people deserve to come out worse than they went in? You know,
depending on what they did?”

“I believe, by
the grace of God, we rarely get what all kinda punishment we deserve. He’s
merciful. Otherwise, He wouldn’t have sent Jesus.”

“Mmmm.”

He walked back
to the garage, I guess to put the tools away. Then, without even looking toward
me on the couch, he sped past me mumbling, “Night.”

“Goodnight,
Derrick.”

He drug himself
down the hallway like a ten-ton brick sittin’ on his heart.

Lord, help
him.

Soon as I
informed Libby about my upcoming non-date with Dr. Wilson, she started asking
way too many questions. What was I gonna to wear? Where was we gonna to eat?
What movie did we plan to watch? “Libby, if you askin’ me all these questions
and we ain’t even went nowhere yet, I can’t imagine how you gon’ act
afterwards. I got a good mind to cancel while I’m still ahead.”

“You will do no
such thing.”

I couldn’t get
mad at her, though. If it was one of my close friends spendin’ a night on the
town with a man at age seventy-two, I might have been as nosy if not more.

Son, my oldest,
got a whiff of my plans through my daughter
, Debra
Kay
. Lord, I don’t know why she went and told him I was going out with
Dr. Wilson. He beat Libby with the interrogation.

“Is he really a
doctor, Momma?” Son very nearly yelled at me when he came over to the house to
help Derrick change out some plugs and wires in my car. “He might be one of
those quacks practicing in a back alley.”

“Frank was the
one takin’ care of First Lady before she passed away,” I tried to calm Son’s
fears. “I saw him for myself in uniform at the hospital.”

“Why you callin’
him Frank?” the quiz continued.

“’Cause that’s
his name. Why don’t you get somewhere and get some business, Son.”

He headed on
back to the garage to finish up the work with Derrick, who, by the way, had
become preoccupied with making himself awful handy around the house. Aside from
fixing the gate, he’d tightened a leaky faucet, replaced light bulbs in ceiling
fans, and replaced the filters in my vents. And on top of all that, he’d
suddenly learned how to pick up after himself.

I wasn’t sure if
he was going to ask for reduced rent or extended time to stay, but he had to
want somethin’ cause that boy came home every day by five o’clock and seem like
he couldn’t rest unless he had some kind of project he was workin’ on at the
house.

Really, I was
hoping he’d have some kind of social life so I could have the evening to myself
at least, but he stayed put once he got home from work. He’d called Twyla a few
times. From what I could tell, she’d just put the baby on the phone so Derrick
could talk to her.

I knew there was
a lot Derrick hadn’t told me. I didn’t care to know it all, really, but the
Lord saw different.

Friday morning,
while I was sitting at the table communin’ with the Lord through the Word, I
got a deep pressing in my spirit to pray for Derrick. Seem like the Holy Spirit
Himself put his thumb right on my heart and wouldn’t let me move until I’d
spent a good half hour interceding for this boy. I kept hearing the word
‘mercy’ inside, so I cried it out over and over again. “Mercy, Jesus! Have
mercy!”

I didn’t know if
Derrick’s life was in danger or if his wife needed to have mercy on him. I only
knew I had to obey because I could tell there was a lot more at stake than just
a man who’d cheated on his wife.

By the time
Friday rolled around, Libby and Son had just about wore me out. I was to the
point where I almost
needed
to get out with Dr. Wilson and watch me some
kind of movie.

Contrary
to Libby's suggestion that I wear a nylon windbreaker suit, I snazzed it up a
little more. I pulled out my zebra print jacket, a hot pink undershirt, and
black pants with pink and black mules. Nothing too tight, you know.

At
the theater, I parked my MiniCooper a pretty good ways out in the parking lot
so I’d have a longer walk. One thing I learned in the weight loss class - get
in exercise every way possible.

Now
that I was thinking about it, I had to wonder if Dr. Wilson would have asked me
out if I had been less healthy-lookin'.  Did he think that because I kept
myself up, I was trying to be something I wasn't? These days everybody tryin'
to look twenty years younger and act it, too. Well, he was in for a rude
awakening if he thought I would play the part of a forty-something-year-old
woman looking for somebody to spend the last half of her life with.

Goodness,
all this negativity was getting to me. I took a look at myself in the rearview
mirror; noticed the fullness of my curls, then my frown.

Lord,
what's wrong with me?

Next,
I noticed my hand giving the mirror a slight shake. Nearly took my breath away.

Nervous.
Right there in my car, I realized I had plenty reason to be nervous. I was
about to sit up next to a man other than my husband in a movie theater.
Something I hadn't done since the middle of the last century.

My mind started
turning flips. Would people think Dr. Wilson and I were married? What if he
didn’t open the door for me? What if somebody from the church saw us?

Then I faced the
biggest question of all: What would Albert think of me being out with Dr.
Wilson? I knew it was foolish to wonder how my deceased husband would feel, but
I couldn’t help it. Albert wasn’t only my husband, he was my friend. I shared
so many “firsts” with him—first date, first real kiss (I don’t count that
one at the senior dance with Harvey Watkins ‘cause he couldn’t kiss worth a
quarter).  Albert taught me how to drive, gave me my first real diamond.
No one could ever come close to what Albert meant to me, and a part of me
didn’t want anyone trying for a chance to play second fiddle ‘cause my answer
would be no, no, and triple no!

Why had I let
Libby talk me into this anyway? I didn’t want any more firsts without Albert.

Suddenly, a
flood of sadness washed over me. I covered my eyes with my fingertips and let
the grief pass on through. Even after eight years, there were still times
Albert’s death snuck up on me and made me feel like the widow dressed in black,
sitting on the front row of the funeral all over again.

A few tears
trickled on through, and then the wave subsided. Felt like Jesus Himself said,
‘Peace, be still’ to my heart. Oh, He is a comforter like none other.
Thank
you, Lord.

I took a
cleansing breath, wiped my eyes dry, and opened the car door. My attitude was
better now. Much better.

Come to think of
it, I don’t believe Albert would have minded me watching a picture show with
Dr. Wilson.  He might think it was good for me to get out. And he would
probably prefer a man go with me this late in the evening, for safety’s sake.

Walking toward
the ticket booth, I sniggered deep down inside at myself. I’d gone all the way
left and back to the right with my sanity in the last fifteen minutes. If Dr.
Wilson could have seen that, he’d probably run from me right now.

Oh, well. Men my
age have to know what they getting into when they ask for a woman’s company.

Dr.
Wilson’s black, shiny bald head stuck
out like a big
dome in the line of people waiting to buy tickets, so he was easy to spot. Had
to give it to him, he cleaned up nicely outside of his hospital clothes. Let
Libby tell it, he looked nice in those hospital clothes, too, but the last time
I saw him I wasn’t payin’ no attention to his looks.

“Beatrice, you
look beautiful,” he said as he offered his arm to help me step up onto the
curb.

“Thank you,
Dr.—Frank. You not lookin’ too bad yourself,” I exchanged pleasantries.
As soon as I had both feet up sturdy, I released his arm quickly.

Get ahold of
yourself, B!
If it had
been any other man, I wouldn’t have thought twice about hanging on for an extra
second. Didn’t help that he was wearing a pink button-down shirt with black
slacks. Would people think we were trying to match our clothes?

When we reached
the counter, the young lady behind the glass asked what movie we wanted to see.
Dr. Wilson said the title, and then she asked, “Two?”

I scooted closer
to the window and blurted out, “We’re paying separately.”

The young lady
looked at me as though I’d just given her a lecture. I think it was quite safe
to say that I flat didn’t know how to act while out with a man, even if he was
nothing more than a potential friend.

Dr. Wilson held
open the door for me as we walked into the main foyer. The buttery popcorn
smelled like it fell straight out of heaven, but I knew I’d better not get any
because those tiny
kernel shells have
a
tendency to get stuck between my back teeth. I didn’t want to spend the evening
trying to pick one out while entertaining this man.

Is that what
I’m doin’? Entertainin’ a man?
For as hard as I was worrying, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me that
my underarms had gotten damp. Lord knows, I didn’t have time for this! Not to
mention being too old for this!

Just a few
minutes ago, I was crying. The Lord took away my sadness, but now I was
sweating. Were it not for Libby’s double-dog dare, I’d have called the evening
off right then and there; gone back to my house and spent the rest of the night
either watching television or studying the Bible. Either way, I’d be
comfortable in my normal little life.

You owe me
one, Libby
.

I had to give it
to Dr. Wilson, though. He was a perfect gentleman. Asked me if I wanted
something to eat, if I needed a soda. Of course, I turned him down. I wasn’t
sure if my stomach would act right with food in it.

“No, thank you.
Let’s go on in so we can get good seats.”

“After you.”

I led the way to
the threshold, giving the young man my ticket. He tore off my stub and gave it
back to me. I took a few steps ahead and waited for Dr. Wilson to have his
ticket torn, too. Then the young man said, “You two enjoy the movie.”

“Thank you,” Dr.
Wilson responded.

You two?
Already, people were addressing us like
a couple.

My, my, that
deodorant was a terrible failure. “Frank, let me stop in the ladies’ room,” I
requested as we walked down the main row.

“Certainly.”

I rushed inside
and found me a bathroom stall in which to collect myself.
B, you got to calm
down or this night is gon’ be a disaster!

Again, I took a
deep breath. I looked up toward the ceiling tiles and counted seven giant
squares within my view. I wished I could stay in my little cube. Safe. Quiet.
Even predictable. On the other side of that door was a world I had no business
in, I figured.

I pulled my cell
phone out of my purse and called the only person I could fuss at at a time like
this. When she answered, I whispered, “Libby, I got a bone to pick with you.”

“B, what are you
doing callin’ me? I thought you were out on your date with Dr. Wilson?” she
fussed back.

“I am—but
it’s not a date,” I corrected her. “I’m in the restroom.”

“Well, what’re
you calling me for?”

“Because I
shouldn’t be here. I’m sweating, I’m nervous, and I’m nearly about to
hyperventilate in this stall.”

Libby cracked up
laughing. “Oh, you are too much!”

I snapped at
her, “I don’t see nothin’ funny.”

“B, you like
him.”

“No, I most
certainly do not.”

“Why else would
you be actin’ like a sixteen-year-old girl on her first date?”

My phone beeped
and I looked down at the screen. Dr. Wilson was trying to get through to me. “I
got to go, Libby. He’s waiting on me.”

“I’ll be praying
that your nerves calm down, in Jesus’ name. Bye.”

I ended her call
and rejected Dr. Wilson’s call immediately following. It ain’t proper for a
woman to be on the phone with a man while she’s in the restroom, in my book.
But I did hurry out so as not to keep him waiting.

 “Thought I
was going to have to send someone in to look for you,” he said as we took off
striding again. The concern in his eyes brought a bit of ease. 

“Sorry about
that,” I apologized.