Somewhat Saved (14 page)
Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker
“What are you doing?” Sister Betty's voice was accusatory and she knew it. “Bea Blister, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Hush!”
“Bea, don't you dare try and hush me.” She'd started to say something further but the sound of laughter came from within the office. She recognized Chandler's voice but not the other.
Sister Betty quickly joined Bea in pressing her ear against the office door.
“I don't hear anything now,” Bea said while trying to open the door a little wider.
“That's because we're trying to mind somebody's business that's not ours,” Sister Betty confessed, but she made no effort to move away from the door.
The outer door to the reception area swung open so fast it almost caused Bea to fall upon Sister Betty. Sister Betty tried to keep her balance and accidentally stepped on Bea's already swollen pinky toe.
Bea screamed.
Sister Betty hollered.
And Chandler almost jumped out of his skin with Zipporah doing the same thing.
Zipporah reacted faster than Chandler. She quickly gathered her bag, prepared to flee. She thought for certain she'd been caught up in a Twilight Zone moment. Maybe Chandler was too good to be true. She ran over and unlatched the side office door to escape while she still had a chance and, hopefully, a job. She'd no sooner put her hand on the doorknob when the sound of crying stopped her. Zipporah looked back. Through the now opened door to the reception area she spied the old women who seemed to be everywhere she was.
22
Sasha had left the casino quickly and returned to her hotel room at the Luxor. She dialed Areal's number, slammed down her hotel room telephone. Three times she tried to call her sister. She left several messages, just in case Areal thought she was a bill collector trying to trick her into answering the phone.
Sasha could feel her blood pressure rise. She looked at the clock. It was almost five o'clock. In a couple of hours the Mothers Board Conference would start for the evening session. She wrestled with whether or not she'd attend. If she didn't, she'd most certainly not be able to control the votes. If she did, then she'd definitely lose control over Bea's inevitable snooping.
It was times like these when she wished she had someone she could trust, a friend who wouldn't judge her and who wouldn't talk about her business.
Sasha willed the image of the young woman from the casino from her mind. Instead, the image seemed to take on a life of its own. She saw the image pointing at herâaccusing her.
And then Sasha laid aside her cane. With her arms raised she, again, implored God to listen. Words came slowly but the moans did not. It was as though every fiber of her body needed God's touch. It felt like real praying was becoming a habit for her. It wasn't that she hadn't been praying in the past. She prayed often but on her terms. And it wasn't that she hadn't prayed for others. That she most certainly had done. It was mostly to ask God to rain down His judgment on someone she perceived had slighted her. But not now.
Sasha didn't need a birth certificate or a DNA test to know who the young woman was. “Oh, God,” Sasha cried. “Oh, merciful God . . .”
Sasha wept and prayed until she was drained. Her clothes were wet and her silver gray, waist-length hair, always kept neatly twisted into a bun, had become undone. Her church family would've been shocked to see her elfish figure sprawled out on the hotel room floor.
Sasha lay on the floor weeping about everything she'd kept tied up or hidden becoming exposed. What she'd done almost thirty years ago was about to become undone.
It took some effort, but she'd barely gotten off the floor when the phone rang. With energy she didn't know she still had, Sasha rushed to answer it.
“Areal! It's about time!”
Sasha plopped down upon the couch. In between sobs that flowed easier than her story, she talked to her sister.
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Sister Betty and Chandler huddled together outside the casino's first-aid station while Bea had her pinky toe attended to.
“It was real nice for that young lady to go inside with Bea.” Sister Betty's face showed concern. Whether it was for Bea or the young woman wasn't apparent.
“Zipporah's a very nice person,” Chandler said. “I'm reading your mind, Aunt Betty. So don't you be getting any ideas with your matchmaking schemes.”
“Why would I?” Sister Betty winked. She leaned over and gave her godson a kiss. “I trust you to lead your own life.”
Just as Chandler started to challenge Sister Betty's false promise Zipporah stepped through the door. She was leading Bea, gently holding her by the elbow.
“I don't know how I'm gonna get around,” Bea complained. “It's your fault, Sister Betty.”
“What?” Sister Betty looked at Chandler, who promptly looked away. “Bea is about to make me mess up my testimony.”
Just the thought of Sister Betty acting anything but overly religious caused Bea and Chandler to burst out in laughter. It was just what Bea needed to take her mind off her pain.
“What happened to your spirit of service?” Bea quipped as she winced, trying to solicit sympathy.
“I left it in Pelzer,” Sister Betty responded with conviction because she meant every word. Inwardly, she felt convicted but she'd discuss that with God later. Her present state of disobedience had not ebbed when it came to doing anything for Bea and Sasha.
While the church showdown was going on between Mother Blister and Sister Betty, Zipporah watched. She was no longer offended but now fascinated by the tenacity of the old women and the look of acceptance on Chandler's face.
“We'll work something out for you, Mother Blister.” Chandler interrupted what he was sure would turn into the next unholy war. “No one wants to leave you helpless.”
“Thank you so much, June Bug, sweetie. I don't know how you came to have such good manners, being raised by Sister Betty and your grandma, Ma Cile.” She'd tried to say the words as nice as she could but the pain made it a waste of time.
“You wouldn't say that to Ma Cile's face,” Sister Betty said quickly.
The truth was that Bea most certainly wouldn't have. Chandler's one-eyed, snuff-dipping, cranky grandmother would've grabbed Bea's other pinky toe. She'd have broken it off and flipped it back at Bea while she sang “The Old Ship of Zion.” Ma Cile didn't play.
For the next ten minutes or so they played ping-pong with the idea of who would assist Bea. All the while Zipporah watched as the thought of all of them being crazy returned with vigor.
She never saw it coming. No one asked if she could or would. The next thing Zipporah knew, she'd been volunteered as the one to escort Mother Blister back to the Luxor Hotel.
“Oh, thank you,” Bea squealed. Having Zipporah go with her was wonderful. She'd liked her instantly and now they'd have more time to get to know one another. Of course, finding out further why Sasha had denied seeing anything familiar about Zipporah would be a plus.
Zipporah glared at Chandler.
Chandler's grin betrayed any apologies he silently tried to issue. They'd already finished the payroll, so there wasn't much else for Zipporah to do at the office.
Zipporah finally gave in to the futility of the situation. She glared again toward Chandler. She didn't care who saw her as she mouthed the words, “You owe me.”
Sister Betty and Bea sat in the first-aid station side by side while they waited for Zipporah and Chandler to return from getting Bea's pain medication prescription.
“She seems to be such a sweet young lady,” Bea said. If she'd noticed that Sister Betty wasn't in a talking mood, she ignored it.
Sister Betty turned and looked at Bea as if meeting her for the first time. Something was off about Bea. In all her years of knowing Bea, they'd never exchanged more than ten friendly words at a time. Unintentionally, Sister Betty spoke out, “Maybe it wasn't God speaking to me. It could've just been something I ate . . .” It was to late to take back what was supposed to be a private thought.
The confused look on Bea's face told Sister Betty that Bea probably thought she'd lost her mind. “She's very pretty,” Sister Betty added, quickly.
Bea's face relaxed. “And she has such a lovely voice,” Bea added.
“How would you know?” Sister Betty faced Bea. It was her turn to think Bea had lost her mind.
“I was listening at the doorway when you came along and shoved me and caused me to hurt my pinky toe.”
Sister Betty was about to challenge Bea's edited version of reality when Chandler and Zipporah returned.
“You're just in time.” Sister Betty had stood up faster than she'd meant. She became light-headed and couldn't finish speaking.
“She's been talking crazy ever since you left.” Bea let her chubby fingers circle her head.
While they prepared to take Bea back to her hotel Chandler took Zipporah aside. He tried explaining Mother Blister's and Sister Betty's idiosyncrasies to Zipporah. “They're really sweet once you get to know them.”
“And if I don't want to get to know them?”
“Please don't make me play the boss card.” He tried to act stern but couldn't help but laugh.
“Please don't make me play my I-don't-give-a-crap card.” She placed both hands on her hips and let her neck roll, showing she still had a little “hood” left and available.
Zipporah and Chandler were getting along like old friends. They finally made a deal. He'd take her out for a late dinner once they got Mother Blister situated. He hoped that Mother Pray Onn could handle whatever business they had at the conference alone.
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Back at the Luxor Sasha sped around her room snatching things from the dresser drawers. She stuffed her things into her a suitcase. She hadn't been shopping and yet it seemed difficult to repack. She'd already called the airline, with the help of the hotel's concierge service, and got a flight. She'd balked at having to pay the extra fee to do so but she'd had no choice.
Five minutes after she'd finished packing, Sasha gave her suitcase to a bellhop. He explained to her that the bag would be waiting for her when she came down to the front desk.
It was completely out of character for Sasha, but she tipped the bellhop. Now, all she had to do was wait on the car service to take her to the airport.
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Zipporah had finally gotten Bea into a cab. On the way back to the Luxor Bea had done nothing but chat. Zipporah wished she'd had a roll of duct tape to tape Bea's mouth. Plus, Bea had forgotten to put in her dentures and it was like looking into a cave when Bea spoke.
Zipporah stepped off the elevator with Mother Blister limping beside her. Both women focused on trying to get to the hotel room without any further damage to Bea's swollen pinky toe. Neither saw Sasha entering the other elevator.
But Sasha had seen them. She nearly had a heart attack when she spied Zipporah leading Bea off the elevator. She lowered her head and rushed inside another waiting elevator. She pressed against the back wall, trembling. “Jesus. Oh, Jesus,” she repeated as the elevator descended. She thanked God for the elevator being empty and not being seen.
Zipporah felt like a suspect as Bea continued her relentless interrogation after they'd entered the hotel room. Somehow, she'd gotten Zipporah to tell her everything except her dress and shoe sizes.
“I wonder what's holding up Mr. Lamb?” Zipporah said. “I didn't think it would take him that long to take Sister Betty to her room.”
“She's probably running her mouth,” Bea replied. “She's kind of nosey, but she is his godmother, so she thinks she's got a right to ask about things that ain't none of her business.”
Without meaning to do so, Zipporah laughed at Bea's accusation. She just hoped she wouldn't be that crazy when she reached old age.
“So tell me,” Bea pressed as she tried to reposition her foot, “how long have you been singing?” She couldn't let a little thing as excruciating as pain keep her from her task.
A smile spread across Zipporah's face. The old woman had finally touched on a subject she could spend hours talking about.
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Sasha raced from the elevator hoping to avoid anyone else she knew. She thought she'd gotten away clean.
The last thing Chandler expected to see when he entered the hotel lobby was Mother Pray Onn. She seemed in a hurry so he didn't bother to call out to her. Instead, he watched her as she barely used her cane, hasten to a waiting car. She carried a suitcase. By the time he'd regained his wits the car had pulled off.
I wonder where she's off to in such a hurry,
Chandler thought. Mother Blister had probably worked her last good nerve.
Chandler thought. Mother Blister had probably worked her last good nerve.
Chandler pushed Mother Pray Onn to the back of his mind and entered the elevator. He'd promised Zipporah he'd rescue her from Mother Blister as soon as he could. Stepping inside, he recognized a familiar face. Ms. Cowing, the talent coordinator for the Luxor's musical shows.
“Hello, Alicia,” Chandler said, smiling. “How are you? I haven't seen you in quite some time.” A smile spread across his face as he recalled the one time they'd met for drinks. They'd laughed when each ordered a virgin daiquiri. It was pleasant but strictly business.
“Hi, Chandler,” Alicia replied. She took her time smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her dress. She'd never forget their business dinner date. He hadn't tried to take it further and she was only a little grateful. She was also a bit perturbed because she'd taken time to look appealing. On that evening and even now, his good looks disarmed her. She'd never dated a black man, but for him she'd make an exception. “It has been a while. What brings you over to the Luxor?”
“I'm visiting.” He gave her an appreciative wink before asking, “What floor are you heading to?”
“Oh, really, visiting?” she said, returning the wink. “I'm heading to my office.” She leaned back and watched him press the button before continuing. “So, I imagine there's not enough work for you at the Jaeger. You've got to scope out the casino competition and call it visiting.”
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