Tappin' On Thirty (17 page)
Authors: Candice Dow
32
TAYLOR
S
cooter woke up and suggested we go to church. I tried to discourage him, but he insisted. We'd initially decided on 9:30 service. After we finished talking, it was after ten. We drove separate cars, so he could see his mother and be on the road by four.
cooter woke up and suggested we go to church. I tried to discourage him, but he insisted. We'd initially decided on 9:30 service. After we finished talking, it was after ten. We drove separate cars, so he could see his mother and be on the road by four.
We walked into church and immediately I felt jittery. Every one and his mama wanted to come and hug me. “Ooh Taylor, it's so good to see you.”
“We don't see you anymore.”
“Honey, is everything okay?”
Leave me alone! I smiled and nodded. Of course everyone remembered my mannerly high school sweetheart. One of the deacons even commended him for bringing me back to church. These people are funny. I grabbed Scooter's hand and strutted up to the pew right behind my mother. I tapped her and put my arm around her shoulder. “Surprise.”
She turned around. “Oh baby, I'm so happy you're here.”
She hugged Scooter. “Oh, Scooter. When did you come into town?”
I answered, “He came in last night.”
It's a shame when you're lying in church. I didn't have much of a choice since I didn't mention him when we talked yesterday. Her watery eyes told me she didn't care, she was just happy to see me with him.
When service began, my father strutted into the pulpit. He looked down at his previously favorite daughter. He extended his hand toward me, without specifying what he was talking about. He said. “God is good.”
The congregation rallied with him. Toni directed the choir in song. My father delivered an empowering message, and I was glad I came. Scooter held my hand when we stood to pray. His grip tightened as the prayer heightened. I peeped from the corner of my eye. The intensity in his face said that he really wanted our relationship to work.
When church was over, my mother invited us to her house. “Scooter has to get back and he has to . . .” I begged off.
He interrupted me. “Did you cook candied yams?”
“Of course. If I would have known you'd be in town, I would have made sauerkraut.”
“You remember that?”
She nodded. “I sure do. I know all my children's favorite meals.”
Okay, she'd taken this too far. I tried to finish. “He has a four-hour drive. Plus he has to go back to his mother's house.”
“You can get on the road by five. Another hour won't hurt.”
“You're right.”
Just great, Scooter. She said, “I'll be there in a minute. Go on Taylor. Go in through the garage and start warming the food up.”
“Okay.”
As we left the church, I snapped, “Scooter, they are going to harass us if we go over there.”
“Taylor, we don't have anything to hide.”
I smirked. Did he or did he not still live with Kuku? He kissed my cheek. “I'll be over there in thirty minutes.”
I huffed. “Okay.”
When I pulled up to my parents' house, Toni's minivan was parked outside. Anxiety rushed through my veins. I contemplated just turning around. Instead, I opened the garage and entered the house.
When I stepped in, she sat in the family room. She was the only one there. Why aren't her kids here to distract us from talking?
“Hey Toni.”
“Taylor.”
It didn't sound like a greeting, but more like confrontation. This was dangerous. We're usually amongst a group and my mother acts as referee. I walked over to the stove and began peeping in pots. I turned to find her staring at me with her arms folded.
“We should talk.”
“Talk?”
She shook her head. “It's like every time I say something to you, you get defensive.”
“Maybe it's what you don't say to me, but find time to say to everyone else that makes me feel as if I need to defend myself.”
I tilted my head and smirked.
Now answer that.
Now answer that.
She shifted her weight and sighed. “I don't know why you feel like I talk about you behind your back, because I . . .”
“Because what?”
I'd now shifted her into defensive mode. Her neck began to roll. “I don't talk about you to anybody. I don't know why people always say what I say and no one ever says what they say.”
I smiled. “Who are
they
? Why don't you say who you're talking about? And what do they say?”
they
? Why don't you say who you're talking about? And what do they say?”
As if she was holding back tears, she took a few deep breaths. She and I hadn't talked alone in three years. Since the time she assumed I was a slut and married women shouldn't deal with people like me.
As I saw her about to get emotional, I got emotional. I thought about how it all went down. How we went totally wrong. We'd always had our jealousy issues, but the incident that tore us apart for good flashed through my mind. I took a deep breath. Three years ago, I was young and dumb. Toni called me over to her house. I remember the conversation like it was yesterday.
“Taylor, girl. Andre has this fine friend over here. He went to seminary school with him.” She giggled. “Girl, his father has a big church in Atlanta and he's so fine.”
“Girl, I am not coming over there. You know I don't mess with men in the ministry.”
“Girl, this one is fine as they come. He seems cool too. Plus, I've told him all about you.”
Two days prior, I'd found out that I passed the bar exam. I was in my apartment, having a celebratory happy hour alone. What could it hurt? I got in my car and rushed over to Toni's house. Often, I wish to God I could rewind those steps.
When I walked in, my weakness sat on her couch. He was neatly groomed. I blinked. Was I looking at the right person? I frowned. Minister? I shrugged my shoulders and they introduced me to Minister Jabari Mason. His brown eyes smiled at me through his black wire-framed glasses. We stood face to face. As his presence attempted to inhale my breath, I struggled to hold it. His baggy denim shorts and navy-and-white Polo shirt invoked amnesia in me. He does what again?
Toni confirmed. “This is Minister Jabari Mason.”
Discounting all ministers was a bit narrow-minded of me. Never say never. I smiled. “Hi, Jabari.”
When I extended my hand to connect with his, I noticed a stainless steel Movado with a round black face. While I admired his watch, he yanked my forearm and embraced me. “Down south, we give hugs.”
Feeling slightly dizzy, I nodded. He laughed. “I'm an Atlanta boy.”
I cracked a smile. When I walked in the kitchen to get more detail from Toni, she was smiling from ear to ear. “I think he's perfect for you.”
“Whatever.”
I'd been claiming celibate for nine months and the last thing I needed was someone that wanted to wait until marriage. My seasonal celibacy commitment was nearing its threshold. I was tired of holding out. At that moment, I was only as celibate as my options. And Mr. Jabari was too fine of an option.
Toni continued to convince me. “Girl, he is so your type. He knows the word, but that ain't the only thing he talks about. He's cool. He's fly. And you know Daddy's been praying that we all marry ministers.”
I sucked my teeth, because we'd heard that all of our lives like that was the ideal thing to do. Anyway, as she made Jabari sound like the most ideal of my last resort, I began to even convince myself.
“Well he is fine.”
For the next hour or so she and Andre played matchmaker. Finally, Jabari made it clear that he was interested in spending a few private moments with me. Toni lived across from a little park, so I suggested going for a walk. He popped out of his chair like I suggested a steak house. When we left the house, Toni was as excited as if this man asked for my hand in marriage. I gestured for her to calm down. We walked in circles and chatted about life and growing up as preachers' kids. We seemed to bond well. Finally, he suggested we chill on the playground. Seemed like a fun option. As we spun around and giggled like ten-year-olds, his spirituality and his sexuality must have gotten all mixed up. At nine o'clock on a Sunday evening, Mr. Minister practically attacked my horny ass on the neighborhood playground. He had a way with words and an even better way with his hands. And damn it, before I knew it we were discussing the ramifications of having sex. All I could rummage up in my mind to stop the fireworks flaming between us was to say, “I thought you were a minister.”
In between swallowing my tongue, he nodded. “I am, but I'm a man too.”
He gripped my bottom as we stumbled over and leaned up on the ladder to the sliding board. I swear my hands were not touching him. As if to put brakes on the progress of this train wreck, I gripped the sides of the ladder. The horny devil on my left shoulder said, “Damn Taylor, if he kisses like that, what will sex be like?”
He kissed my neck and the angel on my right shoulder said, “He ain't nothing but the devil. Get away from him.”
He thrashed his tongue in my right ear and drowned the angel speaking in it. When my backed-up love started to come down, my horny ass asked, “Do you have condoms?”
He nodded and whipped one from his back pocket. In the heat of the moment, I decided not to ask why he kept condoms handy. I was just happy he had one. His hands explored parts of my body that had been ignored for months. My hips began to grind in unison with him. He reached his hands down my jeans. He leaned his forehead into mine. “Taylor, I don't do this all the time. I feel like there's something special between us.” He asked, “Do you?”
I agreed with the bullshit he was spitting, “Yeah, something is special about you.” In between moans, I added, “I just feel like you're different.” I shook my head as he cupped my breast. “I've been celibate for eighteen months.”
Nine months didn't sound as official. He quickly reached down and practically ripped my jeans open. He looked me in the eyes. “May I?”
Wasn't that so polite? I nodded. He parted the bridge that protected my flow. He felt the moistness. “Ooh . . . Taylor.”
“Jabari, stop . . .”
“Why?”
“Because this isn't right.”
I don't know how it became right, but before I realized it, my jeans were at my knees and my long limbs were bent over the sliding board. I took my plight from sensual celibacy in the most unsensual position. As my hands clung to the second to the last step on the kiddy ladder, he sent chills through me. My head bobbed back and forth. For those moments that he ministered to my body, I concluded that a man of God was all right with me. With the last stroke, he gasped, “Ah . . .”
And I said, “Shit!”
Guilt settled in as he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his soggy face on my back. I rested my arms on the steps. And we stood, sack against saddle on the playground. I squirmed. I shifted. I huffed. He got the message as he backed away. He pulled up his shorts and assisted me with my jeans.
He followed my lowered eyes. I shook my head. “We shouldn't have done this.”
“Why?”
I hung my head. “Because . . .”
He lifted my chin. “Look. This was different. I don't do this every day. We can't help it if we have chemistry.”
He continued, “I know your people. I wouldn't have done this if I wasn't feeling you.”
Of all the people to have a one-night stand, it would have to be a minister. Good thing the sky was clear, because I should have been struck by lightning.
“I just feel so bad.”
“Me too.”
He grabbed both of my hands and began to pray. Did he really think that it was okay to screw my brains out and immediately ask for forgiveness? As he asked for anointing to fight his temptations, I laughed to myself. This fool was crazy. But in the end, he wasn't the only fool.
When we got back to Toni's house, I immediately said my good-byes and darted to my car. Toni looked at me inquisitively, but I didn't offer an explanation. Obviously, Jabari did. He stayed up all night telling them how I jumped his bones on the playground and he had succumbed to the temptation of this worldly woman. Who do you think they believed? And my own sister began to refer to me as Delilah. She told my parents and everyone else in the church that I
made
the nice minister screw me on her neighborhood playground.
made
the nice minister screw me on her neighborhood playground.
As Toni stood in my face wondering why I don't talk to her, I still wondered why. Why would my sister never discuss it with me? Why would the whole church have to think I was a whore? Why did she tell anyone who'd listen that I had sex on the first night with a good minister that she hooked me up with? Why didn't she care about my feelings? Why did my father have to call me and tell me if I wanted to be a whore, keep it out of his church?
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