Page 29 of Happy Is On Hiatus
None of your business.“Sometimes I go to church with my family. Other times I sleep in late, roll out of bed around noon, and eat cereal right out of the box while staring out of this window.”
He looked out of the window. “Nice view.”
There was a park across the street from her apartment building. Mature trees and rolling grass created a serene skyline that she enjoyed after being in the trenches with murder suspects ten to twelve hours a day. On Sundays, people walked their dogs, or pushed their kids in strollers through the park. Toddlers ran around giggling, new couples held hands, normal-type stuff. The stuff Sharae had never envisioned in her future. Her past was too dark and dismal to ever consider having a family of her own.
“So you’re a church girl?” He was just about finished with his piece of the sandwich.
She took another napkin and gave him a second piece. Then it dawned on her that he might be thirsty after feasting on her dinner. Of course, her glass of pink Moscato was on the table a few inches away from her plate. Getting up, she went into the kitchen and grabbed a can of Coke from the refrigerator. She offered it to him when she returned, and he accepted it with a nod of thanks.
“My uncle’s a pastor. I lived with him, my aunt, and my cousins after Sanford went to jail. But even before that, church was as regular as going to school.” And it’d taken years after her mother’s death before sitting in a sanctuary felt normal again.
“I used to go,” he said after pulling the tab back to open the can. “When I was younger, I mean. Not so much once I got to college and grew older.”
“Too grown for the Lord,” she said with a chuckle. “That’s what my Aunt Vi would say.” She’d said it to Sharae whenever she missed too many Sundays.
“Nah, never that,” he replied. “Just got busy and then never took the time to find a church home. What church does your uncle pastor? Maybe I’ll stop by.”
Oh, please don’t.The words almost fell from her mouth. If a man showed up at NVB and said he came because he knew Sharae, the Aunts would be halfway to picking out wedding invitations and thinking ofbaby names before the service was over. “New Visionary Baptist,” she told him, figuring if he lived in the city, he’d have heard of it before.
His immediate nod said she was right. “That big church right off 83?”
She nodded too. “That’s the one.”
“Okay, yeah, I’ve heard about it. Maybe I will stop by one day.”
“The doors are open to all,” she said and then reached for her glass. After taking a gulp, she put the glass down and pointed to the papers. “Are you going to tell me where to sign now? I mean, you’ve just about eaten half my sandwich. If you sit here any longer, you might start thinkin’ about spending the night.” Her lips clamped shut once the words were out.
He wiped his hands on his napkin, that half smile ghosting his face once more. Turning the papers around so they’d be easy for her to read, he pushed them the short distance across the table toward her. Then he picked up the pen and reached over to place it in her hand. His touch was warm, and he moved slowly, wrapping her fingers around the slim tool with deliberate movements.
“You sign right where the yellow tab is on each,” he said, his voice gruff with an emotion she didn’t even want to explore.
Sharae signed each one of those pages so fast she didn’t even think she’d spelled her name correctly. Then she hurried that too-fine, too-distracting man right out of her house before she did something totally out of order, like insist that he spend the night.
“I don’t know why Marc didn’t just ask us to cook for this gathering,” Aunt Ceil said as she stood near the jug at the end of the table and fixed herself a cup of fruit punch.
It was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, perfect weather for the community celebration of Baltimore’s own R & B singing group, The Squad. Marc Miles, Jemel’s boyfriend, was the lead singer of the group that fifteen years ago had been at the peak of their career. This morning, they’dall attended the ceremony at Morgan State, Marc’s alma mater, where the music department had honored the group with its Humanitarian Award. Jemel had beamed proudly as her man was on that stage, while Sharae and Rita stood beside her clapping and sharing in the happy moment with her.
Now they were sitting at one of the many tables positioned under a reserved pavilion at Druid Hill Park, the first place The Squad had performed all those years ago. The Aunts, who’d complained about just about everything at the ceremony, were apparently ready to do the same at this supposedly festive community function.
“I mean, if you’re gonna put burgers on the grill, you could at least use fresh ground beef,” Aunt Rose chimed in. “I don’t like no beef patties.” With her face fixed in a frown, she picked up the hot dog she’d taken from the grill area instead and took a bite.
Aunt Vi nodded as she used her fork to push pieces of the shrimp away from the small scoop of seafood salad she’d put on her plate. “And use shrimp big enough that I can actually taste in the salad.”
Sharae grinned and shook her head. She was smart enough not to respond when the Aunts were carefully dissecting a menu.
“I made way too much potato salad for the baby shower I catered last night, so there’s a bowl in my cooler over there,” Rita told them.
Aunt Ceil perked up as she set her cup in front of the spot where she’d been sitting. “Oh really?” She made her way over to the cooler without wasting another second.
Rita unpacked one of the many bags she’d had Sharae help her carry from her car when they arrived. “And I’ve got sandwiches, chips, fruit salad, and some crab balls too.”
“That’s my girl,” Aunt Vi said and pushed the plate she’d already fixed to the side.
“I don’t know why they even took that other food. They know they never like anything anybody else cooks,” Sharae whispered when Rita sat a bag in front of her to unpack.
Rita shook her head. “Girl, you know how they are. Gotta taste everything.”
“And critique it down to the brand of salt used to season it,” she replied with a chuckle.
