hospital.”
The waitress, a young lady with a long, brunette ponytail that almost hit her behind, asked him, “Did you want to order something to go?” That girl wanted her tip, I see.
“No, thank you. But I’ll take their check.” Dr. Wilson motioned toward me and Libby.
Me and Libby both pushed our backs against our chairs, turned toward each other real slow. Probably looked like we had done rehearsed it.
“Why, thank you, Dr. Wilson,” Libby said first.
I added, “We certainly do appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed a little at the waist. “Beatrice, I’d love to treat you to lunch again. Well,” he stumbled, “both of you, if—”
“No need in me tagging along,” Libby rescued him.
I do declare, beads of sweat popped out on Dr. Wilson’s forehead while he waited for my answer. He actually nervous . “Yes, Dr. Wilson. I’ll agree to lunch.”
“Wonderful,” he said. “May I have your phone number?”
“Let me give you my email address,” I offered instead. Got no time to be sittin’ on the phone talkin’ to no man. I wrote my information on a napkin and handed it to him.
“Have a great day, Dr. Wilson,” I sent him away.
“Frank.”
I supposed if I had a fit about what I wanted him to call me by, I should oblige him as well. “Okay. Have a great day, Frank .”
Chapter 20
After my visit with Geneva earlier in the week, I had no problem overlooking Rev. Dukes’s sermons. Life too short to spend it worrying about what I think other people doin’ wrong. I got my own stuff to deal with. Plus, since I started praying about it, the Lord hadn’t said nothing one way or another. Sometimes, you just got to sit and let stuff work out in the spirit world before you know what’s the next natural step to take. God’ll tell you when to move.
Sunday morning, I kept my Bible handy (just in case) while Rev. Dukes talked on the importance of separating yourself from so-called “haters” and other people who don’t want to see you get rich. Folk was cheerin’ him on and runnin’ ‘round the building in circles.
But back to the hatin’ part—I sat there wondering who in they right mind sit up thinking ‘bout all the people who hate them? You know somebody hate you, you pray for them, treat them nice and keep right on movin’. Can’t nobody stop you from pleasing God but yourself. Plus, you live long enough, you figure out folks ain’t studyin’ you near much as you think they are.
Like I said, I wasn’t gon’ raise no stink about things, though. We were five weeks into this drought with Rev. Dukes. I figured we were closer to the end of him than the beginning.
At the end of the service, one of Rev. Dukes’ folks, young man by the name of Brandon, got up and made mention of a back-to-school talent show for the kids. Well, since Shantay, her husband, and the other family that mostly work with the youth had been skippin’ out on church in Pastor’s absence, I was glad somebody stepped in. So long as the kids just sang their songs and did their praise dances, should have been fine.
Cameron ran hisself straight to the front of the church soon as we dismissed. Him and about ten more kids gathered around Brandon to sign up for the talent show.
Since he didn’t need no ride to church, Cameron was the first one there at practice Monday evening, too. He must have told Rosetta’s grandsons about it ‘cause they all come stompin’ through the house after Brandon let them out of practice. I mean, they was goin’ at it.
Reminded me of Otha back when Albert and me went to see him perform with his fraternity. Chile, they was steppin’ and movin’ like we back in Africa! Thought they was doin’ something new, I guess.
Same thing with Cameron. “You want to see our routine?”
I sat down on the sofa. “Sure. Go right ahead.”
Rosetta’s oldest grandson said, “Well, there will be seven of us stepping Friday night. But we’ll do what we can.”
“I
The waitress, a young lady with a long, brunette ponytail that almost hit her behind, asked him, “Did you want to order something to go?” That girl wanted her tip, I see.
“No, thank you. But I’ll take their check.” Dr. Wilson motioned toward me and Libby.
Me and Libby both pushed our backs against our chairs, turned toward each other real slow. Probably looked like we had done rehearsed it.
“Why, thank you, Dr. Wilson,” Libby said first.
I added, “We certainly do appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” He bowed a little at the waist. “Beatrice, I’d love to treat you to lunch again. Well,” he stumbled, “both of you, if—”
“No need in me tagging along,” Libby rescued him.
I do declare, beads of sweat popped out on Dr. Wilson’s forehead while he waited for my answer. He actually nervous . “Yes, Dr. Wilson. I’ll agree to lunch.”
“Wonderful,” he said. “May I have your phone number?”
“Let me give you my email address,” I offered instead. Got no time to be sittin’ on the phone talkin’ to no man. I wrote my information on a napkin and handed it to him.
“Have a great day, Dr. Wilson,” I sent him away.
“Frank.”
I supposed if I had a fit about what I wanted him to call me by, I should oblige him as well. “Okay. Have a great day, Frank .”
Chapter 20
After my visit with Geneva earlier in the week, I had no problem overlooking Rev. Dukes’s sermons. Life too short to spend it worrying about what I think other people doin’ wrong. I got my own stuff to deal with. Plus, since I started praying about it, the Lord hadn’t said nothing one way or another. Sometimes, you just got to sit and let stuff work out in the spirit world before you know what’s the next natural step to take. God’ll tell you when to move.
Sunday morning, I kept my Bible handy (just in case) while Rev. Dukes talked on the importance of separating yourself from so-called “haters” and other people who don’t want to see you get rich. Folk was cheerin’ him on and runnin’ ‘round the building in circles.
But back to the hatin’ part—I sat there wondering who in they right mind sit up thinking ‘bout all the people who hate them? You know somebody hate you, you pray for them, treat them nice and keep right on movin’. Can’t nobody stop you from pleasing God but yourself. Plus, you live long enough, you figure out folks ain’t studyin’ you near much as you think they are.
Like I said, I wasn’t gon’ raise no stink about things, though. We were five weeks into this drought with Rev. Dukes. I figured we were closer to the end of him than the beginning.
At the end of the service, one of Rev. Dukes’ folks, young man by the name of Brandon, got up and made mention of a back-to-school talent show for the kids. Well, since Shantay, her husband, and the other family that mostly work with the youth had been skippin’ out on church in Pastor’s absence, I was glad somebody stepped in. So long as the kids just sang their songs and did their praise dances, should have been fine.
Cameron ran hisself straight to the front of the church soon as we dismissed. Him and about ten more kids gathered around Brandon to sign up for the talent show.
Since he didn’t need no ride to church, Cameron was the first one there at practice Monday evening, too. He must have told Rosetta’s grandsons about it ‘cause they all come stompin’ through the house after Brandon let them out of practice. I mean, they was goin’ at it.
Reminded me of Otha back when Albert and me went to see him perform with his fraternity. Chile, they was steppin’ and movin’ like we back in Africa! Thought they was doin’ something new, I guess.
Same thing with Cameron. “You want to see our routine?”
I sat down on the sofa. “Sure. Go right ahead.”
Rosetta’s oldest grandson said, “Well, there will be seven of us stepping Friday night. But we’ll do what we can.”
“I
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