Down On My Knees Page 7

  “Like a conscience, when you’re about to get caught up with the wrong crowd, in the wrong place, at the wrong time,” asserted another male student from the back row. “My cousin is doing a ten-year bid ’cause he swiped a Benz but was way too nervous to roll in it. He didn’t get no sleep neither.Got busted trying to take the whip back. After being awake for three days, po-po snatched him up. He sent me a letter all about it. Said he slept in the back of the squad car all the way downtown. Said that was the best sleep he ever had.”

  Mr. Peters nodded assuredly. “Once a person decides to take something that doesn’t belong to him, it’s very likely that he’ll lose a part of himself in the process. Macbeth lost the good life he’d worked hard for. He lost his wife and children,all taken away by going against what he knew to be right in his own mind. This is a very tragic story that didn’t have to turn out the way it did. And neither do any of yours.”

  “Mr. Peters,” André said, barely audible as his classmates pondered over their own stories, still yet to be written, “do you think that Shakespeare wrote this story as a message to young kids dealing with the problems of growing up?”

  “That’s a good question, André. Actually, he wrote it as a reflection of his times, hoping that the adults would recognizeall the bad things that came out of doing wrong, when doing right is always the best option. Here’s the thing I want you all to get from this extremely powerful look at human nature,” Wallace Peters continued. “Destiny is the where and how each of us will end up in life, or in the next life for that matter, and ambition is the fuel that will get us there.”

  When the school bell rang, no one moved. Somber expressionscovered the young adults’ faces until their teacher reminded them that his class was over. Silence ushered them to their next destinations, with Wallace praying that his discussionsmade enough positive inroads to enact a difference in the next phase of their lives. As far as he was concerned, he owed them at least that much.

  Later that evening, Grace wheeled in and out of traffic en route to the parent-teacher meeting. She had been held up by a late call from a corporate partner at All-Jams Sports Management.After sitting still for all the praise she could take, once the client had viewed the rough cuts of Allen Foray’s Captain Dream Creams commercial, Grace had to excuse herself and race through the building in the interest of her most important client of all, André. When she finally made it to the school, the visitors’ parking lot was packed. Some of the parents had definite reasons to camp out with educators who held the keys to their children’s college educations. For Grace, it was merely going through the motions so that she could cross the meeting off of her good-parenting list. André’s grades were superb so there was no apparent cause for concern.Although Grace was curious because he had been goingon about some superteacher who had a waiting list of students who wanted to take his English literature class.

  Grace entered the building, thinking how much things had changed since her school days, when there would have been a waiting list to get out of freshman English. A helpful school staffer pointed out the direction to the Language Arts wing. Grace followed them to the tee until she ran smack dab into a line formed outside of room 222. It seemed odd standing idly by for over five minutes. There had to be some peculiar circumstance, she imagined, to explain how parents met with other teachers on the same hall with the greatest of ease, and yet she hadn’t bettered her position in the endless chain of women. Women? That was the most peculiar detail, one that’s she’d overlooked until now. Why were there only women, patient and primping women, on line to speak with this Mr. Peters?

  “Excuse me,” Grace said, getting the attention of a white lady standing in front of her. “Uh, is this the line to see Mr. Peters?”

  “Yeah, girl,” she answered with a thick southern drawl, her flat white cheeks turning flush. “I wouldn’t mind standing here all night to get in a good conversation with that dreamboat.”Dreamboat?

  “We are talking about a teacher, right?” Grace wanted to be sure that the dreamboat comment was awarded to a man who spent the better part of his day quoting the standard old-Englishfables while trying to keep the boys and girls from planning a mutiny to overthrow boredom. “So, what gives? I must have missed the memo. Are there always so many singlewomen here to get in a good conversation with the dreamboat?”

  “Chile, yes, and I’m here every time, only some of us aren’t single.” Mr. Peters’s admirer held her dainty hand out to flash a multicarat diamond ring. By the size of that rock, Grace knew that the woman wasn’t single by a long shot. “I’d rather leave my husband at home busying himself with other, less pressing things, if you know what I mean. He has no idea that Wallace Peters is so good looking or he’d be standing right where you are and watching my every move.” The way she tossed her long blond hair to the side, Grace imagined what moves she intended on making when it was her turn to bat those baby blues at Wallace.

  Uh-uh-uh, Wallace Peters, Grace thought. “I don’t have time for this. Maybe I’ll call the principal’s office to reschedule.”

  “You’d be the only one, if you did, sugar.” They inched up along the wall as a busty black woman exited the room wearingtoo much makeup and too little clothing. “See, now that’s what I was talking about. That sister knows she didn’t have to spruce up like that. Hell, now I feel overdressed.” Did she say that sister?

  This is crazy, Grace thought. Has propositioning teachers for better grades come to this? Perhaps high school had gotten more competitive than she remembered. “Thanks for the information, but I’m going to pass on the meet-and-greet, good-looking dreamboats considered,” Grace commented as she stepped out of line.

  The blonde held out both hands and studied her French manicured tips. “I can see that you’re new here. Tell you what. Why’ont you tippy-toe by the door and sneak a peek before you go? I’ll hold your place for you.”

  Grace camouflaged her you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me smirk with a lighthearted chuckle. “Okay, I’ll do that, but just for grins.”

  “I would if I’s you. Believe me, you won’t regret it one itsy-bitsy bit.”

  As Grace stepped out of her place in line, the woman behindher shuffled into the vacant space and smiled heartily as if she’d just found the perfect purse on sale. Grace couldn’t believe some of the dirty looks she received while sauntering to the head of the chain-o-chicks dressed in their nightclub clothes. They sneered at her as if she were also auditioning for the part in a major movie they coveted. Harboring reservations,Grace walked by the open doorway and glanced insidewithout breaking stride. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him, Mr. Oh-My-Goodness he’s the incredibly handsome him from the basketball game. Now she understoodwhy Wallace Peters commanded a standing-room-only audience. He’d earned those rave reviews from the blonde, and probably had scores of silly single mothers, and some not so single, marking their calendars with the next conferencedate. Only Grace wasn’t going out like that. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, her pride wouldn’t stand for it. But, oh, how she wished it did. Turning an about-face to reclaim her link in the chain was out of the question. However, she felt duty-bound to give the leggy blonde her props on making a very astute assessment regarding ole dreamboat’s lofty credentials.He was all that, and a hat to match.

  Receiving the same shady leers from the other mothers as before, Grace slowed to whisper a few words to blondie. “I’m going to run along, but I’ve gotta hand it to you. If I had a man, I’d have left him at home too.”

  “Who you telling?” remarked the woman who had taken Grace’s place.

  The blonde held out her hand for some soul-sister dap. “I was born at night, honey, but it wasn’t last night.” Grace slapped the woman’s hand and laughed about her encounter with the cool white chick all the way to her car.

  8

  A Change ’Gone Come

  On Friday morning, Grace stared out of her window behindclosed office doors. She’d neglected the mounting stack of marketing rep
orts and an assortment of things to do in her day planner. The one issue refusing to be shelved on the back burner was a necessary discussion with Tyson Sharp. Grace had blown off the annoying thought, but it continued to hang around at her door, pounding adamantly. She needed to exhale, and a calming retreat to assist her in doing so.

  Within minutes, gentle winds were speaking to Grace while she sat on a park bench two blocks from her office building. She listened attentively to the quiet words surrounding her as a family of mallard ducks swam by in perfect formation, with the mother leading the expedition. The proud father duck brought up the rear, providing security for six of the cutest ducklings on the planet. Grace observed them floating downstream, effortlessly it seemed, although she suspected their little feet motored rapidly to keep pace. All families were like that, she reasoned. Despite how easily it appeared to sustain harmony, a lot of work was actually required to hold it together and remain closely knit. She was prepared to put in the work, but didn’t have anyone bringing up the rear to share the load with. That’s when she concentrated on the wind’s oration, which she’d heard so many times before. It was constant when she sat still long enough to listen. “Grace,” it called out to her, “there are so many opportunitiesyou’ve missed, so many plans you’ve neglected to make. Enjoy life as it was intended, to the fullest. Live life long and wide, long and wide.”

  I hear you, she thought silently. I always do. It’s just that I’ve grown accustomed to making the best of a glass half full. All of my life, I’ve felt like a kid in a candy store, samplinghandfuls of chocolate-covered raisins. Much like the men in my past, and present too, I guess. I’ve been fortunate enough to sample more than my fair share of treats, one bite at a time. Funny how long it’s taken me to understand what it is that I’ve been missing. I know what pleases me, and I also know what I need. The joke’s on me though, because the two of them are hardly the same thing at the same time, so I often find myself sacrificing one for the other. She said out loud, “Somehow, that’s got to change.” As the winds brushed against the back of Grace’s neck, she realized that it wasn’t the winds she’d visited the park bench in order to receive a kind word. It hadn’t been nature calling out to her, but The Comforter instead speaking to her all along.

  “Something’s gotta change, huh?” Tyson asked, standing behind her.

  “Yes it does,” Grace replied, after hearing him characterizeher entire life in one simple sentence. When he stepped around the park bench, Grace managed a labored smile. Tyson’s expensive cologne tickled her nose. “You smell good, like the first days of spring,” she told him. “But then you always do.” Her eyes glanced up at his broad shoulders and his tailored dress shirt with gold-and-diamond-studded cuff links.

  Beyond all that glitz, Tyson’s expression couldn’t conceal the curiosity hiding behind it. “Thanks, thanks a lot,” he offeredwhile studying her face for telltale clues. He sat down alongside her, careful not to rush into whatever it was that she’d insisted he meet her there to discuss. He decided to let it come out slow and easy, and then deal with it accordingly.“It’s peaceful here,” he said, observing the tranquil setting. “Is this where you come to think?”

  “No, it’s where I come to listen.” Her answer was far above Tyson’s realm of understanding, but he nodded as if fully comprehending what she meant. After sharing a lengthy bout of silence, Grace addressed the reason she wanted to see him, in private and away from anyone who could potentially interrupt her once she started to ease her troubled mind. “Tyson, I want to thank you for coming here. I know you’re very busy. I also want to thank you for being a dear friend over the past couple of years.”

  Tyson smiled awkwardly. “It’s been my pleasure. You know how I feel, about you.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know how you feel, not about us,” Grace admitted sadly. “Of course, I know how you make me feel, but that’s beside the point. I’ve enjoyed every second we’ve spent together, and I do mean every single one, but I can’t say that it has amounted to much. If I never saw you again, I’d miss our special times, but that’s as far as it goes. That’s what we’ve been to each other, a collection of special times.”

  “I think I know what this is about,” Tyson sighed, claspinghis hands together underneath his chin. “You’ve finally come around to wanting more than what I’ve given.”

  “Finally?” Grace repeated in a way that confused Tyson. He assumed that she had a better grasp of eventual expectationsin part-time affairs of the heart. After being involved in so many of them, he certainly did.

  “Yeah, every woman develops expectations of some kind, eventually,” he informed her. “Actually, I’m surprised it’s taken you this long.”

  “So does this mean you’re interested in taking our situationto the next level?”

  “I’m sorry, but no,” Tyson answered softly, not willing to relinquish his freedom or entertain anything other than their current arrangement, a physical association and, up until now, the superficial conversation that usually accompanied it. “Look, Grace, I’m not the marrying kind or the kind to settle down. Whether you were willing to acknowledge it or not, you knew that about me, or else you wouldn’t have waited all this time to bring it up.” Tyson glanced at his shiny Rolex. “Sweetheart, I need to know something.” Grace gazed at him with sorrowful eyes, not sure what to expect now. “Are you in love with me?” he asked, more serious than she’d ever seen him. She shook her head despite wanting to be, and wishing she was, but she failed to come up with the answer she knew didn’t exist. “Grace, are you having our baby?” Tyson questioned as a solemn afterthought.

  Grace shook her head again and told him, “No.”

  Oddly, Tyson’s expression softened to the point that it was very difficult to read. His stoic gaze fostered a hint of disappointmentwhen he learned that she wasn’t pregnant; that was the odd part. Grace decided to forget about trying to understanda man who’d just told her that she didn’t stand a ghost of a chance with him, so she drew her eyes away and lowered her head.

  “It appears that you’ve asked me here to do one of two things, then,” Tyson suggested after making a few assumptionsfrom the other side of that odd expression of his. “Eitheryou plan on letting me go, or you plan on demanding a more substantial turn of events. Since neither of those appealto me, I’ll make it easy for you.” Grace wanted to stop him, turn back the clock, and rethink her position before inviting him there, but she couldn’t move. For some reason, unclear to her at that particular moment, she needed to hear him say it. “I’m not what you need, and I doubt you can continue on like we have been, so I guess this means good-bye.” Tyson leaned toward Grace. He kissed her on the forehead and wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders. “I knew this day would come, our thing running its course, I mean. You’re a beautiful woman with so much to offer. Any man would be lucky to have such a wonderful wife. I’m just not ready to be anyone’s husband. Besides, you can do a whole lot better than me. You’ll see.”

  “What if I don’t want to do a whole lot better than you?” she said, more rhetorically than as a real question.

  “Grace, don’t do this. You ever wonder why I’ve kept you at arm’s length? I’m smart enough to recognize my shortcomings,and there are a lot of them. But by my limiting your view, it’s harder for you to see the flaws and chips in any diamond.I’d have to work overtime if I let you get too close. No expectations, no long-term relationship goals, no hopes and dreams of growing old together. That’s me, Grace, nothingbut smoke and mirrors.”

  Within the blink of an eye, Grace felt as if she was graspingat straws. Partly she wanted Tyson to fight for her, argue violently to retain the smallest thread of companionship, but he didn’t. That’s when Grace realized their flextime together had been more important to her than she was previously ready to admit. She’d valued Tyson’s friendship, intimate generosity, and company more than she should have. Now that he was walking out of her life, there was no one to blame but hersel
f. Tyson certainly refused to accept any portionof it. He laid his excuse at Grace’s feet after insinuating that she should have known better. Well, she should have.

  Tyson continued holding her until his cell phone chimed. He explained that he had to catch a flight. He kissed her again and promised to keep in touch, but she knew as soon as he breathed those words, their association would forever be relegated to a love she used to know. Grace appreciated his honesty, the kind way in which he let her down easily while pretending that it was him who’d lost out. Two days later she was still trying to convince herself of the same thing.

  Sunday afternoon, after church service concluded, Grace attempted to dodge that bothersome church fly, Albert Jenkins.She could sense that he was working his way up to a conversation because he kept circling the conversation she had going on with Sister Jones about the upcoming women’s retreat. “Sistah Grace,” he said, all low and sneaky like, “lemme holler at you for a moment.”

  “No, I’m all hollered out, Albert. And even if I weren’t tired of men who are afraid of making a commitment worth having, you’d be the last brotha I’m willing to give that opportunity,”Grace fussed. “Now, don’t make me get ugly and loud talk you up in the Lord’s house, or we’ll both be sorry.” Albert was in the wind before she said something she’d have to repent for afterward.

  When Grace noticed Sister Wynovia Kolislaw’s grape-coloredwide-brimmed hat floating down the hallway, clutteredwith fellow worshippers, she made her way through the pack to ask a special favor. “Sistah Kolislaw, can I please speak with you a minute?” The deacon’s wife narrowed those tired eyes of hers at Grace, and then she flashed her a spirited wink.