Take Her Man

Preachers and preachers’ sons (who were practically groomed to be preachers themselves) were treated like gold. That’s where Kyle came into the picture in his family. After talking to him, I learned that he was pretty much destined to be a preacher. He grew up in his daddy’s church in Memphis. He was giving his own sermons by the time he was twelve. He skipped the twelfth grade to go to Morehouse a year early. There, Kyle led an on-campus Christian crusade ministry, pledged my father’s fraternity, Omega Psi Phi, and was student body president. He graduated in three—yes, three years—and walked across the street to the School of Religion to “follow the call of the Lord” (those were his exact words). When he graduated from the School of Religion, he went home to Memphis to help out with his father’s church. He explained to me that it was way too much pressure on him trying to find his way in his father’s church, so he headed north to help his uncle out with his church in Harlem. Two years later, his uncle retired and turned the church over to him. That’s where he’d been for the past five years, and he didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. Is that all? No, Kyle has no children, lives alone, and has a Jack Russell named Luke. Damn, I’m good.

He was an interesting character. Not only was he handsome, in a Morris Chestnut kind of way, but he was also easy to talk to and passionate about what he did.

All in all, while Kyle had an ongoing date with the Lord, he was a nice guy. I mean, he was cool. I’d never date him; I just wouldn’t make a good pastor’s wife. I hate church hats and I like drinking and dancing too much. I’m saying, Kyle seemed like a great guy, but great and dateable are two different things. Kyle was a good boy and while I tended to be a bit conservative when it came to taste and style, I was definitely a bad girl. We may as well have been oil and water trying to mix at that table.

“Did you have a good time?” Daddy asked as we stood in front of the country club, waiting for the valet to bring my car around. He’d insisted on walking me out when I said my goodbyes.

“Everything was cool. It was great to get out here to see you,” I said. It was after noon. We’d spent over three hours talking and laughing at that table.

“Well, I’m glad you did.” He patted me softly on the back. “So how did you like Reverend Hall?”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“Well, to be honest, I invited him out here on purpose today. I lied earlier. I haven’t been trying to get to him, he’s been trying to get to me.”

“Why’d you lie, Daddy?” I asked, horrified that my father wanted to hook me up. Was I that pitiful?

“Because I wanted you two to meet and I figured without Julian in the—”

“Whoa…Dad,” I broke in. “Who said anything about hooking me up? I so don’t need a hookup, Dad.” I covered my face with my hands in embarrassment. I was so humiliated. Did he tell Kyle I needed to be hooked up? What did he say? “Hey, Rev, my daughter is so desperate, I need to find her a damn date, even if it’s a preacher”?

“Well, I just thought it would help,” my father said, pulling my hands from my face. “I know what you’re thinking. But don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything about you being here or the breakup. He was just as surprised as you were.”

“Good.” I noticed the valet pulling up with my car. “And don’t you get any more ideas, Dad. I’m not interested in this guy. Not even a little.”

“I know. Now give an old man a hug before you go.” He pulled me into his arms. “Daddy loves you so much, TH. Don’t forget that,” he said, touching the remaining puff that was still apparent under my eyes. “You don’t need to worry about Julian. Just move on.”

I walked over to my car and threw my purse inside.

“Why did you and Mom get back together? I mean, after your first divorce?” I asked, not even realizing that it was on my mind. He stepped up to the other side of the car.

“I sat up a couple of nights, reading old magazines and eating like a pig—all the things I promised I would do after the divorce. I even went on a date—”

“Daddy!”

“I’m telling the truth. Your mother knows.” He laughed. “But after all of that…I just got sad and I realized that I missed your mother. I really missed your mother. She can get to me at times, but the woman is just the kind of person you miss having around. That’s when it came to me.”

“What?” I asked quickly.

“I love her. Your mother can be crazy sometimes. Hell, she’s crazy most of the time. She drives me completely crazy.” We both laughed. “But she has a good heart and I love her more for it. That’s all that matters—that there’s only one Mary Elizabeth and I love her more than I could ever love anyone else.”

I felt tears coming to my eyes. I’d never heard my father speak of my mother so tenderly. It was nice to know a man could love a woman like that.

“Thanks, Dad,” I managed between my tears.

“Don’t get all teary on me,” he said. “Old Dad can take a lot, but not seeing his little girl cry.”

“Okay.” I took a tissue from my purse and blew my nose.

“See you later, alligator,” he said as I slipped into the car.

“In a while, crocodile.” I pulled off, watching him watching me in my rearview window.

I listened to my old Donny Hathaway mix CD in the car. There’s something about Donny and breakups that just goes together. This man must’ve been utterly depressed and miserable to sing the way he does, because anytime I listen to the CD, I cry like a big old baby. And that’s exactly what I did the entire way back to my apartment. As the trees rolled over the top of my car, I couldn’t help but think about Julian. I wondered where he was, what he was doing, whom he was with, and if he was, for only one second, thinking of me. I wondered if he even missed me and thought about how I was doing. I looked down at the phone peeking out at me from my purse and wanted so badly to call him. But I knew better. Calling him at this point would only push him farther away from me, I convinced myself, wiping tear after tear from my eyes.

I pulled the phone out and scrolled down to his number. I just wanted to hear his voice. I just wanted to hear him say hello. I dialed *67 to block my number and pressed the Call button. An anonymous hangup couldn’t hurt anyone.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice said. “Hello?”