Good to Me (3 page)

“Thank You, Jesus,” she whispered, bringing her mind back to the present moment. “You work all things out for the good of
them who love You, and have been called according to Your purpose.”

When Charity turned the corner past her and Harmony’s offices, she could hear the buzz of several voices. She stepped into
the foyer and was greeted by a crowd of people. She shivered as a feeling of peace washed over her.
Thank You, Father
. She knew that it was only the hand of God that moved so many people to support her. When she sent out the invitations to
as many pastors, physicians, judges, and mental health providers as she could think of, she assumed that they’d all be too
busy or too tired to attend an after-hours event. But, she daily confessed Proverbs 16:3, “I will commit my works unto the
Lord and my thoughts will be established.” God had honored His Word. Charity made her way through the crowd, greeting people.
By the looks of it, most of the invited had come. The suite was almost full, and when Charity made it to the entryway, she
saw people coming in through the mezzanine, and pockets of people were socializing everywhere.

Charity spotted Iesha leading a line of people on a tour on the other side of the room. She knew she’d have to relieve her
soon, because Iesha was walking like her high-heeled boots were getting the best of her. Between shaking people’s hands and
making small talk, Charity looked around for Harmony. She found her walking over to the food tables, where it looked like
the crowd was getting pushy. Charity took that as a cue to get started.

Charity shouted as loudly as she could so that she could be heard over the buzz of conversations. “May I have your attention,
please?! May I have your attention?”

Yelling at the top of her lungs didn’t make the slightest bit of difference. But when a man yelled, “Listen up, everybody,”
the noise was hushed instantly like someone’d stuck a bottle in a hollering baby’s mouth.
Lord, if I had known You were going to show out like this, I would’ve rented a sound system
. Charity smiled and nodded at the man.

“Good evening, everyone,” she said, greeting the attendees with a smile. “I’m Charity Phillips, and it’s so good to look out
over this crowd and see so many familiar faces. I want to personally thank each and every one of you for your support and
kind words. Your being here tonight means so much to me and the staff. Thank you all for sacrificing and taking time out of
your busy schedules to come by and be with us on a Friday evening. I was told that an all-black counseling center wasn’t necessary.
Naysayers said that we have enough things separating us as it is. But when I started practicing as a therapist six years ago,
I became aware of the divisive devices they spoke of and have desired ever since to do something about them…” Charity
stopped speaking to allow the applause that erupted through the crowd. “Thank you. The word ‘horizon’ refers to the line that
forms the boundary between the earth and sky. That’s what we’ll strive to do for each person you refer to us. We want to help
them realize that the line, the boundary, the barrier that stands between where they are and where they want to be is a thin
one. It can be overstepped, overdrawn, and overcome. Horizons is a place where our people will be encouraged to come for help,
a place where we will be validated, and a place where we can learn about ourselves and be challenged to grow.” The applause
grew more thunderous than before.

“At this time, I would like to introduce two very special people.” She scanned the room. “Iesha and Harmony, will you come
forward and say hello?”

Charity saw two places in the crowd open up as people stepped back to allow Harmony and Iesha through. Harmony, whose light
skin radiated in an African-printed frock, walked toward Charity. It looked like her dreadlocks had been half dipped in gray
paint. The black part was secured at the nape of her neck with a thick, red rubber band, and the rest looked like gray cords
resting on her back as she slowly made her way to the front of the room where Charity stood. To allow Iesha the extra time
she needed to sashay through the crowd, she motioned for Harmony to introduce herself.

“Good evening,” she said slowly as if she was concentrating on the articulation of her words. “My name is Harmony Scott. I
am an adolescent and family counselor. I have more than ten years’ experience and am excited to be working with Charity. I
share her vision for Horizons and appreciate the referrals you will send to us. For the people you send, we hope to help guide
them back to their spiritual source and help them open up their hearts and minds as they are challenged by large and small
difficulties. We hope to help them find sacred footing on ordinary ground, and experience miracles every day. Thank you,”
she said, bowing.

Charity clapped along with the audience, ignoring the scowling expression on Iesha’s face once she saw Harmony bowing. Hoping
that no one else would notice Iesha’s bad manners, Charity motioned for Iesha to introduce herself.

“Hey, everybody, I’m Iesha,” she said plainly. “I’mma be the voice on the other end of the phone when you call. I’m the secretary.”

Administrative assistant!

“I’m excited about the center, too. Thanks for coming out.” She shrugged, letting Charity know she couldn’t think of anything
else to say.

“Staff, let’s give everyone a hand for coming out tonight,” Charity rescued her. The three of them clapped together. “Everyone,
let’s give the staff a hand in advance for all the hard work, long hours, and sacrifices they’ll put in to make Horizons the
best counseling center in Charlotte.” After the applause, Charity thanked her attendees again and invited them to take some
of her promotional pens, pads, and business cards on their way out.

The three Horizons staff members escorted people out of the building. As Charity walked and talked with a small crowd, she
felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hello, Judge Fulton,” she said, turning around to hug the juvenile court judge she’d befriended years ago when she worked
as an adolescent counselor. She hated being subpoenaed to court by her clients’ probation officers, but she took a liking
to Judge Fulton because it was obvious that she cared for the kids in her courtroom. Charity watched judges sentence kids
to detention centers and boot camps without asking any questions. Judge Fulton always asked questions. She’d talk to the family
members who were present and would counsel adolescents right there in her courtroom. She was well-known for ordering family
counseling, drug treatment, and community service at an orphanage, children’s hospital, or homeless or battered-women’s shelter.
Charity would be subpoenaed time after time to testify against repeat offenders sentenced by the other judges, but Judge Fulton’s
kids rarely came back through the system. It was Judge Fulton who encouraged Charity to open her own practice. “Long time
no see. How are you?”

“I’m well. I can see that you are.”

“Oh yes, God is good. You know this wouldn’t have been possible without your prayers and support.”

“Glory to God. I’m proud of you. You’re a young woman and you’ve got so much ahead of you. You’re opening the way for many
others who’ll come behind you.”

“Aaaawww.” Charity hugged her again. “We’ll have to do lunch soon and catch up. I’ve got to run. The Humphries lock up at
eight o’clock sharp. That gives me less than an hour to clean. I’d hate to be locked up in here.”

“I know that’s right. Speaking of the Humphries, there was some talk in the courthouse about Present Day closing because of
some financial or legal troubles or something. Is that true?”

“I hate to think.” Charity frowned. “The black Taj Mahal closing? And I just gave them my whole life savings. That best be
just a rumor.”

“That’s what I said when I heard it. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. If I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know it.”

Even though Charity felt the information about Present Day’s closing was false, she had the same sinking feeling in her stomach
that she’d felt when Harmony made mention of her former life.

SHE BARELY LOCKED THE DOORS BEHIND HER
before she had half of her clothes off. The only thing Charity wanted to do was to soak in a long, hot bath surrounded by
candlight. It had been one of those days. She had had her share of smiling, entertaining, and pretending to be interested
in other people’s opinions. She just wanted to relax and go to bed. Since now-six-year-old Xavier was with his father for
the weekend, she planned to do just that.

She hung her purse on the coatrack by the door, then kicked off her navy high-heeled sling backs and carried them to her room.
She placed them in the shoe rack on the floor of her walk-in closet and hung her navy wool blazer and skirt up behind other
winter suits. She pulled her silk, pink-blush blouse over her head and hung it between the shirts and blouses in the front
of the closet. Leaning back on the edge of the bed, she extended her legs in the air and rolled her thigh-high hose off as
if she were in a commercial shoot.

Having a restful sleep was essential tonight. Charity looked for the one gown she knew would make that easy to accomplish.
She went through two drawers of clothes to find the long, thin white cotton gown with pink embroidered flowers on the bodice
and wide shoulder straps. She draped it over her shoulder and went to the bathroom to draw her bathwater. As the water filled
the tub, she lit a jasmine-scented candle on an adjacent black wrought-iron stand. The only thing missing was a cup of hot
tea. She left the tub running and went to the kitchen to boil a small pot of water.

When she noticed the blinking red light on the wall phone, she picked up her cordless and dialed the number to check her messages.

Welcome to the message center. Two new messages are in your mailbox. First message, today, three thirty-one p.m.
“Hellllloooo, this Emmitt. Just calling to let you know I picked Lil’ Man up from school. Hold on, he wants to say something.
Tell your momma hey.”

“Hey, Mommy.”

“She not there, we leaving a message. Tell her you love her.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

“All right, tell her bye.”

“Bye, bye.”

“Like I said, we was just calling. Call us when you get in. Bye.”

To save this message, press two, to erase—

She pressed “two.” She knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d start missing her son and would want to hear his voice again.
It made no sense for her to call him, because it would make him want to come home. And the last thing she wanted was to hear
him cry. Especially while he was with his father. That would make things harder for them both.

Charity walked back to the bathroom to check on her bathwater.

Message saved. Second message, today six p.m.

“Cherry. It’s Mom. Y’all must still be at work. I ain’t heard from Esha yet either, she supposed to bring the kids by. I was
calling to find out how she did on her first day at work. Hope you ain’t had to fire her already. Take it easy on her, you
know she ain’t never worked a day in her life. I don’t know where she get that from ’cause I ain’t raise her to be like that.
What you do with Zavey if y’all still at work? Lord, this his weekend with his daddy, ain’t it? They better not mistreat my
baby down there or I’ll go down there myself and… Hello? Hello? See, God don’t like ugly, your answering machine trying
to cut me off. What Esha say? ‘They better recognize, they better ask somebody.’ Let me get off this phone, I cracks myself
up. Call me later, Cherry. Love ya, bye.”

To save this message—

“Definitely erase this one,” she chuckled, and pressed “three.” She ran her hand through the bathwater to make sure it was
hot. “Just right.” She dried her hand on a nearby towel and dialed Emmitt’s phone number.

Lord, set a guard over my mouth and keep watch over the door of my lips
.

“Joe’s Pool Room,” Emmitt answered.

There used to be a time when Charity thought his dry sense of humor was cute. But after they married it irritated her that
he would answer like that. It didn’t matter to him that she was a professional woman, that important people from her job or
church called the house. There was no telling how many opportunities they missed from people who hung up thinking they’d really
dialed Pizza Hut, The House of Blues, or Psychic Friends Network.

“It’s a good thing I’m not Ed McMahon calling to tell you you’ve won the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes,” she said,
forcing laughter into her voice.

“Well, are you?”

“Emmitt, it’s Charity. How are you?” She hoped she didn’t sound too agitated.

“I’m hanging in there. How ’bout you?”

“Really tired, but I wanted to return your call and see how Zavey is.”

“He’s out like a light. I knew he was sleepy around seven ’cause he started whining.”

“Umph,” was the only thing she could think of to say. She knew he was getting ready to go into his spiel about boys crying
like little punks.

“He must’ve forgotten where he was ’cause he know I don’t play that whining mess. It might work when he’s with you ’cause
you let him have his way. But I done told him, whining don’t get you nowhere.”

She attempted to appease him. “You’re right about that. Whining won’t get you anywhere. Well, I just wanted to return your—”

“I’m just saying, sweetie…”

Charity straightened her back like she was bracing herself. She knew that he only called her pet names when he wanted something.

“The boy six years old whining like a little girl,” Emmitt continued. “You need to nip that in the bud. It ain’t cute no more.
He too old for that.”

“Okay, I will.” Charity fought back frustration and worked hard to keep her voice even. She didn’t want to raise her voice
or let any choice words slip out of her mouth. In the past she’d given him plenty of reasons to accuse her of not being Christian-like,
and she didn’t want to add this to his repertoire. She’d grown tired of his sarcastic remarks about not believing that she
was
really
a minister.