“I doubt it. Look at Miss Katherine. She isn’t happy with this rigmarole.”
“What do you mean by rigmarole? I don’t think she’s unhappy. She was dancing. And call her Katherine.”
“Okay. okay. She might’ve been dancing, but she’s here to conduct fieldwork, which she’s very serious about. I read one of her papers. She’s not playing around. She’s gonna keep us busy, and tonight didn’t go the way she would’ve preferred. Least that’s what I’m thinking.”
“I don’t see it that way,” I respond. “She just likes to dance. I do, too. It doesn’t matter what kind of dancing, as long as there’s music that lets our feet, hips, and bodies move to the beat. It’s all about having a good time.”
I feel slightly disappointed by Robbie’s attitude, but I wave it off as Iris summons us inside the main house. She directs us to a large open space where we’re given rolled-up cloth, which I assume we can use as a pillow or sheet. It’s cooler than I expected in the jungle at night, and I search for a spotto rest my head and use the sheet to cover myself against the chill.
With Robbie nearby and the others around us finding their spaces for slumber, I’m almost settled when Colonel Rowe suddenly appears in the archway, startling me. From the first time I saw him, I thought of Reverend Nathan, purely because of his appearance, nothing about his behavior. He’s quiet, standoffish, and uninterested in mingling with the visitors from America.
“What is wrong? Every time Captain Rowe is nearby, you act all cockamamie.”
“No, I don’t,” I say, but I do.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing. Go to sleep. You say we’re gonna have a busy day tomorrow. We should get some rest.”
I shoo Robbie away. There’s something I don’t wanna tell him about.
When I first laid eyes on Captain Rowe, I almost screamed. Then I thought about running at him and knocking him in the head. But how would I look if I did something crazy like that? So, instead, I clenched my fists and pulled my arms behind my back to keep myself from doing anything. After that, we sat down and ate that pepper stew, and Iris found the phonograph. I didn’t think about Rowe and Reverend Nathan while I was dancing.
Robbie notices things like that about me. I want to tell him the story but know what he’ll say. Whatever issues I had with Reverend Nathan won’t trouble me no more. He’s in the middle of America, while I am on a Caribbean island with no plans to return to Chicago. I want to believe he’d be right in his thinking. So, lying on the floor, I pull the cloth up around my throat and close my eyes, but the memory of the last time I saw Reverend Nathan won’t leave me be.
I should never have gone to the church. I should have knownhe was the same no-good son of a gun he’d always been. But I’m muleheaded. I thought this time it would be different.
AME Fellowship Church on 24th Street, Chicago, A Week Earlier
It is not a dream. It isn’t happening again, but I remember every detail, and it’s as clear as crystal. I ran from the apartment I shared with Perry, desperate because I couldn’t find my money and couldn’t keep searching because Perry might rise up from the floor, and I wouldn’t get out of that apartment alive. I needed help. I needed cash and headed to the first place that came to mind—and it wasn’t Tony Schaefer.
I take a puff of the lit cigarette between my teeth. My leather-trimmed suitcase is clutched in one hand, and my purse is squeezed under my armpit as I reach the corner of State Street and Wabash, just a block from the AME Fellowship Church.
The sun has dipped behind a cloud, but the August heat lingers. Sweat trickles down the front of my polka-dot dress into my brassiere, soaking my breasts and ruining the bodice. I take another drag of my cigarette, blinking smoke from my eyes and breathing in the scent of jasmine and rose petals. A nearby fragrance shop reminds me of how Perry would prepare me a bath. Pour in sweet-smelling perfumes and read to me while I lie in the tub. He’d even light a candle. A sweet side of him, but it only surfaced on his better days, which were never frequent enough.
If Perry hadn’t died, he would never have forgiven me for hitting him in the head with that standing steel ashtray. Something twists in my chest.
Breathe, Othella. Breathe.
The church’s steeple reaches high into the sky, while the brick façade glows bluish-white in the sunset. I don’t recall ever seeing it that color before. Reverend Nathan used to tell me that the church was built on a small hill so it couldn’t be missed from dawn to dusk, whether the day was sunny or cloudy. “There’s no way to avoid the Lord,” he would say. “He reigns from on high, almighty and all-powerful.”
I light another cigarette and quicken my pace. A few minutes later, when I reach the church, I drop the remnants of my cigarette on the ground and extinguish it with the toe of my spike-heeled pump.
As I step inside, I am not surprised that nothing has changed after three years. The pulpit still sits at the end of the center aisle. Above the altar, Jesus Christ continues to hang on the cross, gazing down at the congregation with that same expression. The wooden benches, though empty, smell of linseed oil. The stained-glass windows are unchanged as well. I used to stare at them for a long time, marveling at how the colors of things seemed to shift. Tree leaves appear blue, swirling through the sky, while at night, stars drift from the moon like falling snowflakes.
“Can I help you?”
I recoil, instinctively lifting my hands to guard my face from the incoming punch, but the voice isn’t Perry’s. It is too high-pitched. I push away the anxiety swirling in my chest and meet the gaze of a scrawny kid wearing a stiff-brimmed cap and baggy dungarees.
“Who are you? And where’d you come from?” I ask roughly.
“Right over there.” The boy points. “Around that corner, ma’am.”
“Don’t call mema’am. Makes me sound older than I am.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a smirk.
Ignoring the stubborn child, I say, “I’m looking for Reverend Nathan. Is he in the rectory?”
