Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [72]
Essie had never seen a purple car in her life until she spotted it in the window of a car dealership downtown. She kept passing by to look at it, never expecting that a Negro would be welcome in the showroom. Finally one of the salesmen had beckoned her in and personally showed her all of the details of the car. Then one Saturday, she asked if she could test-drive it, knowing full well that such requests were rarely if ever honored for Negroes. But when the salesman surprised her again by agreeing, she returned with Theophilus, who sat in the back with the salesman, talking about the Bible, while Essie drove all over town. She was so happy to drive that exquisite car that she baked the man a sweet potato pie and had Theophilus take it to him the very next day.
And now, for her twenty-seventh birthday, Theophilus shocked her by presenting her with that car. It was an engagement, wedding, birthday, and anniversary present all rolled into one, he told her, adding jokingly, "But I'm sorry, baby— it still didn't cost as much, I'm sure, as that big old diamond ring Saphronia McComb was signifying with and playing the bigshot when she was here, trying to lord it over you."
Essie slid her purple Cadillac into the parking space marked FIRST LADY and pulled to a quick stop, making a little rubber burn, worrying Theophilus over the well-being of those expensive whitewall tires. Her lavender silk suit, accessorized by pale purple sunglasses and a long silver and lavender silk scarf, wrapped loosely around her head and neck, was the perfect look for driving to church in her new Cadillac convertible drop-top.
The first person to see the car was the evening caller Essie had put out of the house a month before. It didn't surprise Essie that she turned on her heel and ran into the church, no doubt carrying the tale straight to Willie Clayton. Essie could well imagine how some folks would carry on about the pastor squandering his money on a purple Cadillac, of all things, for that little slit-eyed, nappy-head heifer he was married to. There had been plenty of sneering, some obvious, some secret, when she showed up last month wearing her hair in a natural. But she got lots of compliments, too.
Whenever they got anything new, some people would get mad, and another faction would get all excited, making a big to-do over how well their pastor and first lady were doing. Those in the mad group always acted like the pastor and first lady had taken money right out of their pockets, and the excited ones seemed to celebrate any new acquisition as their own, as if the pastor and first lady were direct extensions of themselves.
"Umph, umph, umph," Theophilus was saying, holding open the car door. "Baby, what am I going to do with your little fast self this morning?"
Essie just grinned at him. She was feeling real sassy this morning, and as she stepped out of the car, she brushed up against him on purpose.
"Watch yourself. Don't get nothing started you can't finish, now."
Essie laughed at her husband and strutted into church beside him, swinging on his hand not caring who saw her acting "fast." Let those holier-than-thou biddies disapprove of her swinging on her man. One thing she had always done since coming to Greater Hope, as Theophilus's wife, was to let folks see the love and passion, "the juice," flowing between them, just like Theophilus had preached in that sermon that first won her heart at Mount Nebo.
The choir was buzzing today because Mrs. Jarvis was back among them, for the first time since her husband's death. When she moved from the choir to sing, the whole church fell into respectful silence, anticipating her beautiful rendition of the song "I Must Tell Jesus." But she surprised everybody this morning when she sat down at