Page 5 of João
A loud vibration startled me out of my deep concentration as I reviewed different wheat crackers.
Mom: What did you do? The senior warden just called me. You ain’t in the meeting. I’m on my way to the church for the Altar guild meeting. Meet me there.
If I’d been worried about disappointing Father Weaver, it was nothing compared to what my decision would mean to my mother. That church had been her salvation, her home during the hard years of her life. That church supported her while raising me. But this was my life, and she’d been able to make her own decisions. The nervous energy all converged at the bottom of my throat as I typed my response.
Me: I’m so sorry, Mama. I know you don’t agree, but it’s time for me to leave St. Mary Magdalene.
I dropped my phone in my purse and kept pushing the cart, deciding I didn’t need crackers. What I needed was wine.
Throat tight, eyes watery, I ambled toward the wine aisle. A cheese, cracker, and wine display was right by the front of the aisle, and a few people stood by, tasting samples. Passing everyone, I went straight to my favorite Riesling. Resting two bottles in my cart, I ignored the hole in my chest and the pressure building behind my eyes. Behind me, people gathered around the tasting display. Not wanting to navigate around them, I kept my head down, walking in the opposite direction. My purse lay open on the cart, my phone face up. Another message popped up and I slowed down, attempting to read it without moving the cell phone.
Mom: “Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.”
The letters blurred as my vision filled with tears. She really knew what to say to make me hesitate, as if I hadn’t searched and searched for other solutions. In the end, that church was not a good environment for me. Why couldn’t she support me?
The cart’s wheels squealed as I jerked it around the corner, my grip hard on the handle. My hands jerked back, an immovable force meeting the front of my cart. A symphony of metallic containers hit the tiled floor and?????????????????? my heart skipped a beat. Hard plastic and metal dug into my belly, air whooshing out in surprise. My chest jolted first, followed by the clang of metal on metal, and I blinked up…right into someone else’s overflowing cart. The man’s face was unreadable as he inspected the collision. I’d pushed his cart into a display of stacked canned peanuts, which now rolled all over the floor.
“Oh no,” I whispered.
The man searched my face, his raw, commanding presence reaching me even in the fog of sadness. He couldn’t be more than six feet tall but he towered over me, bolstered by sheer confidence. Smooth dark chocolate skin, penetrating eyes, a majestic beard, and a sexy bald head—my kryptonite. In another time, another life, a man like this would have me flushed and flustered, but my heart was breaking for the third time in the past two years. I didn’t know if I had any more tears left to cry.
I waited. He studied me while I searched the floor, wanting to pick it all up, but something told me to wait, to let him speak first.
“You good, beleza?” His raspy, deep voice flowed to me, making me want to stand straighter.
“I… Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and?—”
He halted me with one raised hand. Words stopped flowing out of my mouth as if he himself had blocked them from coming out of my larynx.
“You good, no need to apologize. I wanted to make sure you were alright. You seem upset.”
“Oh.” There should have been additional sound with that, but nothing came out of my mouth, just air. Ruffled, I bent to pick the cans?—
A callused hand slipped over mine, a shock of pure raw current freezing me on the spot.
“Stop,” the man ordered.
Again, that same sorcery as before, as if an invisible hand clasped my neck and straightened me until I stood still.
“Now breathe…can I call you beleza? Yeah? Okay, breathe for me.”
I finally inhaled, sweet oxygen filling my lungs.
“Good—” The man bit his plump bottom lip, and all my attention focused on that simple but mesmerizing action.
“I got this. You go ahead, beautiful, keep shopping; I’ll handle this. You’re good. You may not feel it now, but I promise you’ll be straight.” He nodded, my hand still nestled in his, that bright, lively current flowing through us.
The words I needed from my mother hadn’t come from her, but God worked in mysterious ways and He’d delivered the message through this Good Samaritan. This very good-looking Samaritan—not that I was paying any attention. The problem was I wasn’t ready for kind words. Not yet. All my good manners flew out the window, the command galvanizing my feet until I was sprinting away from the scene of my inattention.
The man had said what I needed to hear and looked like he knew how to give good hugs. My chest fluttered, an innocent flapping reminiscent of high school crushes, hidden kisses, and stolen hugs. And I needed one so bad. It seemed that no matter how sad I was, he’d made a deep impression.
After all the meddling I’d gone through these past months—people trying to fix me up, blind dates, disappointing outings, and a few duds that made it past the third date—I’d been disillusioned with men. But I hadn’t given up hope. I wasn’t actively looking for anything, but my heart felt too big in my chest for all the love and care I was ready to give to someone I loved besides my mom and my friends. In every dream I had for myself since childhood, I had a family. I was married. I had a husband. It didn’t define me as a person; watching my mother separate from my father taught me early that no one but yourself defines you. It also taught me that some interests need to align in order for a successful marriage to last.
But companionship? Partnership? Passion, love, devotion? Building a life and a legacy together with someone you adored? I’d been past due, ready for it all.
The feeling of regret, of not stopping to speak with him, flooded me, and I panicked slightly. I looked around, trying tolocate him, feeling like this had been a sign that I’d completely missed in my grief and sadness of what I had lost today. I hated to sound cliché but when one door closes and all? My pulse accelerated. Standing in the aisle, I shifted back and forth, not knowing what to do. Flashes of color and cereal boxes made me dizzy as I swiveled my head back, trying to decide what to do. I must appear a mess, tear-stricken and now jittery because I had an instant crush on a man. Who was I right now? None of my usual poise was anywhere to be found.
Pushing the cart forward, I navigated the aisle. It was time to pay and go. If only the insistent niggling that signs were for the ones paying attention would stop …
