Cross Roads (16 page)

Her careful exploration of the entire restroom confirmed there was no man in there. Finally she gave up and ran some water to cool her face and calm herself. Glancing in the mirror to ensure no one snuck up behind her, she took deep breaths and began to ease herself from the grip of
adrenaline. As her body relaxed, she remembered what she had been doing before the uproar and reopened one of the stalls, preparing again to unbutton her personals.

“For crying out loud, Maggie, stop!”

Maranatha Holy Ghost Church of God in Christ is sedate and civilized compared to folks down the road at the Full Gospel Redeemer Fellowship, who had a reputation as authentic Holy Rollers. So nobody in the sanctuary filled with people quietly meditating on the holiness of the Almighty was prepared when Ms. Maggie erupted a second time from the ladies’ room like a crazed woman, arms waving and purse flying. They had certainly witnessed the activity of the Holy Ghost many a time, and a few regulars were predictably slain in the Spirit. But while they could whip up a presence when led, they were only moderately active and always polite, making sure that if a woman went down under the power she was properly covered, especially if the youth group full of gawking teenage boys was in the service.

But no one had ever, even when they snuck down to Full Gospel Redeemer, seen the Spirit take hold like this. Like a small atomic bomb, Ms. Maggie Saunders burst into the sanctuary during the second chorus of “Oh Happy Day,” and tore down the center aisle shrieking, “I’m possessed! I’m possessed!”

Some later said they thought it mighty coincidental that she went flying down the aisle aimed right at Elder Clarence Walker, the most eligible bachelor in the congregation, a veritable saint and pillar of the church.

Elder Walker stood, as all good elders should, when he heard the ruckus, but made the mistake of stepping into the center aisle to better see the problem. Once there, he froze as the rushing torrent of woman came at him like a train off
its tracks. Just as she reached maximum velocity, one of her heels snapped off, launching her unceremoniously through the air and into the open arms of Elder Clarence. Though he had a few inches on her, she had a few pounds on him, and down they went in a tumbling heap, decorum and sanctification spilling everywhere. Clarence had the breath completely knocked out of him and there she sat straddling him, shaking his shoulders, and screaming, “I’m possessed,” into his face.

The choir was completely baffled, although a few of them tried to continue the third chorus of “Oh Happy Day.” It happened so fast that at least half those present only heard something but didn’t actually see it, and most of those were not sure whether to shout amen or wave hankies in acknowledgment of the work of the Holy Ghost. A few in the back rows went down on their knees, believing a revival had started. Ushers and a few congregants seated nearby descended quickly on the entangled pair, hoping to help, some praying in tongues and reaching out their hands. It was pandemonium.

One bruiser of a young man clamped a firm hand over Maggie’s mouth until she quit screaming, and with the help of two others separated her from the barely breathing Elder Clarence. Both were promptly escorted to the side prayer room, as the quick-thinking music director started the choir and congregation in a calming rendition of “Amazing Grace.”

Maggie finally settled down enough to sip some water, while a couple of women patted her hand and repeatedly uttered, “Bless God” and “Praise Jesus.” She was utterly mortified. Maggie had heard the man’s voice—twice. But it didn’t matter. All she wanted now was to move immediately back to Texas with her distant relatives, to live in obscurity and die unremembered.

Tony was both horrified for what he had caused and experiencing sheer glee at the unexpected turn of events. He could still hear the touching chords of “Amazing Grace” from behind the shut door, but for the first time, he was ready to hoot and howl in church. The second adrenaline rush that had blown through Maggie had lit him on fire, and he was giddy in its aftermath.
If this is church
, he thought,
I’ll have to go more often
.

Elder Clarence slowly regained his breath and composure, and once recovered enough to speak without wheezing, sat in front of Maggie and took her hands. She couldn’t look at him. They had known each other for some time, and this behavior was totally inconsistent with the woman for whom he held undeniable affection, albeit platonic and reserved.

“Maggie…” He paused. What he wanted to say was, “Maggie, what the hell is going on?” but he spoke quietly and in a fatherly manner. “Maggie,” he began again, “can you explain to me, to us, what happened?”

Maggie wanted to die. She had once hoped for something more with this man, but she had killed all hope, body-slammed it to the carpet in the main sanctuary in front of God and everyone. She took a deep breath, and with abject humiliation, keeping her eyes glued to the floor, she said she had been in the bathroom and a man had spoken to her and then the ushers had searched it finding no one, and how one of the ushers thought it might have been God… She offered this last bit hoping it might be an option that Clarence would bite on, but he ignored it.
It would have been a lie anyway
, she thought, probably not the best idea at the moment. So she continued, how after searching and finding nothing, she had gone back in and the voice spoke to her again.

“Clarence… I mean, Elder Walker, it had to be a demon.”
She finally looked up at him, pleading with her eyes to have him believe her, or at least offer some plausible explanation. “What else…?”

“Shhh, calm down, Maggie.” He was still calling her by her first name; at least that was something. “What did this voice say to you?”

Maggie thought back. It was all a blur and she wasn’t sure. “I think he said, ‘Christ is outside. Stop, Maggie!’ That’s what I remember, but it happened so fast.”

Clarence looked at her, wishing he could think of something that might help or comfort, but he was drawing a complete blank.

Knowing he was at a loss for words, she tried to prompt something. “Elder Walker, why would Christ be outside? And why do I have to be stopped?”

Clarence shook his head, stalling while praying silently for some wisdom, but nothing was coming. He thought he might try another tack. “So you really think it was a demon?”

“I don’t know. It’s just what popped into my head. Wouldn’t a demon do that, pop a thought like that into your head? Do you think I have a demon, Clarence, uh, I mean, Elder Walker?”

“I am not a demon!” Tony interjected emphatically. “I’m not sure what a demon is, but I am not one of those.”

“Oh my God.” Maggie swooned, her eyes growing big as saucers. “It’s talking to me!”

“Who?” asked Clarence.

“The demon,” answered Maggie. Anger rose and flushed her face. “Don’t you be talking to me, you demon from the pit o’ hell… Sorry, not you, Brother Clarence; I was talking to the demon.” She averted her eyes to an empty space behind the elder and where none of the others were standing. Where else could she look? “In the name of Jesus—”

“Maggie,” interrupted Clarence. “What did he say?”

She looked back at him. “He said he wasn’t a demon. Wouldn’t you just expect that is what a demon would say, that he wasn’t a demon?”

“My name is Tony,” added Tony to be helpful, but enjoying this immensely more than he probably should.

Maggie put her hand over her mouth and added through clenched fingers, “He says his name is Tony.”

Clarence tried not to laugh out loud. “You have a demon who says he’s not a demon, whose name is Tony?”

She nodded.

He bit the inside of his mouth, but then asked, “Maggie, does your demon have a last name?”

“
My
demon?” The insinuation stung. “He is not
my
demon, and if I got a demon, I got him in
your
church.” She instantly regretted what she had said and quickly attempted to recover. “Of course he doesn’t have a last name. Everyone knows that demons don’t have last…”

“Sure I do,” volunteered Tony. “My last name is…”

“Shush,” muttered Maggie. “Don’t you be telling me you have a last name, you lying demon from the pit o’ hell.”

“Maggie,” continued Tony, “I know you are friends with Molly, and I know about Lindsay and Cabby.”

“Oh my God.” She gripped Clarence’s hand tighter. “It’s a familiar spirit. He just told me he knows all about Molly and Cabby and…”

“Maggie, listen to me,” said Clarence, gently removing his hand from hers. “I think I need to pray for you right now… uh, we all do. You know that we love you. I don’t understand the kind of pressure that you’re going through right now, but I want you to know that we are here for you. Whatever you or Molly or Lindsay and Cabby need, all you have to do is ask.”

And with that Maggie knew that Clarence and the others were not going to ever believe her about the demon who was talking to her. The more she said, the worse it was getting. It was time to shut up before they called in professionals.

They all gathered around her, and she let them anoint her with some sweet-smelling oil from the Holy Land. They then had a lengthy time of prayer, the kindness of people trying to find the right words to assist God with this strange event. And it did help. Maggie felt something, a quiet that came over her and a peace that everything was going to be better somehow, as impossible as that seemed in the moment.

“Oh my, look at the time. I really must be getting Cabby before it gets any later,” she said as they all stood. A few hugged her while others tried not to look as though they feared being contaminated by whatever she had. Maggie tried to look an apology at Clarence, who was gracious as he smiled and hugged her back. She held him a second longer than she probably ought to, but she figured it was likely their last and wanted something to remember. “Thanks, everyone, for your prayers and support.”
But not for understanding
, she thought. She didn’t even understand herself. Someday this would be a good story, but for the moment she didn’t want to see another living person, except Cabby and Molly. Molly was going to flip.

M
aggie and Cabby arrived home to Molly waiting at the front door. She raised an eyebrow inquisitively as Maggie hobbled in on two flat red slippers. It had been too cold to walk barefoot to the car, and rather than hobble on one heel she had deliberately broken off the other heel to match. A little duct tape from the maintenance closet had replaced the broken shoe’s strap. Her dress was torn in a couple of places, and her hair was still frazzled.

“Wow! A service I shouldn’t have missed?” inferred Molly.

“Girl,” Maggie began, laughing and shaking her head while she took off both shoes and walked in stocking feet to the trash can and unceremoniously dropped them in, “you have noooo idea! It’ll take an act of God to ever get me in that place again. I’ve pretty much used C-4 to blow up my bridges there.”

“What happened?” Molly was incredulous.

“I’m not even sure myself, but after what I did, I just wanna dig a big ol’ hole about the size of Texas and drop in it.”

“Maggs, it can’t be that bad. It’ll work out, really; things always have a way. So tell me what happened. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Molly,” Maggie began as she looked up at her friend, her mascara and makeup obviously not waterproof, “you shoulda seen their faces when I came yelling down the aisle, in the middle of ‘Oh Happy Day,’ screaming that I had a demon, people scattering and praying in the Spirit and pleading the name of Jesus, and then my damn shoe, pardon my French, broke and I almost killed Brother Clarence.” She sat down and began to cry, while Molly stood with her mouth open.

“What have I done?” she moaned. “I scared the living crap outta Clarence… cute, Jesus-lovin’ Clarence. I am now declaring that I have agoraphobia. I can’t leave my own home. That’ll be me from now on. I am from now on a shut-in. Just tell people I have a social disease so nobody can come visit.”

“Maggs,” Molly said as she hugged her tight and handed her a paper towel to wipe some of the mess from her face, “why don’t you go and clean up, maybe put your pajamas on, and I’ll make you a lemon-drop. It sounds like a lemon-drop kind of night. And then you can tell me all about it.”

“That sounds good.” She sighed, slowly getting up. “I’ve had to pee for over an hour anyway, another reason I’m glad to be home. Believe me, there is nothin’ like peeing in your own pot.”

Here we go again
, thought Tony.

Maggie hugged her friend one more time. “Molly, my dear, I don’t know what I’d do without you, and Cabby and Lindsay. Bet you didn’t know you were going to be living with Hurricane Katrina and now I’ve made a mell-of-a-hess. You think the folk over at your white church will mind if
a slightly large but very sedate, genteel, and quiet black woman sneaks in to sing a few songs? I promise to even clap on the on-beat.”

“Anytime, Maggs,” Molly said, laughing. “We could use a little life in that place.”

Maggie headed for her bedroom and separate bathroom, but was met in the hallway by Cabby, already dressed as Spider-Man. He stood with both hands raised. “Stop!” he commanded.

She did, especially because this was uncharacteristic of Cabby. “What is it, Cabby? Everything okay?” she asked.

He patted her chest and looked at her intensely. “Tah-Ny!” He patted her again. “Tah-Ny.”

“I’m sorry, little man, it takes me a while to get things sometimes. I’m a little slow that way. Can you sign?”

Cabby thought for a second, grinned, and reached down and took off one of his socks. He wiggled his foot in the air.

“Your foot? Something’s wrong with your foot?”

He shook his head, sat down, and covered all his toes with his hand until only his big toe was showing, and then raised it up toward her. “Tah!” he declared.

“Toe?” she asked.