Talk to Me (A Love Story in Any Language) Read online

  It didn’t take long for my gaze to stray as I attempted to read the preacher’s lips. My heart ached to hear his sermon on magnifying God. I wanted to stand like a few others with my arms crossed, pacing in place, feasting on the Word from God.

  “I don’t like her. She’s ugly,” signed a little girl, sitting on my left who I hadn’t noticed.

  The child wrinkled her nose, rolled her eyes, and stuck a finger in her mouth as if she was trying to induce vomiting. I toyed with my mustache in amusement. The girl was half right. The endowed interpreter definitely wasn’t ugly. She just had a bad attitude. Not wanting to encourage the child, I kept a blank expression.

  “Keisha, you’re acting ugly. Stop it or we’re going home,” signed her mother with an intimidating game face. Twisting her mouth in defiance, Keisha bypassed the interpreter and stared at the pulpit.

  Minutes later, someone introduced the pastor, Zachary Coleman, for the sermon. The message was riveting, “Letting God Loose.” Almost an hour later, his sermon ended with me questioning if I was letting God have His full reign in my life. The preacher extended his arms to the congregation for the altar call, a simple invitation for the unsaved, sick, and spiritually afflicted people to seek salvation. The enchanting interpreter relieved the other woman, and she became the evangelist calling sinners to repent. “Won’t you come?” she signed.

  Like a pied piper on her musical flute, she enticed dozens to flock to the aisle, making their way to the front for prayer and baptism. “Won’t you come?” she continued, interpreting for the pastor.

  “Why won’t you come?” she signed a third time, repeating Pastor Coleman’s request.

  That’s it, I thought, standing. As a man, I didn’t believe in begging for anything. On the flipside, I felt no one should have to beg me to pray, so I accepted the appeal. I joined others in the aisle. Granted, I hadn’t been an on-the-church-roll member in years, but I’d visited enough services to know the difference I felt that morning. I needed restoring, and God was faithful. If I repented of the sins, those I could recall and those hidden, God would forgive me.

  The altar call meant different things in different churches. It could be lengthy in some Pentecostal churches because this was the sole focus on Sundays. Not only was it an invitation to discipleship, whether someone accepted it or not, it almost meant prayer or baptism after a person repented of their sins. Since I’d already been baptized in Jesus’ name about a year after my accident, I needed the prayer. Halfway down the aisle, a minister met and hugged me. Then his warm breath brushed against my ear. I cupped my ear and shook my head to let him know I couldn’t hear. He shrugged and instructed me to close my eyes, bow my head, and lift my hands as he dabbed a bit of holy oil on my forehead.

  During the prayer, I recalled the first time I’d read Mark 17:32—37: “And were beyond measure astonished, saying, He hath done all things well: he maketh both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak.” My family believed God in that scripture, including me. Without much internal debating, we as a family repented and within the span of a few hours after we were baptized in water, God filled us with the Holy Ghost. Reminiscing, I admitted it had been a long since I felt that kinship.

  My heart pounded as my tongue vibrated in my mouth. The anointing had a rippling effect on my body as it shook, but I knew it was God renewing my spirit. No telling how much time had passed as the minister prayed, but I couldn’t make up for all the time I had sidestepped on God’s praise.

  The minister tapped my shoulder, and my eyes fluttered open as he removed his hand, ending the prayer. Wiggling my fingers in praise, I turned around, found my way back to my pew, and re-took my seat. Taking a handkerchief from my back pocket, I wiped the perspiration off my face. Perhaps, I was in the right church. Once I composed myself, I opened a Bible before the aroma of a turkey dinner drifted into the sanctuary and headed straight for my nose. I looked up at the two women.

  “Don’t forget church”, the nice interpreter signed as Pastor Zachary Coleman grinned from the pulpit, holding up a finger. “We have prepared a Thanksgiving feast. I’m sure I’m not the only one who can smell it. Free to anyone whoever wishes to stay and fellowship.”

  His announcement reminded me of the traditional noon meal awaiting my brothers, Pierce, Caleb, and me at our parents’ house. Gina Richardson instilled fear in us early about the repercussions of standing her up when it came to her cooking. My dad enjoyed letting her have her way, not only in the kitchen, but also in the home.

  Pierce, the oldest and the most compassionate, was always inclusive when it came to his brothers. Caleb, two years younger than my thirty-one years, had little patience when I didn’t digest a joke fast enough, or spoke too loudly during a televised game. A powerful voice tore through my head, pulling me away from my thoughts and commanding me to stay for the fellowship. Decision made, I was staying.

  After the dismissal, I loosened the muscles in my shoulders before reaching for my coat and Bible. Joining the exodus, I lagged behind rambunctious kids, soundless chatty teenagers, and slow-stepping elders.

  The crowd curved around the corner to a corridor that opened to a banquet. The walls were painted a once-popular cotton-candy-blue which contrasted with the updated light fixtures and stain-glass bay windows. The size reminded me of a high school cafeteria.

  The atmosphere was festive, jolly, and hectic. Pre-teens carried food trays to senior citizens gathered at designated tables. Toddlers played hide-and-seek, using their parents as shields. Surprisingly, some men were already dissecting their second plate.

  Leisurely, I glanced around for a seat until I saw her, the interpreter who fascinated me during morning worship. Good manners restrained me in a grip lock from shoving others in a sprint to the buffet and introducing myself. It had nothing to do with hunger. Several women were serving food, including both interpreters. I stopped moving.

  Years ago, I had mastered the skill of lip-reading, most times ignoring the insults thrown at me that was usually reserved for behind people’s back. Since I couldn’t hear, most assumed it didn’t make a difference to slur my character in front of my face. Zooming in on the two interpreters, I listened with my eyes as I laid my things on a nearby table.

  “I can’t believe the turnout for the Deaf Ministry! I’m glad we’re meeting a need. I counted at least twenty new visitors. I know God is pleased.”

  Miss bountiful endowment’s face still lacked any luster when she responded, “Well, I’m glad you’re excited, Mack, because the only fine brother I noticed was among the dead—I mean deaf, and believe me I looked, more than once. I’ve been praying for God to send me a mate. I hope that wasn’t it,” she paused, dumping green beans in a plate before she continued complaining, “I know I heard His voice saying, ‘Soon,’ then in walks this deaf mute. Girl, God can have him back. How can a deaf man, and I don’t care how fine he is, meet any woman’s needs?”

  “Valerie Preston!” Mack said, shocked.

  So that’s her name, Valerie. She had no idea that no woman had ever complained about him meeting their needs. Unfortunately, that was during some down time between when the Lord first saved me and the televangelists. Today, I was searching for a woman who could meet more than my physical needs.

  “Well, I’m being honest. Why does something always have to be wrong with the fine men? What a shame, for all his good looks, it will go to waste. Ha! Brother had some serious muscles straining under that suit,” Valerie commented. “Girl, I thought the Incredible Hulk was going to bust out.” She laughed, but I missed the joke.

  “And I thought we came to praise the Lord, shame on me.” Mack’s lips twisted in disgust.

  “Yeah, shame on you, Mackenzie, for not noticing Mr. Fineness-Flawness because he had a flaw. When he wiggled his mustache, I almost fainted, but I would’ve missed something. A defective man has no right to look so sexy! Maybe he was sitting in the wrong section.”

  Valerie spared me no mercy. Her hypocrisy temporarily ove
rshadowed the church fellowship, celebrating a day of thanksgiving. I pitied any man who had the misfortune of being the one for her.

  God prohibited my anger from taking root. Instead, a genuine grin stretched across my face. Mackenzie. I rolled her name around in my head. She didn’t look like a Mackenzie, as if a name came with a description, definition, and warning.

  “Val, that is the most non-Christian, insensitive, and rudest comment to utter,” Mackenzie accused, appearing appalled at the same time I registered the insults. Questions raced through my mind, including whether the two were close friends.

  “Why are you even a part of this ministry? God doesn’t like ugly, and girl, you’re looking rather unattractive right now.”

  “Ben,” Valerie gave the one-word answer with a shrug.

  My interest peaked, I focused harder. That’s when two women approached, interrupting the scene from my newly addictive soap opera.

  “Hi. I’m Sister Alexis Brown. Glad you could come out today,” one of them said to me.

  I gave them a genuine smile before placing both of my hands to my lips to say, “Thank you.” To an outsider, the gesture was blowing a kiss. I fingered-spelled my name and indicated I was about to eat.

  Confusion marred their faces. Clearly they weren’t part of the Deaf Ministry. Embarrassed, they waved good bye before hurrying off. Good, I thought as I refocused on Valerie and Mackenzie. I didn’t know how much I had missed.

  “Benson Little. He was sooo fine, Mack.”

  “Excuse me, what does a man who doesn’t even attend this church have to do with this?” Mackenzie asked before she greeted a small boy and served him a portion from an aluminum pan. “Take your time, Thomas, and be careful,” she instructed.

  With determined concentration, Thomas slowly walked away, using both hands to balance a plastic plate laden with food.

  Valerie continued, “Girl, he needed an extra credit to graduate. When he signed up for American Sign Language class, so did I. You know it’s considered a foreign language.” She grinned as if her scheme was original. “Bingo! It was the beginning of a relationship when he selected me as his study partner.”

  “Well, that should explain everything, but it doesn’t. It’s by God’s grace that we’re not on the other side of that pew. Did you hear the message this morning? We’re supposed to praise and magnify God, not tear each other down, but you probably missed that part.” Mackenzie’s eyes were expressive.

  Folding my arms, I grinned. I liked Mackenzie’s attitude. Maybe she did define her name, a sweet servant when she signed, but a spitfire when provoked. What a kindred spirit. Valerie gave a new meaning to “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Physically, she was pleasing to the eye with her nutmeg skin, and shape that wasn’t lacking on her tall body. Spiritually, she seemed to lack the essential spiritual fruit of love.

  An usher shooed me off the wall, motioning for me to get in line. I mouthed, okay, but didn’t move.

  “Anyway, I loved the altar call. As always, it’s the highlight for me,” Mackenzie said.

  Valerie squinted. “Please tell me you didn’t sign with your eyes closed, again?”

  “Yep.” Mackenzie bit her lip almost in a tease. “People come to church seeking deliverance. Music soothes the soul, and preaching delivers it, but the baptismal washes their sins away. It’s like ‘don’t leave home without it’ motto. How can you sign without enjoying the beauty of the language? Re-group, Valerie, re-group.”

  Valerie stopped serving and rolled her eyes. Her free hand rested on her hip. “I know the purpose, Mack. I am a member, too, you know.”

  The serving line thickened as some returned for seconds. “Glad to know.” Mackenzie shrugged. “Anyway, I counted seven guests sitting in the hearing-impaired section. The two little sisters, who couldn’t been more than seven and ten, were adorable in their matching emerald-green dresses with cream collars. I wonder if meningitis, ear infections, or birth defects caused their deafness.”

  “Girl, you worry too much. Deaf is deaf, the cause is unimportant.

  “Repent.”

  Contrite, Valerie huffed out her chest. “Sorry. Just being honest, I’m glad the outreach ministry is working and our church is growing, but where are the men?” she mumbled as she turned her head, breaking off my interpretation.

  “They’re coming, Val. Pray on it. Just don’t pray amiss for your own selfish wants.”

  “All I want to do is put my order in for a brother whose skin reminds me of maple syrup, a mustache thick enough to tease a woman’s lips, and some biceps and abs. Girl I’m set for life.”

  “You’re talking about that hearing-impaired brother, aren’t you? No woman in this church could help but notice him, but he is still a man who wants the same thing as us—acceptance—instead of having discriminatory remarks thrown his way.”

  Rubbing my chin, I smirked, impressed. Although Valerie gave an accurate description of my attributes, Mackenzie also noticed.

  “Well, he can’t hear me, anyway.”

  Better. I can read your lips, I wanted to confront her. Since I wasn’t interested in her, she missed out.

  Mackenzie shook her head and directed her attention to the hungry people in line, never looking in my direction. Jostled by some boys horsing around, I was forced off the wall again. This time, I took determined steps, approaching the food table. I wasn’t hungry. I was intrigued.

  With one statement, Mackenzie—a stranger—had unbeknownst to her, fought my battle that I was equipped to do myself. As the line advanced, on autopilot, I lifted a plastic plate and snatched up a set of napkin-wrapped utensils. I inched closer until I stood face-to-face with Mackenzie. Her smile was unconditional as she reduced me to a servant in her highness’ court; because whatever the pretty lady wanted, I wanted exclusive rights to provide it. Whoa, I hadn’t been in church in years and after one day, I was flirting with an interpreter.

  Laying her plastic ladle in the pan, she signed, asking me if I preferred turkey or ham, and my choice of side dishes. Grinning like a schoolboy, I pointed to dishes without taking my eyes off her face. She pointed, and I glanced down. I was holding the plate upside down. I shook my head in amusement.

  “I’m Noel Richardson,” I introduced, signing with my right hand as I held the paper goods in my left.

  Releasing the serving spoon, she signed back, “Praise the Lord and welcome. I’m Sister Mackenzie Norton.”

  “I enjoyed the service today. You were breathtaking. I really felt like I had church not just being at church,” I praised her skills.

  As she lowered long, thin lashes, blushing, I took note of two things: Mackenzie was beautiful and she wasn’t wearing a ring. Good. Honestly, I wasn’t looking for it earlier.

  “Then I hope you’ll come back and visit again.”

  “Definitely,” I responded as I lingered at the table until a dark-skin, wrestler-build brother jokingly tried to push me forward, only I didn’t nudge. He gave me a fake apologetic grin as he carried two plates, one tilting with rolls, ham, and string beans. Nodding at Mackenzie, I walked back to where I’d laid my stuff. It also gave me an unobstructed view.

  I feasted on Mackenzie while my stomach digested a Thanksgiving meal I didn’t taste. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. With patience, kindness, and attentiveness, Mackenzie continued to feed the never-ending line.

  A man, whose oversized head didn’t fit his body, scuffled to the buffet table. His faded black jacket with thinned elbows humbled me. My suit, a designer custom-fit, was one of many I’d never subjected to that much wear. His baggy pants hinted of a drastic weight loss. Oddly, his steel-toe shoes shined as if he once lived under military regulations. With two plates stacked lopsided with holiday fixings, he glimpsed suspiciously over his shoulder before leaning closer to Mackenzie.

  Concerned, I stilled my fork midway to my mouth. Should I be concerned? I didn’t know their relationship. When Mackenzie smiled, I understood and chuckled. The old man was flir
ting.

  As the crowd thinned, Mackenzie, Valerie, and three weary servers collapsed in nearby folding chairs at an abandoned table. The urge was strong for me to lift Mackenzie’s feet into a chair and wait on her as if it was our routine. Chiding my foolish thoughts, I approached anyway, not knowing my own intentions.

  Leaning down, I spoke close to her ear, praying that I somehow controlled the volume and tone of my voice, “Mackenzie.” Turning around, her expression shifted from startled to hypnotic. Honey-brown eyes let me know I had her undivided attention. The moment was sweet until movement of her friend’s lips dripped with sarcasm.

  “Oh, he talks, but probably rides on a handicap bus.”

  The scowl Mackenzie shot Valerie was my priceless reward. “You look tired. While I’m up can I get you anything? More punch, rolls, dessert?” I refrained from saying, “Better company.”

  “Something to drink, please” she didn’t sign. Her eyes sparkled with fascination, her cheeks blushed, and she sucked in a deep breath. Then she remembered to hand me her cup. I bit back my own smile. The message was loud enough for even a deaf man to hear. We were attracted to each other.

  CHAPTER 2

  What had gotten into me to flirt with a woman in the House of God? I smirked as I drove away from my house. That wasn’t the first time I asked myself that question since I walked out the church doors, but something about Mackenzie appealed to me. I didn’t want to think I had bad taste in choosing dates, but the women before Mackenzie? They seemed shallow now. Without knowing much about the interpreter, I was certain Mackenzie’s complexities were as understated as her beauty.

  For example, there was Taylor Tillman. She was beautiful, sweet, and I later learned she was an opportunist. Without asking for an opinion, God let me know, Taylor had no purpose in my life. She was all about appearances and I still remember the simplicity of our final disagreement.