LITMIR.BIZ

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is it?

      “See you in a little while, Moms. As soon as we can get there.” I hung up the phone. My heart raced as fast as the car had on the freeway.

      I made myself calm down. There was nothing that could possibly be wrong with my mother that God couldn’t fix. I had seen Him come through in too many impossible situations while I was in Mozambique to even begin to worry. If it was sickness, He could heal it. Financial problems, He could provide. We had overcome mountains of problems there that I could have never dreamed of living through. There was nothing going on in America that could be as bad as contaminated water, babies sick with malaria, hundreds of orphans who’d lost their parents to AIDS, extreme poverty worse than I could have ever imagined. Whatever it was, we would pray, and He would fix it.

      I jumped when the phone rang again.

      “Okay, you gon’ have to stop all this jumping and door handle clutching.” Tiffany flipped open the phone again. “Got her, girl, and she is all tripped out. I’ll just let you see for yourself. We’re almost at the house. You on your way?” She glanced over at me with a huge smile on her face. “Okay, see you in about an hour.” Tiffany hung up the phone.

      “Who was that?”

      “One of your friends from church. She insisted on seeing you the minute you got back to town.”

      “Who?” I let out a deep breath and lay back on the headrest, massaging my temples. “Tiffy, I don’t want to see anybody right now. I’m tired and sweaty from traveling all night and day, and I just want to get a shower and go see Moms. Why would you invite someone to the house?”

      “Don’t be getting all mad at me. She called and wanted to see you. I thought you’d be glad to see her to. I’m just trying to make your homecoming nice.” Tiffany pouted like I’d hurt her feelings.

      I didn’t need us getting off to a bad start so soon. “Sorry, baby girl. I’m just tired. I appreciate you trying to do something nice for me. Who is it?”

      I could see her pressing her lips together to try to keep from grinning. I felt bad.

      “It’s a surprise. Dang, can’t you let me do something nice for you for a change?”

      “Sorry, Tiffy.” I leaned across the seat and kissed her cheek.

      “Oooh, yuck. Cooties.” She wiped her face. We both laughed at her bringing up one of our favorite childhood games. I’d chase her around the house and kiss her, and she’d wipe off all my kisses, accusing me of infecting her with my love cooties.

      She reached over and squeezed my leg. “I love you, Sissy.”

      “I love you too, baby girl.”

      We finally pulled into my driveway. My house looked so big. I thought of the small mud brick shack I’d spent some of the last two years in, or the huts or tents I slept in when we went to minister in the more remote areas. Compared to them, I lived in a castle. Gratitude and guilt fought to dominate my emotions.

      “Here we are. Home, sweet home,” Tiffany announced.

      For the first time, I wondered exactly how long she planned to stay in my house now that I was back. Knowing Tiffany, she didn’t have anywhere to go. I didn’t have the strength for that conversation.

      I got out of the car and walked in the house through the garage door.

      Mmmm, my home. The warmth of it instantly enveloped me when I walked in. I left the suitcases at the kitchen door and walked through the house almost in awe. I opened the refrigerator and freezer and played with the knobs on the stove. I went to the kitchen sink and turned on the water, but quickly shut it off. Almost as if I thought that it would run out or something.

      Everything smelled so . . . clean.

      I remembered my first few days in Africa; I walked around covering my nose. The putrid smells overwhelmed my senses, and I always felt nauseous. For a while, I dabbed a drop of lavender oil under my nose several times a day, so I wouldn’t throw up from all the odors. Then one day, I remembered waking up and realizing the smell didn’t bother me anymore. Probably because I had a little odor of my own going on.

      I wandered into the living room and sat down on my butter-soft, brown leather couch and relaxed back into the cushions. It felt so good . . . cushy comfortable. I wanted to stay there for the rest of the day. I got up and fingered through my massive DVD collection. I hadn’t remembered my television screen being so large. I stepped into my office and looked at my computer, printer, fax machine, and scanner. I looked at my bookshelves and marveled at my extensive book collection.

      When I got upstairs, the door to the guest room where Tiffany was staying was closed. I imagined the room looked like a tornado had hit it and focused on being grateful that the rest of the house was clean and intact. I went into my bedroom and stared at the huge, queen size bed. I looked into my bathroom at the Jacuzzi tub and glass shower. It all seemed so luxurious.

      I was torn between running a warm comforting bath with aromatherapy salts and jumping in the shower real quick so I could go see Moms. As I peeled my clothes off, slightly tart from being worn for the tiring hours of travel, I remembered I had company coming, so I decided to take a shower.

      I rummaged through my drawer and found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt to put on. I knew they’d be a little big on me since I had lost about twenty pounds, but they’d have to do for now.

      I took a quick but soothing shower. The sheets of hot water pelting the length of my body felt like a heavenly massage. It was weird not to be washing up with water in a bucket, heated up over the fire. I could have stayed in there forever if I weren’t overly conscious about how much water ran down the drain for every second I stood there. I finally stepped out and pulled a large Egyptian cotton towel around me, relishing the feel of the soft silkiness against my skin.

      After I pulled a T-shirt and some underwear on, I walked out to the top of the steps. I hollered down to Tiffany that I was going to lie down for a minute until my surprise guest arrived.

      I sank into my bed and felt like I had gone to heaven. The pillow-top mattress, fluffy down pillows, and silk sheets felt like paradise on earth. Tears filled my eyes as I thought of my pallet on the floor or rope slat bed in Africa.

      God, I thank You for everything You’ve provided for me. Please forgive me for ever taking anything for granted that You’ve ever done. That You’ve always done.

      I must have fallen asleep because I jolted awake when the doorbell rang. Tiffany’s voice called out, “Trina, she’s here.”

      I was suddenly aggravated with her again. I was exhausted, and all I wanted to do was see my mother. Who could she possibly think was so important? I pried myself from under the covers and out of my bed and pulled on the jeans. They were a size too big. I tramped down the stairs and saw Tiffany standing at the door.

      She looked at me, her eyes bright with excitement. “Go ’head. Open it.”

      I forced myself to smile at her as I turned the knob. My jaw dropped when I saw who stood there. “Monica?”

      Three

      I let out an ear-piercing African screech. “Monnie!” I grabbed her and hugged her. I pulled away, and then hugged her again. I held on to her crying for a few minutes. When we pulled apart, her face was covered with tears too.

      “Oh my goodness, look at you. You’ve lost so much weight, Monica.” My eyes traveled downward from her thinned face, to her muscular shoulders, to her sculpted arms, down to her round, swollen belly. I screeched again. “Oh my God! Oh my . . .” I put my hands to my face, then touched her belly, then back to my face again. “You’re . . . you’re . . . oh my God . . .”

      Monica and Tiffany laughed at me. I grabbed Monica again and hugged her. Gentler this time so as not to squash her belly. I finally got the words out. “You’re pregnant. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I mean, this didn’t just happen yesterday.”

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