Mrs. Tanya May Rogerton chugged up to the Opry in her exhaust-heavy Volkswagen fastback, which she had recently painted powder blue with a bright yellow trim to go with her white-and-yellow leather seats. I told her it looked like she was driving in the clouds, and she said, “That’s why we are together, you and me.” Then she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek as I got in. My guess is that she was well aware that her breasts ran the length of my forearm in the process. That lady was a sneaky one.
She smiled. “Your summer pants look perfectly tailored. Whoever does your clothes?”
We took off with a bang and a burp of smoke.
My hunter-green pants sat low on my hips, with a thick fabric belt that was stretchy so I could tie it around my waist to give myself some dimension. The honey-yellow shirt she’d made me was drapey everywhere except the end of the three-quarter sleeves, which wrapped around my forearms to make the whole shirt look, according to Mrs. Tanya May Rogerton, billowy. She said that kept the eye to the upper portion of the outfit—“and those blue eyes of yours.”
I grabbed her hand down low. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could go out dancing together somewhere tonight?”
“Dancing? That would destroy our culture.”
My heart sank. “Really?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, nearly slowing for a stop sign. “The needs of the few shouldn’t ruin the foundations for the many.”
I took my hand away. “How’s that?”
“They let us dance, then where does it end? You want us let into church? We gonna let in robbers and molesters, too?”
My stomach dropped and my head spun. “You think we are like them?”
“Well, we all break the rules of God.”
“Molesters, though?”
Mrs. Tanya May Rogerton made one of her famous hard rights, nearly clipping a telephone pole. I held onto the door handle.
“You think one sin means more than another?” she asked.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. “Yes! That’s why there’s the Ten Commandments. Those are the big ones.”
“So they let us in church, then what? We gonna kiss in front of children?”
She skidded through the gravel on the side of the finished road heading into town.
I said, “Honestly, I don’t know anymore if I think that this is a sin. I can’t seem to see who it is hurting. And I won’t sit here and be likened to a murderer by the person who—who—”
“Who what?” She grabbed for her sunglasses in the glove compartment, moving more than a few times into the oncoming lane.
“Who I love!” I said. “There.”
“Oh, you are too easy, Nana Dara. Here, hon.” She pulled a pair of tickets from her bra. They were to some place called Kitty’s in Dallas. “We are driving to Dallas. I got us a hotel room. These are tickets to a lesbian dance. We are going dancing.” She leaned over and kissed me again, smelling like lemon. “And I’m glad that you love me.”
“I don’t understand. Do you think we’re evil?”
She let out a heavy breath then laughed. “Oh, honey. I am kidding you!”
“You are meaner than a mongoose in a stocking.”
“You know I just like drama.” She squeezed my thigh. “And be warned, we are not cuddling in this hotel room. We are not snuggling, hon. My meaning clear?”
“Crystal,” I said, rereading the tickets. We were going to make love. Oh my.
“You and I are leaving an hour after church. I will drive you home and wait while you pack.” She touched my thigh again. “Prepare yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I sat back, feeling anxious.
Mrs. Tanya May Rogerton smiled over at me like I was a kid on the special bus. She kissed my cheek and said, “For the record, I do not think we are sinners. We were just born too soon for the rest of the world to realize that.”
× × ×
Service went fast with me worried nearly sick about my upcoming encounter with Mrs. Tanya May Rogerton. I watched her from the choir loft, singing her heart out like any other day, while I was up there perspiring and breathing deeply, so as not to trigger a heart attack. What if our lovemaking is a disaster? What if I unveiled myself and she’s not attracted to me? What about my feet, for God’s sake?
Then the world came to a halt. I realized she hadn’t said she loved me back. I said I loved her in the car, and she hadn’t said it back. Forget all the rest.
I barely got through the last two songs, missing cues and leaving my choir brethren in the lurch several times. After the service was over, Mrs. Tanya May Rogerton met me at the bottom of the choir loft stairs with a smile. My neck was sweaty and I had some kind of rash on the backs of my hands.
I said, “Let’s skip breakfast.”
She smiled, took her arm and wrapped it in mine, and walked me out past the precise white lines of Seventeenth Street Baptist’s parking lot. All the while I’m wondering if she’s just being polite somehow, like she feels badly for me being in love with her when she was just having fun.
“I have another surprise for you,” she said.
“I don’t think I can take it.”
“Shush now.” She looked hard at me. “I bought you that skin surgery we talked about. I know you are low in funds due to all the hospital bills and such, so I called a Dallas skin specialist and it’s my treat.”
I stopped short. “What?”
“You are going there right now—don’t worry, I will feed your cats and the pugs. I’m driving you to the doctor in Dallas, but I’ll come back and tend to things here. Keep walking or people will stare.” She waved to a big-headed woman who always brought vanilla fudge with pecans to Christmas events. “The doctors need to see you for a day before you go in, then you need to recover for a few days. That’ll be about a week. Just in time for us to use these tickets for Kitty’s, the way I add it up—and I got all As in mathematics.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “You got me the surgery? You’re amazing. I just can’t believe it.”
“It’s a selfish plan really.” She winked. “You need to get comfortable in that body of yours. Oh,” she said, snuggling in close to me, “and to intensify the drama of this moment: I love you too.”