THE BEST PART OF BEING IN HEAVEN is getting to be with Jesus. When I was alive, I loved Him, but I ain’t never seen Him before. That’s where faith comes in. I’d talk to Him all day long and sometimes I felt like He talked right back; but now that I’m here, I get to see Him and talk to Him and really spend time with Him. He’s the nicest fella you ever want to meet. Oh and guess what, now? He ain’t white, no sir. ’Course, ain’t black neither. Got His own color, sure ’nough. Real bright and shiny—I can’t put it to you any better than that. “Ain’t that right, Jim?”
“That’s right, Mama.”
And you know how folks might say “to know so-and-so is to love him”? Well, now that I know Jesus better, I love Him even more than I ever done on Earth. He comes over to the house real regular to visit with me and Jim and see how we doing. Never seem like He’s in a hurry or nothing, ’though I know He’s got plenty to do. And when He’s around, I feel like I might just bust with being happy. “Ain’t that how you feel, Jim?”
“Mm hmm.” Jim feels it too.
Yes sir, we both agree, Jesus is the best thing ’bout being here, sure ’nough.
Up here in heaven’s a whole lot more entertaining than being there on Earth too. It’s like everything you got down there that’s good with none o’ the bad stuff. None o’ the bad folks neither. Well, I reckon some bad folks is here if ’n they accepted sweet Jesus ’fore they died. And they sure ain’t bad no more, that’s for sure. That’s what I’m hoping for Henrietta anyway—praying for her every day ’cause I wanna see her up here with us someday.
Let’s see, it’s been two months since I been up here in heaven. And EJ and Felicia are getting married today. Ain’t that quick? I ain’t never heard of folks throwing a wedding together in a little over a month, but they done it. If it’s true love, I reckon ain’t no time to waste.
It took her a little while, but Henrietta come around to the idea of EJ and Felicia being together ’bout a week or two ago, just in time. Retta thought, white girl or no white girl, this wedding’s gonna reflect on her, so she ought to be here, sure ’nough. Not to mention, she ain’t got nothing to hold over EJ no more. With him having his own house and being able to live his own life, she figures she’ll lose her only baby if ’n she don’t start acting sweeter to him.
And let me tell you, this is a beautiful wedding, just beautiful. Felicia’s mama and daddy, Mister and Miz Lewis, they got us here at this real pretty French Huguenot church in downtown Charleston, and it sure is nice—white peaks up all over the church with a red roof and tall pointy windows to look out of. And blue velvet on the pews with white Calla Lilies tied on the ends.
I got to say, I ain’t never been to a white-folk wedding before. Jim ain’t neither. We sitting over on the groom side right up in front next to Henrietta and Eddie. Looks like they left two seats empty for us, so we went ahead and took ’em. They got the biggest set o’ organ pipes I ever seen in my life down behind the preacher—like to go plumb up to the ceiling! But it ain’t nothing next to the sight o’ the congregation itself.
“Look at that, Jim,” I tell him. “The church is split plumb down the middle—black folk on one side and whites on the other!” The black half got lots o’ colored hats and fans and movement and such, and the white side’s all muted down, just as proper and boring as it can be. I think so, anyway. We’re on the black side, looking ’round at all our old friends again. There’s Reverend Jefferson. He ain’t the one gonna marry ’em though. No, the one doing that’s a white, mostly bald fella with a pretty quiet voice, if you ask me. Gonna be hard to hear a word he says.
“Hey, Retta. It’s a fine day, ain’t it? I’m so glad I get to be here for this. I sure ain’t wanted to miss it,” I tell her. She don’t hear me though. Just keeps turning and smiling and a-waving to everybody. I think that smile o’ hers is on there permanent ’cause she ain’t took it off, not once. Her face don’t show it, but I can hear it in her head—she’s worried ’bout what everybody else is thinking ’bout her.
She forgets all ‘bout that soon enough when sweet EJ walks on down to the front o’ the room.
“EJ, my baby.” She says it to herself, but Eddie hears her. “You’re all I got now,” she says. Eddie squeezes her arm, and that’s when I hear it. Something I ain’t never known before ’bout Retta. She’s sitting there looking at EJ and thinking o’ some other baby I ain’t never known about! Only thing is, she ain’t never had that baby. Must ‘a been the pregnancy gone bad. Lord have mercy! And she’s thinking ’bout Daddy Jim too. It must ‘a been a awful time for her, ’cause that’s when it happened, sure ’nough! I can see it all so clear-like in her head.
“Oh, Retta, why you ain’t never told me ’bout losing that baby? Is that why you got even meaner when Daddy died?” But she can’t hear me—not a cotton-pickin’ word.
For a minute I can’t think straight—can’t think about EJ or the wedding or nothing. I’m trying to piece my Retta together. “Why in tar-nation you never told me ’bout this? I could ‘a helped you, Retta! Lord have mercy, why you ain’t let me help you though all that?”
I’m ’bout to get to blubbering on account o’ I ain’t been as good a mama to her as I thought! What kind of mama can’t help her baby through a time like that? Lord have mercy, she ain’t trusted her own mama with the truth. And Eddie? I can’t for the life of me figure out why he kept quiet too. I reckon Retta’s the boss over there anyhow and told him to keep his mouth shut. Lord have mercy.
All a sudden, the organ starts tooting and everybody’s head turns. We turn too, and there’s Felicia looking just like an angel in white. She flows on down the aisle real slow on her daddy’s arm, and when he drops her off with EJ, I know Henrietta sees the same look I do. I swanny, that boy and that girl are so smitten, the only color they seeing, looking at each other, is the golden glory o’ Jesus I was talking about.