the botherers
I waited by the mailbox until they left – two men in mustard colored tops and too-short ties; a woman in a frightful floral pattern that skimmed her ankles and made for modest – then walked across the street and onto my neighbors porch.
“Them lot’s scared to death some body’s gonna come along and win more souls than they do.” The old lady sat on a wicker sofa. Her good leg resting on a cushioned ottoman. The matching stump dangling behind it. I moved to adjust her half-a-limb and she shooed me away. “Problem they got is they can’t save a soul that’s already been made right. So they somehow got to make it wrong.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “They don’t like it cause My Lynn was a Methodist. God rest him. Poor thing’s been gone for thirty years and they still wont let us be.”
“Them two fat ones come here every Saturday. Just as sure as sugar. Today that short one,” she pointed at one of the yellow shirts as it disappeared down the street, “was talkin ’bout fire and brimstone. Like somebody ever went to Heaven just cause they was scared of Hell! Pssh.”
She picked up a sweet from a crystal dish on her lap and began to unwrap it. “I told ’em, Now what d’I want with fire and brimstone. Ain’t that what Jesus is for? So we ain’t got to bother ’bout stuff like that? The look on their faces. Lord you should have seen ’em scowl!”
She threw her head back and laughed herself into a fit of coughing.
“But you know them lot,” she said, clearing her throat. “That’s what they’re like. They come here all pretend charitable and so full of judgment they could bust. That’s why their bellies is so big.”
“Ms Mary – they call me Ms Mary cause I wont let ’em call me sister. Ms Mary, they say, you’re in the dark. Wont you let us help you see?”
“I tell ’em ain’t a thing wrong with these eyes. They been seeing just fine for eighty-five years now. But they don’t listen.” She rubbed her eyes. The ones she saw Jesus with. And let out a sigh. “They just shake their heads and look all sorry for me. Like I’m the most pitiful thing in their God-botherin’ world.”
She stared for a moment. Into a space that wasn’t there. And then looked at the bag in my hands.
“So what’re we gonna read today? I feel like something common. You got any Yankee books in that bag?”
