On the Rooftop by Margaret Wilkerson Sexton

Author:Margaret Wilkerson Sexton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

Vivian

The Sunday Mr. Franklin was scheduled to attend Shiloh Baptist, Vivian washed and rolled her hair, sat under the dryer reading the word, then dressed in her purple three-quarter-length-sleeve knit swing dress. She set her black circle hat atop her long curls, and she rooted through her cosmetic bag for a pink shade of lipstick that accented the blush on her cheekbones. She let the girls sleep in and played her gospel numbers low. She hummed instead of singing; she fried shrimp to go with the grits, and she sat on the roof with her coffee for some time before she called for everyone to get ready. She didn’t rush them. She pulled the car up to the front of the house and waited, humming all the while. Late as they were, they got the best parking spot again, the one right next to Preacher Thomas. And as if to welcome them, when they walked in halfway through the second number, the heaviest woman in the choir, Sister Nancy, fell to her knees, calling out for the Lord to hold her place back home.

Soon one morning

I’m gonna lay down my cross

Vivian wasn’t healed, far from it, but talking to Preacher weeks earlier had peeled back a layer of her anguish, enough so that, though it still sat firm inside her, she could maneuver around it. She could smile at the patients at work, access the soft tone she reserved for the ones she favored. She hadn’t spoken to her children much, but she could cook beside them; she could listen to them laugh among themselves. And when those moments too became unbearable, she revisited Preacher’s words.

Because of that, when he got up on that podium, she felt like the two of them were joined. As he paced back and forth, she felt her own heart picking up speed. And as he shouted “Can I hear an amen?” she didn’t need to respond, not verbally. It was her own mind and heart that had caused him to say that phrase in the first place, and so answering it would have been redundant.

And then he asked, “How many of y’all follow Christ?”

And they all raised their hands, including Mr. Franklin from the first pew. And Preacher went on and asked again, “No, I’m serious, how many of y’all actually follow Christ our Lord Jesus? Not in the church with your hats perched just so and your lipstick lined up and your dress sashaying in that good Northern California breeze. I’m not talking about how you rallied yourselves to get here and present like you do. I’m not even talking about the prayers you mouth back to me or the saints up there on the stage knocking their heads back, all ‘Lalalalala,’ and Lord, you know I love the singing. I love the heft of it, the surprises inside every verse, the sacredness of it, the sensuality of it, yeah, I said it, there’s something sensual about praising God. It feels almost like—yeah, you know what I’m talking about.

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