Crescent City Connection

hour to iron. But she was sulky. “Mama, do we have to stay? I need to get home.”
    “What you need to get home for?”
    “I got homework.”
    “Oh, yeaaah. Oh, yeaaah, you need to get home and do your homework. Now I ain’t never heard that one before.”
    The girl stomped her foot. “I do.”
    “Don’t you go stompin’ your foot at me, and don’t you go tellin’ me somethin’ be true that ain’t. You know how long it take to do your homework, and you can just do it tonight instead of watching television.”
    Another little girl ran up, didn’t even stop, just spoke on the fly. “Hey, Shavonne, come on. I got somethin’ to show you.”
    And Shavonne went off, her impatience forgotten. Dorise thought,
I wish I was like that. Why can’t I be like that? Lot to be said for bein’ under twelve.
    She talked to her mother and her sister, and several women she knew, and then it was time for the buffet and the preacher said the blessing, which usually took him about twenty minutes to do.
    When he had thanked the Lord for this beautiful spring day and the congregation’s loving church fellowship, and everyone’s husband and everyone’s wife and everyone’s children, and their collective health and the beautiful flowers that some of the ladies had brought, and the lovely music provided by the choir, and when he showed no sign at all of getting to the food, Dorise lifted her head and opened her eyes, just for a minute.
    She thought she saw someone she’d never seen before, also peeking, and she was so embarrassed she dropped her head quickly and peeked a little more discreetly. It was a man, a handsome man in a tan suit, with a pair of the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen, and his eyes were wide open. Looking at her.
    No, it couldn’t be. She closed her eyes again, and tried to concentrate on all the things the preacher was trying to remind her she ought to be thankful for. When the blessing was over, she refused to look at the place she’d thought she’d seen the man, and got herself a plate and went to get some food.
    Somebody had brought greens and somebody else had brought squash, and there was ham and fried chicken, and gumbo if you wanted that, and some sweet potatoes, and lots and lots of different pies and cakes. But Dorise wasn’t interested in sweets today. She thought she’d lose a little weight, and so she was thinking about vegetables. There were some nice-looking crowder peas, she saw, and she was about to head for them when she heard a man’s voice, almost in her ear: “Is he always that long-winded?”
    She almost dropped her plate. It was the stranger, and he was smiling at her. He was tall and very light-skinned, lighter even than Troy, and he looked like he could probably build a house by himself if he wanted to, or maybe lead the children of Israel into the promised land. He was the last kind of man she wanted to be anywhere around right now, but she was in church—in the church building, anyway. It wouldn’t be polite to pretend she hadn’t heard.
    She smiled and looked him in the eye. “Yeah. I’m ’fraid he is.”
    “Well, he does preach a nice sermon. I’m kind of lookin’ around for a church; my aunt used to go here so I thought I’d try it.”
    “Are you new in town?”
    “Umm-hmm. Just moved here from Monroe.” He took a bite and said, “Oh, my heavens, you’ve got to try this. This has got to be the best thing I ever put in my mouth.”
    “Well, I made that, to tell you the truth. It’s just this little thing I do with, uh, mushroom soup and stuff.”
    “My Lord, it’s good.”
    He stuffed some more in his mouth, and Dorise finally got a chance to reach for the crowder peas. But when she had them on her plate, he was still there. “I’m Dashan Jericho, by the way.”
    “Dorise Bourgeois. We’re mighty glad to have you here.” She didn’t ask him any questions about himself, made no attempt to keep the conversation going.
    He said, “Have you been going here a long time?”
    “Oh, about a year. Something like that.”
    “And you like it.”
    “Mmm-hmm. I especially like the choir.” Very neutral. Maybe he’d move on soon.
    “Well, like I said, I just moved from Monroe. I was with a law firm there, but when I got divorced, I got a good offer to come work for a firm down here, and it seemed like a good time to move.”
    “I sure hope you’re going to be happy here.”
    “So far everybody’s been real friendly. That’s your little