Distant+Whispers

Mikell’s tears flowed freely.
Eventually the novelty of Mikell began to wear off. The attention shifted from Mikell to
harnessing wayward kids with a stern gaze. Car keys were pulled out of purses and from key chains
dangling beneath hot church jackets. Their jangling alerted the stragglers that their ride was about to
leave. Goodbyes were said hastily. There no was public transportation to speak of and many of the
members lived far outside of the city, in the ‘bush’.
As the last of the congregation filed out of the church, Pastor Verlene approached Mikell,
followed by the head deaconess, Sister Ruthie and the assistant pastor, Sister Beka. They hugged,
kissed and blessed all who needed hugs, kisses and blessings as they edged their way to Mikell’s
pew. They stood in front of him like a trio of powerful elderly Munchkins. The preacher woman faced
Mikell, the top of her head barely reaching Mikell’s chest. She leaned back and took in the fullness of
this visitor to her church, scrutinizing his face and peering at the red fuzz beginning to grow on his
head.
“You say y’all from Germany?” Her voice dripped with the same Geechee drawl that he had
heard in the woman by the roadside.
“Yes.” Mikell paused. “I mean yes, ma’am.”
Sister Beka squinted at Mikell. “You got kinfolks in Sous’ Ca’lina.”
Mikell froze. He wasn’t sure if it was a question—or a statement!
“Dat boy favor Reverend Jake, enny?” said Pastor Verlene, nodding towards Sister Ruthie. Pastor
Verlene was only long winded when she was preaching.
Sister Ruthie eyeballed Mikell.“Um hmm. You talking ‘bout Rev’ren Jake Tyler? Reds Tyler? De
Rev’ren what got de haid full of curly hair, what looks like fire.” She lowered her head and peered
over the top of her bifocals at Mikell. “Um humm! Yea, he do. Got de same cow lips. And look at dat
big ole buss head. Rev’ren Tyler’s people ain’t got nuthin’ but haid…and lips.”
“Dat boy ain’t no more’n thirty!” humphed Pastor Verlene. “He can’t be no chile of Rev’ren Tyler.
Any chil’run’ of Reds Tyler would be fifty or sixty years old. But now dat I looks at him good, he do
favor ole Reds Tyler. He sho’ do now.” Pastor Verlene nodded at Sister Beka and Sister Ruthie.
“Reds make how many chil’run?” asked Sister Beka.
“T’ree—two gyuls and one boy.” Sister Ruthie spoke quickly. “I know, cause the momma died
after that boy was born! Yes, I do know that. He was the youngest.”
Sister Beka placed her hands on her chin. “Whatevah happened to those two gyuls and dat boy?”
Sister Ruthie frowned. “De two gals went North, wit’ dey grandmudda. She ain’t want the boy.
Just took the two gals!”
“She ain’t took the boy cause he wuz too dark.” Pastor Verlene’s face froze in disgust.
Sister Beka spoke up. “Um hmm, and dem girls were redbone, light-skinned, wit good hair! Long
hair like white folks!”
“That’s right. Long red hair,” added Sister Ruthie.
“Such a evil ting. The way she left dat boy here all by heself,” Pastor Verlene said, shaking her
head.
“Um hmm. But Gawd made a way,” Sister Ruthie said.
Pastor Verlene shook her head. “Yes, he did, now. Gawd always on time,”