Page 60 of Bless This Hot Mess

Her mother beamed, “yes! And because he was curious. He wanted, no, he needed to know just who Rebekkah Mordecai is.” She reached out, taking Rebekkah’s hands in hers. “This is why you’re here, Rebekkah, and why the rapture hasn’t happened yet. God looked down, and She saw you, and She said to Herself, ‘that is my child. That lady is going to grab the mic and set itright. That little Rebekkah Mordecai is inspired. She can sing. She can act. She can tap! And she’s going to let all Greater Napanee know…”

Rebekkah grinned, finally giving in, “... and the Land O’Lakes region!”

Her mother’s eyes sparkled with delight, “yes,andthe Land O’Lakes region, she’s going to make sure they know, that God isn’t a dude.”

Rebekkah raised her voice with a triumphant vocal run, “She’s a dudette!”

Her mother smiled, full of pride, “That’s my girl.”

LISTEN to HERstory

Chapter 8

Chicken of the Sea

When the heavens open and blessings pour down, it’s best to remember umbrellas can be held upside down.

The WWJD lobby, once a heavenly haven of beige walls and mauve faux-leather seating, now hummed with chaos. The air carried the sharp tang of burnt coffee and the relentlessRING! RING!of the office phones. Over in the corner, a dusty fax machine whirred, spitting out messages like an overworked stenographer.

Carrington, impeccably dressed in a mint, satin shirtdress that shimmered faintly under the fluorescent lights, darted from phone to phone, headset slightly askew. Their normally smooth demeanour was fraying at the edges.

“WWJD! What would Jesus Do? What can I do for you?” they said, voice pitched high and frantic. “PLEASE HOLD!” Their finger jabbed at the blinking button, the line switching to another caller in an instant.

The phones continued their relentlessRING! RING!

“WWJD! What would Jesus Do? What can I do for you? PLEASE HOLD!”

Another ring. Another frantic answer, “WWJD! What would Jesus do? What can I do for you?PLEASE HOLD!”

Overhead, the intercom buzzed. Suwarna’s voice, steady as always, cut through the chaos, “Carrington, is everything okay down there? You sound a little… stretched.”

“Not now, Suwarna!” Carrington shot back, one hand waving toward the ceiling like a cow’s tail shooing a bee. “I have like thirty-seven people on hold! Can our switchboard even handle that?!”

The intercom buzzed again, and Suwarna’s voice cut through the din, maintaining its unflappable calm, “I’m coming down to help. There’s a point in every VP of Communications’ life when they need to step away from their corner office overlooking the river, take the elevator down two floors, and help her people.”

Carrington nearly melted with relief, “Suwarna, yes, you’re a saint! Now, please, PLEASE come help. I’m drowning here!”

A pause. Then Suwarna’s voice returned, sharp and concerned, “Carrington! Not the D-word. What if Emma-Lou overheard you? As Career and Guidance Counselor here, I must remind you that the following words have been banned at WWJD: drowning, open sea, buoy, buoyancy, Buoy-O-Boy life jacket, triangle, triangular, Isosceles triangle, Isosceles trapezoid…”

“SUWARNA!” Carrington interrupted, practically shrieking, “I KNOW the list!I need help!Please justcome rescue me!”

Another pause. “Carrington,bothof those phrases are also banned. I’ll be down shortly.”

Carrington pushed their bangs out of their eyes with ahuff, muttering, “Thank you. I need to go. There are thirty-seven people waiting for me to get back on the line.”

“Wait! You have thirty-seven people on hold? Find out what they want. I’m coming down to get to the bottom of this. You can hang up now.”

“I can’t hang up on you. You’re on the intercom. You just need to stop pressing the button.” The crackle of the intercom disconnected, and Carrington dutifully picked back up the phone, “WWJD! Thank you for holding. What can I do for you? Mm hmm… yes, she said that? Mm hmmm… she sang about it? Mm hmmmm… a tap interlude? Yes? You’d like toadvertise? Absolutely! Yes, itisour most popular show. Trinity Radio Hour. Mm hmm… and will this be a one-time spot or would you like to…? For the next three months? All spots during the Trinity Radio Hour?”

Moments later, the elevator dinged, and Suwarna, dressed in an impeccably pressed burgundy blazer, walked briskly toward the front desk, Emma-Lou trailing behind.

“Thank you, Tonya. I’m just going to put you on a baareeef hold and then we’ll get your billing account set up, mmkay?” Carrington, now juggling two phones and a notepad with a credit card number scrawled on it, greeted them with wide, frantic eyes. “Emma-Lou! Suwarna! So nice of you to answer my cry for hel–uh, myrequestfor assistance.”

Emma-Lou frowned, “Carrington, what is going on?”

“Why is everyone calling us? Is the building on fire? I didn’t see any smoke from my corner office overlooking the park on the West or the windows overlooking the river valley on the North,” Suwarna offered. “But I do smell something burning. Did someone use the Pop-O-Matic popcorn machine in the lobby again? I sent out a memo weeks ago. It’s a firehazard. Please refrain. We can’t have another disaster on our hands or my conscience.”

“You know I’m strictly off corn due to how it horrifies me by reappearing days later once I’ve clearly forgotten about it. It’s such a spooky vegetable.” Carrington gestured to the phones and the blinking switchboard, their voice almost triumphant. “The Trinity Radio Hour is what’s going on! Ever since the show started, the phones, and even the fax, have been ringing off the hook!”