“Of course. Maybe we should pray first. Men ought to always pray and not faint.” Again he felt our stare. “Or not, amen. That’s in Galatians.” He cleared his throat again. “I’ll just be over there. Let the Lord use you.”

“Gail, how could you do this? I thought you were my friend?” I hissed, fuming with anger, trying to keep my twitching fist from punching her dead in her face.

“I am your friend.”

“Friends don’t do this to friends.”

“Do what? Try to be happy? ’Cause that’s the only thing I see that I did.”

“Try to be happy? With Curtis? Gail, please, give me a break.”

“Oh, what, I can’t be happy with Curtis? ’Cause he’s a minister?”

“Uh…yeah. Curtis is looking for the first lady of his church, Gail.”

“And?”

“And? First, you would have to go to church; and second you would have to be a lady. Neither of which you have ever done or ever been.”

“So what exactly are you saying, Montana? You calling me a ho?”

“No, Gail. I’m calling you a whore. It’s in Ephesians, right, Curtis?”

Pausing, Gail took a moment to digest my words. “You know what, Montana, I’m really sorry you feel that way. And I’m sorry for going after somebody that you said you didn’t want. But Montana, you ain’t the only woman in this got-damn world that wants to be happy, okay? Did you ever think that maybe listening to you talk about getting married every freaking day for the past ten years may have made me want the same thing? I know I joke and play a lot and I may say some things that make you think I don’t care about love, but I do. I’m just like you, Montana. I’m looking for the same things you’re looking for. Somebody that I can love and somebody that will love me back. And I’m sorry if I hurt you, and I’m sorry you had to find out about it this way. I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how. I am still your friend. And I hope you feel the same way about me.” She turned away from me and signaled to Curtis. “Come on, Curtis. It’s time to go. My friend and I are finished.”

“You know in Ephesians it says, ‘There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.’”

“Shut up, Curtis!” I said, this time wanting him to sticketh his Bible where the sun don’t shine.

Clearing his throat for the umpteenth time, Curtis offered, “Montana, I’m real sorry about all of this. It just kinda sorta happened out of nowhere. I hope you’ll forgive me. Just like Paul in Ephesians talked about Jesus forgiving us our trespasses. Oh, and one more thing.”

“What, Curtis?”

“The roses.”

“What about them?”