Read 2-in-1 Yada Yada for Free Online Page A

From the relative anonymity behind the almost-closed bathroom door—like a pink-tiled confessional—I called out, “I was worried about you when I found you missing in the middle of the night. What happened?”
    Florida laughed from the other side of the door. “You snore, girl! Had to find me another bed if I was going to get any sleep.”
    I was so startled I stopped peeing in midstream. “Oh, gosh, Flo. I’m sorry!” I didn’t know I snored. Denny never complained. I emerged a moment later feeling both embarrassed and contrite. “It’s terrible to pay all this money for a hotel room and end up on the floor. I’ll trade tonight, okay?”
    â€œHey, don’t you worry about me. I’m a light sleeper— anything wakes me up.” Florida disappeared into the bathroom. “Besides,” she called back, “those long cushions from the sofa made a great bed—better than the one I’ve got at home. Turned on a little white noise, and I slept like a baby.”
    She poked her head back out of the bathroom door. “You guys going to that prayer thang at seven? Don’t wait for me. I’ll meet you at breakfast.”
    SOMEHOW AVIS AND I BOTH GOT SHOWERED and dressed and down the elevator just as the lobby clocks ticked past seven. I had even managed to pour three Styrofoam cups of coffee made in the tiny coffeemaker perched on top of the in-room “mini-bar.” Avis shook her head, which I translated as No-thanks-I-don’t-drink-coffee, but Florida, seizing the moment, simply took a cup in each hand.
    Strike one against spontaneous deep sharing with Avis. What did one do with a girlfriend if you couldn’t go out and bare your heart over bottomless cups of coffee? Or celebrate with an occasional double mocha latte at Starbucks?
    Nony Sisulu-Smith was the only other person from last night’s group when we made our appearance in Meeting Room 7. She was on her knees already praying out loud, so we just sat down in nearby chairs and joined her. At least I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on Nony’s prayer. Her cultured voice rose and fell like a piece of classical music. But as I listened, her prayer sure did seem full of a lot of clichés.
    â€œ . . .You are the root and the offspring of David, the bright and morning star. The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. Let him that is thirsty, come. Thank You, Father! Thank You that You have said, Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely . . .”
    On and on she went, her voice growing stronger. “I will bless the Lord at all times. Your praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul shall make her boast in the Lord; the humble shall hear and be glad. O magnify the Lord with me! Let us exalt his name together! . . .”
    I opened my eyes and peeked. Nony’s cheeks glistened with moisture. Avis was on her feet, murmuring, “Yes! Thank You, Father! . . . Thank You, Jesus! . . .” as Nony prayed. I closed my eyes again. Looked like Nony was going for the long haul.
    â€œO God, we know that young lions do lack, and suffer hunger. But if we seek the Lord we shall not want any good thing . . .”
    Speaking of hunger, wasn’t breakfast at eight o’clock? I took a peek at my watch. Only 7:22. Just then I was aware of a presence behind me, and Avis whispered in my ear. “Psalm thirty-four.”
    Psalm thirty-four? Did she want me to look it up? I reached in my bag and pulled out my small travel Bible. Psalm thirty-three . . . thirty-four . . . My eyes skimmed over the verses. Duh. Of course! Nony was praying Psalm thirty-four. Had probably been “praying Scripture” all along. And Avis, no doubt, knew right where each Scripture verse came from. Double duh.
    I squeezed my eyes shut. Okay, God, I feel like a dork. I’m sorry for thinking Nony’s prayer was just a bunch of clichés. You