Back to Me

by Wanda B. Campbell

Paige placed the necklace back in the pile for final inspection. “I didn’t mean to imply you’re rich,” she said, fumbling for words. “It’s just that your brother doesn’t strike me as the school type. I didn’t think he’d be interested in school.”

  Jasmine’s face relaxed. “Why not?”

  “Well, because, he . . .” Paige let the words hang when she noticed that seven sets of eyes had zeroed in on her mouth. How could she answer truthfully without offending not only Jasmine, but also everyone else in the room?

  “You mean because he sells on the street?” Jasmine asked, finishing her sentence for her.

  “Well, I—I heard . . .” Paige replied, stumbling. She fell silent when Jasmine laughed in her face.

  “Your mouth is too holy to say drug dealer or street pharmacist.”

  The other girls joined in Jasmine’s laughter.

  “Well, that’s what he is,” Jasmine asserted. “Everybody knows it. But he did go to school to learn about business. That’s how he started dealing in the first place. He saw how much money his classmates were making by selling to professors and other students, and he decided he could make money being a lifetime student with a hustle on the side and not have to pay taxes.”

  Paige’s jaw dropped.

  “Now he stays in school because that’s his main customer base. And he’s learning how to manage his money.” Jasmine stepped closer to Paige, rolling her neck as she spoke. “See, Miss Paige, book knowledge isn’t the only thing you can learn up at the college.” Jasmine’s lips smacked at the same time that she pivoted her feet and whirled around Paige. She headed toward the assembly line, where she exchanged high fives with the other girls.

  Paige attempted to collapse into the seat in front of a student desk, but the small furniture couldn’t accommodate her long frame. She settled for walking around the perimeter of the room and rubbing her forehead. Hearing about using school as an excuse to sell illegal substances was enough to give her a fresh migraine. And Jasmine had made it sound so normal.

  “Miss Paige, are you all right?”

  Paige, along with the other girls, looked in the direction of the voice. Seniyah stood in the doorway, wearing jeans and a baggy shirt.

  Instantly, Paige’s headache began to subside. Her favorite student had arrived. It didn’t matter that she was nearly half an hour late or that grease stains decorated her sweatshirt. At least the girl had common sense and was on the right path.

  “It’s about time you got here,” Jasmine responded before Paige could answer. “I hope you don’t think we’re going to do all the work while you do nothing.” With rolling eyes, she circled Seniyah. “And where is your backpack? I know you don’t have your marketing plan tucked under that greasy shirt.”

  At the snickers, Seniyah’s head dropped. “I didn’t get to finish. I had something to take care of.”

  “What?” Paige and Jasmine asked almost simultaneously, but Jasmine also snapped her neck and rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t understand,” Paige said while rubbing her forehead. The migraine was back. “You said you were going home to work on it when I saw you on Saturday.”

  “Oh, so now y’all hangin’ out? I know she’s your favorite and all, but we could all use some help. We all tryin’ to get out the hood.” Jasmine shook her head and then stomped over to the other girls, whose facial expressions bore just as much attitude as Jasmine exhibited.

  “You d-don’t understand. It’s n-not what you think.” Paige found herself stuttering once again. She couldn’t reveal that she’d seen Seniyah in the free food line. She couldn’t have the girls thinking she favored one over the other, either, even if that were the case. “We weren’t hanging out. I ran into her while I was working,” she explained.

  Jasmine smirked, and the girls cosigned with “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s all it was,” Seniyah said, trying to reassure them. “I was taking care of business for my mother when I bumped into her. I didn’t receive any special treatment. Miss Paige treats us all the same.”

  “That’s right. I’m equally invested in each of you. I want to see all of you succeed,” Paige lied, trying to figure out a way to explain the wool coat she had for Seniyah in the trunk of her car. She walked to the front of the room and stood next to the chalkboard. “Come on, ladies,” she said, attempting to finally gain control of the class before things got further out of hand. “Let’s take a break from production and decide on a marketing strategy.”

  The girls didn’t object verbally, but each one eyed Seniyah with distain.

  “First, I want to commend each of you on completing a marketing plan.” She paused and turned to Seniyah. “You have my business card. You can e-mail me yours tomorrow morning,” she said, more to pacify the other girls than to rebuke Seniyah. “All of you have great ideas that can take DWAP beyond this twelve-week class. With some guidance, I can see a sustainable business in the near future.”

  Paige noted that all the girls, except Seniyah, cheered and exchanged high fives, but she didn’t comment. Her favoritism had caused enough friction for one night.

  Forty-five minutes later, the class ended. While she was running through the parking lot, Paige yelled, “Seniyah, wait.” The short sprint would have been easy if she weren’t wearing boots with three-inch heels. Seniyah stopped and spun around. Even under the dim lights in the parking lot, Paige could see the weariness on the teenager’s face. “I have something to say to you,” she said between huffs.

  Seniyah cowered, as if she expected to be reprimanded for not completing her assignment. “What did I do now?”

  Once again, Paige’s heart ached for the young girl. She was obviously accustomed to negative treatment. “Nothing. Follow me to my car. I want to give you something you need.” With a smile Paige assured her everything was fine and then nudged Seniyah in the opposite direction.

  With every step toward her car, Paige prayed for Seniyah–for everything from her basic needs to her self-confidence. If she was going to succeed at Stanford, she needed to believe she belonged there just as much as the students from rich families. She also needed to speak with Seniyah about her appearance and effective communication skills, but tonight wasn’t the time for that.

  Seniyah reached the car just as Paige pulled the designer black wool coat from the trunk. She thrust it at her. “What do you think?” As always when she did the Lord’s work, Paige’s expectations were great. The style wasn’t what teenagers in the inner city favored, and the wool didn’t exactly go with sweats, but the coat would keep her warm. “Well?” Paige said when Seniyah didn’t respond with the enthusiasm Paige had expected.

  Seniyah glanced over her shoulder before saying, “It’s nice, Miss Paige, but you didn’t have to buy me a coat. I have a jacket.”

  Paige heard the embarrassment in her voice. Even though she was poor, Seniyah had her pride. “I know,” she said, remembering the fleece sweat jacket she’d seen Seniyah wear in the past. “I just thought this would be a nice change for the colder days, and for next winter at Stanford,” she added with a smile. “Besides, it was on sale,” she lied again, glad she’d removed the price tag.

  Seniyah’s facial muscles relaxed, but she didn’t smile. “Thank you,” she said and took the coat from Paige, holding it against her body.

  Paige pressed the electronic button to close the trunk. “You can thank me by completing your assignment and arriving to class on time.” She started for the driver’s door. “I’ll be waiting for that e-mail.”

  “Yes, Miss Paige. First thing tomorrow.” Seniyah started backing away. “See you next week. Thanks again for the coat.”

  “Take care.”

  Inside the car, Paige selected a praise tune and sang all the way home. She’d added another item to her list of good deeds, totally ignoring the fact that she had lied to do so.

  Chapter 6

  As Paige drove down Highway 13 after Sunday worship service, she considered how deceptive the Bay Area’s weather coul
d be. The bright sun and the cloud-free blue sky gave the appearance of a warm day. However, the thermostat in her car registered forty-eight degrees. To local residents, the low temperature was near freezing. A scarf, gloves, earmuffs, knee-length boots and her long wool coat kept her warm.

  In many aspects her life mirrored the deceitful weather. From the outside, Paige’s life appeared to be in order, but inner peace was beyond her reach. Regret and pain resided in her spirit daily, and she had occasional bouts of depression. Two weeks had passed since the anniversary of the abortion, and she was sleeping through the night again, but not restfully. Every morning tense muscles greeted her, accompanied by a headache, which would leave after her daily dose of Starbucks.

  This morning, instead of drinking Starbucks, Paige prayed until the pressure subsided enough for her to prepare for church. Today wasn’t her assigned Sunday on the praise and worship team, so she was able to arrive for the service an hour later. As fatigued as she was, Paige should have gone straight home after the service, but being a glutton for punishment, she found herself headed to Kevin’s house for the celebratory dinner following the christening of Tyson’s daughter.

  Kevin and Tyson were best friends, so the fact that they were godparents to each other’s children wasn’t a surprise. What did surprise, and to some extent hurt, Paige was their insistence on including her in their happy lives. True, she had befriended both of them in college and had kept in touch over the years. They even attend the same church. She had handled both Kevin’s and Tyson’s real estate transactions. And yes, she was happy that Reyna, who was her former employee and was now Tyson’s wife, had rededicated her life to the Lord, but they just didn’t understand how miserable their happiness made her. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn down the invitation. If she were truthful, she enjoyed the fellowship. Hanging with Jenningses and the Stokeses and their extended family was the extent of her social life outside of work, church, and community service.

  As the Moraga Avenue exit approached, she considered going home, but something compelled her to continue on to Kevin’s house. Once she had parked her car, her unexpected anticipation motivated her to practically skip to the front of Kevin’s house. She rationalized that her excitement was due to the chance she had to spend time with little Destiny. She had observed the baby during the ceremony at church and thought she was adorable. Even from three rows back, she could see the hazel eyes the baby had inherited from her father, and had wondered if her baby would have had Tyson’s eye color also.

  “God, help me enjoy this day,” she prayed before pressing the doorbell. “Help me to be happy without feeling pain.”

  “Hey, Paige.” Kevin leaned in and, after a brief hug, stepped aside to allow her entrance. “I’m glad you could make it to see my beautiful goddaughter.” He held out his arm. “Let me take your coat.”

  Before the coat had completely fallen from Paige’s shoulders, Kevin’s wife, Marlissa, joined them with their eighteen-month-old son on her hip. “Hi, girl. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Actually, I am.” As a rule, Paige fasted until after service on Sundays. The two women left Kevin as he was hanging the coat.

  “Good, because you know we always have too much food,” Marlissa stated and steered Paige into the formal dining room, where a buffet covered the ten-foot mahogany table.

  Paige’s stomach growled, but before she satisfied her hunger, she looked around the room. Just as she expected, everyone was there–maternal and paternal grandparents, extended family, several church members, people she didn’t know, and, of course, those bossy prayer warriors from the church. About fifty people were packed into Kevin’s house.

  “Hello, everyone,” Paige said above the friendly chatter and then made her way to the guest of honor.

  “Paige,” Tyson said, standing with baby Destiny in his arms and Reyna by his side. “We’re glad you made it.”

  Paige briefly studied her old friend and her former employee and coveted their genuine love, but only for a moment. “You know I wouldn’t pass up a chance to hold this gorgeous baby,” she said, looking down at Destiny. “Reyna, I swear all you were was an incubator. She looks just like her daddy.”

  Reyna smiled and conceded, “Well, at least she has my complexion.”

  “And your temperament,” Tyson added. “And just like her mama, she has me wrapped around her finger.”

  “Seriously,” Paige said once she stopped laughing, “I’m happy for you, and not just because of Destiny.” She locked eyes with Reyna. “I’m proud of how you’ve turned your life around. How are your plans for school coming?”

  Reyna leaned against Tyson and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thanks to my wonderful husband providing me with a housekeeper and tuition, I start school in three weeks.”

  “Being married to a lawyer has its benefits,” Paige teased.

  “It sure does.” Reyna got up on tiptoe and kissed Tyson’s cheek, then grabbed Paige by the arm. “Let’s get something to eat.” She led Paige to an empty seat to hang her purse.

  Paige’s purse strap had barely draped the chair before Mother Scott’s voice rang out. “How are you doing? And don’t say, ‘Blessed and highly favored,’ and don’t speak in tongues.”

  “We ain’t in church now. You can talk normal,” First Lady Drake added.

  The room erupted in laughter.

  Paige wasn’t sure if she preferred to be accosted by the prayer warriors privately or to be embarrassed publicly. One thing was certain. It was useless to confront them, because although their delivery could be harsh, their assessment was correct.

  “Besides hungry, I’m fine,” Paige answered through a forced smile.

  “There’s plenty to eat,” Mother Scott responded. “I’m just happy to see you someplace other than church. Make sure you get some of that potato salad. It’s good. I know because I made it,” she added as an afterthought.

  “It ain’t as good as it used to be,” First Lady Drake said, butting in, “but it’s all right.”

  “Ain’t nothing you make half as good as it used to be. That’s why you got that German chocolate cake from the bakery,” Mother Scott shot back. “And you had the nerve to try to pass it off as homemade.”

  First Lady Drake’s jaw fell. “What are you talking about?”

  Mother Scott leaned back and wagged her index finger. “You had the nerve to remove the cake from its original box with the label on it and wrap it in foil, but you forgot to take the doily from underneath the cake. The bakery’s logo is plain as day.”

  First Lady Drake rolled her eyes at her prayer partner. “So what? It must be pretty good, since you’re wearing half of it on your hips.”

  Mother Scott smacked her lips and snarled at the first lady. “Well, at least I don’t need a water hose to measure my hips.”

  Paige couldn’t prevent her mouth from hanging open as she listened to the two women who were supposed to be holy prayer warriors. Their behavior was reprehensible. They had the nerve to complain about how much time she spent at church. Given their ungodly behavior, the prayer warriors needed to live inside the sanctuary.

  “Lord, have mercy! I don’t believe this—” Paige began, but the mothers cut her off.

  “You don’t believe what? That’s it’s possible to have fun and still be saved?” First Lady Drake questioned.

  “You’re too deep for me. Everybody knows Drake and I are the very best of friends and we poke fun at one another all the time.” Mother Scott gestured around the room. “You see ain’t nobody paying us any attention but you. Maybe you should stop praying for mercy and ask the Lord to help you relax.”

  “Yeah,” the first lady added. “You gon’ mess around and give yourself a stroke.”

  Paige couldn’t believe it. In a matter of seconds the dynamic duo had gone from attacking each other to double-teaming her. She looked at Reyna for help, but the other woman just shrugged. Paige continued on to the buffet table without offering a rebuttal.


  “I know they come across as harsh, but trust me, they got your back,” Reyna offered once they were out of earshot. “Those sisters are some real ride-or-die chicks in both the spirit and in the natural. Trust me, I know.”

  “That’s what Tyson keeps telling me,” Paige replied dryly.

  “You know lawyers don’t lie, so you should believe him.” The two shared a laugh. “Seriously,” Reyna said, sobering, “just about everyone in this room has benefited from their fervent prayers and their rebukes. You remember how torn up I was, don’t you?”

  Paige surveyed the crowd once again. In the room were former alcoholics, drug users, manipulators, gamblers, and sex addicts, and those were just the ones Paige knew from church. All had testified about how the mothers had helped them find deliverance. Even Kevin’s mother—a former pastor—credited the mothers for helping her see the light. That might be the case for them, but Paige thought the mothers could use a refresher Bible lesson on drawing in people with love and kindness.

  “Of course I remember your rebellious days, but let’s not talk about that now. I’m starved.” Paige had had enough of the rude church folks.

  Once she was at the buffet, Paige felt the magnitude of her hunger. The spread for the six-month-old baby’s christening was a smorgasbord of her favorites. In record speed she was balancing one plate loaded with tiger prawns, barbecued ribs, and fried chicken wings and another plate piled high with salads, fruit, and macaroni and cheese.

  “You really are hungry,” Reyna teased and then filled a cup with punch for Paige.

  “You know how it is when you have to fast until after service every Sunday to hear a word from the Lord,” Paige answered matter-of-factly, as if every Christian abstained from food on Sunday mornings.

  Reyna’s face twisted before she started back to the table. “I thought pushing the plate back on Sunday was optional, not mandatory.”

  “Oh no. We’re supposed to eat from the spiritual table first, then from the natural table. That’s how we learn what God’s will is for our life,” Paige explained, but inwardly she admitted that the regimen hadn’t cleared up her foggy life.