Back to Me

by Wanda B. Campbell

  “I can’t put this off any longer,” she mumbled while drying her hands. She didn’t want to make the call, but she had to for her own peace of mind. She picked up the landline and punched in the numbers. “Lord, please don’t let me say something stupid.” She finished the plea just before he answered.

  “Dr. Simone speaking.”

  Paige’s breath caught. They had talked on the phone before, but this morning Sergio-Xavier sounded different. His voice was deeper and, Lord help her, downright sexy.

  “Hello? Is someone there?”

  “It’s me. Good morning,” she managed to say after clearing her throat. “I was calling to remind you of our appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

  She heard his chuckle and envisioned those full lips parting into a mischievous grin.

  “Let me guess. You misjudged your assistant, and she quit. Now you have to make reminder calls at seven a.m., right?”

  She joined in his laughter. “Something like that. Is this too early for you? I assumed you’d be getting ready for work as well.”

  “You know what they say about assumptions. When you—”

  “Watch yourself, Preacher.”

  “As long as I have you to keep me straight, I’ll be fine.” His laughter subsided, and Paige wished it hadn’t. It was warm and soothing. “Actually, I’m already at the hospital, preparing for rounds.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you, then—,” she began, but he interrupted.

  “What’s the real reason you called?”

  Why do you always have to be so direct? she wanted to scream but instead swallowed her pride. “Thank you for yesterday. Well, actually for the entire weekend. I had an emotionally draining weekend, and you helped me through the rough spots. Thanks for being patient and understanding. I really needed that. Every time I see a beach, I’ll think of you.” She envisioned him gloating during the long silence that followed. “You’re the best client I’ve ever had, and I haven’t sold you anything yet.” Nervous giggles flowed uncontrollably from her.

  “You’re welcome.” His staid tone threw her off balance. She’d expected laughter or a joke. “I have to go, but I will definitely keep our appointment tomorrow. I want to get this project off the ground before spring.”

  That was a nice dismissal, she thought but said, “Okay, well, have a good day.”

  “Paige,” she heard him call just as she was about to disconnect the call.

  “Yes, Dr. Simone?”

  “Feel free to use this number in the afternoon and evening hours as well. If you need me, I’m just a phone call away. Have a good day and a great time with the divas tonight, sweetheart.” Then the line went dead.

  Paige replaced the cordless phone on the charger and then collected her briefcase and jacket from the closet and prepared to leave for work. She’d backed halfway out of the driveway before Sergio-Xavier’s last words registered, causing her to slam on the brakes. “He called me sweetheart!”

  “Divas!” Paige hollered uncharacteristically upon entering the classroom. She’d expected a few surprised expressions from the DWAP girls, but the looks of distain and disgust were uncalled for.

  “Hi,” the group chorused, greeting her collectively with the dryness of the Mojave Desert.

  Jasmine, now with burgundy curls resting on her shoulders, stepped forward. Her twisted lip and scrunched nose made Paige second-guess her decision to wear the gray- and black-checkered, floor-length broomstick skirt and gray sweater instead of the usual black suit. “What’s up with you?”

  Totally deflated, Paige looked down and lifted the skirt to show off the new pair of gray leather boots she’d picked up after her last client. “What do you mean? This outfit is cute and modest.”

  The other girls snickered, but Jasmine outright laughed in Paige’s face.

  “I’ve got to work with you,” Jasmine said and at the same time grabbed Paige by the hand and led her to a regular-size chair that had been placed in the middle of the room. Once Paige was seated, Jasmine added, “You’ll never hook a man as fine as Dr. Simone, looking like this.”

  Paige bolted upright from the chair and stood toe-to-toe with the young girl. “What are you talking about? I’m not trying to hook a man, especially not him. I’m saved. I’m waiting on the Lord. I am—”

  “You’ll be waitin’ awhile,” one of the girls interrupted, “because won’t no man be able to find you under all that fabric.”

  “I’m sure the good doctor knows how to feel his way, but at some point he’s going to want to see what he’s working with,” another girl added.

  Paige gripped the back of her chair. “Now wait a minute!” Paige was not about to let these unsaved, oversexed, and half-educated high school students insult her about her lack of sex appeal. “You are way out of line to discuss my personal life here. I am not one of your girlfriends. I am your instructor. I volunteer to train you, not to discuss some imaginary relationship with Dr. Simone.” With every word, she shook more violently. “We will not discuss my personal life!”

  “We know, because you don’t have one,” someone hollered.

  Uncontrollable laughter filled the room, but Paige stood her ground. Her chest heaved and her cheeks burned, and she was on the verge of tears, because the jesting words carried the truth. “That is none of your business!”

  “Wrong again,” Jasmine said, correcting her. “You made it our business when you made him part of our training session. We saw how he was checking you out.”

  “That’s not true. He was here only to observe,” Paige retorted, defending herself.

  “He did. He checked you out, and we peeped him out. He likes you, but you’re going to have to step your game up to get him.”

  What little professionalism and tolerance Paige had left vanished. “I don’t want him!” she screamed. “And I do not want to discuss this any further. Now, get down to business, or I’ll cancel the session and quit this group.”

  Jasmine’s lips smacked. “Whoa, Miss Paige. What happened to all that professionalism you was teaching us?”

  “Little girl, how dare you turn this around on me?” Paige screamed so loudly that her voice squeaked.

  The room echoed with a collective “Shh!” from the girls.

  “Will you tone it down before an administrator comes in here and shuts us down?” Jasmine pleaded with both hands raised, and then stepped into Paige’s personal space. “For the record, I am not a little girl. I am eighteen years old, which legally makes me an adult. I am the same height as you, and my body is just as curvaceous as yours, but tighter, considering your age.” She pointed to the chair. “Now, sit down so we can get started.”

  “Started on what?” Paige snarled.

  “Not what. Who.”

  “Who?”

  “You, Miss Saved and Sanctified, and running over with a spirit and speaking in an unknown tongue that even you don’t understand.”

  “I will not allow you to make mockery of—”

  “Let me break it down for you this way,” Jasmine interrupted. It was good that she butted, as Paige heard every curse word she knew floating though her head. Jasmine looked around the room. “Everyone who has more than black, brown, blue, and gray in their closet, owns at least one pair of open-toe shoes, and doesn’t wear a bun, please slide back one step.”

  Everyone retreated but Paige, who remained planted where she was standing and seething with anger.

  “Now do you get it?” Jasmine asked.

  “I know what’s in my closet, and I look in the mirror every morning. So I don’t need for you to tell me what I look like,” Paige snapped. “For the last time, let’s get to work on this project before I leave.”

  “Ugh!” Jasmine frantically waved her hands in the air. “You still don’t get it. DWAP’s work is done. We met at my house yesterday, after church, and filled this week’s orders, balanced our accounts, and restocked our inventory.”

  Now Paige was totally confused. “Why would you do that, knowin
g we would meet tonight?”

  “So we could have the whole time to help a sista out.” Jasmine pointed to the black case on the table. “We’re giving you a makeover, and I’m going to show you some quick and easy hairstyles so you can get rid of that bun. We went online and determined your color palette and printed it out so you can take it with you when you shop. Seriously, we know you’re not tryin’to get a man, but you can look good for yourself. I mean, you’re pretty already, so you just need some enhancement.”

  Jasmine pointed to the chair again. “Now, sit down so we can get started. We promise not to have you looking like a fifty-dollar hussy. It’s just that you’ve helped us so much, and this is our way of showing you some appreciation for taking time out of your schedule for us.” Jasmine giggled and then added, “You better take this, ’cause we ain’t got no money to raise you an offering.”

  Paige didn’t realize she was falling until her bottom hit the seat of the chair. She hadn’t seen this coming. Her purpose was to help forsaken inner-city youths, not the other way around. The idea of her learning something from them had never crossed her mind. Neither had she thought that any of them cared about anyone or anything other than themselves. She’d been wrong again.

  She scanned the table more closely. The table contained not only make-up and color swatches and fashion magazines, but also a bowl of grapes and plastic cups, along with two bottles of store-brand apple cider. The girls’ dead silence enabled her to hear the jazz music playing from someone’s smartphone. They had planned what they considered a girls’ night, and seeing the anticipation on each of their faces, she knew she couldn’t disappoint them.

  “Okay, let’s get started,” Paige said between fake coughs, meant to camouflage how much the grassroots effort touched her.

  Cheers of “Great!” and “Let’s get started” filled the room, but only momentarily. The ladies were on a mission and went right to work. Jasmine disassembled the bun and plugged in the curling iron.

  “Have some of this,” one girl said, handing Paige a cup of cider and a small bunch of grapes.

  Another girl held up swatches of colors that would look good with Paige’s skin tone. Paige nodded and tried to remember the fashion tips. “Don’t worry if you can’t remember it all. I made some note cards for you,” the girl told her.

  As soon as Paige finished the cider and grapes, two girls grabbed each of her hands and proceeded to give her a manicure.

  “You have beautiful hair. I don’t know why you insist on hiding it in that throwback bun,” Jasmine said and then instructed someone to hold up the hairstyles that would do Paige’s foot-long tresses justice.

  A giggle slipped from Paige, and for once she didn’t try to stifle it. She was actually having fun with the girls. The idea of her sitting motionless in a chair while these kids helped her look good was hilarious, and all because they thought Sergio-Xavier was interested.

  While the curls cooled and rested, Jasmine started on Paige’s make-up. “Now before you start speaking in tongues and rebuking the devil,” Jasmine said, holding up the M•A•C color palette, “we didn’t steal this. My cousin works at Macy’s, and she gave me a deal, but don’t ask me what kind of deal. Just trust me, it’s legal. We know your whole body is saved, sanctified. Won’t no stolen product adhere to your face. It would just slide right off.”

  Paige wanted to laugh along with the girls, but she couldn’t move or talk. She settled on grunting to communicate that she got the dig, but made a decision not to complain later. They were only having fun, and to be honest, so was she.

  “Get the mirror,” Jasmine ordered with only twelve minutes of their scheduled time left. She tilted Paige’s head upright after adding the finishing touches to her hair.

  Paige opened her eyes to find the girls had packed the leftover snacks and had cleared everything away. Next to her briefcase were the note cards and the pictures they’d shown her earlier. A big square mirror was thrust in front of her face before she could finish surveying the room.

  “Well, what do you think?” they all asked at once.

  Paige almost didn’t recognize herself. Since she’d joined church, her make-up kit, if she could call it that, had consisted of lip gloss and night cream. She now had a full face, but the colors looked natural and her skin glowed. She still went to the salon for a relaxer every six weeks, but she hadn’t worn her hair down in over a year. Her plain, chipped nails were now shaped and smoothed and had a wine color that complemented her skin tone.

  “Well?” the girls persisted. “Do you like it?”

  Paige looked into seven pairs of expectant eyes and for a moment was disappointed. That was when she realized one girl was missing, Seniyah. Paige had been so caught up in the impromptu event that she hadn’t noticed the girl’s absence. She’d talk with Seniyah later, but she wouldn’t disappoint those who were present.

  “I love it!” she screamed.

  “Shh!” the girls chorused. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

  “I love it,” Paige whispered, then opened her arms for a group hug. “Give me a diva hug, but don’t mess up my hair,” she warned. “I look good.”

  The hug ended almost as soon as it had begun. Time was running out. The janitor’s keys could be heard from down the hall.

  “Thank you so much,” Paige said. “You divas are the best. I can’t promise I’ll look like this every day, but I’ll do my best . . . ,” she began.

  “And let God do the rest,” the girls added, finishing the slogan Paige said at each session.

  The girls gathered their belongings, and as they started for the door, Paige touched Jasmine’s arm to get her attention.

  “Yes, Miss Paige?” Jasmine asked.

  The joy in the young woman’s eyes almost made Paige lose courage. “I know you spearheaded this. Thank you. The gesture was nice, but you need to work on your presentation. This could have gone much smoother if you hadn’t opened with insults.”

  Jasmine looked contemplative. “Okay. Well, then, add communication skills to this project. If you teach us, we will listen. We’re not all hopeless heathens. Some of us just don’t know any other way. We’re products of our environment, but if people like you, who know better, teach us better, many of us will listen. Not all of us want our tombstone to say born, raised, and died in the hood.” She gestured toward the girls, who were now milling about. “Why do you think we’re here? We want better. Our generation approaches things differently than yours, but that doesn’t mean you should count us out.”

  Paige nodded. That was exactly what Sergio-Xavier had said. “Okay, I’ll remember that.”

  Jasmine gripped the door handle. “I’m serious. We may travel the hard road, but we do have goals. Take Seniyah, for example. She’s at the top of the class and on her way to Stanford on a full-ride scholarship. She may go into labor while giving her valedictorian speech, and she may have to leave her baby with her mama while she’s at college, but at least she’ll be in school.”

  Paige’s head ceased nodding and started shaking violently. “Whoa! What did you just say? What baby?”

  Jasmine let go of the door handle and stepped back to allow the other girls to file out. “Aw, Miss Paige, don’t tell me you didn’t know your favorite student is five months’ pregnant?”

  “Oh, God, no.” Paige’s lips continued moving, but no sound came forth. She heard words of agony in her head but couldn’t get them out.

  “That’s old news,” Jasmine continued, talking like it was normal for a smart high school girl to end up pregnant in her senior year. Maybe it was normal. Child-care centers were as common as cafeterias in most inner-city high schools. “She’s due a month after graduation. That gives her about six weeks to bond with her baby before heading out to Stanford. Good thing the school is not that far away.”

  “Oh, God.” Paige’s moans grew louder and faster. “What am I going to do?”

  Jasmine flipped the light switch, then exited the room, and Paig
e followed her out into the hallway. “Right now you’re going to get out of here before the janitor comes. Then I hope you make a trip to the mall and pick up somethin’ cute, like in those pictures we showed you.” Jasmine turned and started walking. “Oh, yeah. Tell Dr. Simone we said hello. He can thank us later,” Jasmine yelled over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway.

  Paige’s feet stayed glued to the linoleum until dust from the janitor’s broom sprayed her boots. Thirty minutes later, she pulled into her two-car garage without knowing how she’d made it home. She didn’t remember the highway or the stoplights, as thoughts of Seniyah’s pregnancy and how she’d missed it had dominated her brain. They’d had numerous discussions about her going away to school. Seniyah was happy, or so Paige had thought, but not once had she mentioned that she was not only sexually active, but pregnant also. Didn’t the girl know how hard, if not impossible, it was going to be for her to manage classes and raise a child? And what about money? Seniyah was dirt poor.

  As Paige moped through the house, hanging up her coat and storing her briefcase, so many things made sense to her now. Seniyah’s inattentiveness, lack of enthusiasm, and body language all screamed pregnant in hindsight. “That’s why the coat was tight,” Paige grumbled and flopped facedown on her bed. Her Bluetooth chirped at her ear, denying her the chance to drown her sorrow on the comfortable bed. While still lying facedown and without bothering to check the caller ID, Paige pressed the button and answered the call.

  “Paige McDaniels speaking,” she greeted in her manufactured business voice.

  “Good evening, Paige. Is this a bad time?”

  Paige turned on her back and then bolted upright. Sergio-Xavier’s sonorous phone voice had that effect on her, and he was a good distraction from her current problem. “Hi. Please don’t tell me you’re canceling our appointment tomorrow.”