by T. D. Jakes
None of the books or tapes she had given Michelle had helped—and Tonya had only given Michelle gifts and books that had actually helped her dig herself out of her own situations. The gifts only seemed to make Michelle angry.
But the flowers and the card had seemed to be working. Thank You, God, she had whispered to herself. She was happy she had been obedient and had bought the flowers. She’d leaned forward in her seat, enthralled by the enjoyment that Michelle’s happiness brought her.
Just as soon as Tonya had relaxed, though, Michelle frowned. And then Michelle was in her face, waving the card at her. Michelle was yelling, shouting and carrying on, and she was so dangerously close Tonya could feel the other woman’s breath on her chin. Michelle was yelling something at Tonya about minding her own damned business, something about being “holier than thou” and about kicking something even if she was in an office.
The elevator door opened. She was glad the car was empty and that there were twenty-four floors to her office. She stepped inside. Normally the slow-moving elevator irritated her. Today she was grateful for the time. Maybe she would have it all figured out by the twenty-fourth floor. Right.
Cinnamon cappuccino. That’s what she had smelled on Michelle’s breath. Tonya felt her mind wandering again. What was happening had to be a nightmare. Michelle hadn’t really yelled at her in front of everyone in the office. Mrs. Judson hadn’t really stood in her doorway watching the whole thing. It had to be a dream.
Only it wasn’t a dream.
Michelle had pushed up on her so close—hands on her hips, nails flicking in Tonya’s face, jumping up and down, screaming like a crazy woman—and she had seemed to be trying to move even closer. It was fighting language. Fight-or-flight language. Either you were going to run from the yelling or you were going to stand and fight. Tonya knew Michelle had expected her to run.
That was the thing about being saved. It was the thing about being labeled. People didn’t know who you were—or who you had been, for that matter. Some people seemed to think that her choice to live in peace and to minimize confrontation came from fear.
What Michelle didn’t know was that there was a day—a day not long ago—when Tonya would have been more than happy to go to fist city with her, to knock her out. Tonya put her one hand on her hip and used the other to hide a quick smile as she remembered the old days. Michelle better ask somebody! She better recognize! Tonya sighed and dropped her hands. It was another one of those things people didn’t understand.
Even she didn’t know how to explain to people what having an intimate relationship with the Lord had done to her. Some days she didn’t know herself why she wasn’t slapping people when they got on her nerves, but something had happened after she had gotten closer to the Lord that had changed her life. Before, she would have pounded Michelle . . . joyfully. Now she cried to the Lord about her verbal beatdown—and she waited and trusted Him to work it out. Though more times than not, Tonya still thought she could give the Lord just a little bit of help.
Fourteenth floor. Going up.
Lord, maybe You want me to get fired from this job. That’s where things seem to be headed. But what I’m hoping for is just some kind of sign, or some kind of breakthrough. Michelle doesn’t have to be my best friend, Lord. But I need something. Something!
Fifteenth floor.
The elevator doors opened.
“Hey, baby girl!”
It was Shadrach. Tonya’s shoulders relaxed.
“How’s it going?”
Tonya didn’t know why she began telling Shadrach everything, but she did. She really didn’t know Shadrach well. But he seemed to be one of those people who took his job seriously—he was on time, he was always working and coaching other employees. There was a certain determined optimism about him. Determined because everyone knew, without saying it, that optimism and joy were not respected in the workplace. Comedies don’t receive Academy Awards and joyful people rarely become executives.
She didn’t know why the story came spilling out, but it did. Shadrach listened for a minute. Then he nodded.
“Let’s push some of these buttons so that this thing will slow down while we talk.” He punched buttons so the elevator would be forced to stop every few floors on its way up.
There was a joy vacuum where they worked. Some folks had never, it seemed, had any joy. Others had had the joy sucked right out of them, while others had just given it up, or packed it away in order to get promoted or to fit in. They had taken on the sour look, the turned down mouth that some CEOs—and even some preachers, for that matter—seemed to affect to make people think they were “serious” or “deep.” Whichever the scenario, all the gladness was pulled out of any new people and out of the few that still fought to hold on.
Shadrach was different. There was something in Shadrach’s eyes that said he knew the deal, knew the game, but he wasn’t playing. He gave the company his time, his dedication, his loyalty—he had given them almost twenty years—but he was not about to give them his joy.
Tonya had watched Shadrach, year after year, serving people who thought they were better than he because of their position or title or because of the size of their paychecks. Shadrach found joy in serving them—which seemed to anger the people more. Tonya admired him for his servant’s heart—something she would not have admired a few years earlier. “We don’t want to serve,” she remembered her pastor saying one Sunday. “We want to sign up for the Christianity that will get us a big car, a big house and servants. But we don’t want to sign up for the Christianity that says that in order to reign, we must be servants to all.” That was what she recognized in Shadrach—a servant’s heart. He always seemed to listen, even when people were just responding to his hello. Shadrach seemed to focus on people and take in what they were saying. And he always knew the right thing to say.
As she talked, Tonya recalled how she had often seen Shadrach standing toe to toe talking to some young brother that didn’t seem to have his act together—like he was trying to do with Tonya. But what she also observed was that the young men seemed to respect him and seemed to turn their lives around. What the young men didn’t seem to be doing was cussing Shadrach out in the middle of his office. They didn’t seem to be telling him where they would kick him. Of course, that might be because Shadrach looked a little more like a linebacker than she did.
Whatever the case, Tonya needed to get some things off her chest. So she let it out. When the door opened on the twenty-fourth floor, she was still talking.
“Michelle was yelling and screaming, calling me names, and she kept saying something about me being jealous of her boyfriends and of how she looks. Jealous?” Tonya looked down at her clothes. “Since when did I ever give anyone the impression that I was worried about how I look, or that I was worried about a man—”
“Hey.” Shadrach had been listening patiently, but now he interrupted her. He shifted his packages, took Tonya’s hand, and led her through the door marked Stairs near the elevator. “Well, we seem to be a little wound up, today.” He smiled at his own understatement.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I just—”
“You just need to talk to somebody.”
Tonya nodded yes and told herself that she was a strong woman and that she would not cry.
He sat his packages down on a step. “Well, what I can tell you is that it’s not the end of the world. Look, you and me are old school. Jobs come, jobs go; people come and go, but we know we’re going to be all right.”
Tonya blew a shot of air from her mouth. He was right.
“Most people here don’t know that, that’s why they’re so uptight. We just have to remind ourselves not to get caught up in the madness.”
She shifted her bag to the opposite shoulder. “I know.” She sighed. “It’s just . . . it’s just that I was trying to help Michelle. I’ve been trying to help Michelle. And I don’t understand what happened. How it went from flowers and a card on her d
esk and her smiling to her standing in my face cussing me out.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t get it. What was wrong with giving her something nice? And I’m risking my job. Mrs. Judson has been pretty clear that she thinks I ought to fire Michelle. She hasn’t demanded that I do it . . . yet. So, I keep trying. I keep praying that something is going to get Michelle on track. I keep trying to help her get herself together—at least in the areas that I know people are watching, like getting here on time and staying off the phone. I’m trying to help and she seems to hate me for it.” She looked down at her shoes and then back at Shadrach.
“You know what? I think you two sisters need to talk.”
“I don’t see that happening.”
Shadrach shrugged. “Look, she’s like a lot of young people. Michelle probably doesn’t know who to trust. I think she’s reading you wrong—I don’t know why. But you won’t know why unless the two of you talk.”
“I’ve been talking. Every time I open my mouth . . .”
“Yeah, it sounds like both of you all have been talking, just not to each other.”
Tonya didn’t know what to say.
“Just try to keep your eyes and your ears open. See where she’s coming from.” Shadrach looked at his watch, then nodded toward the door. “Come on, baby girl. We’re on the clock.” He collected his packages and then held the door for her. “Don’t give up. Your heart’s in the right place—something is going to break.”
Tonya nodded.
“We’ll talk again later.”
Tonya nodded again and watched Shadrach walk away. It was funny, but now that she didn’t need a man, she could finally appreciate the value of a good one.
She turned toward her office and began to walk—dragging herself like a doomed man walking his last mile—in the direction of her desk. She hoped that what the old people said was right—trouble don’t last always.
Chapter Twelve
The chair was old and stained, but it was still comfortable. It was the best chair to sit in to just sink away from the cares of the world. The piece of furniture was still gold in some spots, soft, and overstuffed. It had seen better days, but it was still the perfect place and Tonya looked at it hungrily.
Steam rose from the ground beef that she was browning in a skillet. She stirred the meat with one hand and reached in the cupboard for an onion with another. As she stirred, she listened for the washing machine to stop so that she could throw the load in the dryer. Multitasking. That’s what it was called in business classes—doing several things at one time. The people who wrote books about management and business skills didn’t know anything. If they really wanted to know about multitasking, they would interview mothers.
If she could abandon her tasks, Tonya would have been in the chair. Maybe the chair could help her forget what was going on in her life. Actually, what she really wanted to forget was work.
Earlier, at the office, Mrs. Judson had looked at her watch. “We will have to meet later in the week, Tonya.”
Tonya hated the way Mrs. Judson said her name. It always sounded like she was saying tan-ya and not ton-ya.
“Tonya, you’re going to have to absolutely get a hold on this situation with Michelle. Not only is it impacting productivity in your area, but you must realize that there are other managers—and team leaders—who have employees that are observing Michelle’s behavior. ‘If it’s all right for Michelle, then it’s all right for me,’ they will say.”
Mrs. Judson had looked down abruptly to check something on her cell phone. “I know this may seem like something that can be easily handled—her tardiness, her improper use of the telephone, and now this rude and insubordinate behavior—but one employee who behaves this way can ruin the morale of all the other employees.”
She had clicked her cell phone shut and looked back up, speaking as though she was in a hurry to end the conversation. “As I’ve said before, I won’t tell you what to do. But, in all honesty, I need to make you aware that her unchecked behavior is impacting how I view your performance as team manager.” She smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes. It seemed that Mrs. Judson was enjoying toying with her. “And I know you don’t want to jeopardize a promotion to manager.” She stood, walked to the door of her office, and opened it for Tonya. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, I have to make a call and prepare for the morning meeting.”
I know you don’t want to jeopardize a promotion. It felt like a noose being flung over the branch of a tree.
Of course she would like to jeopardize a promotion, Tonya now thought sarcastically. She didn’t have rent to pay or utilities. She wasn’t worried every day that her car was going to stop and roll over, feet first. No, Tonya didn’t need a promotion. Her son wasn’t about to go to college next year. She definitely could do without the promotion—she would just live on her inheritance.
Tonya stopped stirring the beef and grabbed a paring knife from the green plastic container in the silverware drawer. It was a relief, even for a moment, to be sarcastic, at least in her mind.
She began to chop the onion. All this worry was because of Michelle, because of a woman—some ghetto-fabulous girl—who hated her. It didn’t make sense. She didn’t even know why she was trying to help the young woman. Michelle only thought of herself. She had no sense of responsibility to Tonya or anyone else in the office. It was all about Michelle—it was only about what she wanted.
Tonya scooped up the chopped onion and sprinkled it onto the browning meat. She dusted her palms together to get rid of any little pieces that were clinging, then turned on the faucet and held her hands under the cold running water. That’s what she needed to do with Michelle. She needed to wash her hands of the girl. There had been no more screaming matches today, but she had looked up several times to see Michelle watching her. Several times during the day, Michelle had come near her desk, twice opening and closing her mouth as though she had something to say.
The third time, Tonya had turned her back to avoid her—what she didn’t need was more confrontation. She had heard quite enough, thank you.
Yes, she needed to wash Michelle out of her thoughts, especially her home thoughts. That was something Tonya had always promised herself: she would never bring whatever was happening at work to her home.
The washer beeped and Tonya walked to it, raised the lid, and began to transfer the clothes to the dryer. The white sheets and towels were wet and heavy, but she loved the smell. She didn’t like collecting dirty clothes or stuffing the things into the washer, but she loved what the washing and the water did—the clean, lightly citrus odor of the laundry at the end. The work was worth the reward.
“Malik?” He had been back in his bedroom since he got home. “Son! Can you come out here? I could use some help.”
He appeared at the door. “Hey, Mom-ster. What’s up? Whatcha need?” He pulled his headphones off of his ears. Malik liked teasing Tonya. He liked changing her name into quirky nicknames. “It’s your dashing, handsome, talented son to the rescue.” He almost always made her laugh—almost. “Whatcha need, Mom?”
Tonya punched the On switch on the dryer. She put her hands on her hips. “What do I need? You know I have Bible study tonight. Why do I have to tell you what I need, Malik? It seems like you could look around and figure it out. Just do something to help me. I need you to take more responsibility, to think about somebody other than yourself. I’m trying to do everything—”
Malik’s face went from excited to sleepy in two seconds flat. Then he raised his hands in the air. “Whoa! I surrender. What’s up with all this attitude, Mom?” He stepped closer and put his arms around her. “Is something wrong, Mom?”
Tonya gave him a long hug back and took a deep breath. Malik wasn’t Michelle. It wasn’t fair to take it out on him. “It’s nothing. I’m just rushing around trying to get everything done so that I can get to church on time, or close to on time. That’s all.”
Malik squeezed her one last time and gl
anced down so he could look into her eyes. When had he gotten so tall? “That’s all? You’re just rushing for church?” He laughed. “You’re always rushing for church.” His voice took on a more serious tone. “You’re sure that’s all?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Tonya wasn’t about to dump her problems with Michelle and work on her son. She would leave it all in the office where it belonged. “I’m just feeling rushed.”
Malik let her go. “Okay, Mom-ster.” He nodded at the skillet. “Spaghetti and salad, right?”
“How did you guess?”
“It’s Monday, right? If it’s Monday, it’s Bible study and it’s spaghetti with salad.” After washing his hands, Malik reached into the refrigerator for lettuce, tomato, and cucumber.
“Are we that predictable? Am I that predictable?”
“Yeah, pretty much so.” He chopped the lettuce and tossed it into a plastic bowl. “You’ve got a lot to do, Mom-bo. It’s hard to be spontaneous when you’re carrying a big duffel bag on your back. Don’t worry about it. Some day you’ll get to click up your heels, again. I’ll be on my own and—”
“Don’t say that, Malik. I mean I want you to go off to school and to be everything you dream of being, but don’t ever feel like you’re a burden to me. You’re the light of my life.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Me, too.”
After they had eaten, and the dishes were washed and put away, Tonya rushed out the door to make it to her class. It might have sounded boring to people that weren’t there, but she found delight in listening to teachers bringing Bible passages to life. It was obvious that she wasn’t the only person that felt that way—Monday Bible study always had hundreds of people in attendance.
Tonya found her usual spot on her usual pew and waved at the usual people. When the lesson ended, she grabbed her notes, her Bible, and exited out the usual door to the usual area where she parked on the church lot. She held her notes to her chest. It was all usual and predictable, but it was also safe. It made her feel secure. Too much had already changed in her life, and most of the change was disastrous.
