Private Lessons

by Dara Girard

  Jodi sat back in her seat and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “A long one. I would want it to last as long as possible and I don’t see why you have to write everything down.”

  “One day you’ll be able to read something like this on your own, for now bear with me. The next question is: Cats or dogs?”

  “I’ll take the dogs. No, the cats. I really like cats. No the dogs. I’d like to go on a walk with a dog.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She asked her a few more questions then said, “Now you have to repeat the oath. Say these words after me, ‘As a member of The Black Stockings Society, I swear I will not reveal club secrets, I will accept nothing but the best and I will no longer settle for less.’” Once Jodi did, she said, “Good. Can you print your name?”

  Jodi tried not to feel insulted. Yet, she did. She knew the alphabet and a few words, but not much else. She took the pen and printed her name.

  “You can leave the rest to me.”

  “You’ll keep this a secret, right?”

  “I always have.”

  Jodi widened her eyes. “When did you know I couldn’t read?”

  “Oh,” she said with a small laugh. “I thought you were talking about the club.”

  “You mean you know about them?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you a member?”

  She just smiled then said, “When the package arrives call me so that I can read the instructions. It will have a black circle on it.”

  “Instructions? You mean there’s more?”

  “You’ll see.”

  A couple of days later, Jodi found herself sitting in Ms. Rehnquist’s cozy kitchen, a medium sized package sitting on the square, blue tiled table.

  “You haven’t opened it yet?” Ms. Rehnquist said surprised.

  “You told me to call you first.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be able to resist. Go on. Open it now.”

  Jodi did and inside the box, encased in a purple satin cloth, were four pairs of different types of stockings. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a black credit card sized object.

  “It’s your membership card and it says Jodi Linda Durant, Member, The Black Stockings Society.”

  “You mean I passed? They accepted me?”

  “Yes, congratulations.” Ms. Rehnquist set the card aside and picked up a stapled stack of papers. “Now for the fun part.” She cleared her throat and read, “Welcome to The Black Stockings Society. Your first assignment is to take your membership card to your favorite manicurist and request a gold leaf manicure.”

  “Okay, that doesn’t sound too hard,” Jodi said relieved.

  “Following that you’ll take your membership card to the Java Juice shop and ask for a Magic Mango Smoothie.”

  “But I don’t like—”

  “Just do it.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “Then it says, You have to choose a pair of stockings to wear to your reading lessons.”

  9

  Jodi stared at her open mouthed. “My what?”

  “Reading lessons.”

  “But I don’t have reading lessons.”

  “You do now. You’re to go to the Smith building three days a week at seven o’clock. It says that you must attend for six months or you’ll forfeit your membership.”

  “But I can’t.”

  “The lessons will be discreet and you’ll work with an experienced tutor. What is there to be afraid of?”

  “I tried it once.” She’d tried for three months, almost ten years ago, and still ended up a failure.

  “You have to keep trying.” Ms. Rehnquist held up the paper. “Decoding these black marks isn’t magic, just a skill. With practice you’ll be able to do the same.”

  She wanted it. But she didn’t think she could manage to finally accomplish something that scores of teachers hadn’t been able to do—teach her how to read.

  But if she learned how to read then she wouldn’t be exposed in her new position. This chance had come at the perfect time. If she learned to read her secret would be safe forever. “Okay, I’ll do it. What else does it say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The rest is sealed and is meant for you to read on your own.” She handed her a closed envelope.

  “They wouldn’t know if we peeked.”

  “I think it’s important that you’re able to read what’s next. It will motivate you with your studies. You should be able to read it and understand the basics in about three months.”

  Jodi sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. “How do they know so much about me?”

  “They do a lot of research on their applicants. It’s a privilege.”

  “Will it really work?”

  “All you can do is try. First you have to follow the first instructions.”

  Her manicurist, Tina Park, wasn’t so sure. “That’s all?” she asked. She wore her advanced years well, her smooth porcelain skin only touched by three birthmarks—one under her eye and two under her right ear-that drove her crazy. She stared at Jodi perplexed. “Are you sure you want the gold leaf manicure?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about a reverse French manicure with glitter?”

  “No.”

  “A hot stone manicure?”

  “Next time.”

  “How about airbrush?”

  “No, Tina,” Jodi said with a laugh. “Just the gold leaf.”

  She made a face. “I wanted to have some fun today and it doesn’t seem like you.”

  “I’m trying something new,” Jodi said then watched Tina paint her nails a coral color before she used tweezers to attach gold leaf to her nails.

  The following day, Jodi parked in the local strip mall where the noisy Java Juice shop sat among a sandwich shop, with one of the sign’s letters unlit, and a bank that was closing. She walked into the empty shop, her heels clicking against the yellow tiles, the scent of coconut and raspberry greeting her. She approached the bored looking clerk who was playing a game on his cell phone.

  “I’m here to order a Magic Mango smoothie,” she said.

  He didn’t look up. His long dreads shielding the front of his face, the back of his hair was shaved. “We don’t have that.”

  She took out her membership card and put it on the counter. “I was told that you do.”

  “Nope.”

  “I have to—”

  An older gentleman with a severely short haircut came to the counter. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “She wants something we don’t have,” the clerk said. “The Magic Mango smoothie.”

  “I’m sorry we don’t—” The man paused when he noticed the card on the counter. He whacked the young man on the back of the head.

  “Ow!” the younger man cried, rubbing the back of his head. “What was that for?” he asked in an injured tone.

  “For not paying attention.” He tapped the counter.

  The young man looked at the card and softly swore. He put his cell phone down. “I’ll—”

  “No, I’ll take care of this. You come up with five reasons I shouldn’t fire you.” He smiled at Jodi. “Come with me.” He turned and led her to the back through a door that said ‘Employees only’. They walked down a few steps and through a long dark hallway.

  “Where are we going?” she asked unsure she should continue to follow.

  “I don’t know.”

  Jodi blinked, surprised. “You don’t know?”

  “I’m sorry for the delay. I hope you won’t tell them about it.” He stopped in front of a dull red door and knocked twice with his knuckles. “Goodbye.”

  He walked away before she could reply. Before she could follow him, the door opened, filling the dark hall with light. A petite woman wearing dark, four-inch high heels and a tight black suit, stood in front of her with a smile. “Hello, Jodi, I’ve been expecting you. My name is Doree
n.”

  Jodi entered a room that looked like a replica of her walk-in closet except it boasted large mirrors, a cream settee and chandelier overhead.

  “What is this place?”

  “A place for you to try on your clothes.” Doreen gestured to the row of outfits. “As your personal stylist I hope you’ll be pleased by what I’ve chosen for you.”

  Jodi looked around the room in awe. “You mean this is all for me?”

  “Yes. Isn’t it time you dressed for your new role?”

  She’d imagined it but never thought it could happen. She only imagined she could wear expensive clothes like Natalie and Joyce. She never had anyone give her this much attention. “But—”

  “Membership has its privileges. Come on, let’s see how you look.” Doreen picked up a top and trousers. “I chose these because I think a statement top and slim trousers will suit your body shape. They will draw attention to your assets.”

  Jodi didn’t care the reason; she wanted to try them all. She loved the soft feel of the bold blue and red silk top, and the elegant cut of the black suede trousers.

  She felt like a little girl playing dress up as she tried on a blush pink wrap dress and gold heels, then a striped black and white damask dress with a pair of shiny black boots.

  “Is there anything you don’t like?”

  “No, I love them all. I can’t choose.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll have everything delivered.”

  The word ‘delivered’ was an understatement. Hours later, a team arrived at her place, emptying out her wardrobe and filling the entire space with her new items.

  For her reading lesson Jodi chose a burgundy long sleeve top with a fitted waist and flare sleeves and a mid-thigh black skirt to go with a pair of black lace stockings.

  She stared at herself in the mirror amazed. She wanted this new life. This new look. It suited her. She looked like a woman who could run a business, who dated wealthy men, who’d never had to open an empty fridge or see a failure mark on her report card. She looked like a success. She wanted to own this feeling, and feel this way all the time.

  But by the time she stood in front of the three-level Smith Building, her confidence had been shaken. Although it wasn’t tall it seemed to loom over her and she felt exposed and vulnerable. She was still a fraud. The fancy clothes didn’t make her a success. By going through these doors she was admitting that.

  However, she had to try. If she didn’t want to make a mistake that could cost her her job she had to take this chance. She heard Ms. Rehnquist’s voice. Free lessons with a private tutor, discretion assured. What do you have to lose?

  Her future loomed before her. In six months she would be able to read. Ms. Rehnquist said three but Jodi didn’t believe she would learn enough that fast.

  Jodi took a deep breath and opened the glass door. She always hated entering new environments because she didn’t know what to look for. She couldn’t look at the directory and read where the location was. Fortunately, the instructions Ms. Rehnquist had given her said the Resource Center was on the second floor.

  She walked up the stairs to the second level that overlooked the first. It looked harmless. She was afraid the Resource Center would be like a library, filled with books. But it had the look of a lounge with round tables, comfortable chairs and polished tiled floors. She took a seat near the window. She clasped her hands together; she was doing the right thing.

  She was ready to be daring. Jodi took another deep breath when she heard footsteps coming. This was it. She swallowed then turned when the footsteps stopped. When she saw who stood before her, her chest tightened and her mouth fell open.

  10

  No. No. No. This was all wrong. She was hallucinating. No, she wasn’t hallucinating, she was having a nightmare. A horrific nightmare where a man who looked liked Dylan, dressed in a dark orange sweater and blue jeans, had shown up to teach her.

  She closed her eyes then opened them again, expecting him to morph into someone else. He didn’t look exactly like Dylan, only resembled him, she tried to convince herself. The Dylan she knew had a goatee; this man was clean shaven. The Dylan she knew didn’t wear glasses; this man sported a pair of square dark rimmed frames.

  He hesitated then sat down beside her, his leg brushing against hers, sending an electrical shock through her.

  He smelled like Dylan, that unmistakable light musky scent that reminded her of white birch, cinnamon and French apple. Her heart began to pound.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice, although they were alone.

  He knew her. That meant it was him. Why did it have to be him?

  Jodi gripped the strap of her purse. “You first.”

  He motioned to his bag. “I’m a tutor here, I teach literacy. Are you a new tutor too? I think we might have gotten the schedule mixed up because I booked tonight.”

  “Yes. No.”

  “Which one is it?”

  “No, I’m not a tutor.”

  Dylan nodded. “So that must mean…”

  Jodi stood. “That I’m in the wrong place,” she finished in a clipped voice. “Obviously,” she said, forcing a laugh, trying to sound lighthearted. “I made a mistake.”

  He stood. “You mean you’re in the wrong building?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I’m in the wrong building. Excuse me.” She raced down the stairs.

  She skidded to a stop at the front entrance where a formidable, dark skinned woman blocked her path. “Go back inside right now,” she said.

  Jodi looked around, unsure. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

  “I know who you are, Jodi.”

  “What?”

  “And I know what you’re supposed to do. You are to follow instructions. My name is Rania.” The attractive full figured woman held up a hand, her gold bracelets clicking together, a large ring on her finger catching the light. “We’ll make more formal introductions later. Right now do you still want to be a member of the Society?”

  Jodi sent a panicked glance to the second floor. “You don’t know what this means. I can’t go back up there.”

  “You haven’t answered my question. Do you still want to be a member of the Society?”

  She wrung her hands. “Yes, but—”

  “Then turn around.”

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  “Turn. Around.”

  “I can’t be taught by him. Give me another teacher.” She pressed her hands together in a plea. “Anyone but him. Please.”

  Rania rested her hands on her hips unmoved. “He’s good.”

  “I don’t care. I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. Now go.”

  “Let me just explain—”

  Rania opened the front door. “You are free to go.” She held out her other hand. “Just give me your membership card and we’ll both forget this ever happened. I’ll have someone retrieve the clothes.”

  “But I already know about your existence.”

  “You’ll have a hard time proving it.”

  “Knowledge is half the battle.”

  Rania narrowed her eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

  Jodi felt her stomach go into knots. She didn’t know enough about them to make such a challenge and she didn’t want to fight anyone. “No, I just need you to listen.”

  “Listen to excuses you’ve been giving yourself for years?” Rania scoffed. “If it’s not one thing it will be another. The time for excuses is over. Either you want this more than anything or you don’t.”

  “I do want it.”

  “Then get over your pride and walk back upstairs.”

  Jodi felt tears building. “I just don’t want him to know.”

  Rania rested a hand on her shoulder. “We wouldn’t have selected him if we didn’t think we could trust him. You can trust him too.”

  She didn’t care about trust. She cared about being ashamed. She looked at Rania and knew she could never
understand. She didn’t seem like a woman easily persuaded. Jodi blinked back her tears. Maybe she should give up. Maybe she was in over her head. Maybe—

  “Do you always want someone taking credit for your ideas?” Rania said. “Do you always want to pretend that you can read the cookbooks you have lined in your bedroom?”

  “How did you—?”

  “Do you always want your sister to live the life you wished you could have for yourself? Don’t you want to feel the way you look? Because I see a woman with a bright future ahead of her. Don’t you want to be that woman?”

  “Yes.”

  Rania closed the front door, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.” She pushed Jodi towards the stairs. “Then go. You’ve wasted enough time already. Remember, what starts off hard becomes easier.”

  Jodi didn’t reply, she gripped the chrome stair railing and reluctantly climbed back upstairs, feeling as if she were walking inside a wind tunnel, the strength of her fear and resistance threatening to push her back. She made it to the top step, took a deep, fortifying breath and went back in.

  11

  She found Dylan sitting at one of the tables where he had set out some paper and books. Probably books without pictures, the kind she hated the most. How could she reveal her secret to him? Oh God, why did it have to be him?

  He looked up at her. “Still lost?” He looked at his watch. “My student should be here in a minute, but if you tell me where you’re headed I can help.” He stood.

  Jodi collapsed down in front of him like a ragged doll.

  He frowned and sat on the edge of the table. “What are you doing?”

  She briefly covered her face, then let her hands fall to the table, she kept her gaze lowered.

  “Jodi?”

  She lifted her eyes to meet his.

  Slow dawning crossed his features.

  “Go ahead and say it,” she said, ready for him to tell her that he’d thought she was smart. How much she’d fooled him.

  “How much do you know?”

  She paused. She hadn’t expected that question. “I know the alphabet and a couple words, but not much.”