The Makeover

by Vacirca Vaughn

  But the door began to shake with the incessant pounding that continued for at least five more minutes.

  Tossing her laptop onto her couch, Phoenix cringed when it bounced on the soft “pleather” cushions and fell to its side on the hardwood floor. She slipped and stumbled on a pile of dirty laundry that she had not seen on the floor behind her.

  Now Phoenix was mad.

  “What?!” she shouted as she stormed her way to the front of her railroad apartment. “Who is—”

  Her screech died in her throat.

  Paulo stood there, arms crossed, wearing a flustered smile. His ever-changing hazel eyes swirled from hard gold to chips of green ice, as they traveled up her frame. “Ah ha! There she is. Phoenix, my dear, how are you?”

  “How am I?” Phoenix looked around, clutching the muumuu she had tossed on earlier tightly around her throat. “What’s with the banging on the door?”

  Paulo smirked and shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe it’s because I have tried calling, emailing, slipping notes under your door, and everything just short of sending smoke signals. You’ve been ducking and dodging me for the last six weeks.” Leaning against the door jamb, Paulo shrugged again. “Thought we had decided on a plan, you and I. What happened?”

  Phoenix looked down at his tan Doc Martin’s, suddenly very interested in the line where his dark denim jeans met the shoe.

  Paulo’s finger struggled against her chin until she gave up and met his eyes again. Phoenix gasped as she watched them swirl again, this time from his cold, vivid green to a startling gray.

  Paulo crouched so he was eye level with her. “Well?”

  Phoenix shrugged and pulled her chin away from his finger. “Who cares? What’s the use? I’ve tried before and failed, so what’s the point of getting myself all worked up and dependent on someone’s help, when it probably won’t last? When you probably won’t last?”

  Paulo tossed up his hands and let out a breath. He used his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Phoenix,” he struggled to keep his tone calm, “you haven’t even given me a chance to help you. You haven’t even tried to help yourself. You’ve already failed.”

  Phoenix looked around and pursed her lips. She scratched the back of her neck and stared at Paulo’s neck through the open collar of his Polo shirt. Abruptly she turned away and stalked into the apartment, leaving the door open.

  Paulo stood there for a moment before stepping in and closing the door behind him. “Does this mean I can come in?” he called down the hall.

  “Do whatever you’d like, Man. That’s on you,” Phoenix snapped back.

  Paulo hesitated, noticing the small octagon-shaped kitchen just a few paces from the front door. It was filled with dishes on the countertops and sink, while pots littered the range. There was a strong odor coming from the kitchen and Paulo recognized the over-flowing trashcan in the corner by the stained, whirring refrigerator. “Oh, no, Phoenix. Is this how you live?” he whispered.

  Unable to take the rapidly-growing stench much longer, Paulo grabbed the items that were strewn around the trash can and stuffed them into the sack that was filled with rotting pizza, meat, eggs, and bottles of liquor. He also found smaller shopping bags filled with garbage and stuffed them into the bags. He tied the trash together and lifted it out of the filthy can.

  “Phoenix? Uh, no disrespect to your home or anything, but I am going to take the trash out, okay? Do you have any trash bags?”

  Phoenix didn’t answer, but appeared soundlessly at the entrance of the kitchen with her hands on her hips. Her face wore a scowl that was meant to deter Paulo from trying to help while her wavering eyes sent a different message. Addressing Paulo’s neck, Phoenix asked, “What are you doing, Man? You ain’t got to come to my house and clean.”

  “Well someone should, Phoenix! It’s the middle of September and it’s still hot out there. You’ve got garbage everywhere and the window is closed. How can you expect to be motivated with all of this clutter? And in your kitchen? This is where you keep food!”

  “Don’t come in here lecturing me, P. You have no idea how—”

  “What? How depressed you’ve been since Cedric broke your heart? How stressed out you’ve been trying to work and go to school? What?” Paulo sneered.

  “Well you said it best…” Phoenix trailed off.

  “Okay,” Paulo shook his head and bit his lip before he took God’s name in vain. “I am not going to argue with you, Miss. Where are your trash bags?”

  Phoenix gestured around. “Didn’t you see all the shopping bags I’ve been using? There aren’t any.” Phoenix frowned as Paulo began searching through her cupboards and cabinets.

  Paulo gave her an unrepentant glare before continuing his search through Phoenix’s kitchen. “Alright well, I am getting this trash out of here. I am going to buy trash bags, a bigger trashcan, and whatever else I see is needed, so please don’t play games. You better let me back in. We need to have a conversation, Phoenix.” With that, he stuffed the trash back into the trash can until it was filled to the brim with garbage and take-out containers all filled with rotting food. He breathed through his mouth as he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door on his way out.

  Phoenix stood in the kitchen for a half hour, wondering exactly who and what this Paulo guy was. How dare he come unannounced to her apartment and look down at her? But even as Pride and Self-Deception shouted at her from their places in her heart, Truth began to shout back, rebutting their thoughts before they could take root. Her eyes were opened and she saw her kitchen for the first time. She saw the huge pot of short ribs that was still in the pot that Cedric left them in, along with the same pot of rice. She knew the food had been spoiling in those pots since that fateful night eight weeks ago, and she had not been able to toss them away. She was grateful their rotting smell had not leaked out of the air-tight stainless steel pots as badly as they could have. She was afraid of opening them and seeing what was in them.

  She saw the grease splattered around the walls, the tons of dishes littering every inch of the sink, cabinets and countertops. She saw the grease stain on her linoleum floors where a slice of pepperoni pizza had fallen several nights ago. She tried not to remember how drunk she was when she had picked up that slice from the box, dropped it, giggled, kissed it up to God and taken a huge chunk of it. She didn’t even flinch when she pulled out a long, black hair from the food in her mouth.

  Shuddering, Phoenix opened the refrigerator door that was splattered with an array of colors and prints and saw the molded orange juice in its clear container. She looked at expiration date on the milk and saw it should have been poured out five weeks prior.

  There was also a ton of papers, junk mail, bills, and catalogues littering the huge, dusty china cabinet, that was tucked into the corner of the kitchen. Cobwebs were graying in the corners by the large window that overlooked the next building. Phoenix opened it to let in the late summer breeze, only to find ants crawling all over a stain that she been left by an exploding Pepsi bottle several days before.

  Shrieking, Phoenix grabbed a mildewed dish towel from the sink to smash the ants before dropping it to the floor. She struggled to open the window and when she did, she burst into tears.

  Just when her sniffles and tears were about to turn into a loud, racking ugly cry, the angry sound of the buzzer snatched her out of it. She raced to the intercom to let Paulo in.

  Paulo was shaking with anger outside the building as he struggled with a large trash can and bags filled with large and small garbage bags, gloves, cleansers, Lysol, air freshener, and groceries. He had not known what to buy but he figured that anyone whose house was that filthy didn’t have fresh groceries to eat. He had asked the Holy Spirit to guide him as he purchased a carton of eggs, milk, orange juice, bread, turkey bacon, cans of tuna, canned salmon, soup, low-sodium stews, pita bread, hummus, a head of lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, and cucumbers. He also purchased small amounts of various fruit that he knew would quickly revive
a sluggish system by detoxing the body and delivering natural sugars for energy.

  When Phoenix buzzed him in, he had to stop before he hurled the can and bags across the hall. Leaning against the wall, he struggled with his quickly rising disgust. “God,” he whispered, “I am getting sick of this. Several weeks ago, you poured my life out into this woman. The burden to help her overwhelms me worse than ever. You caused me to begin praying and fasting for this woman and I haven’t stopped. I offered her practical help as You told me to, and she never took me up on it. She has not returned my efforts to contact her. Now I am about to cook her a meal and clean up her apartment. What’s going on here, Lord? I don’t have time for this foolishness. You had me try to help Elizabeth very much in the same way and look what happened to her. I need You to confirm again what You want from me in this situation. Did I get this all wrong again? I am really tired of chasing someone down who clearly doesn’t want help and—”

  But the Spirit had enough of Paulo’s grumbling. He told Paulo so by whispering words from 2 Corinthians 9:7 into Paulo’s spirit, You must each decide in your heart how much to give. And don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.

  Dolefully, Paulo sighed as he stomped to the elevator and got on. “Alright, Father, if You say so. Thing is though, I do feel pressure…”

  Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation. Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky... The words of Philippians 2:14-15 were even louder in Paulo’s heart.

  “Well, Holy Spirit, please help me to obey. Give me Your grace because this chick is really a piece of work, God.” Paulo stepped off the elevator.

  My son, you were a piece of work. You are a work I am still perfecting, even now, after nine years of being in My Kingdom...

  Paulo stopped and closed his eyes. “Pride, Lord. Again, I ask you for forgiveness for my hypocrisy.”

  I will cause you to be fishers of men. Do this in My Name, Son.

  Taking another long breath, Paulo let his Father’s words take root in his spirit before raising his fist to pound on the door. Before he did, he felt the Spirit nudge him from a place in his stomach. Sighing again, Paulo forced himself to gently rap on the door.

  Phoenix met him with red, puffy eyes. She said nothing as she turned and walked back into the apartment.

  “Hello to you, too! And gee, thanks Paulo, for running out and getting things for my apartment. I am so grateful that—”

  My son… the Spirit warned, cutting off Paulo’s rant.

  “Sorry, Father,” Paulo whispered, as he dropped the bags into the hallway and gently closed the door, rather than kicking it shut as he’d originally intended.

  He walked down the long hallway of the railroad apartment until he was in the spacious, square-shaped living room. His eyes blinked rapidly as he noticed the layers of dust and cigarette smoke clinging to the leather sofa and arm chairs, the wall unit, and figurines. Papers were strewn in heaps all over the unit, coffee tables, and end tables. More cartons of left-over take out littered the small dining room table tucked in the corner by the windows. Books were all over the apartment. What confounded Paulo most were the broken pieces of glass and figurines littering the ground. It was as though someone had smashed glass and furniture with a bat or stick or something. Again Paulo struggled to keep condemnation out of his tone as he addressed Phoenix.

  “Phoenix,” Paulo ground out from a kind place that could only come from God, “I’m so sorry you’ve had such a rough time. I can only imagine what you’ve been going through. I am going to help you, alright? It looks like you’re busy with school work, so I am going to clean up your apartment while you work. Then I’m going to make you a nice, healthy meal and then we’re going to talk.”

  Phoenix was startled at the kindness of his voice. She was sure that Paulo’s disgust would triple once he saw the rest of the apartment. She had not cleaned since that fateful night with Cedric. Even the bedroom had broken glass and plaster everywhere. “Paulo, thank you for trying to help me but you don’t have to all that. I haven’t had the time…or the energy to do anything besides work and school lately. It’s a miracle I shower every day at this point. I know this place is disgusting, and I’m not usually like this, but—”

  Phoenix’s tears, welling up in her throat, cut off the words she hoped would keep Paulo from looking down at her any further.

  The words helped and her tears broke his heart. Clearly, she was depressed. He crossed over to where she sat surrounded by papers and textbooks on her sofa. He bent to his knee and grabbed her hand, feeling that this broken women needed the soothing touch of another human being. “Shhh, Sweetie. I’m sorry for coming across so rough earlier. I was frustrated at you for not letting me help you, frustrated that God wouldn’t let me give up on you, and frankly, quite surprised with what I see going on here. But I have no right to judge you. I’ve been right where you are. I’ve been so depressed that I functioned on autopilot and cared little about how I was living because I was struggling just to live every day. Sometimes—because it’s been so long since I hit my rock bottom—I forget that.” Paulo stood. “Actually, it was the Lord who reminded me of my own tough times and how I survived only by His mercy. It’s my turn to show someone mercy. Let me help you, okay?” He reached for Phoenix’s shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze.

  Phoenix searched her apartment, more disgusted by what she saw as her eyes processed the filth she had been trying to function within for two months. “How can you help me? More prayer?”

  “Yeah, and by cleaning up the mess.”

  “I don’t know how I got here, Paulo. I really don’t,” Phoenix whispered.

  “Phoenix, you are a psychologist. You know that how you’re living on the outside—your appearance, your home, this chaos—is a reflection of—”

  “How I feel on the inside,” Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I don’t know how I got here.”

  When she looked up at him with her deep, sorrowful eyes so wide, so glistening, and so…trusting, Paulo felt something inside of him twist and pull at the base of his gut. Paulo had to swallow and breathe to resist the urge to grab her and pull her into a tight, strong hug. He wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and rub her back and let her cry.

  But Paulo worried, because he felt in his heart that Phoenix could not handle such intimacy without quickly becoming dependent on it. It wasn’t time for Phoenix to depend solely on Paulo with God’s help. It was time for Phoenix to depend solely on God with Paulo’s help.

  Or was a hug an extension of God’s help?

  Paulo pondered this dilemma as he patted her one last time on her shoulder and stood. “You concentrate on your work. I’ll concentrate on this place.”

  He turned and walked to the kitchen, praying along the way that he would surrender to the work God was leading him to do, without judgment, without grumbling, and without pride.

  But he did have to call on the Lord several times when he opened the pot of rotting short ribs and nearly passed out from the stench of the maggot-covered meat in the pot.

  “Jesus! Please…” Paulo yelped as he tied the pots and pans in shopping bags, before placing them in an industrial-sized garbage bag.

  “Phoenix?” Paulo called in a syrupy-sweet voice from the kitchen.

  “Yeah?” Phoenix’s voice quavered with the shame she felt the moment she heard Paulo calling out to God for strength.

  “I think you’re going to need new pots, Hun. There’s no cleaning these, okay?”

  “You need help in there?” Phoenix sighed.

  “Uh, no. The only help that will help me is help from God, Sweetie!”

  In spite of herself, Phoenix giggled as she went back to her paper.

  Chapter 12

  Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contamina
tes body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God (2 Corinthians 7:1).

  Four hours after first storming into Phoenix’s apartment, Paulo brought out a tray. “It’s time for a break, Honey.”

  Phoenix’s head snapped up. She looked around her, amazed before taking off her glasses. She rubbed her bleary eyes, before putting her glasses back on to take another look. “Wow. You were so quiet working around me that I barely noticed you were here.”

  She stood and marveled at how neat her living room was, save for her small work area around her place on the sofa. “Oh my goodness. I can’t believe you cleaned up my apartment! My floors are actually shining. Thank you so much!”

  “Yeah, well, God is good, isn’t He?” Paulo grinned as he placed the tray of food on the table. “You’ve been so engrossed in your work that I couldn’t distract you if I tried. What are you working on anyway?”

  “My dissertation. It’s called ‘Intergenerational transmission of self-hatred in dysfunctional mother-daughter relationships.’”

  Paulo whistled. “I guess the title speaks for itself. I am glad you are looking at it from a psychological standpoint. Perhaps you can enhance your findings by looking at from a spiritual standpoint as well.”

  Phoenix shrugged, surprised that she was not offended by his suggestion. “It can’t hurt, I guess.”

  “Come over here and eat with me. I think we both deserve a break.”

  The fresh scent in her living room motivated Phoenix to do something first. “Can you give me a quick second?”

  “Sure,” Paulo said, as he walked back to the kitchen to retrieve utensils and drinks.

  Phoenix rushed into her sparkling bathroom to splash cold water on her face and to brush her thick hair into a neater pony tail. She ran back towards her bedroom to find that everything had been put in a place in a neat and orderly fashion. All of the broken glass and plaster had been swept up. Her perfumes were lined up neatly on top of her freshly dusted dresser, while the bed Phoenix refused to sleep in had been stripped of its soiled, dusty sheets and replaced with fresh linens. Even the piles of clothes all over the floor had been placed in large garbage bags, ready to be laundered. Phoenix went into her drawers and found each of them had been organized. She was stunned because she had not even noticed that Paulo had gone into her bedroom. She didn’t know whether to be thankful or ashamed that a strange man had rearranged her private things. She giggled when she realized her drawer full of undergarments remained untouched. Still a part of her felt mortified at what Paulo must think.