Cover Girls

by T. D. Jakes

  Shadrach looked at his watch. “Well, ladies, it looks like Round One is over.” He chuckled, as though he was attempting to lighten the mood. “I thought this was football, but I see both you ladies are wearing gloves. Move over, Muhammad Ali.” He pointed at their plates. “I say we box up this food. Handle up on this conversation and think it over. See you tomorrow, same time, different restaurant.”

  He mimicked ringing a boxing-match bell. Ding! Ding!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tonya dragged into the chicken wing restaurant where they had agreed to meet. Why was she even doing this? She rubbed Malik’s note, which was tucked into her jacket pocket. None of this was feeling like a new day to her. It was feeling like hard work. Wasn’t walking into your season supposed to be easy?

  Shadrach waved her over to a table in the far corner. Michelle was already sitting. “How are you two ladies today?”

  Tonya forced herself to smile—just barely. Michelle looked at her and then looked away.

  “Making progress and changing ain’t easy.” Shadrach looked down at the menu. “That’s why most people never do it. That’s why most people just talk about it. Building relationships is just like building a body—no pain, no gain. Being successful takes a lot of hard work.”

  He flipped the laminated menu over. “I don’t even know why I’m looking at this thing. It’s a chicken-wing place. What else is there to order?”

  A waiter took their order—wings and several different sauces. After the waiter brought drinks and left, Shadrach wove his fingers together and laid his hands on his chest. “Round Two.”

  Tonya kept rubbing on Malik’s note. She looked around the room.

  “Tonya?”

  “I really don’t have anything to say, Shadrach. I mean, I said all I needed to say yesterday.” She shrugged.

  “You’re in the game, Tonya. You got to play.”

  “I don’t see how this—”

  “Tonya, baby, you got the ball. It’s your round. Whatever.”

  She kept fingering Malik’s note and playing with her napkin with her free hand. “Well, what I don’t understand is what all this attitude is about. All this anger. Where does all this anger come from?”

  Michelle waited before she spoke. “I’m not angry, okay? I’m just taking care of myself. I’m letting you know what’s on my mind.”

  “Can’t you let me know what’s on your mind without yelling at me, without disrespecting me?”

  Michelle looked like she was ready to leap over the table. Her expression said that what was on her mind was a beat-down.

  “Yeah, I suppose I can talk to you without yelling.” She looked around the restaurant, then back at Tonya. “Anything else?” Her eyes spat anger.

  “Well . . .”

  “Look, the sooner we do this, the sooner it will be over. Just spit it out, okay?”

  Shadrach stepped in again. “Give her a chance, Michelle. She gets to run her offense like she chooses. You let her bring the game to you.”

  Michelle moved her fork to the other side of her place setting. “Yeah. Whatever.”

  “Go ahead, Tonya.”

  Tonya cleared her throat. She might as well plunge in. “I really feel like part of the reason you don’t like me is because I’m trying to be nice to you. It’s not just the books; you resent the idea of anybody being nice to you. Or maybe you just don’t trust people that are trying to be nice to you.”

  Michelle looked at Shadrach. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “It’s Tonya’s offense. Let her bring it.”

  Tonya cleared her throat. “You said yesterday that you didn’t come to work looking for friends. It might be that you really can’t accept anyone who wants to be your friend. That you have a problem with anyone who wants to be good to you—you have to find a way to make what they’re trying to do bad. You have to make it be about the person trying to hurt you in some way.”

  Michelle glared at Tonya, then looked at Shadrach. “I thought we couldn’t say things to hurt each other.”

  “Tonya’s just saying what she thinks. She’s not being mean. I’ll check her when I feel it’s needed. You let me be the referee, okay?”

  Michelle frowned at Tonya. “Anything else?”

  She was too far out in the water to turn back now. “Michelle, it just seems that . . . okay, the other day you said I was jealous of you. It just seems like you have all these feelings about me that don’t have anything to do with how I’m feeling. What do you mean, I’m jealous of you?”

  Michelle looked at Shad. “Can I answer that?” He nodded. “Let me be real. I think you’re jealous of the way I look.”

  “Michelle, you’re kidding yourself. You look very nice all the time. I might think some of it is just a cover, but I give you that. You look nice, but why would you think I’m jealous?”

  “Okay, you want to know? You act like everything you’re doing is because of Mrs. Judson. But truth be told, I think some of it is you. I think you are jealous. I think you’re jealous because I’m still young and your life is fading away. You’re jealous of how I look, that I get attention from men, and that I have a life.”

  Hot spots exploded on Tonya’s cheeks. “I have a life!”

  “Where is it?”

  “I don’t have to talk to you about this.” Tonya looked at Shadrach, but he was silent.

  The waiter returned with the order. When he left, Michelle took a wing from the plate and resumed talking. “You can bring me books and a Bible because you’re worried about my private life—my spiritual life—but I can’t tell you about your issues. Don’t you think something is wrong with that?”

  “Look, Michelle, I’m not trying to run your life.”

  Michelle trailed her wing through the barbecue sauce. “We’re not talking about you running my life, we’re talking about you not having one. What are you saying? You can look at me and see my faults, but you’re too good, or I’m not good enough to see yours?”

  She leaned forward. “You know one of the things that makes me most not want to go to church? It’s women like you. Why would I want to go to church if it’s going to make me shrivel up and die? Isn’t God supposed to give you life?”

  Tonya looked away. She felt invaded, violated, under attack.

  “Why would I want to read the books you read if I’m going to end up all washed out, lonely, and tired? I mean, does being saved mean you have to look so sad? I don’t care what you’re wearing, if it’s a long dress, or whatever—do you have to look bad all the time? Does it mean you have to stop having fun? Because if that’s what it means, I don’t want it. If that’s what it means, stop trying to put it off on me.”

  Michelle jabbed at the table with the index finger of her free hand. “Tonya, you keep telling me what Mrs. Judson likes. Well, I also know that she likes for the people in her office to look professional. You come in here with your hair barely combed and wearing stockings with runs in them. How do you think Mrs. Judson feels about that?”

  Tonya folded and unfolded her napkin. She was not going to let Michelle make her cry.

  “You said you could see that I was going through a hard time? Well, I can see that you’re going through a hard time, too. I might cover mine up, but you wear yours all over you. Or maybe you use your hard times to cover up having to have any real feelings.”

  Michelle’s wing waved wildly as she spoke. “Did it ever occur to you, Tonya, that I don’t like seeing people push you around and walk all over you in the office. I get mad because I want to see you stand up for yourself. You may be fighting for me, but I don’t see you fighting for yourself. Why are you a team leader? You’re doing the same work as the managers, taking the same heat, but I don’t see you demanding the same money. What about that?”

  Tonya squeezed the note in her hand.

  “I never had anyone in my life who looked like me that was in charge. I want to be proud of you. I want to see the other people in the office watching yo
u and be proud. Maybe I’m shallow, but I want to see you look good. I want to see you look happy. You’re the only representative I have in the office—I want to see you look like you’re in control. Maybe I’m not being realistic, but I want to see you look like a sister that has it all together.”

  Tonya rubbed Malik’s note with her thumb. “I—I’ve been through a lot. My son . . . and my husband . . . my marriage . . . Everything is on me, now. You don’t understand.”

  “There’s no excuse, Tonya. What you don’t understand is that I’ve been through stuff too in my life. Okay? I’m younger than you, but I’ve been through things you couldn’t even imagine. I may not have it all together, but one thing I know. I am not going to die. I’m not going to roll over and play dead. And I’m sure not going to bury my own self.”

  Tonya could feel tears burning her eyes. She was not going to let them fall. But her mouth, despite how hard she fought to keep it from happening, turned into a frown.

  Michelle wasn’t finished. “You might be having a hard time, but you’re not having a hard time every day. You could do something with yourself sometime. And you may be right, Tonya, I may be having a hard time accepting friendship from people. Maybe I am running from the Lord—not that that’s any of your business—but maybe the only love you know how to accept is from the Lord. Maybe I am trying to hide behind the way I look. Did you ever think that you might be doing the same thing? That you might be covering up with your tiredness and sadness? Did you ever think that you might be hiding? Tonya, when was the last time you had a conversation with a man?”

  Shadrach signaled to the waiter. “Check, please?” When the waiter left the table Shadrach looked at Tonya and Michelle. “I think we just finished Round Two.”

  Ding! Ding!

  Chapter Sixteen

  She stood in Malik’s doorway and watched him playing a video game. The animated character he was controlling rode a motorcycle on a track that dipped and dove, that had all sorts of obstacles. At one point in the run, the character had to make a jump. Each time Malik attempted the jump, the rider fell, and the game sent them—Malik and the character—back to the beginning of the run. Tonya shook her head and leaned against the doorway. “How can you stand to keep doing that? How many times are you going to do that?”

  Malik looked at Tonya and smiled.

  “Until I get it right, Mom-bo. I just keep doing it until I get it right. If you want to win, you have to keep trying until you get it right.”

  Changing is hard work. She could hear Shadrach’s voice. “Someone said almost the same thing to me today.”

  “Must have been a great mind.” Malik grinned at her and touched a finger to his head. “Great minds think alike.”

  She laughed and looked around for a sock or something she could throw. “Whatever, Malik.” She watched him try the round again. “Malik, can I ask you something?”

  He leaned forward to try to make the killer jump in the video game. “Sure, Mom-ster. What’s up?”

  “That’s okay. You go ahead and play. I shouldn’t be bothering you.”

  His character fell again, and he switched off the game and turned to face her. “All right, Mom, I’m all yours.”

  “That’s okay, Malik.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen, but he followed and sat on the edge of the table. “Malik, get off of there. You know we don’t sit on the table.” She popped at him with a dish towel.

  “Stop! Police! Help!” He slid off the table onto a kitchen chair. “You got to stop being so violent, Mom-bo!” He laughed and held up his arms as though he was fending off blows. Then he dropped his arms. “Okay, Mom. What’s the deal? I’m all ears.”

  She lifted the lid to check on the squash she was cooking. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

  He looked around the room. “Unless you see somebody that I don’t see, Mom-bo, I don’t see that we got much choice here.”

  “Boy, if you don’t stop that smart-mouth.” She laughed and swatted at him with the towel again.

  “Why so much violence, Mom? Why? Can’t we all just get along?” Tonya laughed and turned back to the stove. “So what is it, Mom? For you to even bring it up, it must have been bothering you for a while. Go ahead, Mom, I’m man enough; I can take it.”

  “It’s just something that happened at work.”

  “Work? Is that why you’ve been so uptight? That’s how it always is, isn’t it?” He pretended to have a hangman’s noose around his neck. “They make you mad at work, so you come home and take it out on the kids.”

  “Malik, give me a break. I don’t know why I even brought it up.”

  “Okay, I’m through kidding. Come on, Mom-bo. Spit it out.”

  She sat down across from him. “Malik, do you think I’m dead?”

  He threw back his head and howled. “Mom. Come on.”

  “I don’t mean literally. I mean, you know?”

  “You mean like what I’ve been talking to you about? Like the hair and everything?”

  Tonya held her breath and nodded.

  “I don’t think you’re really dead, Mom. I think you’ve just gotten tired of trying. I think you’re just stuck in a loop and it’s easier to stay where you are, than to work to get out. You’re not dead, you’re hibernating.”

  “So you think there’s something wrong with me?”

  “No, I think you’re human, Mom. Humans tend to do what’s easy, what takes the least amount of effort. I think you’re tired, and I think it’s been a long time—maybe you’ve lost a little confidence. It’s been easier to be tired than it has been to change it.” He shrugged. “We usually stay where we are until someone or something happens that makes it harder to stay than it is to move forward.” Malik rested his elbows on the table. “So, what’s the matter, Mom-bo?”

  “Nothing really. Just someone at work that was saying I should fix myself up. Look out for myself. That’s all.”

  He sat back. “The same kind of stuff I’ve been saying. Good. He or she must really like you. I’m glad you’re making friends.” Malik smiled. “You’re going to need something to do when the nest gets empty.”

  Tonya wasn’t about to tell Malik that Michelle wasn’t her friend. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that Michelle didn’t like her at all, that they had been arguing. “She must really like you.” That was an overstatement if ever she had heard one.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is it a man?”

  “Malik!” She certainly wasn’t going to tell him about Shadrach—not that there was anything to tell.

  Tonya didn’t tell Malik, but she thought about the afternoon’s conversation—Round Two—and about what Malik, Michelle, and Shadrach had said to her as she washed dishes. She thought about it on the way to prayer meeting, and she thought about it on her knees.

  God, if this is You, if this is You troubling the waters—then, okay. Help me to know that it’s You. Help me to see myself. You are magnificent. You are mighty. You are the God of the whole universe. Nothing is too hard for You.

  Maybe I have been stuck too long. It doesn’t seem possible that somebody could get used to being tired and miserable, but if that’s what I’ve done, or if that’s who I am, then help me to see myself. If You want me to move forward, then show me how. Show me where to go. All I know how to do is what I’ve been doing.

  If I’m hiding out, being safe instead of casting out to deep water, then give me the courage to change. Give me the determination to keep doing it until I get it right. You are glorious and there is no shadow of turning in You. Help me to reflect Your beauty and Your light.

  Lord, I don’t want to be sad and tired—I want to give You glory. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. Let all that I am reflect who You are. Don’t let me miss my season. Help me to see any doors that You are opening for me. Help me to see doors that You are closing.

  God if I’m not where You want me to be, then move me. Don’t leave me alone in the wilderness of grief and complac
ency. God You are the God who heals. If You don’t change me or heal me, nothing will be changed. Move with me and show me the way to go. Be a pillar of cloud before me in the day, and be a pillar of fire before me at night.

  And, God, while You heal my broken places, while You look after my son and me, look after Michelle. Bless her where she needs to be blessed. Help me to show her love that she can accept. Help me not to be offended, so that I can hear the truth in what she’s trying to say to me.

  And, God, You are our Banner, our Protector, our Strong Tower. You are the God who can turn the heart of a King. Lord, turn Mrs. Judson’s heart. Lord, in Jesus’ name, lead me and help me to get it right. Amen.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mrs. Judson’s office seemed infinitely wide and deep. Her desk was sterile and mammoth. Everything in the room bespoke wealth and power. The gray-haired woman sat behind her desk in a rich, chocolate-brown leather chair and peered over her glasses at Tonya. It felt like she was lost in the ocean and a wave was about to come crashing down on her. “I had hoped to speak with you this morning about Michelle—to see if we might quickly resolve the matter and move forward. However—” She looked at her cell phone. “—I have some pressing business that won’t wait.” She set the phone down. “I also have a week-long meeting out of the country. We’ll have to resume this meeting in two weeks when I return.”

  Mrs. Judson’s face told Tonya she was dismissed. “Perhaps this will give you some time to strategize and to solve this dilemma, in the manner that best serves the company—and yourself.”

  Tonya left the office with the same feeling she always had: Mrs. Judson’s office tried too hard. It was too big, as though it was intended to compensate for something else. It was too plush. It seemed to be hiding something.