Full Figured 12

by La Jill Hunt

  Lila walked in. “What happened?”

  “I told them to fuck this place.”

  “What?” Lila’s eyes widened with surprised.

  “They told me I could either resign or be fired, so I quit. You were right; they didn’t believe me.”

  “Noooooo!” Lila gave me a hug. When she released me, I could see the tears in her eyes.

  “It’s cool. Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, anything. What do you need?”

  “Priscilla is probably calling Molly and the cavalry to come up here and haul my big ass out of here.”

  Lila gasped. “She wouldn’t dare.”

  “She says it’s company policy.” I repeated the reason I was given.

  “That’s if you were fired.”

  “I know that. Anyway, can you pack my desk up for me and I will pick my stuff up from you later? I don’t trust anyone else here except you.”

  “You know that’s not a problem.” The tears Lila had been holding back began to fall. We had become close, and I was going to miss her.

  “Stop it.” I grabbed a Kleenex from my desk and handed it to her. “You know we’ll still talk all the time.”

  “I know.” She sniffed.

  I gave her one final hug good-bye and left.

  * * *

  “What’s next?” Caldwell asked, bringing me back to the reality of packing up and moving instead of remembering my last day in the office.

  I sighed. “We got all of my stuff from the bedroom and master bath. I guess next is the salon.”

  “Lord, that’s the one room I’ve been dreading,” Bailey teased.

  “What’s the salon?” Caldwell asked as he followed us down the hallway and into the room.

  Var had told me that even though he boxed up my clothes and shoes, he hadn’t touched anything in the salon because it was too much to deal with. As I looked around the space, I was glad that he felt that way. I would rather do it myself than running the risk of him doing it and throwing stuff away that he thought was unnecessary, which he had the tendency to do.

  “This is where the magic happens—well, it used to happen, before she lost her mojo,” Bailey teased, bumping my arm. “But we’re gonna get that back soon enough.”

  “Wow, this is a lot of stuff.” Caldwell laughed. “Where do we start?”

  I looked at him and said, “Are you sure you don’t have anything else you’re supposed to be doing? This is gonna take a minute.”

  “I told you it’s cool,” he said.

  Handing him one of the empty boxes that were leaning against the wall, I told him, “I guess you can box up those books and magazines. I’m not gonna empty the caddies; we can just tape them shut, and I could put them in storage along with the sewing machine and the serger.”

  “What? Why would you do that?” Bailey looked confused.

  “Because it’s easier than trying to box them all up. We can just—”

  “No, Zen. I’m talking about why you would put your sewing stuff in storage.”

  “Where else am I gonna put it?” I asked.

  “Um, my house where you’re living,” she said.

  I laughed. “I know my room is pretty spacious, but there’s no way that’s gonna fit in there.”

  “But it’ll fit in the shoe room. Especially if I move some of the shoe boxes out.” She shrugged then added, “Hand me the tape.”

  I looked at my best friend and fought the tears that I felt forming. “Bailey, you don’t have to do that.”

  “You said you wanted the drawers taped up. Make up your mind, woman.” She exhaled dramatically.

  “Wow, you’re a good friend,” Caldwell commented as he grabbed the roll of packing tape on the floor near the boxes.

  “I have ulterior motives. I told you she’s about to hook my place up, so I don’t need her giving me any excuses about not being able to do it because her stuff is in storage,” Bailey told him.

  “I knew you were being too nice. I don’t know any woman who would willingly give up her shoe room,” Caldwell said.

  With the three of us working, it didn’t take long to get everything in the room packed up, boxed, and loaded. Caldwell did all the heavy lifting and made sure my machines were secure. He even offered to meet us at the storage facility and then Bailey’s house to unload the truck.

  I was doing a final walk-through of our place when Var returned.

  “Damn, y’all finished already?” He looked surprised.

  “Yeah, we’re done. I’m making sure I got everything,” I told him

  “Caldwell helped,” Bailey volunteered.

  “Caldwell? Why the hell did you call him?” Var snapped at me.

  “I didn’t call him, Var. The property manager sent him over to check the place out,” I explained.

  “I don’t know what for. The keys don’t even get turned in until day after tomorrow. He probably brought his Spanish ass over here to be nosy and see if we left anything he could take.”

  “Var, you’re tripping. Caldwell ain’t even like that, and you know it.” I shook my head.

  “What I do know is that he was always commenting on how nice our shit was like he was casing the joint. And you used to encourage him, always pointing out how you did this or made that. I told you how I ain’t like the way he used to look at you when y’all would be chatting it up.”

  Caldwell had never done anything suspect, and he’d always been nice and respectful each and every time he’d come over to the house. Var had never liked him, especially the fact that, unlike him, Caldwell always noticed if I did something to our house. Whether it was major like the redesign of the fireplace, or minor, like changing the furniture around, Caldwell noticed and gave me compliments. Var was never the jealous type, but me receiving compliments on my design skills always bothered him. I believed it was because he thought it might inspire me to go back to pursuing it full time.

  “Again, you’re tripping. He was never like that. You just didn’t like him for some strange reason.” I took my key off the ring and handed it to him. “Here.”

  Var just stared at the shiny copper in the palm of my hand with a look of sadness. “Zen, we gotta get through this.”

  “You get the paternity test results back, Var?” I asked.

  He looked up at me, took the key, then looked away. “Yeah, I got them.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I sighed. I knew that the test had to have come back listing him as the father. Had it not, he would’ve told me.

  “I know this is a lot to ask, considering what we’ve just gone through, but I love you, Zen, and I want us to be together. Moving into this house doesn’t even feel right without you. How am I even gonna do all of this by myself? We’ve both worked so hard for this.”

  “You were the one who wanted to go through with that house, not me. And honestly, with your new baby and all, I don’t know how you’re gonna handle it. But I’m sure you will. I can’t help you,” I told him.

  “Yes, you can. We’re a team. I’ve apologized, and this baby is not something I planned or even knew about, but she’s here,” he said.

  “Are you crazy? Clearly, you’ve lost your mind.” My voice rose, and I took a step toward him. I had taken about as much as I could tolerate from him.

  “Come on, Zen. Let’s go.” Bailey, who’d been quietly waiting near the door, walked over and put her hand on my shoulder.

  “No, I haven’t lost my mind. I’m the one that’s fighting for us, and you say I’m crazy?” Var asked.

  “What do you expect her to do, Var? She just lost her baby, and now you want her to step up and be stepmom of the year? That ain’t fair. Your baby mama been out of pocket for years, and you’ve never checked her on her bullshit. Zen has always been the one to turn the other cheek. And she’s a good one, because the only cheek I would’ve given her was the one I sit on to kiss. You are crazy.” Bailey tugged on my arm.

  “Fine, Zen, go ahead. Let your single, miserable friend c
onvince you to leave your relationship so she can have someone to be miserable right along with her!” Var yelled.

  “Fuck you, Var. You’re right; I am telling her to leave your opportunistic, arrogant, selfish ass. Go be with your baby mama. Move her into your house, and then maybe her daddy will promote you again to help you pay for it, you asshole!” Bailey yelled back at him. “I’d rather her be miserable by herself than with your whack ass!”

  “Screw you, Bailey. You never wanted to see her happy anyway. You were always jealous because Zen could keep a man and you couldn’t,” Var responded.

  “Var, you need to stop it. Don’t stand there and act like some kind of fucking victim like this ain’t your fault. I swear, you are a self-centered, narcissistic hypocrite, and you need to seek counseling,” I said.

  “And you’re whack as hell!” Bailey repeated.

  It was me who then pulled Bailey out the front door. We climbed into the U-Haul and looked at one another in silence for a few moments, then we burst out in laughter.

  “You just had to have the last word, huh?” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “What was that? You’re whack as hell?”

  “Well, he is,” she said matter-of-factly, and we pulled out of the driveway, away from my former home with whack-ass Var.

  Chapter Twelve

  Six Months Later

  “Is that all you need today, Mrs. Powe?” I asked the customer as I put the items she had purchased into a plastic bag.

  “Yes, Zen. Thank you so much for all your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The tiny, gray-haired woman smiled. “The ladies in my book club are gonna be jealous when they come to my house and see these pillows I’m making.”

  “Well, you have to let me know what they say.”

  “I will. See you next time.”

  I walked Mrs. Powe out the front door of Loehman’s Fabrics, where I was finally working after being unemployed for almost five months. It wasn’t where one would expect to find a talented, educated black woman with two degrees, but here I was. My Loehman’s paycheck didn’t cover all my bills, but thankfully, the seamstress work I did for clients put a little more money in my fairly empty pockets.

  Bailey didn’t charge me anything for rent, and when I tried to give her cash, she refused. So, I made sure to bring groceries and household supplies in weekly, and whenever we went out for drinks, I paid for at least one round. I also did a phenomenal job redecorating her house, especially because of my store discount. I really enjoyed working at the store, but I knew I needed to find a better job soon.

  “Can I help you find something?” I asked a lady who had been lingering among the bolts of sheer polyester for a little while.

  “I don’t know. I’m so confused,” she said, running her fingers along the material.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “My husband and I just got new living room furniture, which I love, but now our drapes don’t match. I want to change them, but he’s saying they look fine. I just came in here to look, really,” she said.

  “New living room furniture. Nice. What color is it?” I asked.

  “I love it. They call it Fresco, I believe. It’s brown leather, but is has tapestry cushions and pillows.” She was beaming as she described her décor.

  “It sounds gorgeous. Do you have a picture?”

  “Well, darn it, I don’t. That would probably be helpful if I did, huh?” She laughed.

  “A little. But, no worries,” I told her just as the store phone began to ring, “Excuse me for one second.”

  “Oh, you’re fine, dear,” she said.

  I walked behind the counter and answered, “Loehman’s Fine Fabrics, this is Zen.”

  “Hey, Zen, I got a client for you.”

  “Caldwell?”

  “Yeah, I tried calling your cell but got no answer, so I called the store. What time do you get off? I told him you would meet him.” Caldwell was talking so fast that I couldn’t grasp what he was saying.

  “Wait, slow down. What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?” I asked.

  Since helping me move, Caldwell had checked on Bailey and me pretty frequently, and we had even hung out at happy hour a couple of times. We learned that not only was he a talented contractor, but he was also smart and funny. Caldwell also had no problem letting anyone who needed any type of seamstress know that I was available. He had even told one woman I could design and sew her wedding gown, which I certainly couldn’t do. I had to stress to him that my specialty was interior design, not fashion. So, when he called talking about a potential client, I had to clarify before agreeing to meet with them.

  “My mother’s best friend’s son just moved back, and he needs some work done to his townhouse. I went over to do an estimate for him. His mother wants him to hire a designer, and I told them about you,” Caldwell explained. “I told them you charge two-fifty an hour.”

  “What?” My voice was so loud that the customer I’d been helping raised her head and looked over at me.

  “That’s how much you told me designers make, right?” he asked.

  “Well, yeah, ones who work for design firms, Caldwell, which I don’t.” I couldn’t believe this dude.

  “Well, I guess they’re cool with the price, because they asked when you could come by, and I told them probably today. So, what time do you get off?”

  “Uh, I, um, seven,” I said.

  “Cool. I’ll let them know and text you the address,” Caldwell said. “See you when you get there.”

  Before I could protest any further, Caldwell hung up. I put the receiver back on the cradle and walked back over to my customer.

  “I am so sorry about that,” I apologized. “Did you find anything you think may match?”

  “Not really. I think I’m gonna take a picture and bring it back, if that’s okay.” She waited for my response. When I nodded, she seemed relieved.

  “That’s fine. I’ll be here and ready to help you find the perfect fabric,” I promised, and she left.

  It was two minutes after seven when I hung up my uniform apron and clocked out. I grabbed my purse out of my locker in the storage room, said good-bye to Maggie, my boss, and walked out the door. Once I got in the car, I took my cell phone out of my purse and saw I had two missed calls from earlier. There was also a text from Caldwell, with an address where we were supposed to meet.

  The phone began vibrating, and Bailey’s name and picture flashed on the screen.

  “What’s up, girl. How was work?” she asked after I said hello.

  “It was cool. What about you?”

  “Same ol’ same. Nothing spectacular,” she said. “I’m grabbing my bag and changing at the gym. You on your way?”

  “Uh, well . . .” I started.

  Bailey interrupted me. “No excuses. I don’t wanna hear it.”

  We had continued our weekly “girl talk” workout regimen on the treadmill three to four times a week. Bailey also kept her promise about adopting and keeping healthier eating habits. With my best friend’s support, I had lost well over fifty pounds and felt better, and Bailey was now training to run her first 5K race. She had invited me to participate, which I respectfully declined.

  “I’m not making an excuse, I swear. Caldwell called—”

  “Ohhhhh, nooooo. Now I know this is about to be some BS. What did Juan Valdez want?” Bailey laughed.

  “Bailey, that’s not nice. Don’t do that,” I scolded her.

  “Do what? As much as he teases me about my forehead and my fingers? You’re kidding, right?”

  I laughed, because Caldwell and Bailey constantly teased one another, sometimes to the point that I could hardly breathe from laughing so hard. They had both grown up with older siblings, which had seemed to help them learn to joke others.

  “He set up a meeting for me with a potential client.”

  “Oh God, he doesn’t have you making someone else’s wedding dress, does he?”

  “No,
it’s someone remodeling a home.”

  “What? That’s great,” Bailey said with excitement. “Wait, what’s wrong? Why do you sound like you don’t wanna go?”

  “Because he told them I was a designer and I charge two-fifty an hour,” I explained.

  “Yes, Caldwell! You better do the damn thing and make it happen for my girl.”

  “Uhhh, I’m gonna tell you like I told him. That’s what design firms charge. I don’t work for a firm.”

  “Zenobia, shut up. You hold an art design degree that you earned from a highly esteemed university, and you graduated with honors, which demonstrates that you know what the hell you’re doing. You also hold an MBA, which you also earned with honors, which demonstrates that you not only know what the hell you’re doing, but you’ve mastered it. Clearly, whoever it is doesn’t have a problem with what Caldwell said, because they wanna meet. You know white folks don’t mind spending money with people they like and trust. They ain’t thinking about a firm. They need to know if you’re good at what you do.”

  “I don’t have my portfolio together. I don’t have swatches . . .”

  “Stop it. I told you no excuses.”

  “I thought that only applied for the gym.”

  “No, that applies to this too. You go to that meeting and tell them what you can do. I’m sure Caldwell has sung your praises, which is what sparked their interest in the first place. If they need more references, tell them to call me. Better yet, bring them by the house so they can see for themselves. Zen, you got this.”

  I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

  “You walk in that meeting with your head held high and all the fabulousness that’s in you, so they can see just by looking at you that you’re the best person for whatever they need you for.”

  “Except a wedding gown,” I joked.

  “Definitely not.”

  “Thanks, Bails.”

  “You’re welcome. Call me when you’re done so we can go celebrate.” She said, “I love you.”

  “Love you too,” I told her.

  It took me fifteen minutes to get to the address that Caldwell had sent. It was a townhouse settled in the center of a cul de sac. Caldwell’s pickup was parked out front, along with a gray Infinity SUV. I parked on the street and said a quick prayer before getting out. I looked at the black slacks and multi-colored blouse that I had worn to work, wishing I had on a pair of heels instead of the sensible flats on my feet.