Dance Into Destiny

by Sherri L. Lewis

  Shara had to hide her surprise. She had taken Keeva to be one of those self-absorbed people who didn’t think about helping others.

  “At first, I wanted to be a pediatrician, but then I volunteered at South Fulton Hospital after my freshman year in college and was totally grossed out by all the sights, sounds, and smells.” Keeva shuddered. “By the end of my first day, the nurse I was working with pulled me aside and told me she didn’t think medicine was for me. I was glad because I felt like she gave me permission not to be a doctor.”

  Shara wondered why she needed permission not to do something she didn’t want to, but decided not to ask.

  “So I switched my major to English. I love writing, but my parents were concerned about me being able to get a good job with an English degree, so I switched to psychology.”

  “Why psych?”

  The waitress stopped by to drop off a basket of steaming bread. Shara ignored her burning fingertips and smoothed butter over a large slice.

  Keeva once again looked like she was trying to come up with an answer. She finally smiled, as if remembering something pleasant. “Well, when I was thirteen, my mom got real exasperated with me and took me to a shrink.”

  Shara’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Please.” Keeva waved her hand flippantly. “I can’t think of any of the kids I grew up with who didn’t have therapy at some point in their lives.

  “I felt like my mom wouldn’t let me do anything I wanted to, and wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say. She always wanted me to do things her way and think the way she thought. I felt stifled and controlled. I guess I got depressed. I slept all the time and stopped eating and lost a ton of weight. My dad got worried, so they took me to a psychologist.”

  Growing up as a preacher’s daughter, Shara could identify with being stifled and controlled by her parents. She had never gone to a psychologist for it, though.

  “My psychologist was the most incredible person I’d ever met. She listened to me and cared what I thought about and felt. Nobody had done that for me before. She made me feel that all my dreams were okay—that I was okay.” Keeva had a faraway look in her eyes.

  “She gave me what my mother never could—acceptance for who I was. With my parents, there was always this pressure—like I had to live up to something—like I would never be enough. The psychologist had this magical presence about her that made it okay to be me. The impression she made on me, I guess, is what made me want to be a therapist. I guess I felt that if I could do that for somebody . . .”

  Keeva stopped suddenly, her face red. The waitress appeared again and set their drinks down in front of them. Keeva drained half of her glass of wine in one swallow. She tossed her hair and pasted on a smile.

  Shara sensed her discomfort and could almost see her putting her mask back on.

  “Could you excuse me for a minute?” Keeva said. “I need to make a quick run to the bathroom.”

  “Sure.” Shara picked up another piece of bread as Keeva hurried away.

  Keeva lingered in the bathroom for a few minutes, hoping Shara wouldn’t expect her to continue the same line of conversation. Why had she told all that stuff to a casual acquaintance? She straightened her Dana Buchman suit, gave her hair and lipstick one last glance in the mirror and exited the bathroom. When she got back to the table and sat down across from Shara, she looked at Shara’s hair and clothes. Why should I care what she thinks anyway?

  Keeva finished off the rest of her wine. She looked around for the waitress. When she caught her eyes, she raised her glass to indicate to bring her another. She turned back to Shara. “So—what made you go into education?”

  Shara sipped her cranberry juice. “I always wanted to be a teacher. When I finished undergrad, I taught seventh grade for a year and then eighth grade for two years.”

  “That must have been interesting. Where did you teach?”

  “Bunche Middle School.”

  “Wow.” Keeva’s eyes widened. “Weren’t the kids bad? Don’t they carry guns and beat up the teachers there?”

  “They aren’t bad kids. A lot of them come from broken homes and live in not-so-great neighborhoods, so the way they act is a reflection of what they see everyday. When you get down to the core of them, they’re regular kids just like in suburbia. They have feelings and dreams like any other teenager. I don’t think it’s fair to judge them because they don’t grow up privileged with all their needs met.”

  Keeva couldn’t help but feel that last comment was directed at her. “I wasn’t judging them. You hear on the news all the time about, you know—”

  “I’m sorry,” Shara said. “I didn’t mean it that way. I guess I hear that all the time and it frustrates me. They just need a lot of love and guidance. If people have preconceived notions about them, they won’t give them a chance.”

  “So why did you leave teaching?”

  “At first, I really enjoyed teaching, but eventually it became frustrating and depressing.”

  “Why?” Keeva couldn’t imagine “Miss Smiley-face” ever being depressed.

  “Most of the kids have really bad home situations. After they got to know me and trust me, they would share things with me. Like their parents being strung out on crack, or working multiple jobs and never being home, or beating them, or neglecting them. Some of the kids were practically raising their younger siblings and they were just thirteen or fourteen. Too many young girls confessed that their father, uncle, or mom’s boyfriend had molested them. Their situations were so depressing. I couldn’t imagine how they could ever have a chance in life. No child should have to grow up the way some of them do.”

  Keeva looked around to see where the waitress was with her second glass of wine. She was almost sorry she had asked Shara about teaching.

  Shara continued, “It seemed like I wasn’t making any difference in their lives. I felt like I had so much to give—not just math and science, but love and a sense of self. The system isn’t designed for all that, though. It got frustrating.”

  Shara reached across the table and took yet another piece of bread. Keeva was sure she wouldn’t have an appetite when the food came. She smoothed a whole pat of butter on it, making Keeva wonder how she maintained her tight figure.

  “So I decided to get my master’s so I could start my own school. I want to be able to create a place where kids can come and get their needs met on many levels. I want to help them understand they have a purpose for being here and then equip them with the personal skills they need to reach their God-ordained destiny.”

  Keeva couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as she noticed the glow in Shara’s eyes. “That sounds great. I wish I could have been in that kind of program when I was a kid. Probably would have saved my parents a pretty penny in shrink bills.” Keeva fidgeted with her silverware. “Sounds like you really know what you want to do and are really passionate about it. That must be a good feeling.”

  “Well, you too, right?”

  “Oh yeah, I definitely want to help people. I’d love to help little girls know who they are and get on the right track.” She knew her half-hearted answer sounded nothing like Shara’s impassioned decisiveness.

  “But?”

  Keeva shrugged. She didn’t dare answer for fear that she’d start spilling her guts again.

  The waitress brought their food. Shara stared at her plate and then at Keeva.

  “What’s wrong?” Keeva asked.

  Shara whispered loudly, “How can they charge you $22 for this little bit of food? This ain’t gonna do nothing but make my stomach mad.”

  Keeva looked at her own plate. It was a perfect sized portion of salmon, garlic mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. She appreciated the chef’s elegant presentation with the bright yellow, lemon butter sauce drizzled delicately around the edge of the plate. “Try it. It’s more than it looks.”

  Keeva was soon embarrassed as Shara tore into her food, almost violently. Keeva looked around the restaur
ant, hoping she didn’t see anyone she knew. She was glad when Shara stopped eating and looked up at her.

  “Sorry, I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

  She went back to inhaling her food. Keeva forced a smile. Her cell phone rang. She recognized Mark’s number and frowned. She was supposed to call him after her exam, but forgot.

  “Hi, honey.”

  “Where are you? I thought you were going to call me when you finished your exams today. I had planned to come over tonight. Why aren’t you answering your cell?” Mark’s voice cut through the phone like a knife.

  Keeva held the phone away from her ear to avoid the barrage of questions. “I didn’t hear it ring, sweetie. I’m at a restaurant and it’s kind of loud.”

  “At a restaurant?”

  Keeva grimaced. Oops.

  “Who are you out with? I thought we were going to be together tonight. Keeva, this is very inconsiderate of you. Did you even think of calling me?”

  “My exams went well, sweetie, thanks for asking. Listen, I’m in the middle of a dinner meeting with a classmate. We’re tossing around ideas so we can get started on a project we’re doing together. This was the only time she could meet this week. I’ll call you when I get home tonight, honey, I promise. We’ll get together tomorrow. Love you baby, bye.” She hung up before he could say anything.

  She knew he was seething at her practically hanging up on him, but she didn’t feel like dealing with him right now. She was actually enjoying her dinner with Shara, in spite of the hungry horse act she was putting on across the table. Shara stopped eating for a second to give her a questioning look.

  “That was my boyfriend. I guess I forgot we were supposed to be getting together tonight.”

  “Gee, I thought we were having a celebratory dinner. I didn’t realize we were working on our project.”

  “It’s just a little white lie. You won’t tell on me will you?”

  Shara made a zipping motion across her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.” She scraped the last bit of sauce off her plate with a piece of bread. “I have to admit, the food was good, but I’m still hungry. That’ll be enough to last me until I get home, though.” She rubbed her stomach.

  Keeva looked down at her own full plate. “Want some dessert?”

  “No, I’m not much of a sweets person. I’m more of a meat and potatoes girl.”

  “Not me, I’m a sweet-aholic. Give me some chocolate and all is right with the world.” Keeva started to eat slowly. “Are you originally from Atlanta?”

  “No, I’m from a small town south of Macon. My father was the overseer of a group of churches in that region.”

  Keeva had to ask. “Are you one of those holy people?”

  “Holy people?”

  Keeva didn’t mean to, but she found herself looking at Shara’s hair and plain face.

  “Oh, you thought my look . . . you mistook my style—or lack of style for . . . that’s funny.” Shara laughed. “No I wish I could I could use that as an excuse. I’m just lazy. I figure if I have to choose between an extra hour of sleep and getting up earlier to look like you usually do, I’d rather sleep.”

  “Like I usually do?”

  “You know, all fly, dressed to the nines, full face of makeup, perfect hair. Don’t get me wrong. I admire you. I wish I could always look like I stepped out of Essence. That never was my thing, I guess.”

  Shara pushed her plate away from her and plunked her elbows on the table. “I never grew out of being a tomboy. I had a big brother I adored and the only way I could hang out with him was to do what he did. So I climbed trees, jumped off of bunk beds to see if I could fly, went fishing, you know, all the normal boy stuff. Then I was involved in sports from junior high through college, so I wasn’t too worried about being pretty then, either.”

  Now it made sense. A girl jock. One of those girls Keeva’s mother would turn up her nose at and talk about how mannish they looked. She couldn’t imagine how any mother would allow her daughter to get so wrapped up in sports that she didn’t get to enjoy being a girl.

  “Track was about all I could do for fun growing up,” Shara said.

  “What do you mean?” Keeva had to restrain herself from telling Shara to take her elbows off the table.

  “In the denomination I grew up in, anything having to do with ‘the world’, so to speak, was off limits. That included movies, secular music, most television shows, bowling, playing cards, anything remotely related to having fun. Anyone who participated in such activities was surely going to hell.”

  “Wow. How could you stand it?”

  “I couldn’t. Being the preacher’s daughter, I practically lived in church. We had morning and evening service on Sunday, prayer meeting on Tuesday, Bible study on Wednesday, choir rehearsal on Friday night and of course Saturday night was spent getting ready for church on Sunday. I literally had no life.”

  “I can’t imagine.” Keeva shook her head.

  “When I was a little girl, it didn’t bother me much. I had a lot of little friends in church so it was like a big club. Of course, as I got older, it wasn’t so much fun. My brother and I missed out on everything. At first, the kids in school made fun of us, but then they felt sorry for us. They brought their tape players to school and let us listen to the latest music and tried to show us how to dance. They told us about all the latest movies in vivid detail. We saw all our movies ‘secondhand.’ ” Shara laughed bitterly. “My father tried to console us by telling us all our friends were going to hell. Of course, that didn’t make us feel any better.

  “That’s how I got into track in the first place. It was the only way I could wear pants or shorts. Even then, my mom had to beg my dad to let me. He was concerned about me running in shorts because there were boys at my meets, but I was so shy I guess he figured he didn’t have anything to worry about.”

  “You were shy?”

  “Just around boys. I was convinced every male, except my father and brother, was the devil incarnate. I was terrified of them.”

  Keeva laughed. “That must have been difficult to get over.”

  Shara’s smile faded. “Yeah. Pretty difficult.”

  The waitress came by and noticed Shara’s empty plate. She raised an eyebrow. “All done already?” She reached for the plate. “Can I take this?”

  “Sure.” Shara held up the empty bread basket. “Can we get a fresh loaf?”

  She seemed not to notice both Keeva’s and the waitress’ reactions. “So how about you? Did you grow up in church?”

  “Yeah, but not nearly as much as you did. To be honest, I think church was more of a political thing for my parents,” Keeva said.

  “Political?”

  “Have you heard of David Banks?”

  “The state senator?”

  “Yeah, well that’s my dad.”

  “Your dad is a state senator?” Shara looked surprised.

  Keeva nodded.

  “What was that like?”

  Normally Keeva would have enjoyed bragging about being a senator’s daughter. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t impress Shara the way it impressed her other friends. She wasn’t a part of that world where it mattered. She decided to be honest. “It was pretty horrible.”

  “Horrible?”

  “We had to live the perfect life. Think about it—the best way to discredit a politician is to bring up some scandalous thing he did in his past or some dirt about his family.

  “My dad knew early in his law career he wanted to run for public office, so he started planning then. He married the perfect wife who would be good for his public image—someone who could throw parties, say all the right things and know all the right people. His only child had to be a perfect angel and go to all the right schools and participate in all the right activities.

  Keeva pushed around the remaining food on her plate, remembering the few extra pounds she had to lose. “Everything had to be proper and perfect. I couldn’t do anything that might ‘affect Daddy’
s career.’ Church was like everything else—the right thing to do. My parents didn’t really get into it though. We didn’t pray or read the Bible or anything like that.”

  “Do you still go now?”

  “Occasionally . . . to be perfectly honest, and no offense, I guess I don’t see the point.”

  Keeva’s cell phone rang again. She looked at the caller ID and rolled her eyes. “What!” she hissed at the phone before answering. When she did answer it, her voice was saccharin sweet. “Hi honey, what’s going on? I’m still in my meeting. It’s running a little later than I thought.”

  “Keeva, honey, I miss you so much. We haven’t had any time together. Are you coming home soon?” Mark sounded anxious.

  She sighed. “Yes, dear. I’ll be there in a little bit okay?”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.” He had a slight mischievous tone in his voice that let her know what he was waiting for. Keeva jabbed the “off” button on her cell phone and jammed it into her purse.

  “I’m sorry. If I don’t go, he’ll call every five minutes and drive us both crazy.” She signaled the waitress to bring the check. “We’ll have to get together again some time soon. I really enjoyed this,” Keeva said it as if it surprised her.

  Shara nodded and smiled like she was surprised too. “I enjoyed it, too. And we do have to get together soon, although maybe not under such pleasant circumstances.”

  Keeva looked confused.

  “The project? Remember? Graduate school, professors, grades, all that stuff?”

  “Oh yeah.” Keeva groaned.

  The waitress brought the check. Shara picked it up and her eyes bugged out.

  “My treat, remember?” Keeva took the bill from her.

  Shara didn’t object. “Thanks so much for dinner. This was really nice.”

  “No—thank you. I never would have made it through exams if it weren’t for you.” Keeva pulled out her credit card and motioned for the waitress to take it.

  “So when are you available to start the project?” Keeva was actually looking forward to hanging out with Shara again. She was so different from her other friends. With them, everyone was always trying to outdo someone else. With Shara, she could just relax and didn’t feel like she had anything to prove.