Dance Into Destiny

by Sherri L. Lewis

  They made plans to meet on Saturday morning and got up to leave the restaurant.

  The evening’s conversation played in Keeva’s mind as she drove home. In spite of the way she dressed and wore her hair, Shara was a nice person. Keeva reflected on what Shara said about her kids and her school. She focused on what she said about giving them a sense of purpose. That phrase stuck with her.

  Her cell phone rang, pulling her away from her thoughts. She knew it was Mark and decided not to answer it, knowing she’d be home in a few minutes. Undoubtedly, he had already let himself into her apartment and was tapping his foot, checking his watch and looking out the window for her car to drive up.

  Sure enough, when she put her key in the door, Mark opened it before she could even turn the knob and pulled her into his arms, holding her too tightly. “Hey, baby.”

  She peeled herself away from him.

  “I missed you, honey. Come here.” Mark kissed her almost fiercely, as if he was a starving man and she was a T-bone steak. She tried to pull away, but the more she resisted, the more intense he became.

  “Baby, it’s been too long.” He whined like a little kid.

  Keeva decided to give in. She didn’t feel creative enough to come up with an excuse and if she just went along with it, it would be over soon anyway. She allowed him to lead her into the bedroom and take off her clothes. Her mind drifted.

  She wished he had greeted her at the door, asking her about her day and her exams. She wished he would talk to her about his day and how he was feeling. She wished he would caress her hair and look into her eyes. She wished he would ask her what was bothering her lately and listen like he really cared.

  She pushed those thoughts away and pretended to be there like always. Soon he was snoring heavily beside her, his arm draped over her waist like a restraint.

  If she had trouble sleeping when she was by herself, it was worse when Mark spent the night. He snored like a bear. And he always put an arm over her waist or threw a leg over her thighs. He slept so heavily his body felt like a dead man and she got trapped in whatever position she was in when he fell asleep. If she tried to pry herself loose, it would partially awaken him and make him hold on tighter.

  She stared at the ceiling. Would he stop snoring if she kicked him?

  If she had any hope of getting some sleep tonight, she had to escape. She rolled over and over until she reached the end of his arm. He tightened his grasp, but she rolled out of his reach and onto the floor. He reached for her and mumbled something, then turned over without waking up.

  She slipped into the living room and turned the television on. If she was lucky, she would find a good movie to drown out her thoughts. One of her favorites was on HBO. She watched Sleepless in Seattle until she fell asleep on the couch.

  Chapter Seven

  Shara stretched lazily in the bed. Since midterm exams were over, she had Friday off.

  “Good morning, Daddy God.” She could feel God’s presence in her bedroom. She felt so close to Him first thing in the morning. It was so still and quiet, it was easy to feel Him and hear Him.

  She started talking to God as if He were physically sitting in the room with her. She talked to Him about her kids, especially Tangee, and prayed for each one of them; that He would take care of them, save them, and make happen whatever needed to happen in their lives for them to reach their destiny. She prayed the church would continue to grow and meet the needs of the community. She prayed she would continue to grow and become all that He made her to be.

  Her mind drifted to Keeva. She thought of the panicked look on her face in the library. She thought of the emptiness in her eyes when she talked about her career plans during dinner. She didn’t quite know how to pray for her. On the one hand, Keeva seemed to have it all together. Beneath the surface though, she seemed like she was going to crack at any moment.

  Shara found herself praying, God, please help Keeva. She needs to know You. She needs a sense of direction she can only find in You. Bring her to a place of relationship and intimacy with You. Show her who You really are and how much You love her. Change her life. Cause her to live the life You planned for her when You created her. Give her that sense of purpose she needs to make life worth living. In Jesus’ name.

  Shara’s thoughts drifted back to Tangee. She didn’t know why, but she sensed something was wrong. She prayed for a while, but still didn’t get any peace. She’d make sure everything was okay when she saw Tangee later at track practice.

  When Shara was growing up, she thought of prayer in terms of what her father did in the pulpit on Sunday. Until she met Mother Hobbs, she never realized prayer was simply talking to God. She remembered one of the first times they prayed together. They had just finished having some deep biblical discussion at the kitchen table and Mother Hobbs asked Shara to pray before they went to sleep that night.

  Shara, of course, knew she knew how to pray. Her father taught her. Halfway through her recitation, Mother Hobbs stopped her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m praying.”

  “Well, why are you talking to God like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like He’s the King of England or something with all those thee’s and thou’s—like He’s far away sitting on a big, golden throne and staring down at you with a rod of iron in His hand.”

  Shara wrinkled her nose. That was sort of how she saw God. “How am I supposed to pray, then?”

  “Honey, God is not impressed with big words or catchy phrases. He doesn’t want to hear your religious clichés. You know what He really wants?”

  Shara shook her head. She wanted to know more than anything. “What?”

  “He wants to be your friend. Talk to him naturally like you would your best friend. Tell Him what you’re feeling—what’s bothering you. Ask Him questions. Have a normal conversation with Him. Most importantly, be real with Him. What’s the point of a relationship if you can’t be yourself?”

  Shara took those words to heart. From that night on, her prayer life and relationship with God had radically changed. Her “friendship” with God had grown over the years to the point where Shara now did consider Him her best friend.

  As she pulled on her sneakers, she looked around her bedroom. Her apartment building was old, but they had kept things up nice. She still had most of the same furniture she’d brought from home when she left for college. Her old wooden twin bed and matching dresser were scratched but still sturdy. She still had her childhood bookcases, now buckling under the weight of her college and grad school books. Everything was old and country, but it gave her apartment a cozy feel.

  Shara headed outside for a quick run. She loved jogging in her midtown Atlanta neighborhood. Even though her rent cost more than it would have if she lived in an Atlanta suburb, she needed the cosmopolitan pulse of the city around her. It served as a constant reminder that she’d succeeded in escaping South Georgia and that with God’s help, she could accomplish anything else she put her mind to.

  Tangee flashed across her mind again. The sense of foreboding she’d felt in prayer that morning was growing stronger.

  What is it, God? What’s wrong with Tangee?

  Shara turned onto Ponce De Leon street and sped her pace, as if she was trying to outrun the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A late evening discussion at Mother Hobbs kitchen table came to mind. Mother Hobbs was teaching her about intercession and related that sometimes, God would put someone in her spirit with such a sense of urgency that she’d feel spiritually “sick” unless she prayed for them. During those times she’d literally have to groan and travail for them in the spirit until God did something, or at least brought peace about the situation.

  Was that what she was supposed to do about Tangee right now?

  Shara turned onto Moreland Avenue. On days she didn’t have class, she ended her run in Inman Park and then stopped at the Starbucks in Little Five Points for tea and a muffin. She hoped the tea would settle her stomach.
She would talk to Mother Hobbs later and they could pray for Tangee together.

  Shara stood at the edge of the track, watching the kids do their laps. Jamil was rounding the corner, making a silly face as he ran by. Tangee came around holding her stomach. She stopped long enough to tell Shara, “I’m sick. I gotta go to the bathroom.”

  Shara figured she had to throw up again. Maybe God had been telling her that morning that Tangee was experiencing a lot of sickness with the pregnancy. When she came back from the bathroom, Shara would tell her she needed to see a doctor soon.

  A few minutes later, Danae came running up with a frantic look on her face. “Miss Shara, come quick!”

  Normally Shara would have ignored her. Most of her girls were drama queens and overreacted about everything. Seeing the fear in Danae’s eyes though, she knew to take her seriously.

  “What is it?” Shara asked.

  “It’s Tangee. She in the bathroom screaming and crying—and there’s blood everywhere!”

  Shara’s heart froze. “Go into the church and tell Mother Watkins to call an ambulance.” Mother Hobbs had to pick today to be out of the office.

  Danae stood there, wringing her hands with a panicked look on her face.

  “Now, Danae!” Shara screamed, bringing her out of her trance.

  As Shara ran into the bathroom, she heard Tangee wailing. She found her sitting on the floor, rocking and holding her belly. Lakita was with her, trying to comfort her. Tangee had bloody streaks down her legs and a small pool gathered at her ankles. Shara ran over to them.

  “Tangee?” She turned toward Lakita. “Wet some paper towels with hot water.”

  Shara cradled Tangee in her arms and whispered into her ear. “You’re okay, sweetie. The ambulance is going to be here in a few minutes. You’re going to be just fine. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Internally she prayed every healing scripture she could think of. Her hands shook as she wiped away the blood, which seemed to be flowing faster by the minute.

  “Lakita, go find out what’s going on with the ambulance.”

  “Please, Miss Shara—in this neighborhood? It’ll be tomorrow before they get here.”

  “Lakita, just do what I said. Go to the church office, NOW!”

  Lakita sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes, and stomped out the door.

  Even though she didn’t appreciate Lakita’s attitude, Shara knew she was right. “Tangee, sweetie, can you walk? We need to get you to the van so we can get you to the hospital.”

  Tangee kept crying and rocking.

  Danae came rushing in the door. “Miss Shara, the am-balamps is going to be a while getting here. They said unless she unconscious, having a seizure or chest pain, she’s low priority.”

  “I know, Danae, go get Jaquell so he can take Tangee to the van.

  Tangee stopped rocking. “No, Miss Shara, I don’t want him carrying me. I got blood all over me.” Danae stood there.

  “Danae, did you hear me?” Shara tried not to scream at her.

  Jaquell’s six-foot tall frame lumbered through the doorway a few minutes later. He stopped when he saw Tangee. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Jacquell. Just pick her up and take her to the van.”

  He backed towards the door. “Unh, uh Miss Shara, she got blood all over her. I ain’t touching no blood. I ain’t trying to catch no AIDS.”

  Shara took a deep breath, but it didn’t keep her from yelling at him. “Boy, get your behind over here and pick Tangee up and put her in the van. I don’t want to hear another word. Just do it!” Her voice echoed off the bathroom walls.

  By the time they got to the van, Lakita had spread newspaper and towels over the first bench. Shara smiled at her with appreciation but Lakita looked away, obviously still angry with Shara for yelling at her.

  “You should go to Atlanta Medical Center.” Lakita sucked her teeth. “She could bleed to death waiting at County Hospital.”

  “Thanks, Lakita, good thinking.” Shara paused. “Can you come with me? I may need your help.”

  Lakita looked up at her and halfway smiled. “Yeah, Miss Shara. I’ll sit in the back with Tangee while you drive.”

  Shara prayed the whole way to the hospital, trusting God that Tangee and the baby would be okay.

  Chapter Eight

  Hours had passed when Shara and Lakita approached the nurses’ station in the ER for the fifth time. The nurse sitting there knitted her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Shara guessed she was sick of seeing her face because she snatched up the phone. “Let me see if I can get the doctor to come out and give you an update.”

  A few minutes later, a middle-aged man wearing a long white coat over his hospital scrubs came out to the nurses’ station. “Ms. Madison? I’m Doctor Reisen. Your daughter will be fine. We were initially concerned she was having an ectopic because of the severity of her pain, but after a pelvic and transvaginal ultrasound, we were able to determine that she did, in fact, have an intrauterine pregnancy and has had a complete spontaneous abortion.

  “She lost quite a bit of blood but her hematocrit is stable and she shouldn’t require a transfusion. We’ll be observing her a little longer to make sure she doesn’t have any retained products, but she should be fine to go home this evening. You’ll need to consider putting her on some form of contraception so this doesn’t happen again. We would be glad to give her a Depo-Provera shot before she leaves. Just let one of the nurses know.” He rattled off the information and then walked away as abruptly as he came.

  Shara turned to the nurse still sitting there. “Could you give that to us in English?”

  The nurse smiled sympathetically. “Sorry about that. He gets in a hurry when the ER is busy. Basically, your daughter had a miscarriage, and based on the ultrasound, everything came out on its own so she won’t need any surgery. She bled a lot, but won’t need a blood transfusion. We need to watch her a little while longer to make sure everything is okay. The doctor suggested a birth control shot. Have you ever talked to your daughter about birth control?”

  Shara shook her head. “She’s not my daughter. I’m her track coach.”

  “Has anyone notified her mother or guardian?” the nurse asked.

  Shara shook her head. She had been so worried, she hadn’t even thought about calling Tangee’s mother. “No, I’ll call her now.” She sent Lakita to see Tangee while she pulled out her youth roster. The nurse directed her to a pay phone at the end of the hall and she dialed Tangela’s mother’s work number.

  An unfriendly voice barked, “Housekeeping, may I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m trying to reach Angela Madison please,” Shara said.

  Shara pulled the phone away from her ear as she heard the person yell, “Where Angie at?”

  In the background, Shara heard a voice yell back, “She on break—’sposed to be fifteen minutes, but it’s been twenty-five already.” The person repeated the information to Shara and was about to hang up.

  “Wait, it’s an emergency! I’m at the hospital with her daughter. Can you find her please?”

  “Oh Lawd, what done happened to Tangela? What that child into now? These kids these days always up to no good. Is she all right? Angie always be talking ’bout how Tangee won’t—”

  “Please! Can you just find her mother?”

  “Well, you ain’t got to be rude about it. I’m just trying to show a little concern. Hol’on.”

  Shara pulled the phone away from her ear again as the woman yelled even louder, “Angie, you need to come on back in here and get dis phone. Tangee at the hospital. It’s a ’mergency.”

  After a few moments, Shara recognized Ms. Madison’s voice in the background. She heard a string of curse words and then, “What is it now, Tangee?”

  It took Shara a few seconds to respond.

  While trying to figure out what to say, she heard, “Hello? Ain’t nobody on this phone, Thelma. Stop playing. That ain’t funny.”

  Shara made herself say,
“Ms. Madison, this is Shara Anderson, Tangee’s track coach. We’re at Atlanta Medical Center in the emergency room. I think you should—”

  “What is it? What’s wrong with her?” Ms. Madison almost sounded concerned.

  “She started bleeding at track practice today.” Shara took a deep breath. “She had a miscarriage.”

  Silence.

  “What you mean, she had a miscarriage?”

  “She lost the baby, Ms. Madison.”

  Shara pulled the phone away from her ear as Ms. Madison screamed, “Baby? What baby? You telling me Tangee pregnant?”

  As she continued yelling and cursing into the phone, Shara realized Tangee hadn’t told her mother. Listening to her, she could understand why. “Tangee said she told you. She is . . . well she was pregnant. She lost the baby.”

  “No, Tangee didn’t tell me nothing about being pregnant. You mean you knew she was pregnant and didn’t tell me?”

  Shara’s heart beat faster. What ramifications would this have for her program? Was she liable for not having talked to Tangee’s mother?

  “I think at this point, the most important thing is Tangee’s okay. She lost a lot of blood but the doctor says she’s stable. I think it would be good if you came on down here to the hospital and—”

  “Oh you think, huh? I’ll be at the hospital all right. As soon as I finish my shift. You tell that little heifer when I see her—it’s on. Me and her. Done told that child all her life. . . .”

  Shara pulled the phone away from her ear and smoothed her hair back. This was going to be a long evening.

  She hung up and went back toward the busy emergency area. There must have been a lot going on in Atlanta that night because the ER was packed. Orderlies were rushing by with gurneys holding patients that looked like they were at death’s door. The overhead intercom kept ordering different doctors to different rooms. There were even people lined up on beds in the hallway.