Dance Into Destiny

by Sherri L. Lewis

  “Dusty?” Shara’s nostrils flared. “You know what? This was a mistake.” She started to get up from the chair.

  Antone put a hand on her shoulder. “Girl, stop getting your little feelings hurt and sit down in that chair. Antone don’t mean you no harm. I can not let you walk out of here looking like this. Now sit your little self down and let me do my job.”

  Shara acquiesced and settled back into the chair. “What do you plan to do?”

  “I can cut it in a short style that you can curl once a week and it should keep pretty well. Or, you can always come here once a week to get it curled.”

  “I don’t think that would work. I run everyday and by the time I finish sweating, my hair is all wavy and curly. It wouldn’t last one day,” Shara whined.

  “Wavy and curly?” Antone looked at her through squinted eyes again. He clapped his hands together and then said with flourish, “I have the perfect style for you. Now watch me work.”

  Keeva walked to the door. “I’m going to get a manicure and pedicure. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  Antone waved her away with his hand. “Girl, take your time.” He pursed his lips. “It may be a while.”

  When Keeva returned two hours later, Antone’s makeup artist was applying a natural brown color to Shara’s full lips.

  Keeva gasped. “Antone, what did you do?”

  Shara gasped. “Oh no, what did he do? He won’t let me look. After I protested him chopping me bald, he turned me around and hasn’t let me see the mirror since. Do I look bad?”

  Now Antone gasped. “Look bad? One of Antone’s clients look bad? Antone is hurt—Antone is offended.”

  He waved away the makeup artist and turned Shara toward the mirror. His indignance turned to arrogance as he saw the look on Shara’s face. “That’s right, baby. Antone is the one. I accept your apology my dear, but don’t ever let it happen again.”

  Shara stared at herself, speechless. If it weren’t for the goofy look she knew she was wearing, she wouldn’t have believed it was her staring back in the mirror. She lifted a finger to touch her hair and the person in the mirror lifted her hand also. Yep, it was her.

  “Wow,” was all she could say.

  Antone went on and on in the background about being “the one.”

  “Wow,” she said again, softly.

  Keeva came up behind her and stared at her reflection with her. She beamed as if she had transformed Shara herself. “Wow,” she said in agreement.

  “Yes, Antone has skills. He is the original, the only.” He stopped praising himself to answer Keeva’s question. “I cut off Shara’s hair to about half an inch. This child had a fit when she saw all her hair hit the floor.” He paused and gave Shara a disgusted look. “I don’t know why—it was all dead.”

  He turned back to Keeva. “Then I tapered the sides and back, and put on a clear glaze to get rid of the ‘dustiness. ’ Then all I had to do was put styling gel on it and it naturally curled up in these beautiful little wavy curls, all over her head.

  “Then she let Serge here wax her eyebrows . . .”

  Keeva’s eyes widened.

  Antone narrowed his eyes. “I know, chile. She practically cussed him out after the first rip. He had to be begged to finish. Child almost lost her religion in here. You shoulda heard her.” He sucked his teeth.

  “You know she didn’t want no makeup, but I persuaded her to let us do the bare minimum. A little eyeliner and lipstick and voila.” He gestured grandly at Shara. “The beauty before your eyes. Antone has done it again.”

  Serge had to claim some of the glory. “It’s a good thing she’s a natural beauty and doesn’t need much makeup. I picked the perfect colors to blend with her olive undertones. That perfect skin, those big eyes and full lips. What I would give . . . .”

  Antone said, “The best thing is that she doesn’t have to do anything to it. Just put some gel on it and go.”

  He looked at Shara in the mirror and fingered her little curls proudly. “You hardly even need a comb anymore.” He paused dramatically, putting his hand to his chest. “My brilliance amazes me.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, Shara, you’ll need to get your edges tapered about every three weeks and a full cut about every six weeks, so call and make an appointment or come in with Keeva.”

  Shara didn’t bother to complain that she was obligated to come to a salon on a regular basis. She looked and felt too good.

  Antone put some products in a bag—shampoo, hair gel, and the eyeliner and lipstick they had used on Shara. “Now you need to get you some nice earrings. You have to wear jazzy earrings when you have a short haircut. Keeva, girl, you know what to do. I’m putting her back in your hands.”

  He looked Shara up and down. “Why don’t you take her to get some jeans that actually fit, or better still, some real jazzy clothes to go with her new hair cut? Do a total makeover. Ooohh,” he squealed. “This is just like Oprah.”

  Keeva planted a kiss on Antone’s cheek. “You are the best, forever and always. Put it on my tab, okay, love? I’ll see you Saturday.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Keeva started up the car. She looked at her watch and said, “See? That didn’t take long. We can probably get you to school in time for your afternoon classes.”

  Shara frowned. “Didn’t you hear Antone? You’re supposed to take me shopping for earrings and clothes.”

  Keeva turned the car off and looked at Shara. “What?”

  “You know, the mall, shopping, that thing you do all the time?”

  “Yeah, but . . . I thought we decided World War III would erupt if we ever went shopping together. Remember?”

  “I know, but I promise whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do. I’ll be good.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Shara nodded.

  Keeva started up the car again. “Well, all right then. Let’s do it.”

  “Only one thing.”

  Keeva turned the car off again. “See. We haven’t even pulled off yet and you’re already giving me trouble.”

  “Just one thing and then I promise, I’ll be good. I don’t want to spend a lot of money. I’m a practical girl and don’t believe in paying extravagant prices for clothes. Keep that in the back of your mind, that’s all.”

  Keeva turned the car on again. “I have the perfect idea. Let’s make a day trip of it. We can hit the outlets up I-85 North. We can still get the good stuff but at good prices.”

  As they zoomed up I-85 with the top down in Keeva’s BMW with a Jill Scott CD playing, Shara relaxed back into her seat. She kept sneaking peeks at herself in Keeva’s rearview mirror. Keeva finally grabbed the mirror and turned it towards her.

  “Here, stop breaking your neck.”

  Shara laughed.

  “So, what’s your style? What kind of clothes do you want to get?” Keeva asked.

  “I don’t know. You know my style—you see it every day. Jeans and a T-shirt or a sweat-shirt.”

  Keeva looked at Shara. Oh boy, this is going to be harder than I thought. She said, “What kind of clothes do you think you want to get, or what do you think will look good on you?”

  “I don’t know. Honestly, I never really give it much thought. I wake up, I get dressed, I go. It’s not a big deal to me. The most important thing is to be comfortable.”

  “So you’re telling me we’re driving an hour to go buy more T-shirts and jeans? Is that all you’ve ever worn?”

  Shara’s light mood suddenly darkened. “No. Like I told you, when I was growing up, I couldn’t wear pants or short skirts or anything tight or form fitting. After I left home, well . . .”

  Keeva waited. Shara rubbed her hands together and fidgeted with the knob on the glove compartment.

  “Well, what?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea. We haven’t gotten too far. We can go back if you want.”

  “What’s up with that? We’re cruising with my girl Jill Scott, you’r
e flirting with yourself in the mirror and all of a sudden you want to turn around? What’s that all about?”

  “Nothing. Just let it go.”

  Keeva felt a wall suddenly erected between them. She nodded her head slowly as if she was realizing something for the first time. “I see how you are, Shara. I can share all my deep, dark secrets and cry on your shoulder, but you can’t be real with me?”

  Shara sat there, not saying anything.

  “Help me out here. Is this a ‘super-spiritual, I’m perfect and can’t have any faults’ thing? Or is it a ‘you can trust me, but I can’t trust you thing?’ What—I’m not ‘spiritual’ enough for you to talk to?”

  “No, it’s not like that at all. I promise. It’s just that . . .”

  Keeva softened her tone, noticing how fragile Shara suddenly seemed. “What?”

  Shara swallowed. Keeva noticed a tear trickle down her cheek.

  “Oh, dear. Shara, I’m sorry. What is it?”

  Shara started fidgeting with the buttons on the car door. Up, down, up, down. She appeared to be mesmerized by the motion of the window moving.

  Keeva waited.

  “When I first moved away from my parents, the first thing I did was go clothes shopping. You know how when something is forbidden, it makes you want it all the more?”

  Keeva nodded.

  “Well, I couldn’t wait to get me some pants, tight ones, that showed . . . everything. I got a bunch of really short skirts and tight shirts.”

  Keeva couldn’t imagine Shara in tight anything.

  Shara kept fidgeting with the window. Up, down, up, down. “Remember, I told you about my first boyfriend?”

  Keeva nodded.

  “When we first got together, I told him I didn’t plan on having sex until I got married. He was all shy and sweet, so I didn’t think he would, you know, pressure me. He was impressed that I was a virgin. After a while, he decided he wanted to, you know. I guess I was afraid of losing him, so I started to let him get away with more and more kissing and touching and all that stuff. Then he became obsessed with being my ‘first.’ One night, we were studying and I had on one of my sexiest, short skirts with this little top with cleavage and all. We got to, you know, kissing and stuff, and . . . he asked me how long I thought he was going to wait and I told him I didn’t know what he was waiting for because I wasn’t going to have sex with him and then he called me a tease and told me he hadn’t wasted six months for nothing . . .”

  Shara stopped. Up, down, up, down.

  Keeva realized what Shara was trying to tell her. “He didn’t.”

  Shara nodded, now with tears running down both cheeks. “I kept telling him no and tried to push him off me, but he was bigger than I was, and stronger.”

  “He raped you?” Keeva asked softly.

  “He pulled up my little skirt and pulled my underwear down and got on top of me and put his . . . you know . . . on me, but I fought him. The harder he tried, the harder I fought. It was like he became a whole ’nother person. My sweet boyfriend turned into a monster right before my eyes. He ripped up my shirt and bloodied my nose and busted my lip, but he didn’t . . . you know. So he cursed me out and called me a tease, and left. Then he spread all these rumors all over the school about me being a slut.”

  Shara fidgeted with the window again. Up, down, up, down. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I never told anyone before. Not even Mother Hobbs. So no, it’s not that I don’t trust you or think you’re not spiritual enough.”

  “You never reported it?”

  Up, down, up, down. “I was ashamed.”

  “Ashamed? Of what?”

  Up, down, up, down.

  Keeva pushed the button that controlled the windows for the whole car to the off position. “Shara! Ashamed of what?”

  “I knew if I had never started wearing all those tight, short clothes, it would have never happened.”

  Keeva turned off the CD player. “Shara, what he did was not your fault. It had nothing to do with you. He was a sick jerk that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Your clothes had nothing to do with it. Even if you were still wearing your long skirts, he might have done it anyway.”

  Shara looked down at her hands with tears streaming down her face.

  “Shara?” Keeva reached over and rubbed her arm. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong and you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

  Shara wiped her nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall all apart like that. I never talked about it before. I didn’t realize it had affected me like that all these years I guess. I’m okay.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Shara. That’s what friends are for, right?”

  “Yeah—friends.” Shara smiled.

  They drove in silence for a while.

  Shara looked in the mirror and wiped her eyeliner and patted her curls. “Look what you did. I was all pretty and you messed my face up. Now look at me.”

  Keeva gawked at her. “I think I’ve created a monster.” With concern in her voice she asked, “You wanna go home now?”

  “No. We’re going shopping. I need some new clothes and new earrings to go with my new haircut.” She pulled out her little bag from Antone. “Now how do you put on this eyeliner stuff?”

  Four hours later, the two women emerged from the outlet mall with six shopping bags. Finding Shara some nice clothes was easier than Keeva thought it was going to be. As Keeva watched what clothes Shara picked, she decided her style was retro/Bohemian. They bought boot cut jeans with cute tops, long flowing skirts and casual dresses all in the proper colors to compliment Shara’s skin tone.

  Keeva was careful to pick clothes that fit Shara’s shape that weren’t too tight. She could tell Shara was self-conscious about showing her body, so she was careful not to push her to buy anything she didn’t feel comfortable in.

  Keeva noticed Shara’s smile became brighter with each outfit she tried on. She primped and modeled in the mirror as she got more confident.

  They rode home, satisfied what they had conquered at the outlet mall.

  Shara was still primping in the rearview mirror. “So, you wanna go to church with me Sunday?”

  Keeva paused for a second and fidgeted with the CD player. “I have plans. I have to uh, go to a meeting at eleven.”

  Shara was silent for a moment. “You know what, Keeva? I’m not Mark. If you don’t want to go somewhere with me, just tell me no. You don’t have to make up one of your little white lies.”

  Keeva bit her lip. “Sorry.” She was glad she was driving and didn’t have to meet Shara’s eyes. “I don’t know why I do that.”

  “If we’re gonna be friends, I need you to be honest with me. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to go to church with me or believe what I believe or feel like I feel about God. Just be real, okay?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to go to church. I really enjoyed it, much more than I expected to. It . . . it made me feel funny. It challenged me and I don’t know what to do with that.”

  “I understand. I felt the same way when I first started going. After my first time, it was two months before I went back again. Like I said, do what you feel.”

  Keeva let out a deep breath. “Thanks, Shara.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me be okay just being me. I don’t get that often with my friends.”

  “Maybe you need new friends.”

  Keeva jumped as if she had been stung. “Ouch!”

  “I didn’t mean that to be rude.” Shara sighed. “It frustrates me to see you trapped in this box. You have all this potential and beauty on the inside, but it’s stuck because you let other people dictate who you are. I wish I could let you out of the box, that’s all.”

  “Dag, Shara. Do you always have to be so honest?”

  “That’s the only way I know how to be.”

  Keeva put in her India.Arie CD.

  Shara reached over and turned it u
p. “I like your music. I hate most of the stuff out there these days. It’s all about sex and booty and stuff, but your music is deep and soulful. I gotta get some of these CD’s.”

  “I don’t know. That might be too much too fast. New haircut, new clothes, new music. The folks at your church are gonna think I’m corrupting you.”

  “Are you kidding? When Mother Hobbs sees me, she’s going to kiss your feet and declare you a miracle worker.” She groaned thinking about it. “I don’t even want to hear her go on and on about it.”

  “Oh, look at my baby girl! You’re absolutely gorgeous!” Mother Hobbs had been going on like this for the last half hour. Shara made the mistake of stopping in the office before changing her clothes to go out to the track. Mother Hobbs kept patting her hair, pinching her cheeks and making her turn around and around to model her new clothes.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing. Just thought I needed a change.” Shara shrugged.

  “Child, please, I’ve been after you for years and then all of a sudden . . .” She narrowed her eyes. “Come on now, tell me the truth.

  Shara laughed and decided to come clean. She told her about burning her hair and about her outing with Keeva.

  After she finished laughing, Mother Hobbs said, “Wait a minute. You tried to use a curling iron? I’ve known you for all these years and didn’t even know you owned a curling iron.” She eyed Shara suspiciously.

  “What?” Shara asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. Whatever the reason, I think you look absolutely beautiful.” Mother Hobbs smiled with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I guess I don’t have to worry about you finding a man anymore. I’ll have to beat them off with a stick. They better know they got to come by me first.”

  “Whatever.” Shara rolled her eyes. “What are you working on?” Mother Hobbs had a big stack of papers by her computer.