Back to Me (3 page)

Ever since she joined the praise and worship ministry, Sunday had been Paige's favorite day of the week. She began the day with early morning prayers and then meditation. This morning her prayer list included not only her family and close acquaintances, but also Seniyah. Once again, the young girl had invaded her dreams, but Paige had been able to get six hours of uninterrupted rest. Paige took that as a sign for her to help the girl, and before tomorrow's meeting with DWAP, she was going to buy her a new coat. She reasoned that that was what Jesus wanted her to do, since she had the means to do it.

The harsh words that the stranger/thief had spoken to Paige still irked her. How dare he accuse her of being a hearer of the Word and not a doer? Her comprehension was just fine. That was why she was handing out food to the poor in the first place. She'd never understand why sinners liked to throw the Word around when they're caught doing wrong. She prayed for nearly everyone she knew, but not for him.

She arrived at Restoration Ministries in time to join in with the intercessory prayer ministry before the start of the 8:00 a.m. service. As she walked through the parking lot, Paige once again thanked God for sending her to a wonderful church. Her previous church had had a lot of ideas on paper, but there had not been much action when it came to outreach and spreading the good news of the kingdom. Restoration Ministries had multiple active outreach ministries and a pastor who was gifted and able to teach the gospel to the young and the old, to the rich and the poor, and to the educated and the uneducated. Not once did she feel the need to question whether her tithe was being put to good use.

She hurried down the long aisle and dropped her jacket and purse on the pew nearest the front. Before she dropped to her knees, she glimpsed Mother Scott giving her a disapproving glare. Paige shrugged it off for now, knowing she'd get to the motive behind it later. Mother Scott was well known for voicing her opinions.

At the conclusion of intercessory prayer, Paige rushed back to the music room and secured her purse and jacket in the one of the lockers. Once again, she prayed, this time with the music ministry, for the Lord to anoint her voice to destroy every yoke and to lift every heavy burden. Then she walked onto the platform, totally depending on God's power to perform miracles in the life of everyone in attendance. Paige closed her eyes and listened for her cue, and then, with the passion she kept reserved for her Savior, she belted out the words to her favorite worship song. Jesus was definitely the lover of her soul. For sure He had taken her from the miry clay and had set her feet upon a rock. She loved Jesus, and she was doing all she could so that He would love her enough to grant her the family she desperately wanted. She needed Him to look beyond her faults and fulfill her needs.

Tears dripped from her chin as the words to the last stanza flowed a cappella in her alto voice. Paige took advantage of the praise that followed by dropping to her knees on the platform and worshipping with raised hands. By the time she composed herself, the praise and worship ministry had moved on to an uplifting song about the joy of the Lord. She swayed and sang, all the while wishing she possessed the joy she sang about.

No sooner had Pastor Drake finished the benediction for the first service than Mother Scott and First Lady Drake accosted her.

“Paige, didn't I—,” Mother Scott began, but First Lady Drake butted in.

“You go easy on her, Scott. She's new at this.”

“Oh, Lord, what did I do now?” Paige grumbled and then watched Mother Scott's facial expression change from annoyance to compassion. The petite woman even placed her bony arm around Paige's shoulder.

“Paige, sweetheart, did you forget our little conversation the other night?”

She knew Mother Scott well enough to know the pleasantries were a prelude to a tongue-lashing. Paige, in fact, had forgotten her and the first lady's rebuke at the all-night intercessory prayer session, because she considered the warning nonsense. What Christian would tell a single woman that she spent too much time at church? The concept seemed ludicrous to Paige.

“No, Mother, I didn't forget,” she answered while reaching for her Bible. “I just don't agree.” She offered a smile to soften her words.

Mothers Scott's eyebrows furrowed, and her arm slipped from Paige's shoulder. “So, you think we don't know what we're talking about?” She pointed toward the first lady.

Paige frantically scanned the now half-empty sanctuary for someone to come to her rescue and found no one. She had learned from watching others that the best way to oppose the praying duo was not to.

“That's not what I'm saying.” Paige struggled to come up with an answer that wasn't a lie or that wouldn't come across as disrespectful. “I just—”

“Then please explain,” First Lady Drake said, jumping in.

After clearing her throat, Paige continued. “Mothers, I know you mean well, but I have to follow what the scripture says and not yield to what others think I should be doing.”

“Excuse me?” Mother Scott replied.

Paige almost lost her courage when Mother Scott's neck rolled. “Jesus himself said we must work while it is day, because when night comes, no one can work.”

The mothers cocked their heads and stared at one another and then turned back to Paige.

“Baby,” First Lady Drake began, “if you're going to quote scripture, take the time to learn the context in which it is given.”

“And, sweetheart, I know you think you're super saved and all, but you ain't Jesus,” Mother Scott added. “Even He knew when to rest. You spend more time in this church than the janitor. Just in case you haven't read the scripture yet, you can't make it to heaven by working yourself to death in the church.”

Paige's cheeks burned as if she'd been slapped, but she had learned from Tyson that it was useless to disagree with them.

“Like we told you Friday night,” First Lady Drake continued, “you need to pray and ask God what it is that He wants you to do in the kingdom. Every good work is not a God work, if it's not what He has planned for your life. If you're not careful, you're going to burn yourself out and become resentful.”

“And another thing . . .” Mother Scott wagged a finger in Paige's face. “You need to check your motives for all this kingdom work you call yourself doing.”

“What do y-you mean?” Paige stuttered, glad they were now alone in the sanctuary. After she led the congregation in worship, no one needed to see her lose her temper when confronting two old women whom she considered nosy. “I'm saved. I'm supposed to work in the church and help the less fortunate.”

Both mothers shook their heads.

“You have so much to learn,” Mother Scott said, and the first lady nodded in agreement. “We'll be praying for you, but in the meantime, you need to seek the Lord for His will for your life.”

The prayer warriors fell to their knees and began the intercessory prayer for the next service, while Paige stormed from the sanctuary and took refuge in the confines of a bathroom stall, where she cried her eyes out.

Tyson and his best friend, Kevin, had assured her that despite their abrasiveness, the mothers were sincere and harmless, but right now Paige didn't agree with their assessment. She'd heard how they'd help Reyna and Kevin's wife, Marlissa, overcome their issues, but she considered herself on a different level than they were. Reyna and Marlissa had both struggled with alcoholism and traumatic childhoods, but she had not. Paige was doing everything she could think of to stay holy before God. How could God not be pleased with her efforts?

And why for the second consecutive day had her understanding of the scriptures been questioned? Neither the supposedly saintly mothers nor the arrogant stranger in designer jeans knew how many hours she'd spent reading scriptures and commentaries to learn about God. No one but God knew all the tears she'd cried, especially during the past week. How dare anyone judge her? How did a day that had started so well go so wrong? It wasn't even noon yet.

The sound of the bathroom door opening ended Paige's pity party. In record speed Paige grabbed tissue from the dispenser and wiped her face, then blew her nose and flushed the paper down the toilet. With her palms, she smoothed her hair and her skirt. Before opening the stall door, she leaned against the frame.
Lord, please help me. I can't continue like this.

“Good morning, Sister Paige. How are you today?” a congregant greeted her at the sink.

“Blessed and highly favored,” she responded with a smile and then headed back to the sanctuary to prepare for the next service.

Paige slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting two students who were walking leisurely through the school's parking lot. Thanks to long lines and too few cashiers at the national coat retailer chain, she had only ten minutes before the start of the DWAP meeting.

“Sorry,” she yelled out the car window and then gasped when the girl with the manicured nails made an offensive gesture. “Father, forgive her,” she whispered, then pulled into a parking spot at an appropriate speed.

Paige liked to arrive early and spiritually prepare for the girls. After a typical Monday of writing offers and counterproposals, signings at the title company, and imbibing two espressos, Paige needed at least a few minutes to wind down before meeting the rambunctious group. A respite was not in the cards for Paige today.

Paige opened the door to the classroom and found the girls already there. Under Jasmine's direction, the girls had an assembly line going. Beads of every color in the rainbow sat in clear plastic bowls that lined the table. Rolls of stretch cord were stacked at one end of the table. They even had scissors and pliers ready for use. Paige stood in the doorway with her mouth open and her arms filled with bags of the supplies she'd purchased.

“Oh, hey, Miss Paige,” Jasmine greeted her over the shoulder when she finally noticed her. “We already got started. The craft store had a clearance sale this weekend, so I had my brother give me some money to buy start-up supplies.” Jasmine gestured toward the mound of empty plastic bags and boxes. “We all watched YouTube and learned how to make the necklaces.” Her eyes traveled to Paige's bags. “We can use what you bought when we run out.”

Paige stepped completely inside the room and smiled to conceal her disappointment. “Sure.” She had thought she'd show the girls how to bargain shop and organize production. Turned out the girls didn't need her help.

Jasmine took the supplies from her without waiting for Paige to offer them. “Why don't you review our marketing plans while we work?”

Jasmine's suggestion sounded more like an order. Paige considered reminding Jasmine that she was in charge of the group, not her, but then she remembered her roles of volunteer and mentor. Her job was to guide them, not baby them.

“Sounds good,” Paige conceded and sat down at a table in the back of the room.

Before Paige could settle in, Jasmine dropped a mini stack of file folders on the table in front of her. One by one, Paige reviewed and made comments on each girl's strategy. Every so often, she'd glance up to see the girls' process. By the time she finished reviewing the girls' marketing plans, DWAP had enough inventory to start taking orders. She restacked the folders and noticed there were seven instead of eight. That was when she looked up and realized her star student wasn't present.

“Where's Seniyah?” she asked, posing the question to no one in particular.

Jasmine smacked her lips at the same time her neck rolled. “She's late, and if she doesn't show up soon, we're going to vote her out of the group. She missed the shopping trip this weekend and the YouTube training class, and now she's late.”

“I'm sure she has a good reason for not showing up,” Paige replied, intent on calming Jasmine down.

“I don't care what the reason is. We all have issues and problems,” Jasmine said. “It's not fair for us to do all the work. She's the one riding off to Stanford. She's supposed to be the smart one, anyway.”

Several girls grunted in agreement.

“You're all smart,” Paige said, correcting her. “You're just traveling in different directions.” She looked at Jasmine, who was counting beads. “There is nothing wrong with starting out at a community college.”

Although it shouldn't have, Jasmine's lack of compassion surprised Paige. Why couldn't Jasmine understand that not everyone had a brother with a thriving street pharmaceutical business to solve their problems?

“I know ain't nothing wrong with it, and the financial aid check ain't bad, either. I know because my brother gets one every semester.”

Paige's head snapped up from admiring a necklace.

Jasmine went on to explain. “With that money, I can buy hair dryers.”

“Your brother receives financial aid?” Paige asked incredulously. “Why? He's not in school.”

True to form, Jasmine rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Of course he does. We ain't rich. And he does enroll every semester and does go to class.” She paused. “Until the check comes.”

Paige placed the necklace back in the pile for final inspection. “I didn't mean to imply you're rich,” she said, fumbling for words. “It's just that your brother doesn't strike me as the school type. I didn't think he'd be interested in school.”

Jasmine's face relaxed. “Why not?”

“Well, because, he . . .” Paige let the words hang when she noticed that seven sets of eyes had zeroed in on her mouth. How could she answer truthfully without offending not only Jasmine, but also everyone else in the room?

“You mean because he sells on the street?” Jasmine asked, finishing her sentence for her.

“Well, I—I heard . . .” Paige replied, stumbling. She fell silent when Jasmine laughed in her face.

“Your mouth is too holy to say
drug dealer
or
street pharmacist
.”

The other girls joined in Jasmine's laughter.

“Well, that's what he is,” Jasmine asserted. “Everybody knows it. But he did go to school to learn about business. That's how he started dealing in the first place. He saw how much money his classmates were making by selling to professors and other students, and he decided he could make money being a lifetime student with a hustle on the side and not have to pay taxes.”

Paige's jaw dropped.

“Now he stays in school because that's his main customer base. And he's learning how to manage his money.” Jasmine stepped closer to Paige, rolling her neck as she spoke. “See, Miss Paige, book knowledge isn't the only thing you can learn up at the college.” Jasmine's lips smacked at the same time that she pivoted her feet and whirled around Paige. She headed toward the assembly line, where she exchanged high fives with the other girls.

Paige attempted to collapse into the seat in front of a student desk, but the small furniture couldn't accommodate her long frame. She settled for walking around the perimeter of the room and rubbing her forehead. Hearing about using school as an excuse to sell illegal substances was enough to give her a fresh migraine. And Jasmine had made it sound so normal.

“Miss Paige, are you all right?”

Paige, along with the other girls, looked in the direction of the voice. Seniyah stood in the doorway, wearing jeans and a baggy shirt.

Instantly, Paige's headache began to subside. Her favorite student had arrived. It didn't matter that she was nearly half an hour late or that grease stains decorated her sweatshirt. At least the girl had common sense and was on the right path.

“It's about time you got here,” Jasmine responded before Paige could answer. “I hope you don't think we're going to do all the work while you do nothing.” With rolling eyes, she circled Seniyah. “And where is your backpack? I know you don't have your marketing plan tucked under that greasy shirt.”

At the snickers, Seniyah's head dropped. “I didn't get to finish. I had something to take care of.”

“What?” Paige and Jasmine asked almost simultaneously, but Jasmine also snapped her neck and rolled her eyes.

“I don't understand,” Paige said while rubbing her forehead. The migraine was back. “You said you were going home to work on it when I saw you on Saturday.”

“Oh, so now y'all hangin' out? I know she's your favorite and all, but we could all use some help. We all tryin' to get out the hood.” Jasmine shook her head and then stomped over to the other girls, whose facial expressions bore just as much attitude as Jasmine exhibited.

“You d-don't understand. It's n-not what you think.” Paige found herself stuttering once again. She couldn't reveal that she'd seen Seniyah in the free food line. She couldn't have the girls thinking she favored one over the other, either, even if that were the case. “We weren't hanging out. I ran into her while I was working,” she explained.

Jasmine smirked, and the girls cosigned with “Uh-huh.”

“That's all it was,” Seniyah said, trying to reassure them. “I was taking care of business for my mother when I bumped into her. I didn't receive any special treatment. Miss Paige treats us all the same.”

“That's right. I'm equally invested in each of you. I want to see all of you succeed,” Paige lied, trying to figure out a way to explain the wool coat she had for Seniyah in the trunk of her car. She walked to the front of the room and stood next to the chalkboard. “Come on, ladies,” she said, attempting to finally gain control of the class before things got further out of hand. “Let's take a break from production and decide on a marketing strategy.”

The girls didn't object verbally, but each one eyed Seniyah with distain.

“First, I want to commend each of you on completing a marketing plan.” She paused and turned to Seniyah. “You have my business card. You can e-mail me yours tomorrow morning,” she said, more to pacify the other girls than to rebuke Seniyah. “All of you have great ideas that can take DWAP beyond this twelve-week class. With some guidance, I can see a sustainable business in the near future.”

Paige noted that all the girls, except Seniyah, cheered and exchanged high fives, but she didn't comment. Her favoritism had caused enough friction for one night.

Forty-five minutes later, the class ended. While she was running through the parking lot, Paige yelled, “Seniyah, wait.” The short sprint would have been easy if she weren't wearing boots with three-inch heels. Seniyah stopped and spun around. Even under the dim lights in the parking lot, Paige could see the weariness on the teenager's face. “I have something to say to you,” she said between huffs.

Seniyah cowered, as if she expected to be reprimanded for not completing her assignment. “What did I do now?”

Once again, Paige's heart ached for the young girl. She was obviously accustomed to negative treatment. “Nothing. Follow me to my car. I want to give you something you need.” With a smile Paige assured her everything was fine and then nudged Seniyah in the opposite direction.

With every step toward her car, Paige prayed for Seniyah–for everything from her basic needs to her self-confidence. If she was going to succeed at Stanford, she needed to believe she belonged there just as much as the students from rich families. She also needed to speak with Seniyah about her appearance and effective communication skills, but tonight wasn't the time for that.

Seniyah reached the car just as Paige pulled the designer black wool coat from the trunk. She thrust it at her. “What do you think?” As always when she did the Lord's work, Paige's expectations were great. The style wasn't what teenagers in the inner city favored, and the wool didn't exactly go with sweats, but the coat would keep her warm. “Well?” Paige said when Seniyah didn't respond with the enthusiasm Paige had expected.

Seniyah glanced over her shoulder before saying, “It's nice, Miss Paige, but you didn't have to buy me a coat. I have a jacket.”

Paige heard the embarrassment in her voice. Even though she was poor, Seniyah had her pride. “I know,” she said, remembering the fleece sweat jacket she'd seen Seniyah wear in the past. “I just thought this would be a nice change for the colder days, and for next winter at Stanford,” she added with a smile. “Besides, it was on sale,” she lied again, glad she'd removed the price tag.

Seniyah's facial muscles relaxed, but she didn't smile. “Thank you,” she said and took the coat from Paige, holding it against her body.

Paige pressed the electronic button to close the trunk. “You can thank me by completing your assignment and arriving to class on time.” She started for the driver's door. “I'll be waiting for that e-mail.”

“Yes, Miss Paige. First thing tomorrow.” Seniyah started backing away. “See you next week. Thanks again for the coat.”

“Take care.”

Inside the car, Paige selected a praise tune and sang all the way home. She'd added another item to her list of good deeds, totally ignoring the fact that she had lied to do so.