Dance Into Destiny (7 page)

Shara bit into a cookie and crunched slowly. “It's not just Tangee. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm really making any difference with any of the kids. Sure they're doing something positive after school instead of hanging out on the street. But Tangee still got pregnant, Jamil got suspended from school last week for fighting, and if Lakita
does
graduate this year, her highest hope is to get a job at the mall so she can get clothes at a discount. It seems like—”

“Shara, what are you saying? Your program has been going on for less than a year. You can't expect everything to be better in that short period of time. You're fighting years of negative mindsets, poverty, hopelessness—not just in the kids, but also in their parents and their parents' parents. You're talking years of generational curses. It's gonna take a lot more than running after school and a little tutoring to change that.”

“So what do we do? What hope do we have in fighting against that?”

“We remember who we have fighting for us and in us.” Mother Hobbs stirred a large dollop of honey into her tea. Soon its sweet fragrance floated up from her cup. “The power of God is the only thing that can break those types of strongholds. Just keep praying and loving. I promise, you'll see a change—in time.”

Mother Hobbs mentioning praying brought that sick feeling back to Shara's stomach. “Oh no.”

“What?”

She told Mother Hobbs about the feeling she got in prayer that morning and how it got progressively worse as the day went on. “And instead of stopping to pray, I sat in Starbucks eating a blueberry muffin. If I had prayed like God was trying to get me to, this might not have happened.”

“Shara, you don't know that. It might have been the Holy Spirit warning you about what was going to happen so you'd have the strength to face it as you did. Or maybe your brief prayer this morning was the difference between Tangee bleeding to death at home by herself versus in the bathroom where the other kids found her. You don't know what that feeling was about.”

Mother Hobbs rubbed her back. Shara felt more relaxed as she sipped her tea. The warm steaming mug took the chill from her fingers. “What's in this?” she asked.

“One of my secret recipes—Chamomile, Valerian, and St. John's Wort. You'll sleep good tonight. You staying?”

Shara nodded.

Even though she'd moved out almost four years ago, she still came over to visit Mother Hobbs on a regular basis. Often, they'd stay up talking so late Shara would go up to her old room to sleep rather than go home.

Mother Hobbs always kept her room ready for her. Shara knew she missed her living there. Her own children had gone off to school, and then got married and started their own lives. They were all doing well, but were busy and only visited on holidays. She would never admit it, but Shara knew Mother Hobbs was lonely in that big house by herself. She had rented the room to Shara not too long after her husband passed.

She sometimes talked about selling the house and moving into a condo, but then she wouldn't have anywhere for her children and grandchildren to stay when they did come to visit. Plus the house had almost tripled in value since Grant Park was experiencing massive gentrification and becoming an “in” neighborhood.

Mother Hobbs got up from the table. “Time for bed, baby girl. Try to sleep late. You need the rest.” She glanced at the clock. “I do, too. I got my senior yoga and water aerobics classes in the morning.”

Ever since Mr. Hobbs died unexpectedly of a massive heart attack, Mother Hobbs had made a concerted effort to exercise regularly. She even traded in her soul food for healthier fare. She planted a motherly kiss on Shara's forehead and went upstairs.

Shara sat for a few minutes more. She took off her shoes and padded through the house admiring the decorative crown molding, rich, brown hardwood floors, high ceilings and oversized rooms. The toasty beige paint added warmth to each room. Mother Hobbs' antique furniture fit the house perfectly.

Shara tipped up the stairs and into her room. It didn't take her long to rummage through the drawer of clothes she kept at Mother Hobbs to find some pajamas. She climbed up onto the antique four-poster bed, pulled up the comforter and lay staring at the ceiling. She felt relaxed from the tea, but still had trouble falling asleep. After tossing and turning for a while, she decided to pray.

She lay praying and thinking about the kids for a few minutes. If what she was doing wasn't enough, then they needed to do more. She thought about all the ideas she'd had over the past year while working with the kids. Every time a problem or situation arose, it seemed like God gave her an idea for a program that would be a solution. As she continued to pray, God brought the ideas back to her remembrance.

She wanted to start a mentoring program to pair young people with adults in the church to shadow them in their careers. Many of the kids had not given much thought to their future. Some didn't realize that they should. Those who did have dreams never imagined they'd ever be able to achieve them. If they got to shadow someone doing what they dreamed, perhaps it wouldn't seem so unattainable.

She also wanted to do some sort of music program. She knew kids involved in the performing arts tended to do better in school and were more likely to go to college. Maybe they could even start a dance and theatre program.

Shara also wanted to throw Christian youth parties. Many kids thought when they got saved, they had to give up parties, music and dancing. She definitely felt like she missed out on those things when she was young.

Then she wanted to do a computer training class. None of the kids had computers in their homes, although they had PlayStation or Nintendo. Many of them didn't even have access to computers in school. Shara didn't understand how in the same school district, some schools could have a computer for each child, and others only had outdated computers in the library.

She also knew it would be important to get their parents involved at some point. It wouldn't do much good to make all these changes with the kids and then have them still go home to the same living environment. She wanted to do parenting programs and job training and . . .

She got excited thinking about it all. She couldn't wait to finish school so she could write grants and get funding to build the programs.

Shara thought about a sermon Pastor Kendrick preached recently about writing the vision down and making it plain. She sat up and turned on the little lamp on the nightstand beside her bed. Moving over to sit at the desk, she pulled a notebook out of her book bag to jot some of the ideas down. After she had written down everything that had poured into her spirit, she climbed back into bed filled with a strange sense of peace and hope. She would have to trust God that these were His ideas and that He would bring them to pass in time.

K
eeva looked at the large silver clock on her wall. It was 11:30 am. She and Shara had agreed to meet at 11:00 to work on their project. She hoped Shara didn't forget.

Keeva was about to pick up the phone when the buzzer rang. She buzzed the downstairs lock, and after a few minutes, opened the door to find Shara out of breath with her hair flying all over her head worse than usual.

“Sorry I'm late. I had major drama last night and ended up not falling asleep until about three in the morning. So, of course, I overslept,” Shara said.

“Don't worry about it. Come on in.” Keeva said.

“Your apartment is great. I love the big windows and high ceilings.” Shara looked around as Keeva led her to the dining table. “How long have you lived here?”

“Almost four years. I love this place. I can't imagine living anywhere else.”
So you've got to help me get an A on this project.

“Want something to drink?” Keeva walked to the refrigerator. “I have cranberry juice.”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

“What happened last night?” Keeva brought over two large glasses and sat down across from Shara.

As Shara described the events of her evening, Keeva's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped. “Are you serious? How did you handle all that blood? I can't believe you kept a clear enough head to get her to the hospital. I probably would have fainted the minute I walked into the bathroom!”

“It wasn't so much the blood, although the blood did bother me. More than anything, what upset me was the feeling of loss for Tangee's future. She has so much promise and potential. I'm afraid she'll never get to become all the things she had learned to dream about.”

Shara took a long sip of cranberry juice then set her glass down on the table. “If you take away someone's dreams, you might as well kill them. Without some sense of purpose and destiny and some hope for achieving it, what do you have? You know?”

Boy, do I . . .
Keeva thought. In those few words, Shara had summed up everything that was wrong with her. The phone rang, pulling Keeva from her thoughts. She hurried to the kitchen to get it. “Hello?”

She rolled her eyes, but said sweetly, “Honey, I told you I had a study group today. Remember the project I told you about?”

She pulled her hair while listening to Mark rant. “I know, honey, but I have to get this done. I have to work with other people's schedules too. It's not that I'm . . . I understand honey, but . . .”

She held the phone away from her ear. “Yes, dear . . . yes, honey . . . Okay, I'll call you as soon as I'm finished.”

She hung up the phone and stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, taking a few deep breaths. She put her smile back on and walked back into the dining area where Shara was bent over her notebook.

“Sorry about that. I guess we should go ahead and get started. Looks like I have plans later this evening,” Keeva said tightly.

Keeva saw the look on Shara's face and felt the need to explain. “My boyfriend . . . he's a great guy. I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with him lately and—”

“I'm sure it must be hard for him to deal with you being in grad school and having such a demanding schedule.”

“Actually, he should understand. He's in his second year of law school.”

Once again, Keeva felt as if something she would normally brag about was totally lost on Shara. She relaxed and decided to be honest. “He can be demanding and inconsiderate at times, but he's sweet. I've learned in relationships you have to take the good with the bad.”

Shara raised her eyebrows. “Maybe that's why I'm not in a relationship.”

Keeva laughed.

For the next hour or so, they discussed the project. Keeva liked the way Shara's mind worked. She could tell Shara had been thinking about the project for quite some time. It was almost as if she didn't need to be there helping. She didn't mind. Her brain felt fuzzy when she even thought about it, so she was glad Shara had at least mentally completed a large part of the work.

As they discussed it, Shara asked for her opinion or ideas a few times. Keeva didn't have anything to add. She started pulling her hair and bouncing her leg. The more Shara talked, the more unintelligent and unprepared she felt. After Shara asked her for her input for about the fifth time, Keeva couldn't tell whether Shara was trying to embarrass her or what.

“Shara, I told you before, I really haven't worked on this at all. I was primarily concerned about getting through midterms. Just because you're organized and get everything done in time doesn't mean I've done my part. Maybe you'd prefer to have another partner to work with since I haven't done anything. I'm sure it's not too late to switch.” She knew her tone was nastier than it should have been.

Shara looked as if she had slapped her. Keeva was instantly sorry because it was clear she wasn't trying to embarrass her. Shara sat there without saying anything.

Keeva said, “I'm sorry. I feel bad because I haven't done anything and you've practically completed the project. I didn't mean to . . .”

Shara still didn't say anything.

Keeva continued. “I guess I've just been a bit overwhelmed lately. It's just school and all . . .” Her voice cracked. She froze.

Get it together, Keeva! You will not cry in front of this girl!
She tried to rein in her emotions, but when the hurt look in Shara's eyes turned to concern, it did her in. She burst into tears. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I . . . it's just that I . . . I've been . . . could you excuse me for a minute?”

Shara nodded.

In the bathroom, Keeva splashed her face with cold water and stared at herself hard in the mirror.
What is your problem?
What was she going to say when she went back out to the living room?
Don't mind me, I'm an emotionally unstable basket case?
She took a deep breath and walked back into the living area.

Shara stood at a large window. “You have an awesome view up here.”

Keeva walked over to the window and started to speak, but didn't know what to say.

Shara said, “I know you don't know me and I don't know you all that well, but . . . in the past few interactions, I've noticed you seem stressed out. You don't have to try to explain that. Life is like that sometimes. Like I said, I know we don't know each other well, so don't feel like you have to, but if you ever need a listening ear with a silent mouth, let me know. Sometimes it feels better to get things out.”

Keeva nodded and stared out the window.

Shara walked over to the dining table and began putting her books back into her worn book bag. “We can work on the project later. We got a lot done today and we have plenty of time. I know I'm being anal in wanting to get it done so soon.”

Shara had her hand on the door when Keeva finally spoke.

“Shara?”

“Yeah?”

Keeva took a deep breath. “When you said what you said about losing dreams and not having a sense of purpose and destiny and all that stuff . . . well . . . where do you get your sense of purpose from?”

Shara smiled. “I thought you were going to tell me to lock the door on my way out.” She put her book bag down and slowly walked back over to the window.

“I'd have to say I get it from God. My sense of self, why I'm here, what I'm supposed to accomplish in life, the vision and strength to do it . . . all that comes from my relationship with God.”

Keeva furrowed her eyebrows. She had gone to church on and off most of her life and had never gotten any of those things out of it. “I don't understand what you mean.”

“Why do you ask?”

Keeva stared out the window, focusing on nothing. A large tear trickled down her cheek. “I'm getting a master's degree in a field I'm not even sure I want to work in. I'm dating a man I'm not sure I want to be with. I can only stand my friends in small doses. I can't have a real conversation with my parents. Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I got here.

“When I was a little girl, I had so many dreams about who I wanted to be and what I was going to do.” She fingered the tassel on her window blinds. “The life I dreamed of is not at all the one I'm living now. I feel like I lost myself somewhere. The worst part is, I don't know how to get
me
back. I'm not even sure I know who
me
is.”

There. She said it. She was finally honest with herself and gave words to her misery. “You talk so passionately about what you want to do. You're exactly where you want to be, doing exactly what you want to be doing. I can't imagine how beautiful that must be.” Keeva shook her head. “All I know is that I don't want to live like this anymore.”

Shara was silent for a few minutes. Finally, she asked, “What did you dream about being when you were a little girl?”

A sad smile crossed Keeva's face. “I wanted to be a dancer. From my very first dance class when I was six, that's all I ever wanted. When I dance, I feel alive and happy, like everything's all right with the world.”

She told her about her tradition of seeing Alvin Ailey every year with her father and shared her disappointment when her parents wouldn't let her audition. “I haven't gone to see them since or any other dance troupe for that matter. The only time I dance now is here in my living room and that's only when I get really depressed. Which has been quite often lately.”

“Is it too late for you to dance now? Could you still try out for Alvin Ailey or some other group?”

Keeva shook her head. “I've been out of the game too long. I'm completely out of shape and—”

“Out of shape?” Shara looked her up and down.

“In terms of dancing, yes. I still took some classes in my first few years of college, but I haven't danced since then. I would have to really work hard to get back in shape to dance professionally. Plus, it's a full time job. I couldn't do that and go to school.”

“What if you took some dance classes just to do something you enjoy?”

Keeva stared out her window at Peachtree Street below. “Hurts too much. It just reminds me that I'm not living the life I want to live.”

Shara was quiet for a few minutes then asked, “You mentioned you majored in English for a while because you like to write. Was that something you wanted to do professionally?”

Keeva nodded. “Yeah, I love to write. I have this really vivid imagination. When I was a little girl, I used to sit around and make up stories in my head all the time, I guess to escape my life. I used to get in trouble with my mom and all my teachers for daydreaming. I thought I might try my hand at it.”

“So what happened?”

“My parents threw a fit. They went into this spiel about me not being able to find a job. They said I should do it as a hobby, but that I'd never be able to make a career of it. They said if I insisted on majoring in English, they'd pull my financial support so I could see how it felt to live on no money.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you think? I changed my major to psychology and told them I planned to get a PhD. Of course they were thrilled. My dad even bought me a new car the next week. That was my first BMW. I got the one I'm driving now when I got accepted into the PhD program at Emory. They threatened to snatch it so many times when I wasn't doing well there. Then—”

She stopped when she saw the look of surprise on Shara's face. “I started out in Emory's PhD program but couldn't maintain the B average. I didn't even get to the second year. I guess that's why I was freaking out over midterms here. I can't afford to flunk out of another program. My parents would kill me.”

Keeva turned and leaned her body against the long window. “I was always an A student with maybe a B here and there. For some reason though, I couldn't pull it together then. My parents threatened me so many times to withdraw their financial support if I didn't do better, but even that wasn't enough. They were furious when I had to leave Emory.”

She halfway smiled. “Even though Georgia State isn't as prestigious, I was secretly glad for the change. I can still become a therapist after a much shorter program and don't have to do a stupid dissertation.”

Shara shook her head. “You can't live for your parents. No wonder you're so miserable.”

Keeva stared at Shara.

“No wonder you failed at Emory and no wonder you're having so much trouble at GSU. You're forcing yourself to do something you don't want to do to please someone else. How can you expect to be happy? Meanwhile, you've put all your dreams to the side. How could you not be depressed? Keeva, you can't live like this. What are you gonna do—pursue a career you don't even want? How long do you think it would be before you go insane?”

Keeva stood there, feeling like she should go off. Normally, she would have come up with something rude and nasty to put Shara back in her place. That didn't seem right. She knew Shara was concerned.

Besides—she was right.

Keeva walked over and plopped down on the couch. “So what do I do?”

“Keeva, only you know the answer to that question. All I can say is follow your heart. Be true to yourself.”

“That
sounds
good, but how?”

“For one, start doing some of the things you love. Take some dance classes—write a poem.”

Keeva rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like my parents. ‘Just do your artsy stuff on the side.' ”