The Makeover (9 page)

Phoenix jumped
off her chair and began to pace.  “Ma!  How could you say that? 
He—”

“I am not
senile yet.  You don’t have to repeat yourself.  I know what he
did.  You should not have broken it off.”
Magalie
watched her daughter pace for a moment before she snapped, “Listen, sit down,
okay?  Your pacing drives me crazy!”

“No!  Why
would you be this insensitive?  You just heard what happened.  You
don’t hug me or comfort me, but tell me I should not have broken it off?”

Magalie
waved her hand.  “Hug?  What will that do
for you?  Good advice is what you need, Fe-
fe
. 
And my advice is call that man and work things out before it’s too late.”

“Before it’s
too late for what?”

“Before it’s
too late for
you! 
I am your mother and it is my job to tell you
the truth.  You are getting older, and let’s face it, you are very
overweight.  You do have skin problems.  You are a beautiful person
but not the prettiest woman out there, okay?  Even though I didn’t like your
situation, I always thanked God for sending you someone to marry.  And he
was handsome!  He looks Indian and has good hair and height.  His
skin is beautiful.  He has nice eyes.  He would have given you
beautiful children!  You have no right to make such demands in your
situation!  I prayed you would somehow get a man that looks like him, or
even a white man, so that your children would not suffer for looking like—”

Phoenix’s gasp
ricocheted around the room, cutting through her mother’s words, rendering her
silent.  Her eyes burned as the tears spilled.  “I can’t believe
this.  You’re saying I should be grateful that I had Cedric, so that I
could have children that don’t end up looking like me?”

“Or me,” her
mother said quietly.  “I didn’t want your kids to suffer the way you did
in this country or the way I did in mine.  People don’t like women with
very dark skin or kinky hair.  And you have never lost the weight…”
Magalie
shrugged and looked away.  “I was happy for
you because I knew that man could give me good-looking grandchildren.”

Phoenix stared
at her mother for several minutes before going over to the chair and grabbing
her bag.  “I don’t believe this,” she mumbled.  “I shouldn’t be
surprised because I
kinda
knew you would say some
foolish stuff like this, but somehow I still am.”

“Where are you
going?  We are not done with this conversation.”

“Well I am! How
could you?  I am your daughter.  You made me.  If anyone should
find me beautiful, in spite of any imperfections, it should be you.  You
are the one who passed yours down to me!  You were always struggling with
weight.  Your skin looked good some days and bad on others.  But I
never stopped thinking you were beautiful!  I never stopped believing you
could have the best.  I never thought you would have to settle.  Even
Mr. Rodriguez saw the beauty in you and you pushed him away because you didn’t
think he cared about you.  The truth is, Ma, you didn’t believe he
should
care about you!”

Magalie
stood and finally walked over to her daughter to
place a hand on her arm.  “Listen to me, Fe-
fe
,
I—”

Phoenix
wretched away, trembling.  “No, Ma. 
You
listen!  I
always wanted you to find someone to love after
Papi
took off and left us.  I used to pray you’d give Mr. Rodriguez a
chance.  But you didn’t.  You were bitter and angry and you took it
out on him. 
Papi
cheated on you
for years with women all over New York City, women of all backgrounds, and you
took it.  I used to be up at three in the morning, listening to you cry,
as you called all his friends looking for him.  You knew where he was and
what he was doing.  You took it all those years.  And when he left to
move back to Haiti, with that woman, a part of you died.  You stopped
being the mother who used to laugh and hug or tell us you loved us.  You
became cold and bitter and dried up.  And you stopped loving everyone
because you didn’t love yourself!  I hated it! I—”

The sound of
Magalie’s
sharp slap echoed. 

Phoenix grabbed
her cheek and froze. 

“How dare you
judge me, eh?  After all I’ve done for you?”
Magalie’s
eyes were red as she trembled.  “How dare you speak to your mother that
way?”

Phoenix turned
away and walked to the door.  She opened it then slammed it shut. 
“How dare you treat your own daughter like trash?  And I wasn’t judging
you, Ma.  I was telling you what I saw growing up.  And what I see
now is that you want me to live the same way.  You want me to stay with a
man who used me and treated me like garbage because you think I can’t get
anyone else, right?  You think I ought to be grateful for loving a man
that looks like him because I look like me…because I look like you!”

Magalie’s
face crumpled.

“But I am not
going to be like you!  I may not be gorgeous right now, but I am going to
show you!  I am not going to live a life with a man who doesn’t love me
for me, big belly, acne, bad hair days, and all.  I am going to get this
skin thing under control and I’m going to lose weight.  But even if I
don’t, I would rather be alone than to let a man destroy me and my ability to
love and be loved back.  I am not going to end up like you, Ma!  I
would rather die.”

Magalie
took a step.  “I only want what’s best for
you, Fe-
fe
.  I only want you to be happy.”

Phoenix shook
her head.  “No, you want what’s best for you.  You want me to be
happy?  Learn to give me a hug when I’m hurting.  Learn to tell me
that I am beautiful to you.  Learn how to teach me to be strong and stand
up for myself.  Learn to love yourself so you can love me back.”  She
opened the door.  “And stop putting me down for the things you passed down
to me!”

Phoenix walked
out of the door without looking back.  Not wanting to wait for the slow
elevator to make its ascent up to the seventeenth floor, she took the stairs.

And while
taking the stairs,
Phoeniz
actually thought she could
make it out of the building without coming undone.  She really did, and
she tried.

But as her
mother’s slap continued to sting her cheek, and as
Magalie’s
words pounded against the last layer of self-love that she possessed, Phoenix
collapsed at the foot of the stairs on the first floor.  Burying her head
in her lap, she covered her head as if she could shield it against the harsh
reality of her world. 

With her last
bit of strength, Phoenix hid in that dank, filthy, dark stairwell and cried.

Chapter 6

There is a
time for everything, and a season for every activity under the sun
(Ecclesiastes 3:1). 

Paulo left his
building in a rush.  He had a feeling that he would be seeing the woman
soon, but didn’t know when or how.  All he knew was that he needed to be
prepared for the time that God would cause him and the woman to cross paths.

He walked over
to his car and waited.  “Hmmm. Should I drive to the park or jog over?”
After a few minutes, Paulo felt led to drive up to Washington Heights to begin
his morning jog.  He was grateful that the August heat had not yet turned
the streets into a concrete sauna as he made his way up Amsterdam Avenue. 

The streets
were thriving with street merchants selling everything from
chuchifritos
to pairs of sneakers.  Older residents had already begun setting up tables
and chairs for their daily lounge on their favorite street corners.  Men
set up barbeque pits and tables for games of dominos and poker.  Several
streets were closed off by the Police Athletic League so that the children
could play and enjoy their summer Saturday without fear of ongoing
traffic.  Paulo smiled as he watched the West Harlem-Washington Heights
communities come alive as the sun slowly began to heat up the air. 

Several minutes
later, Paulo parked his car on West 177
^th
Street.  He was ready
to jump out of his car to begin his Saturday morning jog, but again felt led to
wait.

Paulo was
confused because he was sure the Lord had roused him to get up and go, but now
that he’d arrived at the park, he had to wait.

“Wait for
what?” Paulo said aloud.  He waited for the answer but none came.

Sighing, Paulo
turned on his air conditioner, his radio, and began to listen to a CD of praise
music from his church.

In spite of the
praise music reminding Paulo that God is mighty to save, seeds of doubt began
to manifest in his mind.  Paulo struggled to focus on the music, tried to
allow the words of hope to wash over him, but they were drowned out by the
words plaguing his mind.

The enemy sat
beside him, raging at the young man’s faith.  Satan leaned close to Paulo
and whispered, “You are such an idiot, Paulo.  You’re sitting in this car
like you’ve gotten a word from
Him
, but you’re just fooling yourself. 
God doesn’t speak to you!  You’re not on some assignment to save some
poor, wretched girl.  Why would God choose you after all the mistakes
you’ve made with your own wife!  You’re just being prideful.  You
should just go home before you take this any farther!” 

Satan poked
Paulo’s head and watched his words penetrating Paulo’s mind.  He waited,
believing that he had Paulo.  “Go home,”
Satan shouted into Paulo’s
mind.  “Go home, Idiot!”

Paulo knew
those words were not from his Father or even from himself.  He wanted to
ignore them, but the words shouted in his head and doubt blossomed within
him.  Paulo wanted now to move this thing along.  If God had truly
been speaking to him and leading him, then why was he still sitting in a car
one hour after reaching his destination?  If he stayed in the car, only to
discover he had made the whole thing up in his head, he would feel like a
fool.  He would also continue to doubt himself whenever he
thought
he’d
heard from the Lord.  And if he didn’t stay in the car, didn’t obey what
he’d believed to be a command from the Holy Spirit, he could miss the chance to
help someone else.

He did the only
thing a prayer warrior could do in this situation.

He prayed.

“Father, reassure
me one last time.  Did I hear from You these past couple of weeks? 
Did You tell me to come to the park this morning?  Please verify what’s
going on because I am wondering now if I really heard from You, Lord. 
Please in the name of Jesus, let me know why I am sitting here waiting. 
Please tell me what I am waiting for, Lord?  I thought You wanted me to
come here this morning to go running.  I thought I had a word from You
that I would be meeting the girl.  I did what You said and even brought my
business card.  Please confirm for me, again, Lord.  Please.”

Paulo did not
hear an answer but he had an urge to go to the Word as an Old Testament Book
came to mind.  “Habakkuk?”  Paulo asked.  “Wow, haven’t read
that one before.”  He pulled out his smart phone, logged onto his favorite
bible app, and was in the Old Testament in a blink.  His eyes landed on
Habakkuk 2:1-3.    He read, “Then the LORD said to me, write my
answer plainly on tablets, so that a runner can carry the correct message to
others.  This vision is for a future time.   It describes the
end, and it will be fulfilled.   If it seems slow in coming, wait
patiently, for it will surely take place.   It will not be delayed.”

Paulo read the
passage out loud three times, amazed at how directly the Lord had answered
him.  His eyes landed on the word “runner” and he burst into
laughter.   “You have a sense of humor, Lord.”

Renewed in his
faith, Paulo glanced around the car.  He felt the Spirit’s presence when
he spoke firmly, saying, “I command all forces of darkness to leave me, my car,
and my path right now, in the mighty Name of Jesus.  The Word says no
weapon formed against me shall prosper.  I cast down, right now, all
thoughts that exalt themselves against the Word of God.  In Jesus Name,
leave me!”

Satan fumed as
he disappeared.   

Humbled again
by the power of God’s Word, Paulo focused on the music and went back to doing
what the Lord had instructed him to do. 

He waited.

Exactly one
hour and a half after that, the Lord spoke one word into Paulo’s heart:

Now
.

Startled, Paulo
jumped out of the car and walked over to the park where he would begin his
mid-morning jog.  Almost three hours had passed since he had arrived and
he was grateful to stretch his legs.  He walked slowly to the park, his heart
beating.  Music thundered in the streets, along with horns and
sirens.  Children yelled and giggled in the background as Paulo continued
his walk through the public housing buildings that provided the short cut to
his favorite park. 

Even with so
many confirmations, Paulo
still
struggled with the doubt that fought
against his seasoned faith.  This time, however, it was Paulo’s flesh that
was struggling.  He continued to pray.  He silently prayed that all
he had done had not been in vain.  He prayed that he wasn’t crazy, that he
had not heard voices and seen visions that were false.  He would be
crushed.  It wouldn’t be the first time he thought he had heard from God,
only to discover that it was a lie straight from the pits from hell.  Yes
he had received scriptural confirmation, but what if the enemy had used God’s
word against him?  Hasn’t that been something the devil had done from the
beginning of time?  Wasn’t it Satan’s priority to twist and turn God’s
precious Word into something self-serving and dark in the minds of
millions?