Michelle frowned and crossed her legs. Her shoulders looked even more stiff and tight. “Tonya started telling me something on the elevator.” She looked at Shadrach and avoided looking at Tonya. “I told her whatever she said, I wanted her to say it in front of you.” She tossed her head. “You know, it really doesn’t matter. I’m going to survive, no matter what.” Michelle refolded her arms across her chest. “It just seems to me that we should see this through to the end before we start making decisions about things. What’s the point of doing this, or starting this, if we’re not going to see it through to the end?”
Shadrach just listened. He leaned back, folded his arms, and looked at Tonya.
Why was Michelle always so uptight? “Yes, I told Michelle—or I started telling her that Mrs. Judson was going to be out of the office for two weeks.” Tonya turned her attention to Michelle. “Mrs. Judson made it pretty clear what her opinion was, but I’ve been praying, Michelle.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “What’s new?” Shadrach looked at Michelle but remained quiet.
“It’s probably not professional, and it’s probably not what any management consultants would recommend.” Tonya laughed softly. “It’s not even what my pocketbook recommends. But . . .” She couldn’t believe she was about to say what she was about to say. “I . . . it’s all or nothing, Michelle. When you got hired, I was part of that. I thought you were smart and qualified. I still think you’re smart and qualified. But . . .”
Michelle did a kind of sitting swagger. “There’s always a
but.
”
Tonya went on. “But like we talked about, some things have to change.”
“It’s only been a day. What do you expect in a day?”
“Michelle, I’m trying to tell you something. I’m just having a hard time saying it.”
“You want me to say it for you? I’m a big girl. I been through worse before and I might have to go through worse again. You play the hand you get dealt.” Michelle threw her hands up in the air. “Big news! Mrs. Judson wants me fired! So what’s new?”
An older woman came to take their order. “You want hot tea?” Tonya nodded. “Just one tea?” She looked at Shadrach and Michelle. “You want cola, ice tea, ginger ale?” Michelle and Shadrach both indicated cola.
When the old woman walked away with the order, Michelle resumed speaking. “Mrs. Judson wants me fired? Okay, you work for her. I got it figured out, okay? I’m smart enough to figure it out. Why should you put yourself out for me? It’s okay,
sis-tuh.
You don’t have to feel uncomfortable saying what you have to say—I can make it on my own.”
See? I told you so,
Michelle’s eyes said to Shadrach.
What was all the attitude? Tonya looked at Michelle then at Shadrach. There was no figuring it out; she just needed to say what she had to say. “Like I said, I’m having a hard time saying this. You’re right, it’s just been a day, or two days. That’s not enough time to make a judgment on something that can impact a person’s life—or, really, the lives of all the people that are linked to that one. You’re right, it’s not enough time. But we don’t have time. After meeting with Mrs. Judson, I realized that.”
She might as well get it over with. “So I’ve made a decision and I need to tell it to you now.”
T
he waitress walked to the table balancing a tray on her shoulder. She carried a small collapsible stand with her, which she unfolded with one hand. She set the tray on it and began to lift lids off the covered plates. “Shrimp fried rice.” She nodded at Shadrach and set the steaming plate in front of him. “Chicken with mixed vegetables with tofu.” She slid the hot plate in front of Tonya, then she nodded at Michelle. “You gonna like this one. Pepper steak, extra onion.”
Michelle nodded, but made no move to touch her food. She kept her arms folded.
“Enjoy.” The old woman nodded and walked away.
Tonya laid her napkin across her lap and lifted her fork. “You’re right, it’s not enough time. But sometimes, you have to just go with what you feel. There’s been a lot of friction between us. I understand some of it better now. Not all of it, but it’s some better. We started two days ago. Mrs. Judson doesn’t know that. She doesn’t know about any of this. She just knows that she has a situation she doesn’t like and she wants me to take care of it. That’s my job. That’s how I keep the roof over my head. That’s how I feed my son.”
Michelle unfolded her arms and adjusted her jacket. She touched a shimmering hot pink baby fingernail to the corner of her mouth, as if to move something away—something she could feel that the other two could not see. “Yeah, well, we’ve all got responsibilities.”
“Exactly. So I thought about our conversations, about what it would take to change and make things better. You came in on time, today, Michelle. I appreciate that. That doesn’t mean you’re going to come on time from now on, but I appreciate what you did today. I saw you on the phone when I walked by—”
“See, Shad? See what I mean? She’s looking all the time to catch me doing something wrong.” Michelle turned her head away from the table.
“Let her finish, Michelle.” He touched her on the arm. “Let her finish.”
“Michelle, I couldn’t help but hear when I walked by. You were trying to get off the phone.” Tonya picked at her food with her fork. “You know, Michelle, I only had the energy—or the courage—to buy new stockings. I started putting on an old pair this morning. But I heard your voice talking to me. I stopped at the store on the way in and bought a new pair. I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t talked to me. I can’t promise anybody that I’m never going to just put on a pair with a run and twist them around. I hope I don’t, but I might slip. But today I tried.”
Tonya patted her hair. “All night I thought about my hair. I thought about changing it, but I didn’t. Maybe I didn’t have the courage. It might have been too public a change—or it might have brought me too far out in the open. But I thought about it, which is progress. I didn’t have the courage to change my hair, but I do have the courage to take a stand.”
Michelle looked at her. “And?”
“And you had the courage to come in on time and to change your telephone habits, even though you might not have the courage to try to trust me. You have to work on trust; I have to work on my hair. But I do have the courage to tell Mrs. Judson that this is all or nothing.”
Michelle frowned. “What do you mean, all or nothing?”
“I mean if I’m the team leader, then I need the autonomy and the authority to do what I think is best. If I fail, then she’s right to remove me. But I have to have the space to try. I can’t take a chance on myself and believe I can change and not believe the same thing for you. Michelle, I’m not willing to let you go. If Mrs. Judson makes the decision to let you go, then I’ve decided that I’m going with you. It’s all or nothing.”
Michelle stared. She opened and closed her mouth several times. Finally, she found her voice. “So you’re going to give up your job for me?” Her words dripped with cynicism. “I wouldn’t do it for you.”
“Maybe not. But I don’t think anything happens by coincidence. I don’t think we happened to work together by accident. I don’t think we’ve had tension by accident. The Bible says—”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”
“The Bible says that as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.
3
We’re both strong women, in our own ways, and maybe we needed each other to help us become better. We just didn’t see it on our own, so Shadrach—”
“Yeah, Coach Shadrach.” Michelle pursed her lips.
“That’s exactly what I think. I think Shadrach is a coach—maybe a divine coach. The Bible says that all of us have gifts. I think this is Shadrach’s gift—to coach us into working as a team so that we can be what we’re supposed to be. If I’m right, I don’t think there’s any way the Lord is going to let Mrs. Judson fire us. If I’m wrong, then we’ll both be fired, but maybe I will have persuaded you that you can trust someone.”
Michelle looked at Shadrach, then back at Tonya. “So what’s the hook? What’s in it for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, nobody does something for nothing. What’s the payoff for you?”
“Just what I said, Michelle. I don’t think I can transform me all by myself. I need to see me through your eyes. I need you to help me. You do your work—you can do that with your hands behind your back. You can do that talking on the phone and coming in late, for goodness sake. But I think that we have more than just work products to offer. Maybe that’s how it is with a baseball or a football team. Guys join the team to play and, hopefully, to win. But they obviously get much more out of it. They grow, they build friendships and bonds, and they help each other become better men. Maybe we can do the same thing for each other.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Shadrach shook his head in amazement. “Wow!”
Michelle’s eyes were full of doubt. “We’ll see, okay? We’ll see.” Suddenly she reached out to shake Tonya’s hand. “Together we stand, divided we fall—at least until I hear otherwise.” She leaned back in her seat. Her lips pursed and Tonya wasn’t sure if what she read there was sarcasm or the beginnings of a friendly smile. Michelle’s eyes were roving in mild disapproval over her features. “But, seriously, Tonya, if we’re going to try, you got to do something to your hair. Girl, that bun is killing me!”
Shadrach collapsed with laughter. The three of them sat talking while people hustled and bustled around them. In the midst of all that was around them, surrounded as they were by hundreds of people, enclosed in a building, enfolded by a teeming city, the Holy Ghost found them and breathed on them the breath of life, the breath of renewal, the breath of change.
It was a new day. A glorious new day.
Winter-Delores Judson
D
elores Judson sat in the office waiting for the principal and waiting for her granddaughter. The office wall was made of blocks that were faced with the color of wood, but there was no mistaking that they were concrete, granite, or some other similarly strong material. There were certificates on the wall that Delores could not read without her glasses. Most likely, they were the same certificates that had hung on the wall when she was a girl. There was also student artwork on walls—artwork that was supposed to convince the students that the school belonged to them, that it was their place.
It was like so many things she did in the office to get the employees to buy in; the bottom line was that the school administrators ruled, just as she ruled her office. It was all governance by stealth.
She resisted the urge to check her watch. There was no point in getting upset over something she couldn’t control. Since Delores had been there, several buzzers had gone off and there had been an occasional announcement over the public address system. She was in charge at work, she was even in charge in her home, but being in school—even to retrieve her granddaughter—always made her feel as though she were losing control.
Of course, Claudia might have something to do with her discomfort. Things might have been different if Dolores had come to see her granddaughter get a citizenship award. She might have been able to maintain the cool interior to match the trained calm of her exterior if Claudia was the lead in a school play or a soloist in the school choir, but such was hardly the case.
Her darling thirteen-year-old granddaughter had already been expelled from three exclusive private schools, which was why the child was even attending a public school. Word had gotten out, and no one else—no other private school—would have her. Since Claudia had come to the school, Delores had been summoned to retrieve her on numerous occasions for numerous reasons: smoking, cursing teachers, not doing homework, failing tests, skipping school.
It was because of Claudia that Delores now carried a cell phone. She despised the invention; no one needed to be in constant communication with anyone. However, it was less embarrassing to have the school contact her at the cell phone number than to have the calls come through her receptionist.
Before the cell phone, she had been interrupted in business meetings, during negotiations, and at private conferences. The schools always insisted that they needed to speak with Delores immediately, it was an emergency. Her receptionist had dutifully broken in on her meetings. Matilda never made a comment, but her eyes said it all—that she knew a secret, that the head that wore the crown had an uncontrollable weakness . . . that weakness was named Claudia Judson.
So Delores had gotten a cell phone. Only the school had the number. The thing had changed her breathing pattern. She held her breath because she was always afraid the cursed thing would go off. Of course, when it did, she answered it casually. She begged the pardon of anyone who might be present; she was so sorry to be rude, but other, more important business, called. The cell phone seemed, somehow, to raise her stature in other people’s eyes.
But it was giving her an ulcer. Not much more than a week ago Delores had had to leave work to come to the school. She hated the digital pulsing sound—she hated even more what the sound meant. It meant the school was calling. Something was wrong, again, with Claudia.
The door opened. It was the principal. He stuck out his hand. “Mrs. Judson, I’m sorry to have to call you again.”
Mrs. Judson leaned forward and coolly shook his hand. She never rose to shake hands; she was a lady. She was compromised, but she was not going to surrender to the shame of it all.
“Of course, Mr. Carter. I’m certain there was nothing else that could be done.” Let him figure out for himself whether she was being sarcastic or not.
He nodded. “We’ve been trying to work so hard with Claudia, all of us partnering together—the administrators, the staff, the teachers—” He nodded at Mrs. Judson. “—and you, her family. The only one that doesn’t seem to be committed is Claudia.” He sat in his chair behind his plain wooden desk. “I hate to have to call you. I hate to have to tell any parent about something like this.”