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sixty-eight f

Gifts

M issy, Ricki, and Diana invited me to spend Christmas Eve with them. The idea of another all-night drinking and drug fest was more than I could handle.

“Gonna spend time with your sugar daddy?” Diana asked during a break at Dream Girls.

“Warren? He’s not my sugar daddy. And I’m sure he’s spending the holiday with family.”

“Suit yourself. You’ll be missing the best party of the year.”

Diana left me to hustle some customers.

Spending a lonely Christmas in my apartment would bring up memories of holidays I had spent without my kids and holidays I had spent in a drug-induced stupor.

Did I have the courage to spend this Christmas alone? To face myself?

A few days before Christmas, Warren stopped at Grady’s for lunch. He plopped onto his usual stool and ordered a beer and a burger. Once my set ended, I joined him.

“Any plans fer Christmas?” he asked.

Should I be honest and admit I had nowhere to go?

“I’m not sure yet. What about you?”

“My sister and her son’s family are comin’ over. How’d ya like to join us?”

It had been years since I’d spent a holiday with a real family. What kind of emotions would it bring up for me?

“I can’t intrude on your family.”

“Ain’t like that. I been tellin’ my sister ’bout you. Said she’d like to meet ya.”

Warren’s invitation scared me to death, but it was time to move past my fears.

“Well, then, I’d love to.”

“Come fer Christmas Eve and spend the night. You can have the guest room and bath. We do a big brunch Christmas mornin’.”

I knew I’d be safe at his home, especially with his sister and family.

Warren’s sister Sally made a shrimp scampi dinner for Christmas Eve. The family reminisced of past holidays and discussed current events. They included me and made me feel welcome.

Christmas morning, I offered to help with brunch preparations, but Sally shooed me out of the kitchen.

“Spend time with my brother,” she said. “He loves your company.”

I joined Warren in the living room. We listened to Christmas carols on his record player and said little.

When the record ended, Warren turned to me. “I been wonderin’ if you got any money stashed away fer hard times.”

“Not much.” I kept a small savings account but nothing for hard times.

“Ya need somethin’. I wanna help ya. You got no idea how much yer friendship means to me.”

“I can’t take anything from you.”

“I got a pension and investments. Think I earned the right to share some with who I want.”

Warren walked to his desk, pulled out his checkbook, and began writing.

“Pass it on when ya git to my age.” He handed me a check for $30,000.

“Warren, this is a fortune. I can’t accept this.”

“Sure, ya can. Might be just whatcha need to get yerself back on track.”

“You’re a wonderful man.” I hugged him.

A week went by before I saw Warren again. I’d written him a heartfelt thank-you note. Had I embarrassed him with my gratitude?

I needn’t have worried. Warren invited me for dinner the week after New Year’s. I met him at Murphy’s Steak House, one of his favorite spots.

“Did ya enjoy the rest o’ yer holiday?”

“Not as much as I enjoyed Christmas with you and your family. Thank you again—for everything.”

“Ain’t nothin’. Listen, Ava, I gotta make a confession.”

I felt my shoulders tense.

“I had an ulterior motive for invitin’ ya to Christmas.”

“I don’t understand—”

“You’ve been like a daughter to me. Spendin’ time with you’s helped me get past my wife’s dyin’, but I think ya know that already.”

I reached across the table for his hand. “You don’t have to go there.”

He nodded. “What I didn’t tell ya is that my sister works at the county college in the career center.”

I was even more confused.

“You got a whole lot more goin’ fer ya than dancin’ in dive bars. I wanted to see if my sister agreed.”

“Your sister and I never discussed careers.”

“Didn’t hafta. She’s a good judge o’ character. Said you were a sharp cookie and thinks she can help ya. They got this aptitude test at the college. Even though you ain’t a student, she said she could finagle things and let ya take the test.”

“But why? I earn a good living and when I can’t dance anymore, I can always tend bar.” Did my words sound as hollow to Warren as they did to me?

“Yer on borrowed time and ya know it. Let me ’n Sally help ya.”

“Life doesn’t work out for people like me.”

“Cut the crap, Ava!”

Diners at nearby tables stared at us.

“I’ve tried getting sober. I can’t do it.”

“Take it one day at a time. Go fer the test, then think about the rest.”

I lay awake that night thinking about Warren’s words. He believed in me. Apparently, his sister did, too. The next day I made an appointment to take the exam. I had nothing to lose but time. I’d already wasted enough time in my forty-two years on Planet Earth.

The exam took less than an hour to complete. Sally sent me for coffee while she ran it through her system.

“Have a seat, Ava.”

“Did I pass?” I tried keeping things light.

“It’s not pass or fail,” she said. “But I think you know that.”

I nodded.

“The test shows you’re a people person. Since you’re an extrovert, a job in a lab or private office wouldn’t suit you. You don’t like routine, so you need to find a career that’s different every day.”

“So far it sounds like dancing is my perfect job.”

Sally ignored my comment. “You don’t have a mechanical bone in your body, and you’re not cut out for math or science—or agriculture.”

Guess that’s one reason I failed in Kenya.

“You’re telling me what I’m not cut out for. Does the test show anything I can do?”

“You love beauty, music, and the arts. Here’s your list of best careers.” Sally handed me a printout with her findings.

At the top of the list was cosmetology. Other career choices were sales, advertising, and social director.

“I have no training in any of these areas. I can’t go to school and work full time.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. We work with Athena Beauty Institute. They have a three-month nail technician program starting the end of January. I know my brother gave you some money. Use some of it to get an education. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

I knew Warren was lonely, which was why he treated me with kindness. But why Sally? What was in it for her?

“I’ll think about it,” I promised.

“Do more than think. I have Athena’s information somewhere around here.” She rummaged through her desk and handed me a crumpled flyer. “Give them a call, or I’ll call for you.”

“I can call.”

“Tell my brother what we discussed. I’m sure he’ll be supportive.”

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d thought about a career in the beauty industry. I knew I had an eye for color, hair, and nails. And I did have $30,000 from Warren. The nail technician program was $2,500, which would only put a small dent in my savings.

I should have taken the night off from Dream Girls but didn’t. While I danced, I thought about those cartoons where an angel sits on one shoulder, the devil on the other.

The devil: You’re nothing, broken, worthless.

The angel: I can change. Warren believes in me.

The devil: You’ve failed at everything. Made a mess of your life.

The angel: I can’t change what happened, but I can change my future.

The devil: You’re too old, too stupid, and you’re an addict.

The angel: Shut up!

I tripped and nearly fell off the stage. A nasty laugh erupted from a customer at the end of the bar.

Don’t you dare laugh at me.

Something clicked in my fog-encased brain. Was I so desperate for love and acceptance that I would allow these sleazy men to judge my self-worth?

The only people in my life were customers, other dancers, and addicts. I needed to move into a world with new people who lived straight, normal lives. But could I?

I’d become comfortable in chaos—even craved it. Catcalls from customers replaced words of love. Alcohol and drugs bound me to my friends. My body ached, my feet throbbed, and my lungs filled with second-hand smoke. When and how would it end?

I drove directly home after work, telling my friends I had an early-morning appointment. I didn’t lie exactly. My appointment was with my application to Athena.

The only person I shared my decision with was Warren. I saw him the next afternoon at Grady’s.

“I did it, Warren. I enrolled in nail school.”

His smile nearly broke my heart.

“Good fer you, darlin’. You won’t regret it.” He reached into his wallet, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to me.

“Warren, no!” It was a check for $3,000.

“It’s a check fer tuition and other expenses.”

“But you already gave me so much.”

“It’s yours with one stipulation. If ya drop out, I expect a full refund.”

“You are my guardian angel.” I kissed him on the cheek.

“I ain’t no angel. Stay in school. That’s all I’m askin’.”