STRINGS of COLOR (22 page)

My Chris used to wipe them away. He used to soothe my soul, calm my heart and whisper in my ear. He is no longer here.

It's just me… just me.

Many years ago, I stood on a stage for the first time as a little girl. They say that I sang my heart out. They say that the world heard and listened to the voice of a child. I remember the emotions that seemed to explode inside of me. I had sung for a mother that I had never known. I had sung to an empty chair inside my head. It was a feeling that I thought I would never find.

My mother.

I never thought I would see her face. I never thought I would see her smile. I still haven't, although she stood just inches in front of me.

It's funny how you go through life imagining what someone is like. Imagining what they look like and how they do or don't act. You imagine the tone of their voice, the shape of their hands, and the length of their hair. You assume many things and take other things for granted.

You even think that you can feel their kindness because in some strange way it comforts you. It wraps you up and carries you away on the back of little girls' fairytales.

I have been thrust into a world where I am forced to no longer imagine but to come face-to-face with one very sad fact…I don't like my mother.

I prefer the imaginary one inside my head.

I need to find a way to fight through the hurt that she has caused but when I try, all I see are her eyes. Her eyes told me that she felt as if she had done something great for me.

She left me with the beast.

She walked away and never came back for me. Where is greatness in that?

"
M
rs. Naya."

"Yes."

"You have a guest at the gate."

"Who is it?"

"She said her name was Misty."

Naya's hands froze.

"Did you say, Misty?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you want me to have her wait for you in the office?"

"No. Tell her to go away."

"We did, ma'am. We tried to tell her that she had to make an appointment but she refused. She's been buzzing the gate bell for over an hour and won't let up. She insists that she's not the media but that she knows you personally."

"Put her in the living room but not in my office."

"Yes, ma'am."

Two women sat across from each other with so much in common, but each refusing to acknowledge or accept it. Two women who needed each other more than they could even come out and admit.

Naya was the first to finally speak.

"I found out last night."

"I did as well."

"So you met her too?"

"No, Jake told me."

"You're not talking about Jake, the newspaper reporter are you?"

"Yes, I am."

"How would he know?"

"Monà went to see him. She told him everything for the book."

"What book?"

"The one he is writing on you, the one about your life."

Naya leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and stared directly at Misty. Then she spoke in a very calm but firm manner.

"Jake is not authorized to write a book on me. That contract was voided when he refused to give me back my tape recorder as agreed. He got it by mistake. He had come here for an interview that…," Naya's hands began to shake. "For an interview that my husband had arranged when I was getting ready to release a new CD, he accidently took the wrong tape recorder home."

"I'm so sorry about your husband." Misty understood how difficult it was for Naya to say his name.

"Thank you."

Misty stared at the room. Warm earth tones painted the walls, furniture with crisp lines and a modern flare filled it, and lush rugs graced the bottom of her shoes.

"This room is beautiful. I'm sure the rest of the house is just as equal."

"Would you like a tour?"

Misty couldn't believe she said yes. She was desperate for anything that would break the silence that had crawled in between them.

As Naya showed her the home, Misty couldn't help but notice the confidence in Naya's voice, the gracefulness of her walk, and the sadness in her heart as she pointed to pieces that she and Chris had picked out.

They stopped by the stairway in the foyer and Misty's eyes traveled up the curve of the stairs and fell upon the painting that hung in the center of Naya and Chris.

Naya's eyes followed.

"I am so going to miss him. I loved him with everything that I had."

"He loved you just as much."

"Yes he did."

"I know what it's like to lose someone you love. At least you got a chance to feel it together, to express it to each other every day."

Naya almost reached her hand out toward Misty. Listening to her reminded Naya of what it was like so many years ago; when the two of them would sit outside in the parking lot of The Skinny and tell each other all the horrible things that had colored their lives.

They made their way back to the living room.

Naya sat on the sofa and Misty joined her. The two hadn't been this close to one another in years.

"Jazzmyne, I never got a chance to say how sorry I was for everything that went down at The Skinny."

"You can call me Naya."

"I never got a chance…Naya, to say how sorry I was for everything that went down at The Skinny."

"Funny, I don't remember you ever trying to say that you were sorry."

"I should have. I should have done it a long time ago."

"Why Misty, please tell me why did you do it? You were my friend."

"I wanted something Naya. Something that I thought was greater than our friendship. I wanted my name in lights as they say. I wanted fame. I wanted prominence. I wanted everything that Big Fred— my father, was never able to achieve. I wanted to show him that although he never loved me, I overcame.

"That I did it but bigger and better. I was there, Naya. I was right there. The only problem was that once I got there, he was already gone.

"It cost me so much, Naya. I lost you. I lost Ken. I lost everything."

This time Naya couldn't help herself. She reached out and placed her hand over Misty's. She could feel her shaking. She could see her tears. She knew they were real this time.

"You know, I think, somewhere in the back of my mind I thought that if I made it, if I got the world to know who I was, she would come back. She would be proud to say that I was her daughter and she would come back to claim me."

"Who would come back?"

"The woman I thought was my mother. She walked out on us when I was thirteen. I came home from school one day and there was nothing of her left but a few remnants of her clothes in the closet."

"I understand….Misty, who is Ken?"

"He was my love. Only I never told him because I let my pride, my past, and my foolishness get in the way of what was really important. We started Perfect Sound together. We even opened The Clue; together…and then…. he was killed in a car accident over five years ago."

Misty reached in her purse and handed Naya a picture of her and Ken standing in front of The Clue.

"He was handsome Misty."

"Yes, he was. He was everything I wasn't and everything I should have been."

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably as she placed the photo back in her purse.

"Love spoils success. That's what my father told me and I lived by those words. I never got a chance to make love a success."

"I'm sorry, Misty."

"So am I. So am I."

"It seems as if we have both had our past chasing after us."

"Forget chasing after us, to me, it has been kicking my butt!"

Naya laughed. Misty joined her.

"I can't believe I'm sitting here talking to you, Naya. I've missed you so much. I can't pretend or act like I didn't. Our friendship back then, it really did mean a lot to me. Please know that."

"I really wish I could believe that, Misty."

"What I did was beyond cruel. It was downright nasty, but that was the kind of place I was in at the time. I'm not making an excuse; I'm just telling you what it was like for me then and what it has been like for me up until now.

"There is something that I need to tell you, Naya."

Naya braced herself. She felt like they were back in that parking lot at The Skinny and Misty had just told her what Big Fred and Charles T. Williams had been doing to her.

"I was there when the accident occurred."

"What accident?"

"The accident, that occurred just the other night with Felicia, your daughter-in-law."

"What in the world happened Misty?"

"Yes, please do tell us, what in the world happened that night, Misty?"

Neither of them had taken notice that Jonathan had been standing there.

Misty stood up. She cleared her throat and prepared herself for whatever was coming her way.

"I was sitting at the light, waiting to make a U-turn when I see this kid flying down the street. He had to be going at least eighty to ninety miles per hour. He didn't see me and when he did, it was too late. His car veered off and slammed into Felicia's car. He hit her so hard that it wrapped her car around a pole."

Jonathan came at her.

Misty responded by moving toward him. She wasn't one to back down easily.

Naya jumped to her feet.

"Jonathan!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Misty exclaimed.

"No, but you were there and then you…you just left! I lost my child. I almost lost my wife!"

Naya walked over quickly and moved her hand into a stop position towards him.

"She's right Jonathan, it wasn't her fault but you are right as well, she should have stayed. Now step back."

Naya glanced at Misty. She saw the tears streaming down her face.

"There is something you should know," she said to Jonathan.

Jonathan took a step back.

"She is my sister and your aunt."

"
That can't be true." He stared at Misty.

"Yes, it's true. We each found out yesterday. It appears that Monà, the woman who raised Simone, gave birth to each of us when she was young."

"How can that be?" he asked again.

"It's a long story."

Jonathan stared at Misty again. The smoke beginning to clear from his nostrils.

"I expect you to give a full statement to the police immediately!"

"I already have. I called the Chief of Police that night and told him exactly what happened."

Naya saw that had begun to calm him down even more.

"How is Felicia?"

He took a very deep breath before responding.

"She is doing okay, considering. I came to check on you. I know the funeral is tomorrow and I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything."

"All the arrangements have been taken care of." Naya could barely get the words out. She waited a few minutes before speaking again.

"I'm glad you're here, I do need to speak with you about something rather important."

Misty took that as her clue to leave.

"Misty," Naya said, stopping her.

"I want you to come to the funeral tomorrow."

"You do?"

"Yes, I want all the family there."

"I don't know, Naya."

"I want you there, Misty," she said firmly.

"Alright then Naya, I will be there."

"You can ride over in my car."

Misty tried to smile, but inside she was nervous as she considered the depth of Naya's words.

It meant that Monà would be there as well.

"Do you mind if I bring Jake with me?" Misty hesitated. "We are…kind of seeing each other
." I hope.
Misty thought to herself.

Naya thought about it for a moment.

"Sure, I want to speak with him anyway. Just make sure that he comes as your guest and not as a reporter."

"I will make sure."

Naya watched her facial expression.

"Misty, I'm trusting you on that."

"I understand."

They both smiled.

Jonathan watched as two women he never thought would ever speak to each other again, held on to each other as if their lives depended upon it.

Considering all they had been through—it did.

Naya sat on the sofa and reached her hand out toward her son.

It was time to put the pain of truth to rest between them.

"She watched an ambulance pull into the emergency entrance. She watched a mother rush her child inside. She watched an older gentlemen wheel his wife out to their car. She saw a couple bringing their newborn baby outside for the first time. She saw tears, laughter, joy, and pain. She watched life happen and wondered if she had the right to start her own."