STRINGS of COLOR (11 page)

W
hen the sun began to try to peak through the clouds, Naya found herself still fully dressed and lying across her bed. She figured that one of the staff members must have put her there.

She stared at the ceiling; she stared at the walls. She listened to the slow beat of the rain.

Something in her heart just didn't feel right.

She looked at his pillow and the tears began to fall.

There was a soft knock on her door. She didn't respond.

"Mrs. Naya."

Naya stared at the door. She felt like throwing something at it when she heard the knock again.

"Mrs. Naya," the voice was soft but firm. "I'm so sorry to disturb you ma'am, but you have a guest in your office."

"Tell them to go away. I don't have any appointments with anyone."

"It's your father."

Naya watched as the young lady, who had mustered up the courage to be the one to come and tell her, slowly walked into the room.

"Did you say, my father?"

"Yes, ma'am, he insisted that we allow him in. He said it was urgent that he speak with you."

Fear had crawled out from under the bed and sat by Naya's side. She could feel herself trembling.

She studied the young lady's face.
Are those tears I see?

"Tell him I will be there in a few minutes."

"Yes, ma'am." She started to walk out but stopped. "Would you like to try and eat something this morning Mrs. Naya?"

"No, thank you."

Naya could see the pleading look in her eyes.

"Okay," she finally said. "Bring me some toast and coffee."

"Yes ma'am."

The young lady smiled and eased herself out of the room.

She cried all the way down the steps.

On the corner of the nightstand sat JK's journal. Naya hadn't been able to get past the first page since the accident occurred. She placed it in the bottom drawer.

Maybe he came to get it.
Deep down she wanted that to be the reason for his presence but her heart, her fear, and her mind told her otherwise.

In the bathroom she cried when she picked up Chris' toothbrush by mistake. In her closet she screamed when she saw a pair of his shoes, touched one of his many ties, and allowed her fingers to linger on the sleeve of one of his suit coats.

When she opened her bedroom door, she knew.

JK stood in his daughter's office. He allowed his eyes to follow the many Platinum records along the walls. He picked up one of her Grammy trophies and read the inscription. This was the first time he had been this close to her life. It was the first time he had even been in her home.

I can't do this.

JK moved toward the door when his exit was interrupted by her presence. The two stood in front of each other. Neither one of them was able to speak, neither wanted to be the first to utter a word.

JK took a deep breath.

"Naya…"

"He's gone isn't he?"

"Yes. He passed away yesterday. I just found out today."

"Why didn't the doctor call me?"

"I can't answer that."

"Who told you?"

"Felicia came to see me."

"Felicia?"

"Yes, apparently she was there when it happened. She had gone to see you and Chris. She came by this morning. She thought it might be better if I told you."

JK took a step toward her.

Naya watched him. Anger began to consume her; hurt, pain, and of course, much agony.

JK took another step.

"My Chris, my Chris has left me. How could he?"

Her screams radiated throughout the house until she stopped and looked up at him.

She saw him. JK moved fast. He didn't think he still had it in him. He dropped his cane and swung his arm out to catch his daughter.

Her bedroom was pitched dark but the soft streams of moonlight fought to creep in through the pulled back curtains. JK sat in a corner watching his daughter sleep. With each toss and turn he felt his heart breaking for her.

It should have been me instead of him. It should have been me.

JK grabbed his cane and eased himself out of her room.

Inside her office he sat at what he assumed was Chris' desk. His eyes lingered on their wedding picture.

Thirty-years,
JK whispered to himself as he leaned back in the chair. His own memories began to flood back. Memories he had long ago tried to bury deep in the closet of his mind. Lately, he felt as if they had been fighting him for the key, fighting him for freedom.

He remembered the softness of her skin.

He called her his darling Nina.

Nina Monà Jackson was her full name. Her fiery brown eyes had captured his attention the day she boldly and confidently entered through the doors of Juliet. A private school in the heart of New York for what the world would one day call the musically gifted.

Nina was a rather tall young girl, even for an eighteen year old. She could look him straight in the eyes and smile. Her voice was one that rocked you softly upon a cloud and drifted you off into a world that made you feel as if no one else existed except you and her vocals.

Almost four years had passed since she first arrived and JK still found himself sneaking into the auditorium just to hear her sing.

This is how they met.

"
I
can see you, you know?"

A reluctant JK sat up in his seat. As she stood towering over him, he could have sworn he saw the sun shining off her face. Her frame was thin, her lips slightly plump and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had on a white skirt, brand new red ballerina-styled shoes, and a red and white sweater.

"I was just listening."

"Yeah, I could see that. I see you in here all the time."

JK didn't know what to say in response.

"You must like me or something."

"It's more like the,
something.
" He said to her in a rather sarcastic way.

"Sure it is. That's why you've been coming here every day, sitting back here in the dark where you think no one can see you−for the
something.
"

They both smiled.

"My name is Nina, but I bet you already knew that, didn't you?"

JK nodded.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"I'm waiting for your name, guitar man."

"So how do you know I play the guitar?"

"I make it a point to get to know anyone who is stalking me."

"So you think I've been stalking you?"

"Haven't you?" She asked with an obvious smirk on her face.

"If you know that for a fact, then you should already know my name."

"Of course I do, but it's still nice to make a formal introduction of oneself, don't you think?"

"Jonathan Kenneth Creek." He stuck out his hand.

She took it. "I hear your parents are trying to buy up all of New York."

JK laughed.

"Something like that I guess. What do your parents do?"

"Why, you want to know how a black family in New York can afford to send their beautiful young daughter to such an over-priced music school?"

"No, I was just trying to keep the conversation going."

"Oh."

"Do you want to get something from the deli around the corner?" JK held his breath. He was afraid she would say no.

"I can't today and besides, my parents don't allow me to date."

"I wasn't asking you out on a date."

"It certainly sounded like it to me."

"Nope, I just want to get a sandwich. I'll tell you what, I'll invite a few of my friends to join us and you can bring a few of yours. Sound fair?"

"I didn't know you had any friends here. You always seem like a loner."

"I'm not a loner, just quiet. I do have a few friends here. Are you always this boldly spoken?"

"My father's an attorney so I guess I take after him."

"Nice."

"I'll have to talk to my parents to see if going to the deli with
friends
is okay."

"Why don't your parents allow you to date, by the way?"

"I said my parents but honestly, it's more of a whole-family decision. I'll date when I'm ready for marriage. That way, I keep stress and problems down in my life so that I can focus on the more important things—like my music."

"I see. At what age are you planning on getting married?"

It was Nina's turn to fight for a response.

"Why, are you proposing?"

"Not yet."

Six months later JK and Nina graduated. Two months after that, he proposed.

Neither of their parents approved.

Cut off and shunned by their families, they packed their bags with a marriage certificate in tow, five thousand dollars, which JK's dad had managed to give him, and headed for Chicago.

One white and struggling guitarist along with one black melodious vocalist, walking into the heart of one of the most segregated states of the 60's.

They lived in a one-family apartment, called the River-View. Only there never was a river and certainly never a view. The five thousand dollars JK's father gave him only afforded them the luxury of living in what many referred to, back then, as "Bronzeville," the south-side of Chicago.

JK could still remember the constant riots, which were blazing during those times due to the unfair treatment of those in the poor and predominately black communities. He remembered the "Soul-Brothers" stickers that were being put on many of the white-owned stores, demanding that blacks be allowed to own their own stores.

That was the constant scene outside his building.

Within his hallway, however, there was the constant war to prove that he was worthy enough to marry a black woman.

Unable to take the pressure from the neighborhood any longer, JK and Nina moved from the South-side of Chicago and landed in the heart of the city. There they encountered another war brewing, the fight to integrate the school system. This war sparked even more havoc and upheaval between blacks and whites as black public schools were bursting at the seams and many of the teachers were forced to work double-shifts.

Nina had landed a temporary job there, but JK remembers barely being able to see her until late most school evenings.

The papers were filled with stories of how the U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare was threatening to withhold federal funds from the school board system if they failed to adhere to the Civil Rights Act, and the fact that the Supreme Court had ruled in earlier years that desegregation was to occur within public school systems. JK, however, personally felt that things were moving at a turtles pace because local political officials, and even the board members of the school system, were more afraid of the opposition they would get from within the white community than the government.

Many in the white communities responded to desegregation by simply moving their children out. Some referred to this action as "white flight."

It's funny; we left two families full of prejudice only to walk into a world that was thriving off of it.

JK reached into his wallet and pulled out her photo. He allowed his fingers to trace her smile. He could still hear her voice. That sweet, soft clandestine voice that carried him away on a cloud and always left him wanting more.

"You're still here?"

JK watched as his daughter stood in the entranceway of the door. Her eyes were puffy. Her body stressed.

He placed the photo back in his wallet.

"What time is it?" She asked him.

JK looked up at the clock over the mantle.

"It's around eleven-thirty."

"Did someone prepare a room for you—for tonight?"

He took note of her words.

"Yes. Your staff is wonderful."

"Yes, they are. Most have been with us since we first purchased this place."

JK waited. He didn't know what to say.

"I said
us
didn't I?"

He knew the tears were coming again. He could see her knees shaking. He was too far away to try and catch her.

"Why don't you go back to bed?"

She didn't respond.

"Naya," he shouted.

It was too late. JK called out for help.

Just as Naya finally closed her eyes, JK heard a knock on her bedroom door.

"Mr. Creek, there is an emergency phone call for Mrs. Naya. It's about her daughter-in-law."

"Ever since this all started happening, you've been like…Simone you need to do this, and Simone you need to do that. I'm a grown woman. I made decisions before you and I believe I am still capable of making them. Just because you put a ring on my finger doesn't mean you know what's best for me."