STRINGS of COLOR (15 page)

S
imone pulled up to the gate and stepped out of the car. She stared at the house that seemed to sit as high as a mountain, commanding the attention of all the flowers below. She admired the beauty of the well lit waterfalls. Her eyes rested on the lavish gardens, which surrounded the grounds and she tried to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in the midst of it all.

She had read that one could smell the richness of the house from a mile away. Standing here, taking it all in, she could smell it herself. However, it wasn't the aroma of money; it was the aroma of kindness. There was a softness about the house, a gracefulness that seemed to reach deep inside of you.

She closed her eyes and tried to envision herself as a child running up and down the grand stairway. She saw Naya holding out her hands to her, calling her name.

She could see herself playing out there in the waterfalls, playing her guitar on the steps and getting lost in the gardens.

When she opened them again, she felt as if she were somehow betraying the memories she had with Monà.

Is it wrong to want what lies within these gates?

Don't cry,
she kept saying to herself but her heart didn't care to listen. The tears slipped down her cheeks and she leaned up against the gate and allowed her imagination to carry her away to a place where in reality, she was afraid to go.

"It's a beautiful home isn't it?"

Simone turned around and saw her mother standing there. Monà, that is.

"Yes, it is."

"What are you doing here?" Simone watched her mother carefully.

"I suppose the same as you. Trying to imagine what the person who lives inside is like."

"I wish I could…"

"You wish you could, what?"

"I wish I could meet her."

"Why?"

"She is my mother."

She saw Monà's eyes twitch upward and she took a step back.

"No, she is just the woman who gave birth to you. You will always be my daughter."

"Is that how you feel? That you are just the woman who gave birth to her?

"How I feel about that…. is none of your business." Monà spat.

"How could you not tell me?"

"How do you tell a daughter you have raised, loved, and given everything your bones can give, that you are not their mother? How do you find words for that?"

"I don't know, but you do."

"I wish it was that easy."

"You should have tried."

"Why? In the end, you and I would still be standing here having this same conversation."

"I had a right to know Mother!"

"Watch your tone, Simone."

"Why? Why should I watch my tone? I have a right to be angry. I have a right to say how I feel. You lied to me, thirty-plus years of nothing but lies."

Monà stepped closer to Simone.

"Then act like a woman in her thirties instead of a child!" Monà took a long pause. "Yes, you have a right to be angry. You have a right to say how you feel and yes, you are right, I didn't tell you. But, it wasn't a lie. It was simply information that I made the decision not to share."

She paused again to catch her breath.

"However, what you don't have the right to do, is speak to me as if I didn't put the clothes on your back growing up, or provide food for you, or stay up with you when you were sick, or love you as my own."

"I'm not a child anymore, Mother."

"You are my child!"

"Now we both know that is not entirely true, is it?"

Monà forced herself to lower her tone. No sense in both of them acting like fools, standing in front of a home that neither of them lived in or could afford.

"Listen, Simone, I don't want to stand out here and have this conversation with you. It's not how I wanted this to happen. There are so many things you don't understand. I had to make tough decisions, but I did the best that I could for everyone."

"No Mother, you did the best you could for yourself."

It was too late. Foolishness had set in. Simone felt the slap across her cheek, but she didn't back down.

She felt as if she were choking down her tears, daring just one to fall.

Monà watched Simone. Her eyes glared at her and she could feel her heart beating at a rapid pace. She clutched her fingers around her cane.

"Don't let this little situation here cause you to lose your mind because I can assure you that I am prepared to lose mine."

There was a silence that came between them as they each tried to gather their composure, thoughts, and emotions.

"All you had to say is that you are sorry. That was it Mother, three little words."

Monà looked away. She knew Simone was right. She owed her more than that.

"I know you think about her, Mother. I use to hear you listening to her songs when I was a child. I remember the tears. I know they were real. She is a part of both of us. I didn't understand that until now."

As she stared in the deep green hues of Simone's eyes, Monà found herself lost in the shadows of the past.

"You look so much like her." Monà wanted to reach out and touch Simone but she fought against it.

"Is that why you raised me?"

Monà didn't know how to respond.

As Simone walked back to her car, she stopped and looked at Monà.

"I'm sorry for raising my voice but I am not sorry for how I feel. I will always love you. I will always be thankful and yes, you are right…you will always be my mother and I will always be your daughter. However, and I say this with all due respect, she is my mother too. In fact, I need to stop imagining what it would be like to see her. I need to go beyond those gates. I've been allowing my own self to get in the way, because I didn't think my heart was big enough to love you both, but life is teaching me that the heart is capable of expanding, if I allow it."

Monà watched as Simone pulled away, then she settled down in her car and watched the lights play off the waterfalls. She could hear the crickets as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

In the mirror she saw a woman flanked with scars, wrinkles, and pain. For too many years she had carried around all that happened in her life. Too many years filled with sorrow. Her shoes were a constant reminder of what she gave up by making such foolish mistakes.

She thought about her conversation with Jake.

He never asked me if I had any regrets
.

Her eyes traveled back to the house that sat as high as a mountain. She smiled.
I could have never given her a life that would have given her all of this. She got the better end. In fact, my baby girl got more than I ever had.

She slipped in a CD that she kept wrapped in a linen hankie. Letting the wind of the evening comfort her, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She allowed herself to get lost, lost in the lyrics of a daughter she was too ashamed to ever get to know.

Talk to me baby girl, talk to me.

"
Hello, my name is Jazzmyne, welcome to the intro of my CD. Some people ask me what it's like to stand on a stage and sing the soft melodies of a song. I tell them, it's like a feather.

"You see, singing touches me. It captivates me and takes me places that I have never dreamed of. Music causes people to stop and listen to the lyrics that I'm sending to their heart. It helps me to reach their mind and dial into their intellect.

"It plays upon my bones.

"Close your eyes….listen.

Can you hear the music playing inside my head? Can you hear the song that explodes upon my lips? Can you hear the notes that urge me to try to reach their potential, their height, breadth, length and depth?

I can hear them. They are like sweet melodies.

Sweet, sweet melodies.

Come on now; snap your fingers with me.

Here we go now.

You ready? I'm ready.

Let's take a breath.

I closed my eyes to you, and felt the love inside.

I took a breath, and felt the wind fly over me.

Ever so gently, it seems.

I took a breath.

I looked into your eyes and saw the world as it was meant to be.

I saw a man, a woman staring back at me

I reached out.

I took a breath

I felt the wind and it liked me.

It liked me looking at you.

It liked me loving you.

I took a breath.

I reached out to you once again.

I stroked the softness of your smile.

I touched the tip of your laugh

I wondered how long it would last.

Was it just like a melody?

No baby, it was like the wind.

It blew just beneath the sea.

I took a breath for what seemed eternity.

I waited. I waited my love.

I waited for your touch.

I waited for your caress.

Where was your love?

I took a breath

Your love never reached me

I took a breath

I kept reaching for it,

Kept screaming for it

I took a breath

Keep calling out to it

Come and touch me

I took a breath

My heart was open

My love was waiting

I took a breath

Your love never answered

Still, I took a breath.

Monà turned off the CD when she heard the gates opening. Her heart began to race and she could feel her legs shaking. A black sedan pulled up next to her and as the front window came down, Monà quickly tried to start up the car, but it was too late.

"Are you lost?" The voice of the young male driver asked.

Monà searched for her voice. Her eyes were fixed on the back window.
Don't let baby girl be in there. Please don't let this happen to me.

"No, I was just admiring the house."

The driver nodded his head. It was common for people to come by and try to get a glimpse of Jazzmyne. He rather enjoyed it. He began to make his way toward the gate.

Naya lay with her head pressed into the leather of the back seat. She was fast asleep.

JK was sitting next to the window. He recognized the voice but was afraid to let the window down. He didn't want her to wake up.
Now was not the time
, he whispered to himself.

Monà wanted to pull off as quickly as she could, but she had to wait until the sedan could move inside the gate. She could hear her heart beating.

The gate began to open slowly. The young driver looked at Naya through his rear view mirror. He wished she would wake up. Fans loved her and she loved her fans. She would not have wanted to miss this and right now, he thought, she needed some love.

Maybe if I blow the horn
, he said to himself.

JK wanted to tell him to move faster but knew nothing could happen until the gate was fully opened.

The young driver reached out and placed his hand on the center of the steering wheel. He pressed down.

The sound of the horn was electrifying.

Naya began to stir. He saw her opening her eyes. He didn't move the car.

What's going on?
Monà thought to herself.
Why aren't they moving?

JK thought he was going to have a heart attack right there.

"Mrs. Naya," the driver said. "You have a fan outside the house."

Naya fought to get herself together. She really wasn't in the mood for anyone but had always promised herself to be there for her fans. Saying hello or signing an autograph, she had always told Chris, was the least she could do for them.