STRINGS of COLOR
Page 16
"I don't understand."
Naya got up and walked over toward the window.
"You once said that you couldn't understand why it took me ten years to find you after I knew where you were. I remember your tone; I remember the pain in your eyes, the pain in your heart as you said it. I know you felt like I didn't want you.
"You were right. Not right about me not wanting you but right in that I should have never waited that long. Here is the truth. I want you to know it and I hope you understand it.
"I was scared. I was terrified of meeting you and having to look you in the eyes. I knew that I would have to tell you everything that had happened to me and that scared me something awful. I couldn't find the strength and I couldn't push past the pain of what JK had done to me and what I thought had resulted from it.
"I was scared that every time I looked at you, I wouldn't see my child but I would see what happened to me.
"I really did think that you and Simone were his children. I didn't know anything different until the day you told me that you had gotten a DNA check."
Naya turned toward Jonathan.
"That information gave me so much more than you know. The reality of that test calmed me and gave me a small piece of sanity.
"I'm sorry, Jonathan. Sorry for having waited so long." Naya broke down in tears.
As Jonathan listened to the sincerity of his mother's plea, it was the first time he felt as if he finally understood. He finally understood what color Jazzmyne is. In her were the colors of love, the love of a mother for the love of her son.
Jonathan stood up and walked over to her. He wiped away the tears from her eyes.
"Thank you. I forgive you from here." He touched his heart.
She wrapped her arms around him. It was the first real embrace of a journey they would share as mother and son.
Naya watched as Jonathan left. She sat on the coach and thought about all the talks she and Chris used to have on it.
She remembered how he used to say that "life makes us unique, tragedies give us our character, bumps and bruises give us our strength and the falls—they help us to build within ourselves the material that gives us the courage to continue fighting."
I'm fighting baby, I'm still fighting.
Naya walked over toward the phone.
"Sam, its Jazzmyne. I'm coming in, should be there in an hour or so."
"Yes, ma'am. We will have everything ready when you get here."
"Thanks."
Exactly an hour later, Naya's car pulled up to the front doors. A middle-aged man wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and gym shoes rushed out to greet her.
"Everyone is here."
"Thank you, Sam."
Naya walked slowly through the doors; the last time she had been here, Chris had been with her. Now she would forever walk through those doors alone.
Once she was inside, her feet stopped. They almost turned around but she could hear his voice. He would have said, "Stop worrying, music is your second heartbeat. It's what runs through your blood and flows out through the tips of your fingers. People can feel your music. It's like a mother's touch. It helps them breathe; it helps you live. Now get in there and exhale."
Naya stood behind the microphone. She wrapped the length of her fingers around it. Her heart listened for the rhythm of the beat to flow through her. Her bones started to tingle, her lungs began to awaken, and she began to breathe through her pain.
She could see her husband's smile. She could feel him in her heart.
As I stand I hear nothing
Not even the silence inside of me
I can't find the tears
To even shed one drop
I see you baby, I see
The years built up inside of me
I know it's going to get better
They say the sun will dry up the pain
I feel inside of me
I wonder when
How long
Must this sorrow seem to overwhelm me?
There goes a teardrop
From one corner of my eye
Where is the sun to dry it up and
Stop the other side from destroying me
It's going to be a better day
Was a song I heard just yesterday?
I remember thinking it wasn't referring to the
Loneliness locked inside of me
Can you feel the wind?
Blowing against my skin
Trying to move me to face even
A glimpse of the pain from within
I feel another tear
Sliding down my cheek
I reach out my hand
Longing for your touch again.
Just another teardrop
It's going to be a better day
Was a song I heard just yesterday
I remember thinking it wasn't referring to the
Loneliness locked inside of me
Perhaps some of the sorrow
Will leave from within me
Just another teardrop
Running down my skin.
She allowed her tears to hit the microphone and slide down through the crevices of her hands. Her hips began to sway.
It's going to be a better day
Was a song I heard just yesterday
I remember thinking it wasn't referring to the
Loneliness locked inside of me
Perhaps some of the sorrow
Will leave from within me
Just another teardrop
Running down my skin.
With each note that she hit she could feel the layers of sorrow hitting the floor. She was looking for her way, looking for a way to say good-bye.
I see you baby, I see you
I see the years of us built up inside of me
I know it's going to get better
They say the sun will dry up the pain
I feel you inside of me
There goes my pain
Another tear drop of sorrow
Another raining day
Just another teardrop
Running down my skin
It's going to be a better day
Was a song I heard just yesterday
Here I am baby. Here I am.
Longing for your touch again
Just another teardrop
Running down my skin.
When Naya walked out of the studio the crisp wind of the evening caught and held her attention. She opened up her arms and allowed it all to soak in.
"Home, Mrs. Naya?"
"No." Naya reached in her purse and produced a small sheet of paper with an address on it. She handed it to the driver and leaned her head back against the leather seat.
Thirty minutes later she was standing in front of the door downstairs.
"Who is it?"
"Naya Monà."
Simone stood at the speaker unable to say another word. Her fingers were trembling as she hit the buzzer to let her up.
She ran to her bedroom and stood in front of the mirror. Her nerves were all over the place.
I can't believe she's here. Am I ready for this? It's too late to answer that now.
She checked her hair. Threw off her blouse and put on a nicer one. Searched quickly for a pair of shoes and slipped on a pair of dangling earrings. Dabbed her lips with a deep pink lipstick and splashed eyeliner around the crevices of her eyelids. Pulled her hair up and threw on a matching necklace.
This isn't a date, Simone, she said to herself as she checked herself once again in the mirror. No, it's something more. This is you meeting your mother for the first time, your famous, multi-millionaire, platinum record, jazz, R&B, recording superstar—mother.
She put on another blouse just as she heard the knock at her front door.
Here goes, she whispered as she reached out and opened the door.
They stood there staring at each other.
"Can I come in?"
Simone was embarrassed. She stepped out of the way and allowed N
aya to enter into her narrow hallway.
"It's small but I love it."
Naya smiled as she followed Simone to the sofa.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thank you." Naya could see how nervous she was.
"I remember you." Simone said after forcing herself to say something.
"You do?"
"Yes, ma'am. I remember that day you came to JK's apartment with your…"
"With my husband, Chris?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Naya. Please call me, Naya"
"Naya," Simone repeated after her. She could feel her legs shaking, she was sure Naya could hear them as well.
Naya reached over and grabbed Simone's hand. She stared into her green eyes and then lingered for a second on Simone's thick hazel brown hair.
My goodness, how much she looks like me, a younger version of course, but still me.
"I would comment on how beautiful you are, but that might sound a little vain."
They both laughed. Naya felt her relax some and she removed her hand.
"I'm so sorry to hear about your husband."
"Thank you. That's why I'm here."
"I don't understand."
"I want you there. I want you to come to the funeral. I know this isn't the way we should meet but it would mean so much to me if you came."
Naya stood up and walked over to the other side of the room. She saw her CD cover lying on top of the stereo. She picked it up and stared at the cover.
"I remember when I recorded this one. I was with a group called—the Coppers, at the time. Man that was such a long time ago."
"I don't know if I can call you mother."
Naya placed the CD back where she had gotten it and turned toward Simone.
"Monà will always be your mother. I'm not here to change that. I'm here just to get to know you, to be a part of your life from this point on. I can't change the past Simone. It is what it is, but this moment, right here and now, I can handle that."
"I think I've always dreamt of this moment, even before I knew. I grew up listening to your songs. I always felt like there was a connection that I didn't know how to explain. I know I should have come see you sooner but I was…."
"You were afraid. I know. I was too. Fear cripples us. It causes us not to move forward. Not to experience the life we could have. That's the other reason why I am here, to face the fear, the fear of you not wanting me in your life."
"I need you in my life. I'm getting married."
"I know. I am so happy for you. Love is a precious thing." Naya walked over and sat next to Simone. She grabbed her hand again and stared into the reflection of her eyes. "I'm going to tell you something, something I pray you will always remember.
"You've got to hold on to love. You've got to grab it and you have to fight to never let it go or let anything or anyone come between you and it. Tomorrow, I will bury the love of my world, but I will not bury our love. You see, it still breathes inside me. Burns like a flame and I will never let it go out. Not ever.
"I don't know much about your love, but I see him in your eyes."
Simone smiled through her tears.
"So, you will come to the funeral tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"And you will bring your love with you?"
"Yes ma'am."
Naya gave her a friendly glare.
"I mean—yes, Naya."
"Good. I will see you then in the morning. My assistant will call you with all the details."
Simone watched as Naya walked out of her apartment. She felt like a little girl with a big secret to tell. She sprinted to the phone to tell Carl.
"Shall I take you home now, Mrs. Naya?"
Mrs. Naya Monà Wesley. That will always be my name.
Chapter 22
"Chris… you were my only true love, friend and husband."
My Love
Naya watched as the site began to fill. She could feel the sorrow in the wind. It sunk deep into her kidneys and caused her to shiver.
She watched tears fall. She saw hearts that were aching and the minds that were still in shock from it all.
Her own insides were numb.
She shook hands. Kissed people she hadn't seen in years, and smiled at all those that came to wish her well.
Naya thought back to the very first time they met. It was at her first audition with The Coppers. Chris had been her attorney.
She smiled when she remembered how cocky he was back then. But, she thought to herself—so was I. So was I.
The tears slipped down her cheeks as she went back to that day.
"So you think you can sing?" he asked.
"I wouldn't be sitting out here if I didn't, now would I?"
"What makes you think you can sing better than them?"
Man, I still can remember how many rows of women were lined up against that wall, all vying for that part. So many, and all of them were so much older than I was at the time.
But I smiled at him and said…
"I'm sure even a big-shot entertainment attorney remembers his mama cooking him his favorite dish, don't you?"
"Sure, but what does that have to do with my question?"
"Why was that dish your mama made so good to you? I'll answer that for you…It was because every time she made that dish, she did as the saying goes—put her foot in it. She gave it all the love she could.
"Well, Mr. Wesley, when I step out on that stage, I put my foot in my voice and I give it all the love I can."
Chris grabbed a pen out of his briefcase and began scribbling.
"Why did you write down what I just said?
"Because when we get in there your voice might get you on the stage, but it's how I present you on the floor that sells you. Everyone must have a pitch, Ms. Jazzmyne, and it can't be the same as everyone else's. It has to be something different, something that makes them see that you're the woman for the part. And who else knows why you're the best, better than yourself."
What else can I say about that except that… he had me.
Naya's eyes traveled the length and width of his coffin. Engraved on the top was the first song he had heard her sing that day.
My first song to him, only neither of us knew it at the time.
I remember stepping onto that stage with him looking at me, Misty was there looking at me, and even Mr. Copper himself was staring. Talk about someone being nervous. But then I saw Chris smile and I parted my lips and allowed the music to enter. I allowed it to seep deep into my veins and to flow right past my kidneys. I could feel it pumping slowly into my lungs and when the heart of the lyrics hit just the tip of my heart—let's just say that I put my foot in my voice, just as I said I would, and I kept stomping it out until every soul in that room that day could feel it.
I had barely opened my eyes when I felt his presence. There he was, standing right in front of the stage, grinning with those beautiful ocean-blue eyes of his.
He said to me, "You know, I think that was way better than my mother's spaghetti and meatball dinner. In fact, I'd say you put more than your foot in that song, I'd say you put your life into those lyrics."
Chris… you were my only true love, friend and husband.
Naya closed her eyes as they began to lower the casket.
Good-bye, baby. Good-bye.
When she opened them, all those that were a part of her embraced her.
Her family.
Jonathan.
Simone.
Felicia.
Her grandchildren.
Misty.
Monà.
Even JK.
Dear Diary,
It's been two months since I buried him. My heart still aches. The tears still come. There are many nights of loneliness. Many days when I reach out for him and realize that he's gone.
Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe.
Sometimes I feel like I'm dying myself.
A month ago I buried the man I had called the beast,
for most of my grown life. Some people feel as if they could never forgive someone who took away their innocence at the tender age of thirteen. I found that if I didn't, I would have never seen his regrets. Never felt his tears and knew how sorry he really was. There still is no excuse for what he did to me, but in the end, I found peace from the pain.