by Natal, Mia
“This is Blue. Wyatt gave him to me,” I replied.
“Awe, that is so sweet,” she said. I’m starting to feel shooting pain throughout my body and before I ask for pain medication Wyatt is already by my side with a bottled water and pills. He hands the items to me and I drink the pills down.
“I think you need to go lay down in the back, baby,” he said.
“I will after I have a talk with Mari,,” I said.
“Don’t worry about me. I have to leave anyway. I have a paper to write and was planning on heading to the library,” Marissa said.
“Not so fast sister. We are going to talk.”
“Oh, alright if we must,” she said sounding defeated..
“What really happened between you and Ty?” I asked.
“Rebel, you don’t understand what it’s like having not one, but four Hispanic men watching your every move.”
“Tell me about it,” I said.
“My father doesn’t believe in mixed marriages. He says that is the reason races are separated by categories. White, black, Hispanic and so on,” she said.
“I never would have pegged your dad as a racist.”
“He’s not a racist per se, he just doesn’t believe in mixing the races. He would never accept Ty because he’s white,” she said calmly. A little too calmly for my taste. It’s like she shut her emotions down.
“Are you in love with him?” She shook her head adamantly, but I saw her eyes misting with unshed tears. My beautiful friend was trying to be strong, but I could see beyond her façade that everything was fine. She was silently hurting.
So I asked her again, “Are you in love with him?” She leaned close to me and whispered in a ragged breath, “Truthfully, I’m so fucking in love with him it hurts. I want to be with him so bad, but I can’t.”
“Have you told him how you feel and about your family issues? I mean how your family feels interracial relationships? How you feel for him.”
“No,” she whispered.
“You’re scared of being in love, Mari. If you love him then fight for him. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Tell him everything. He can’t fight back for you if he doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“He won’t understand.”
“You don’t know that until you tell him.” She looked away lost in her own thoughts. She looked back at me and hugged me, “I will talk to him, but not today. I need to get my thoughts in order before I speak with him.”
I pulled back and smiled at her, “sounds like a good plan, Mari.”
“Now, I think you need to take Wyatt’s advice and go get some rest.”
“Okay, now I can go rest. Oh, can you see if I have any assignments due?” I asked.
“Will do,” she said. She hugged and kissed me goodbye before turning to Wyatt. She kissed him on the cheek and said, “Take good care of our girl here.”
“Always,” he replied. She shot one last glance at Ty and left. It did not escape me that Ty looked at her with sadness. Hmmm…I need to find a way to get those two back together, but not now. Now I need to lie down and rest my bruised body. Wyatt picked me up and carried me to his office where he gently laid me down on his battered leather couch. He kneeled down beside me and kissed me softly on the lips and said, “Get some rest, pretty girl.”
***
My week of convalescence flew by and before I knew it I was back at work. I was no longer limping and the bruises to my face were now fading to the ugly yellowish color. I still had a cast on my hand, but it wouldn’t hinder me from doing my job. I was back to sleeping at my place, which didn’t sit well with Wyatt.
“Why can’t you just stay here with me? I like sleeping with you in my arms and knowing when I wake up, your beautiful face will be the first thing I see,” he said.
“I love waking up in your arms too, but I have to be home for Bailey,” I said.
“Okay, baby. I understand, but I won’t be satisfied until I wake up next to you every morning,” he said while pulling me in tight for one of his famous Wyatt hugs. The ones that give me goose bumps and butterflies.
“I want to be in your arms, where you hold me tight and never let me go, but for now I have to go home to Bailey,” I said. He pulled me into his arms and hugged me. I tugged his face towards mine and kissed him with everything I had.
HELPING LISA ORGANIZE for the showcase was a lot more time consuming than I thought it would be, but I loved every single minute of it. I had no idea it took months to plan this shindig and as it drew closer to the date I felt like I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. We had invitations made and mailed out in advanced since we requested R.S.V.P.’s. We placed advertisements in every local newspaper imaginable and posters were placed around the city as the date drew near. The showcase was going to run from Thursday through Saturday. Along with showcasing Oz’s work we also asked some local artist to participate in the event. The theme for the night was named “The Journey Home,” by Osborne Stonewall. It was very important to have a focus to attract people into the gallery to view and hopefully purchases Oz’s pictures. He had different photos from around the world. Some were in color, but a majority of them were in black and white. The black and white photographs seem to capture the essence of what he was trying to capture more. Linda hired a catering service for the venue to offer beverages such as champagne, wine and non-alcoholic choices. Since it is an elegant affair, they were going to serve finger foods like shrimp, falafel and mini-quiches. Linda wanted to provide a pleasant background atmosphere. She hired someone to play good music, such as classical and soft electronic. I was spending more time with Oz than I cared to. I helped him frame his photographs and help him arrange them in the spaces around the gallery that will give them optimum lightning. I would often take a step back and look at the placement of a photograph and pretend I was a visitor. I wanted to see it through their eyes. I wanted to make sure that the pieces flowed together and told the story of the journey home. I added little descriptions to each pieces and made sure the prices were clearly visible. Throughout all this I still have my arm in a cast. I’ve learned how essentially important having two functioning arms really is. First, it is incredibly difficult to get dressed with one hand. It’s a long and tedious process dressing with one hand and the clothes must be of the stretchy variety.
Doing daily normal activities were hindered, like trying to open the door with one hand when your hand is full or trying to open the cap of a soda bottle. I had to get creative and figure it out. I was temporarily disabled and it sucked ass big time. I had to have it recast three times prior to having it finally removed yesterday. We had a total of twenty-five artists work featured throughout the gallery and it included photography, paintings, poetry and handcrafted furniture. Each of the artists brought his or her own element to the artistic table. I spent most of my time in the section of the gallery where paintings were on display. As I walked around that section, I noticed that accompanying most of the artists' works were their rough sketches that showed the different stages of the work being pieced together. This really showed the viewer just how much went into each piece and the artists' train of thought as they developed their work. I was enthralled by the pieces on display. One artist, Andrew Bennet, caught my interest. Even though I could barely make heads or tails of half of his work, I couldn't stop staring at it. Each piece contained obscure and almost depressing images thrown together in a way that was amusing and whimsical. It struck a chord deep inside me. It was as if he painted my life on a canvas, with the dark and depressing images. I saw my childhood through his eyes with such clarity that it hurt my heart. I remembered I still carried the unopened letter from my mother in my purse and everything came crashing down at me at once. The walls felt like they were closing in on me and breathing became difficult. I felt weak in the knees. I was dizzy and felt my eyes well up with tears. I reached out to grab something to hold onto when I felt someone put their arms around me and whisper, “I got you, Rebel.”
It wasn’t Wyatt. It was Oz. My skin prickled with revulsion. There was something about him that made me uncomfortable. Sure he was pleasing to the eyes, but I don’t feel anything for him like I do Wyatt.
“I’m fine Oz. Please let me go,” I said.
“Rebel, you are not fine. You looked as if you were going to pass out,” he said.
“Yeah, well I’m fine now. Please let me go,” I said.
“I like you Rebel. Take a chance on me. I know I can make you happy,” he said.
“I can’t Oz. I’m in love with Wyatt,” I implored.
“Why him?” he asked.
“Why not him? I just want to be with him. I have a million feelings, endless thoughts and I want infinite memories with just one person…him. I am hopelessly in love with Wyatt,” I said. He let go of me and I walked as fast as I could away from him.
I WOKE UP in the foulest mood this morning because Rebel wasn’t here in bed with me. I got out of bed showered and dressed. I headed to my grandmother’s apartment for our weekly breakfast date. She always made my favorites, eggs, bacon and hashbrowns.
“Hi Willie,” I greet the doorman.
“Good morning, Mr. Verity. Having breakfast with Mrs. Charolette today?” he said and opened the door for me.
“Yes, you know it’s a tradition my grandmother looks forward to every week,” I replied and headed inside.
I walked to the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse suite. The elevator opens up directly into her apartment.
“Wyatt, is that you son?” my grandmother called out.
“Yeah, grams it’s me,” I replied.
“I’m in the kitchen, honey,” she said.
I made my way towards her kitchen and the smells wafting through the air made my mouth water. It almost…almost calmed my foul mood. Once I entered the kitchen my grandmother gathered me in her arms and hugged me as if I were five years old again. I’ve been having weekly breakfast with her since she took me in when my parents died and I always felt loved. We kept the tradition going even after I moved out and to me it felt like home. My grandmother was my home.
“Wyatt, it is always good to see you, son,” she said.
“It’s always good to see you too, grams,” I replied.
“You look different,” she said.
“I do?” I asked.
“Yes, you don’t look so sad anymore. I don’t see the anger that is normally radiating from you,” she said.
“Grams, I am never angry and I was sad because even after all these years I still miss them,” I said.
“I know, son. I miss them too. Now tell me, who is this girl that put that sparkle in your eyes?” she smiled.
“What makes you think there’s a girl involved?” I playfully asked.
“Wyatt Verity, if you don’t tell me who she is this very instant, I will put you over my knees and spank the sass out of you,” she chuckled.
“Don’t you think I’m a little too old to be spanked?” I said.
“When it comes to your grams, it’s never too old young man,” she replied while waving her frail wrinkled hands in the air. My grandmother was sixty-eight years young, but she was the healthiest, strongest and vibrant senior citizen I’ve ever known. I loved her with every beat of my heart. She always offered warm hugs and made sure I knew just how much she loved me. I never had any doubts that I was wanted. She made sure I never lacked anything, including love. My grandfather, had passed away before I was born, so it was only me and grams. The two of us against the world. I gave her a hard time when I was a teenager. I was a rebellious juvenile delinquent running around with a gang getting high on weed and almost arrested. I was seventeen when my friend, Jarrett dared me to break into a tattoo shop. I was young, arrogant and cocky I took the dare while Jarrett waited outside for me. I broke in and was grabbed from behind. I had no idea that the owner of the shop lived there in a room in the back of the shop. He was an older gentleman named Steve. He knew my grandmother and because he had respect for her he didn’t call the cops or press charges. In exchange for him not calling the police or telling my grandmother I had to agree to work at the shop after school. It was because of him that I feel in love with tattooing. He taught me everything I know. After that I got my act and shit together and made my grams proud.
“Come on, grams, let’s get breakfast on the table and I will tell you all about her,” I said as I gathered the plates filled with our breakfast. She set the toast, butter and jelly on the table and sat down, “So, tell me what her name is?” she asked.
“It’s Rebel, Rebel Walker,” I replied with a shit eating grin.
“Oh my darling boy, you are head over heels in love with her. When do I get to meet the girl who has captured my grandson’s heart?” she asked.
“Soon, grams, soon. I promise. You are going to love her. She is the sweetest most gorgeous woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to call my own,” I said.
“Tell me something about her,” she said.
“Grams, she has the most captivating eyes. Her eyes are deep purplish blue to violet. They are luminous and very beautiful. I could lose myself in her eyes. She has long jet black hair and creamy complexion. She’s sweet and has such a loving heart. Everyone falls in love with her,” I said.
“I do believe you’re in love with her Wyatt. I’ve never seen you this happy before,” she replied with a smile.
“I am Grams. I want to marry her,” I said.
“Those words are music to my ears. I’ve worried about you so much over the years. I always hoped you would find someone to take over loving you once I go and join my Walter,” she said.
“Grams, you are not dying anytime soon. You are too ornery to die. You would probably out live us all,” I said.
“Be that as it may, I still worried about you, Have you picked out a ring yet?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t had time to go shop around,” I replied.
“Well, then I have something for you. It was your mother’s and I am positive she would want you to have it,” she said. She got up from the table and made her way to her room. I waited patiently for her to return. She came back and handed me a black velvet box. I opened it and inside was a simple, but stunning ring.
“That’s a Martina ring. It’s 1.9 carat. It belonged to your great-great grandmother and your father gave it to your mother. I want you to have it and give it to your Rebel,” She said with a smile and tears in her eyes. I got up from my seat and pulled my grandmother into my arms for a hug.
“I love you, grams,” I said.
“I love you too, my darling sweet boy,” she said.
“Come, let’s finish breakfast, then I have to head out,” I said.
“Alright, but you need to tell me more about this wonderful girl. What are her parents like?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Rebel has never met her father and her mother is…,” I said.
“Her mother is what?” she asked.
“I never met her mother. I only know what Rebel has told me, but based on what she’s told me her mother was not a very good one, grams. She is an addict and Rebel had to raise herself and her little sister,” I said.
“Oh, the poor dear. No child should have to go through that,” she said.
“Yeah, but Rebel is a fighter and despite her upbringing she’s an amazing woman. She’s an artist and she’s very talented,” I said.
“She sounds wonderful and I can’t wait to meet her,” she said. I got up from the table and took our dirty dishes to the sink and rinsed them off before placing them in her dishwasher.
“I hate to run, grams, but I need to get to work,” I said.
“I understand, but next week I expect Rebel here for breakfast,” she said.
“You drive a hard bargain, old woman, but I will be sure to bring her with me,” I said.
She hugged me and kissed my cheek.
My foul mood was beginning to subside after I left my grandmother’s place. She always knows how to calm
me down. I should have known my improved mood would not last because the minute I walked into the shop I could hear Ty was on a tear and has something painfully stuck up his fucking ass. Annie and Ty were yelling at each other.
“You are such a dick!” she yelled.
“Yeah, well you’re a cunt!” Ty yelled back and Annie started to cry. I’ve never seen her cry before and it struck a nerve in me.
“Hey, hey, Ty that’s enough and uncalled for. How dare you say something nasty to Annie,” I said getting between the two of them to separate them.
“Shit, I’m sorry Annie. I didn’t mean that, I know you’re not a cunt, you’re a bitch!” he growled sarcastically.
“Dammit Ty, will you shut the fuck-up!” I screamed. Annie stood there with her head down silently crying. I gathered her into my arms and hugged her.
“What’s going on here, Annie?” I gently asked.
“Ty, lost us a client because he was mean and just plain nasty to the guy.” she whispered.
I looked over at Ty with my eyebrow raised and said, “Ty, why would you get nasty with a client?”
“First of all, Annie doesn’t know the whole story. That guy wasn’t just a client, but Marissa’s brother. He came here threatening me to stay the fuck away from her or he would kick my motherfucking ass. I’m sorry, Wyatt, but that shit don’t fly with me. I’m no punk ass pussy turning tail between my legs just because her big ass brother came in here threatening me,” he snarled.
God Dammit! I felt like I was working with two year olds. These two are always at each other’s throat. If they weren’t great at what they did or if they weren’t my best friends I would can both their asses. Luckily for me there were no clients in the shop and I was able to diffuse the situation and calm both parties down.
“Ty, do me a favor, take a walk and come back later. We’ll go to the bar and you can tell me what’s crawled up your ass. Maybe we can figure out how to dislodge it without ripping your asshole to shreds,” I said.
