by Tony C. Skye
“It's not like that, Tam,” Jason remains calm.
“What's it like, Jason?”, Tamara snaps back, “Cause it sure sounds like it.”
“We're on two different paths,” Jason begins.
“Seriously? Are you seriously going to give me a letdown speech?”, Tamara's agitation rises, “Don't bother. I'm outta here.”
“Wait, Tam,” Jason grabs the girl's left arm as she turns to leave, “I know you see it, too. Don't deny it.”
Tamara stops and turns back to face Jason, “Are you breaking up with me?”
“No,” Jason answers, “I'd rather you change, Tam. I can't handle the stupid stuff anymore. I have my future to think about. And so do you.”
“I have been thinking about my future, Jason. But changing who I am wasn't part of it.”
“Not who you are, Tam. The things you do,” the boy corrects.
“The things I do is who I am,” Tamara clarifies.
“You saying you won't change?”
“No, Jason,” Tamara decides to come clean about where she's been, “I'm saying I've met someone who loves me for who I am. They love me unconditionally, Jason. And they want all of me.”
“So you've been cheating on me,” Jason raises his voice in anger.
“If you're asking me if I've climbed onto another guy,” Tamara increases her volume level to match Jason's tone, “Then you can go to hell, Jason Deveraux.”
“Tell me what I'm supposed to think after hearing that,” Jason lowers his tone slightly, “You said you found someone else. Geezus, Tam. Cut me a little slack here.”
“I'm not a slut, Jason,” Tamara scolds, “And you of all people should know that.”
“Then explain it to me, Tam. Because I don't get it.”
“Let me spell it out for you,” Tamara slows her racing tongue, “I have not been with another guy other than you since we've been together.”
The girl glares, “Love is not the same as sex. Only a stupid boy would ever think like that.”
“First off, I know they're not the same,” Jason glares back, “And secondly, don't call me a stupid boy. I'm not the one who insinuated I was cheating. You did.”
“If you can't handle me, Jason,” Tamara ignores him, “I know someone who can. Someone who wants me for who I am and not just the parts which fit happily into their twisted ideas of who they think I should be.”
“Who? David Snow?”
“No, you ass,” Tamara's tone sharpens, “It's not David Snow. But if it was, you would no longer have any say in the matter.”
“Tam, hold on,” Jason calls out as Tamara turns and walks towards the street. She stops, turns around, and glares.
“We're done,” Tamara announces, “Don't call me. Don't speak to me. And just stay the hell away from me.”
“Come on, Tam. Don't be like this.”
“Me?” Tamara counters, “You did this, Jason Deveraux.”
“Look. I'm sorry. I really don't want to break up. I love you.”
“Love? You have no idea what that is. You love your perfect idea of me, Jason. But you don't love me. And I won't be with someone who doesn't love me back.”
Tamara throws her arms above her head as she turns around to cross the street.
“Gawd! I've been such an idiot!”
* * *
“Has anyone told her that she’s been committed to the date already?”
Jennifer shakes her head while looking at Rebecca.
“She’s gonna freak out,” Caroline says, “Especially since it’s not necessary anymore.”
“I’m not telling her,” Caroline finishes.
“I’ve got it like always,” Jennifer complains.
“Have you mentioned the other thing?”, Rebecca questions.
“Nope,” Jennifer givers her answer.
“You want me to do it?”, Rebecca directs her question towards Tamara's bff, Jennifer.
“Be my guest. I already know she's not linked.”
“I know that, too, Jenny. But we need to find out why. Something doesn't feel right about it. I feel drained all the time.”
“You, too?”, Caroline chimes in, “I thought it was my Valium doing it.”
“What'd your mom say?”, Rebecca asks for more details.
“She's going to talk to the head quack about it,” Caroline answers while watching Mandie approach from Rebecca's right side.
“Rebecca?”, Mandie politely asks for the captain's approval to speak. Rebecca turns her head and smiles.
“There's Miss Laughs-A-Lot,” Rebecca greets while nodding to a spot beside Jennifer, “Have a sit.”
“Thanks,” Mandie verbalizes her gratitude before sitting across the table from Rebecca.
“What's up?”
“Remember when you told me to run any new plans by you?”
“Yeah,” Rebecca lifts both her brows questioningly.
“Do you know who Amy Lee is?”
“No freakin’ way,” Jennifer blurts out of turn, “Like Evanescence Amy Lee?”
Mandie grins.
* * *
Chapter 8
The Red Key
“You've come a long way in a very short time,” Martha praises while looking at the bling hanging from her granddaughter's neck. In addition to the keys belonging to Julianna's mother's diary and the white door, the girl wears the family emblem made of black onyx, and her latest acquisition – a black diamond.
Julianna looks down and cups the black diamond reverently.
“You're the only one to ever earn the right to wear it,” Martha speaks while watching her granddaughter marvel after the stone's beauty.
“I'm sure someone's tried it on before,” Julianna doubts her gram's claim.
“Not to my knowledge, dear,” Martha counters, “It's a gift for the one who could touch the black sea and survive. Most of our family has never tried to touch the water for fear of the consequences. Those that did try died.”
Martha glances up to her granddaughter's green eyes. Julianna releases the stone to dangle against her chest and smiles.
“How did you know where to find it?”, Martha questions, “I never told you where it was hidden.”
“I had a dream about Lilith,” Julianna explains, “She told me it was a gift from her and told me how to get it. Sorry if I...”
“No child,” Martha interrupts, “Don't be sorry. It is a gift from Lilith.”
The woman with red hair depicting the scene of a weeping willow tree narrows her brows, “You're not making journey recipes on your own are you? You can die if you make a mistake.”
“No grams,” Julianna speaks up, “Dream. I swear.”
“That's unusual.”
“What's unusual?”
“To dream about Lilith is one thing, but I'm not so sure you were dreaming. A dream couldn't have told you about the Lilith diamond – let alone tell you where it was.”
“Don't creep me out, grams,” Julianna warns.
Martha grins.
“Okay let's change the subject then,” Martha agrees to the girl's terms.
“Sounds good.”
“Can you tell me what you've learned about prophecy in general?”
“Sure,” Julianna answers with a nod, “Prophecy can change, divide, break away, split into parallel lines, and restart itself. But no matter how it behaves, in the end it's always fulfilled.”
“And what's that regurgitation of a text book's definition actually mean to you?”
Julianna shakes her head with a grin.
“To me,” the girl clarifies that this will not be the text book definition, “It means that if a prophecy is to be fulfilled through me, then it will do so because of my free choices. It won't require that I alter my decisions because of what I think the prophecy means.”
“So you're telling me if a prophecy is about you, then you don't have to change who you are in order to make it come true?”
“Um-yeah. That's what I'm saying,” Julianna sudde
nly feels less confident about her observation.
“You're going to stand there and tell me you won't have to alter any of your decision-making in order to fulfill your destiny?”
“No such thing as destiny, grams,” Julianna counters, “Destiny chooses nothing for me. I choose. Destiny would imply the lack of free choice.”
“And what makes you think you're not being guided into your choices?”
“Everyone's guided in one form or another. But at the end of the day we all make the final decision.”
Martha doesn't respond.
“I'm not so sure I believe in this prophecy stuff anyway,” Julianna confesses, “But if I did, I wouldn't waste my life trying to fulfill a bunch of mumbo jumbo written on a wall. If it's legit, then it will fulfill itself because of my free will. Not because I try to make it happen.”
Martha crosses her arms.
“My - my,” Martha adores her granddaughter with a partial smile; “You're a smart one. Far beyond your years.”
“Did I get it right?”
“And then some,” Martha answers while lowering her arms to her side.
Julianna pokes out her tongue.
Martha laughs as she walks past her granddaughter, into the hallway, and towards her granddaughter's room.
“Have you thought about what you want for your birthday?”, Martha speaks over her right shoulder, “It's right around the corner.”
Julianna reaches into her short-short's front left pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She catches up to her gram's right side and hands off the note. Martha unfolds the paper.
“Looks like someone's improving on their calligraphy,” Martha comments on the fancy writing upon the page. She enters Julianna's room, walks over to the staircase leading upstairs into the main library, and turns around. Her eyes scan over the page held within her right hand. She pauses and looks up. Julianna watches nervously. Martha adds to the girl's discomfort by giving her a look of disapproval.
“You said not to worry about the expenses,” Julianna tries to excuse the lengthy list.
“Hmm,” Martha answers while looking back to the paper. The woman reads more of the list. She slightly lifts one of her brows and shakes her head. Julianna fidgets from her left foot to her right.
“I see,” Martha comments while checking the list. Julianna clears her dry throat.
“I don't need anything, grams,” Julianna interjects, “You've already done so much for me. I only made it because you told me to.”
Martha folds the piece of paper up. She looks up and winks.
“Done,” Martha declares, “Just liked watching you squirm.”
“Grams, that's horrible.”
“Even your grams needs a little fun sometimes,” Martha answers.
“I'm here anytime,” Julianna throws both arms into the air before allowing her hands to rests upon her hips, “Feel free to use me as your comedic punching bag.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” Martha laughs. She turns to face the staircase and begins her ascension, “Your list was actually pathetic, dear. I think Frank and I will have to spruce it up a bit.”
“I love you, too, grams.”
“Just wait, dear,” Martha answers while continually climbing the stairs, “You haven't lived until you've partied with us old folk.”
Julianna shakes her head and walks over to her desk. She pulls out the chair, sits down, and reaches for an open wooden jewelry box her grams gave her. Reaching into the white oak box, Julianna picks up a picture of Johnathan and stares. It doesn’t seem it has been nearly a year since his death. Yet at the same time, she has learned so much since then.
She used to believe in her love of him, but it wasn't the kind of love she would have been willing to die for. She may have thought that whenever he died. But the truth is, she didn't love him like she told herself she did. Sure, he was her first love. However, she couldn't love him like he loved her. How could she? Beyond her father, Julianna never witnessed what true love actually looks like. And with him, alcohol was his love above her. He always said otherwise, but she knows all too well how actions speak louder than words.
Julianna traces the face within the picture. Guilty regret fills her soul. She is torn between two worlds: one which was – one that is. And it's not like she would ever say her life is better off because of Johnathan's death. But reality shouts the opposite within her. The truth is that her life is better off.
She has been reconnected to her family after so many long years. And thanks to her mother's diary and the brief moment she received on the beach with Lilith, Julianna feels closer to her mother than ever before. A feat she thought impossible. But how is she to measure such treasures against such a horrible and needless tragedy? Better yet, why would anyone ever put another person into such a predicament?
But if the God of Heaven is actually real and in control as everyone claims, then He did this very thing to her. Factually speaking, only someone who is twisted and cruel could ever desire to harm in the way He has harmed her. She never did anything to Him to warrant this kind of senseless torture. If anything, she loved Him. At least as a child she did. But He has made it abundantly clear that her love meant nothing to Him. And all she has to do is to look back on her life in order to see the proof. It's not like He covers His tracks.
Julianna places the picture of her and Johnathan back into the box. The guilt she feels is not of his death. She has come to terms with that. Her guilt comes from the way she feels about her life today because of the tragedy.
Today, she has money. She has never known what it means to not scrape by. Not until Johnathan died, anyway. Today, she has power. She sees it within the way other people treat her grandparents as though they were some kind of royalty. She has never asked about it or made any comments. But she is no fool. She sees it. And today, she has a purpose beyond a meaningless life of just trying to survive into the next day. She has reason to live. And it has nothing to do with a boy. She wants to live because she is truly happy with living. A feeling she has not known since before her mother's death.
Reality shouts the truth within her. Through Johnathan's death she has been given a new life, a new chance. Reborn into this world as it was always meant to be. Reborn as an individual. Reborn into her family in which she had once been deprived. A child's naiveté interior burned and refined by the pure fires of death itself. Yes, Johnathan's anger when they argued that day cost him his life as he carelessly floored the gas pedal. But his anger, also, brought her to the birthing chamber of renewal.
The truth about Johnathan is that he thought he loved her. But he no more loved her than she loved him. They both loved the idea of being in love. Johnathan made her feel wanted and accepted during her dark hours of existence. And she allowed him to feel like the man he wanted to be. A savior to all. That's want he really wanted from her. Her soul to be saved as defined by his beliefs. And for his benefit, she would dangle the prospect of such a notion within his reach without ever letting him to take hold of it. But he never knew that. He always thought she believed. But she didn't. She couldn't.
It's just too much to agree to kneel before the very entity in which she knows could have prevented such terrible atrocities against her as a child. And it amazes her how people could blindly ignore such a truth as this. They swear He is all powerful, can be everywhere at the same time, and is all-knowing. They stand firmly behind their beliefs in that He is good, merciful, and kind. Yet, if a human were to do such a thing to a child as their God has done to her, they would be the first to scream out for justice against Him. But they don't. They, instead, replace the reality of who He is with a blatantly watered down version of His existence. And what's the excuse they all use? Their excuse is that we cannot understand His ways because they are not our own. So pathetic. Yet, millions follow this ignorant reasoning. And for the life of her, she can't figure out why. Reality shouts the truth loud and clear. But millions refuse to listen. However, Julianna listens. And that's all that real
ly matters.
She closes the box and slides it to the back of the desk top. Looking to her left, her green eyes adore the gorgeous matching white oak mini tree sitting next to the desk. It was a gift from the Lady Lanecia. Used to hold jewelry, the white branches serve as an alternative means to house her rings and necklaces instead of the normality of using the box. Each branch is stripped of its bark and sanded to a smooth finish. Swamp moss covers the base and lights up with the fiber optic coloring of her choosing. She usually leans towards the color matching her mood, but not always. Sometimes she is just too lazy to change it. Other times, she just doesn't care.
Julianna removes her necklaces, stands up, and walks over to the tree standing four feet in height. She places her black onyx family emblem upon one of its branches. Its geometric shape is a perfect form to that of the star inside of a circle within the library's carpet upstairs. A ribbon arches over the circle's top. Gariatu Estidium Merné is the words carved within the ribbon just as they are embroidered into the carpet upstairs.
She looks at the Lilith diamond within her left hand and smiles. The shiny black gem is etched, carved, and cut to create the triangle's three angles. More flat than three-dimensional, the object is no thicker than a quarter. Each of the larger sides is etched with the same markings on both sides. Lines begin at the triangle's three corners and converge inward towards the center. But they never meet. Instead, they all point to another set of lines. These lines are wavy like the depiction of water. And each of these three lines stacks one above the other, respectively. No one except Julianna has ever worn it before. Or at least, that's the story she's been getting. It's hard to imagine no one ever trying it on. Even with the reverence her family has carried on about such things over the years. Yet, somehow, Julianna sort of believes the claims. If her ancestors were anything like her grams is now, Julianna knows no one has ever worn it. Her grams can be a bit intense about this stuff. And if truth be told, her passion for the library and its contents are probably characteristics woven into her from her mother – Julianna's great grandmother.
