The Decks and the Road
Renegotiating Kaylin
Chapter 7a- "Prove it!"
Kaylin- The
place is filled with college students.
The aroma is hope filled. The
menaces are destiny and doubt alike. My
roommate has finally gotten a spot, and she’s singing tonight. I’d hope she would be singing one of my
songs, but who wants to hear an unknown artist singing an unknown song. So I sit back and wait for her moment. There are a few unknown faces, and whatever
adults are in the building seem to be on duty of some sort, or holding up the
bar. That’s except for the few kids over
twenty-one who can’t be detected among the rest of us. I was sitting with two other people, but they
wandered off and I’m now sitting at one of the squares with three empty
seats. I’m not sure why we gather here
anyway. None of us can do anything to
help the other except collaborate. I
guess that cool, but we pay to get in and we have to buy drinks. I mean none of us are complaining, but I
think about the layout of things and it just seem like someone’s making a
living off of our enthusiasm. Two bands
and three soloist have already performed.
Yulee’s next. She’s nervous. I know because I see her text. She has no reason to be. She can do this in her sleep; singing. It’s almost an involuntary action. I know this and I remind her of this in a
quick reply. I can see the host making
his way to the stage from the back of the room, and my heart jumps a little for
her. He announces her by first and last
name, and suddenly she’s standing there.
The moment she begins to sing a few people have already extended
applause, and it startles her. She was
right and her nerves are dancing all over the stage when I’m distracted by a
body that sits beside me. Maybe a minute
passes, and I can tell she’s warming up to it all when he turns to me, and
affirms, “She’s good.” I can tell he’s someone
important just by the way he’s dressed.
I can also tell that he’s more interested in talking to me when he
follows up with, “When do you go up?”
I quickly clarify, “Oh, I’m not a
singer. I’m a songwriter.” Thinking back now, everything’s clearer and
now that I’ve heard the greater part of my song being sung on the radio, I know
that was the moment I first slipped into his trap.
I’ve been in the ladies room for
nearly twenty minutes. I’m reading his
texts, but I’m not responding. I’m
trying to think of how to confront him.
Actually, I’m trying to build up the guts to break things off with
him. He’s convincing, and he seems to
move at a speed not applicable to the average human being. It’s just that I’ve been here before. It never works, and I can’t seem to get in
front of him, but I’ve dried my eyes twice and reapplied my concealer and I’ve
got to step out of this bathroom. I
swallow the disagreement between all of my fears and shoot off the words, “Be
right there.” When I return to the
table, I get a sense that my mighty helpers have showed up, and I find my voice…
“You stole my files. “
“What files?” He’s wearing a look of outrage mixed with
contempt, and I can tell that he’s not going to confess.
“My song. The song that I wrote… It’s on the radio, and I looked it up. It’s the girl from the party. That’s not a coincidence Eaton.”
“Prove it.” His words stood sharply between us and before
I could respond, the cash hit the table and he had taken to his feet. It was abrupt and it felt final. I tried to consider just how I would prove
it, but I considered the love he claimed to have for me and how quickly it had
disappeared. Suddenly I had what I knew
I needed, and yet I didn’t want it. I
guess I thought it would dissolve after a few long conversations, but the
horror of being raped of my heart’s jewels had insisted on being the topic of
conversation and had led to a sudden and most certain end. I waited until the check came. I paid the bill and order dessert with the
change. It wasn’t on the list of things
I’d told myself were okay to eat, but I ate it anyway. I ate it with regret and delight. I ate it with faith and fury. I ate it fast and tried to forget about it
fast, and I prayed a silent pray that it wouldn’t set me back. I’d already lost
twenty-eight pounds and I
was hoping to wash my hands of them.
Chapter 7b- Called to Pray
Kaylin- Just
as early as I can remember, my mother talked about angels. Mostly she referenced them in simplistic
ways; ways that didn’t keep me scratching for answers. Like when I was learning to ride a bike. The first time the training wheels came off,
she reminded me not to be afraid and that there were angels on both sides to
keep me from falling off. I can’t say if
it had anything to do with my starting to pray.
I never knew the proper way, and no one ever made it mandatory of me, so
I continued in silence. I never talked
to my mother about my praying. I could
tell the angels she talked about were just about the distance she was willing
to go. Even at six I could tell. Since she died, I’ve prayed less and less,
and the more I read her journals the more I wonder if it’s got anything to do
with anything. Now I’m stuck with two
unforgettable memories that somehow continue to battle over the subject, while
I appear to live on in limbo. It’s the
memory of my father’s face when discovered me praying. I’d awaken from my sleep in the middle of the
night. It was unusual. I would have just laid there until I fell
back to sleep, except for my mind saying, “Get up and pray.” I remained there shifting until I couldn’t
overcome my mind and got up to pray. I
prayed the same prayer I always did. It
wasn’t a fighting prayer; it was more like a blanket. I didn’t use the word God; at the time the
word hadn’t made a complete entry into my vocabulary. I prayed, “Dear Mighty Helpers, protect me as
I sleep.” It didn’t take long to pray,
and I probably could have said it from my bed, but I’d made the trip to the
floor and had knelt beside the bed.
After he left, the room was cold and I got the sense that I’d overcome a
great deal. Then my mighty helpers let
my mother die. Now, when I pray, I pray
to God, but I don’t pray for miracles, just guidance. When the thought first came to leave school,
I prayed. I never waited for an answer. That’s not the way our relationship
works. Then the thought that she might
still be alive entered my mind. The
thought was wild and illuminating at the same time. This time when I prayed, I waited for an
answer, and the answer was swift. It
wasn’t an instruction, and Thank God! If
it were, I would have probably approached it slowly. It was a simple thought. His words perhaps, disguised as my
thoughts. “A twig on the ground remains
on the ground. Look for branches.” The rest was revealed later. Now it fits together perfectly… almost. I think.
Renegotiating Kaylin, a novel
Copyright
2019 by Natisha Renee Williams and Grace Call Communications, LLC
All Rights
Reserved, including
the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
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