New Beginnings (Fiction)

She sat staring at herself in the mirror not quite sure as to who she was looking upon. The parts; two almond shaped deep brown eyes set in warmed over caramel brown skin; one well defined nose that flared out into two delicate nostrils which sat atop one full sensual mouth; didn’t sum up to the whole. Instead, the parts just seemed disjointed and unremarkable in their attempt to form what was lost; her identity. She closed her eyes against the image and buried her face into her hands.
I don’t think I can do this.
How many times did she think this very thought in the span of an hour as she glanced over at her phone? This thought, an apparent gateway to deeper more exposing ones, scared her every time it made its way to the surface. Not because of its implications, but because of the ease in which her heart told this to her brain, or her brain to her heart, as though it were a certainty and not just fleeting. And the greatest worry was she didn’t know which sent the message, the brain or the heart and it seemed her soul wanted no part in the discussion and sat silent.
She looked back into the mirror, sweeping back her thick black hair and held it behind her. Maybe a new look is in order. This brought a slow smile to her lips. She could already hear her friends and family reprimanding her for even thinking such a thought. Black women did not cut their hair, especially if it flowed naturally and healthily well past finely sculpted slender shoulders to reach the midline of one’s back the way hers did. She released her hair and watched as the soft curls sprung back into disheveled disorder all around her. She cradled her chin in two slim hands and drummed her fingers against her perfectly placed high cheekbones. With a deep exhalation, she tried to keep the successive thoughts from following, but the messages weighed heavy in her eyes. I miss him.
Her eyes welled, but she moved swiftly before the first drop could fall and she slammed herself atop her bed, burying her face in the folds of her overstuffed down comforter. She stayed there for what seemed like forever, crying and hurting.

She awoke to the sound of rain gently hitting the panes of her expansive glass windows. She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling through the sheer beige lace of her canopied bed. She felt her phone vibrate before she heard it and shifted her wait to pull it from under her thinning frame. We’re here. The text message confused her until she scrolled up to see the sum of the letters: Jersey. Her lips fanned across her face with the deepest joy as she dropped the phone and rushed to her front door. Flying past her unnaturally tousled space of rumpled clothes and disorganized furry, she yanked the door open and flew into her best friends collective embrace.
Finally.

Jersey, Alex, and Rocki held her there for a bit, allowing her deep grip to send the message of how much they were needed.

‘God, it is so good to see you guys. Come in, come in. Sorry I tackled you, but you know… Um… Throw your stuff anywhere. Let me get you guys something to drink. Man, I can’t believe you’re here. I feel like it’s been forever. Rox, you look great honey. Did you lose weight?...’

And she continued in this rambling fashion, which she was infamous for whenever she felt unsure of what to say, for the next ten minutes as the threesome took in her measure. Finally, Alex silenced her with one of his smooth looks and light hand grip and said gently, ‘Shut up.’ She startled a bit, looked him right in the eye and then started laughing. This broke some of the tension and everyone eased into the moment.

‘Sorry. I know I’m rambling. I just know how awkward it is to deal with someone who has lost someone, and I didn’t want you guys to feel weird.’

‘It’s alright. We’ve met you, and we understand. But, I must ask, even though this is probably a dumb question…. How are you holding up?’ Jersey had never acquired the skill of beating around the bush, which had made her one of the most popular women at Howard, in good ways and bad.

The only response Jersey received was a shoulder shrug and a downcast gaze. And honestly, such gestures spoke volumes louder than any words ever conjured up across languages. She was broken.