Sister's Goodbye ~ Wintr's Homecoming

Jinx did not like goodbyes. She wasn’t good at it. Letting go of who and what she loved often felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. And her lungs were being clenched in iron fist.

Her parents had already left. One died and the other was hidden away in the recesses of her mind. She had no uncles, aunts, siblings, or doting grandparents.

She only had Livia and Nicole. The pair were the closest she had to sisters. They each held a good bit of her heart.

Today one of them was going to leave her to live in some mountain in the middle of nowhere. As if she couldn’t get her nature fix by visiting upstate?

“I can’t believe you are doing this.”

“It is the opportunity of a lifetime. A grant to study the Grey wolf population in the Balkans.”

“There are wolves here. Have you tried the Bronx zoo?”

Nicole rolled her eyes and adjusted the strap of her carry on. They were standing just outside of the airport security line. She was wearing a pair of dusted grey jeans and a dark green sweater.

“I will be back sooner then you think.”

“Then why am I living with a new roommate?”

Livia slipped an arm through Jinx’s and frowned. “Because I am the world’s greatest and you hate living alone.”

It was true. She hated coming home to empty rooms and ringing silence. She craved companionship and avoided romantic entanglements. Having a roommate meant there was always someone to come home to.

“You don’t cook.”

“Neither does Nicole.” Livia protested as Nicole smiled at the two of them.

“She does laundry.”

“I’ll learn.”

“Great so all of my whites will turn pink or grey in the near future”

Livia scoffed and Jinx stuffed her hands into the pocket of her cardigan. Nicole wasn’t going to change her mind. This grant was her dream. The Holy Grail and she was going to grip it with both hands.

With a heavy sigh she heaved her shoulders in acceptance. “Don’t talk to strangers.”

“Everyone will be a stranger.”

“Then just don’t talk.”

Nicole wrinkled her nose. “Yes Mom.”

“Don’t just eat junk food. Sneak in some vegetables every once in a while.”

This was a day she always knew was coming. Everyone has to leave eventually. This time it was only for a little while. In the future it would be forever.

Nicole reached our and took their hands. “Don’t fight to often. Don’t delete my national geographic documentaries and take sometime to enjoy more then the club scene. And your office.”

Jinx wasn’t going to cry. That wasn’t her style. Instead she pulled Nicole into a hug.

“You are going to miss having Starbucks on tap.”

“Probably.”

Livia stepped forward and hugged her. “Talk to all the handsome men.”

Nicole’s eyes sparkled as she stepped back. “All the handsome strangers I can find.”

She pulled out her phone and flashed it to the guard before making her way to the metal detectors.

Jinx could not shake the feeling of unease in her gut. As if this moment was the beginning of a much bigger event and her future was in for a big shake up. Her instincts never failed her.

Something was coming and it was unlikely to be something she’d welcome with open arms. She hated change of any sort. Especially of the major life changing events variety.

Completed Works

Secrets, Lies, & Betrayal Series:

Wintr’s Homecoming: Secrets

Jaguar Nights: Lies

Pearl Moon: Betrayal

Shadowy Lights: Fear

Cold Sun: Obsession

The Virgins Club:

The Planner

The Fixer

The Dreamer

Lipstick Diaries:

Shy Meets Bold

Wicked Meets Bad Boy

Confident Meets Bold

Solo Romances:

The Prince’s Heart

Closing The Deal

Things We Left Unsaid

Stuck Between Two Millionaires

Twins For Christmas

Lasting Kind Of Love

Billionaire’s Perfect Bride

The Young and The Powerful

Witch’s Reflection

I Was That Friend...

I was that friend, 

with the coke bottle glasses.

The tightly gripped notebook.

And the fear of attention.

I was that friend,

constantly telling you to get down from there.

To walk with care.

To do your homework.

I was that friend,

you would call when you were finally ready to listen to reason.

Or you would tease because she was writing or reading.

I was that friend,

who cried when you did.

Who laughed when you did.

Who fought with you like only siblings would.

I am the friend,

constantly checking on your welfare.

Encouraging you to reach for your dreams.

Encouraging you to laugh because you will live longer.

And who talks too much on occasion.

I am that friend,

because you are my friend.

Completed Works

Secrets, Lies, and Betrayal Series:

Wintr’s Homecoming: Secrets

Jaguar Nights: Lies

Pearl Moon: Betrayal

Shadowy Lights: Fear

Cold Sun: Obsession

The Virgins Club:

The Planner

The Fixer

Lipstick Diaries:

She Meets Bold

Wicked Meets Bad Boy

The Prince’s Heart

Things Left Unsaid

Stuck Between Two Millionaires

Lasting Kind Of Love

Closing The Deal

The Ever Hopeful Pessimist.

My readers know my genre is romance. I love love. And write about Prince Charming and Princess Smarty. I like to think that the characters I create are realistic to readers, but they also reflect my some of my more pessimistic tendencies. My cautious approach to relationships and the belief that there is always someone in the relationship that has to work a little more to be comfortable being the recipient of that much love and be okay with the connection you are now sharing with this person.

The other day I attended an early thanksgiving dinner and somehow, in someway, we got into the conversation of relationships, love, prenups, and marriage. I was in a room full of people in various stages of life and was the only one singing praises of the prenup.

I titled this blog pose "The Ever Hopeful Pessimist" because I am hopeful in all things, but through it all I can be slightly pessimistic.

I am like most girls, I think. Well... Maybe like a few girls.

More and more millennial are not interested in marriage, at least according to the statistic. I am of the marry in the "passion of love" variety.

For me the governmental reasons of marriage are not the reasons to do it. Marriage comes in two parts. There is the legal part and the spiritual part.

The legal part is the very cut and dry part most people suffer through to go through the spiritual part. To go before your family and friends and declare your present and future love for that other person.

The spiritual part can happened without the legal part. Your union can be blessed by whatever religious figure you hold in high esteem without the legal side.

But people do the legal side because they want the legal benefits that go along with marriage. Yet when someone brings up the idea of a prenup, you have offended someone to their deepest core. As if by mention it you are planning for the upcoming divorce.

I swear the entire room was in an uproar. The more I dug in my heels the more animated the conversation became. It was like I had announced to the room I wanted to  host a divorce before the actual marriage.

We are taught to prepare for eventualities in life and to take precautions. Before you have sex get tested. (Though this is rarely ever sexy.)

When you become an adult?

 Pay your bills. Have medical, dental, and car insurance. We do this not in the hopes we will become sick, need a filling or dentures, and will crash our cars. We do it because it is responsible planning.

But extend that to a prenup and suddenly you are planning a war against love and pushing away true romantic happiness.

Yet I believe love to be accepting and enduring. I think those vows spoken during that ceremony means we have done the work before hand. We know each other. We trust each other and the thing that breaks this ever lasting love will not be an agreement that is only enacted if we actually do divorce?

Traditionally I always enter into parties with the same game plan. Smile wide. Everyone kisses each other's cheek in greeting. Little bit of small talk. Collect my plate and go.

But that night I was dragged into the conversation because I have still not perfected the art of leaving. When I am interested in a topic. I have diarrhea of the mouth. I won't give up and I can't give in.

Especially when I am told that the only way I could think this way is if I have not experienced enough love in my life.

Even discounting my own personal experience in love. Romance and marriage take up large blocks of my mind. It rules over me and pushes me. From an intellectual level. An imaginative one.

Romance, love, connection, sex, sacrifice, and marriage. All of it is in my writing. I dream about it, I write about it. I talk about it and I try to live the really good bits of it.

I am in love with love and yet still this "ever hopeful pessimist" wants a prenup. As poor as we may be.

Completed Works:

The Secrets, Lies, and Betrayal Series:

Wintr’s Homecoming: Secrets

Jaguar Nights: Lies

Pearl Moon: Betrayal

Shadowy Lights: Fear

Cold Sun: Obsession

The Virgins Club:

The Planner

The Fixer

Lipstick Diaries

Shy Meets Bold

Wicked Meets Bad Boy

The Prince’s Heart

Things Left Unsaid

Closing The Deal

The Young and The Powerful

Witch’s Reflection

High Heels?

The other day I was headed off to a job interview. I was on my professional grind. Wearing a wig to cover my natural curls and a red A-line dress. This happen to be the second interview for this particular company, I was confident in my outfit choice. Then my baby sister stopped me and pointed to my black flats.

"Where are your heels?"

I live in New York and the interview was in a part of the city where parking is an olympic sport. Riding the train would have taken me a full twenty minutes longer just based off of where I lived. I knew that by driving I would have a walk ahead of me. So I opted for sensible shoes not "lady shoes".

Because I was in a hurry I did not respond, but her question bothered me. It was passively saying that as a woman looking for a job. Opting for flats was somehow less professional then showing up with heels.

I love a good heel. They look nice and give me a warm feminine feeling when I am wearing them. But they are uncomfortable!!! Prolonged exposure causes aches and my boobs do a good enough job of that on their own...

When did heels become the uniform of choice for professional women. As if wearing them suddenly raises my IQ and makes me more hireable.

Why? 

Am I proving actual suffering for the job by wearing them? Does it solidify my commitment to working in some way by walking the four blocks it took me to get there in heels, that have by now, rubbed my toes raw? Though I am sure my sister did not mean to imply such things in her innocent enough question. I found myself thinking about all of the things I do when I go on an interview.

I wear the expensive dress, nice blazer, and the makeup I usually only pull on for special occasions. I braid down the kinks and where the wig with the highlighted ringlets. Those things add to my natural beauty, but also hide the things "the powers that be" have deemed unkempt and unprofessional.

Even during my own graduation from graduate school, I found myself surrounded by aunts all voicing their opinion about whether wearing my afro beneath that cap was appropriate. I was treated to multiple explanations as to why that would not fly. How professional african american woman did not wear their natural curls, but wear locks of long straight hair with professionally styled curls.

These women who taught me how to dress, comb my hair, braid, and express my inner diva. Were telling me that showing my roots was some how detracting from what I had accomplished. My afro became this unworthy thing and the only remedy was to hide it away behind weaves.

Why? Why do I have to assimilate to be proven worthy when I have done the most important part in getting my qualifications? Why can I not wear the clothes most comfortable to me when I have spent the last twenty years of my life receiving the education necessary to make me competent to do the job? 

What about those heels give you confidence in my ability?

Completed Works:

The Secrets, Lies, and Betrayal Series:

Wintr’s Homecoming: Secrets

Jaguar Nights: Lies

Pearl Moon: Betrayal

Shadowy Lights: Fear

Cold Sun: Obsession

The Virgins Club:

The Planner

The Fixer

Lipstick Diaries

Shy Meets Bold

Wicked Meets Bad Boy

The Prince’s Heart

Things Left Unsaid

Closing The Deal

The Young and The Powerful

Witch’s Reflection

Witch's Reflections: Excerpt Chapter 4

Witch's Reflection

Chapter Four

 ‘Deep even breaths, Selah.’

‘Deep and even breaths.’

The inside of her eyelids were a bright pink as daylight streamed through the windows of her studio washing it in light.

Her legs, exposed by her stone washed jean shorts, pressed against the cold-waxed wooden floors. Making her skin prickle with goosebumps. Selah took another deep breath as she tried to ignore the distractions and focus.

Her thoughts began to fade with each breath. Her magic sparked and she felt an internal warmth spread through the cells of her body. Selah head fell back as her surroundings faded away.

The sound of her music no longer pumped through her ears. The feel of the ground beneath her legs disappeared. She was standing now. Her jeans were replaced by what felt like a stiff type of leather.

Her eyes drifted open. Her nose wrinkled as she looked around the room. Selah was in a small hut surrounded by dirt and the scent of burning flesh. Poverty surrounded her.

Sand and dust covered every surface. Selah felt as if she was being suffocated by it. She looked down at the grime on her skin in disgust. She hated being dirty. It has always a pet peeve of hers.

“Jarita.”

Selah rubbed a spot of dirt on her arm and looked around the tiny room. It was so bare. Devoid of any personal touch.

 Her scalp burned and itched. Her hair hung in limp oily curls around her face. Everything was covered in dirt. It was everywhere and coated her skin.

“Jarita.”

“Jarita!”

Selah jumped at the name as she twisted around towards the voice. Reflections were like an echo of the past. Witches watched their former lives looking for lessons and truth. She could not move or talk.

Her thoughts were not completely her own. It was like watching a film, she could not fast-forward through. Selah was only an observer.

Facts echoed through her mind. A woman dressed in a bark brown dress stood in the doorway. Her face was painted with archaic symbols no one in their coven had used since the late 1800s.

Thema. The leader of their coven, and Jarita’s matron. She stood at the door. Tears streamed down the older woman’s face. Her dark brown skin glistened with sweat and her eyes were rimmed with red.

“Bring  Ebunoluwa water.”

Jarita nodded carefully.

“Hurry.”

Thema turned and walked out of the room. She’d issued her orders and did not need to see it carried out. Jariata picked up a jug as her resentment bubbled beneath the surface.

She was a servant in the eyes of the tribe. A slave because of her orphan status. They treated her like a burden. Only worth carrying out their orders.

‘It is all Ebunoluwa’s fault,’ whispered a familiar angry voice in the back of her mind.

The voice had been murmuring in the back of her mind for months. Opening her eyes and showing her the injustice of her position. Who she should blame?

Jarita walked out of her hut and started down the path to the watering hole. The sounds of drums could be heard through out the village.

It had been a constant since Ebunoluwa had fallen sick. All prayed for their future leader’s heath and recovery. All except Jariata.

Jariata prayed for Ebunoluwa’s death. The hot sun made the sand burn beneath her feet. Jariata lifted her face to take in the sunlight.

‘Her death will happen soon. Just one more dose.’

Jariata said nothing as she continued to walk. Ebunoluwa was loved by most of the village. Her supposed sweet nature and easy smile misled everyone.

She saw past the thin veneer of kindness to the disaster beneath the surface. Ebunoluwa would destroy the Yemoja clan if she lived to lead.

‘Two drops. Two drops in her water, and she will not make it beyond the night. I promise.’

Jariata arrived at the watering hole and dipped the jug into it. The water bubbled as the jug filled. Once full she hefted it over her head and started down the path back to the village.

What she was doing was wrong.

Jariata knew Ebunoluwa loss was the greater good. It was what was best for the good of the clan. She looked innocent but Jariata could see what others in the clan missed. Ebunoluwa was a poison. A blight on all that they were.

Selah started to panic as she heard the dark thoughts filtering through her mind. This was her past life? She used to be some schizophrenic murderer?

‘Two drops in her water and you will save them all.’

A light giggled filled her mind as she entered the village and turned towards the home of Thema. Of course he was happy. This is what he wanted. What he had been pushing her towards.

She pushed the cloth covering the door to the side and walked into the main room. Men and women sat through out the room praying. Jariata walked past them all to the last room in the corner. A beaded cloth covered the door.

Jariata entered Ebunoluwa’s sick room. To find Thema bent over the sick girl as she chanted. Selah watched in horror as Jariata brought the jug to the small table beside.

She wanted to do something to stop her. To change the past. She wanted to drop the jug but instead her hands tipped the jug over and filled the cup partly.

Looking around carefully she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small glass vial filled with clear liquid.

Jariata looked over her shoulder and opened the vial with her thumb. She watched Thema as she tipped the liquid into the cup.

‘Two drops. Two more drops and the threat would be gone.’

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