Page 146 of Eastern Lights

“No.” I slowly pulled my hands away from her. “You misunderstood. I forgive you, Marie. But that doesn’t mean I can open myself up to having you in my life.”

Forgiving someone didn’t mean you had to invite them back into your world. Sometimes forgiving meant finally letting them go. Forgiveness meant cutting the final cord of ones connection to your soul.

“I hope you find happiness, Marie. I do. I hope you start your journey to loving yourself. I hope you have more good days than bad, and I hope you laugh. I hope you find joy in the darkness. And I hope you leave him, because even though you’ve hurt me, that doesn’t mean you deserve to be hurt, too. If you allow it, Walter will hurt you until the day you die.”

“Maybe I deserve that.” She lowered her head and stared at her hands.

I placed mine against hers. “No one deserves that.”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life.”

“That’s okay. Begin again now. Can I ask why you stay with a man like him?”

“At one point, he was my everything. I was just waiting for him to come back to me… To be the man I thought he’d always been. I’m waiting for something that I know was probably always a lie.”

“Find your ugly truths,” I said, thinking about the conversation Connor had with me months ago. “It’s better to sit with the ugly truths than bathe in the beautiful lies.”

She gave me a halfway grin before wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Aaliyah for everything. For hurting you. For leaving you. For all the bad choices I’ve made.”

I smiled. “Thank you for that.” I glanced toward the front window, where Connor’s car was still waiting. “I should probably get going…”

“He proposed to you,” she mentioned, staring down at the ring on my finger.

“Yes. A few months ago.”

“Congratulations. He’s a good one.”

“Yes. He is.” I stood up from the table. “I wish you the best, Marie.”

“I wish you same.”

I turned to begin walking away, and paused when I heard Marie call out my name. I looked back to see her standing with trembling hands.

“Cole was a good man. A powerful musician, who loved the written word. He smiled like the sun, and loved like the moonbeams. He laughed like you, tossing his head back in full chuckles. You have his nose and his Cupid’s bow. He loved trying new things, and I know for a fact that if he knew you existed, he would’ve never let you go.” Her lips parted as tears began falling down her cheeks. “At Your Best, You Are Loved,” she said, making me raise an eyebrow, confused by her words. “It was the song Cole was playing as I walked into the jazz bar that first night. There’s a version by The Isley Brothers, but the version I knew was by—"

“Aaliyah,” I muttered, feeling a wave of emotions. I’d listened to that song a million times, wondering if it was crafted for me.

She swallowed hard and nodded. “At your best, Aaliyah, you are loved.”

I could count the number of facts I knew about my mother on multiple hands. She wore Chanel No. 5 and liked her coffee black. She loved to read, and when she smiled, you’d see all of her teeth. I’d gotten my eyes from her and my ears. She named me after the gone-too-soon musician Aaliyah, who I listened to throughout my teenage years. She dedicated “At Your Best, You Are Loved”, to me.

My mother loved brunch, and hated peas—like me. She cried during commercials, and ate a salad with every meal. She couldn’t stand Brussels sprouts, and the way she loved? She probably loved so much it hurt her. She gave her love to people who didn’t deserve it. She was flawed—like all humans.

She had tight coils of hair dipped in black ink. Her laugh was infectious, the kind that made others chuckle just from the enjoyment of her sounds. She danced, too—poorly, like me, but oh, how her body swayed. And she was sad. Maybe sadder than most. Maybe more lonely, too.

I hugged her. I pulled her into me and held on tight. She held me back, and as she began to cry into my shoulder, I held her some more. I knew once I let go, we’d probably never speak again. I’d move on with my life, and she’d hopefully began to discover her own.

So, I held on a little longer because I wasn’t completely ready to let her go.

“Thank you, Aaliyah,” she whispered.

“You matter,” I softly said back. “You matter, Marie.”

I said the words I’d wished someone would’ve said to me when I was child. I said the words I’d craved when I was sitting in the realm of loneliness. I gave her the words that she was never able to give to me. Then, I let her go.

I walked back to the car where Connor hopped out and opened the door for me. He looked at me with concern in his eyes. The care he showed me made the cracked pieces of my soul begin to heal again.

He didn’t say a word, but he wrapped his arms around me as the snow fell overhead. He knew I needed the comfort, and he delivered it without question. When we arrived home, I still felt a bit emotional.

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