Proverbial Woman, Chapter 4, Part II

Somewhat numbed by the whole idea of having a bestseller attached to my name. While still trying to define who I am in my private life. And not to mention increasingly becoming under the watchful eye of the public and critics alike, I know these interviews are going to expose things of myself that I would have preferred to keep in the closet.

Although I consider to have been given a new lease on life, I'll always carry the values that Mother Celia and my mother instilled in us through their love and guidance. During my mother’s final days we would often talk about times when Mother Celia would come and visit. We would all sit at the center island in the kitchen while she cooked her wonderful meals and instructed us on how to be strong women in every role of our lives.
Whenever mother and I were alone during her extended stays in the hospital, she would often express her deepest thoughts regarding the choices she made in life. During those times she would always return to our most frequent discussion on being in love with someone and still experiencing loneliness.

Considering the fact that I was too wrapped up in myself, initially I failed to see her true motives behind her reasons for speaking at length on this subject. On several occasions of watching her wrestle with her conscience, I couldn’t help but reflect on my selfish ways of dealing with high school boys and then young men during my undergraduate years.
Still disillusioned, I would sit and listen as she both praise and redeemed my father for the choices he made. Convinced my life would never experience a similar fate, I further held unto my conscious decision to continue to define the true essence of my womanhood as one who would rule over all those who sought after my heart.

At the time I thought that had to be one of the worst feelings a woman could experience, to live with a faithful man who loved to work. A man whom by all means done well for his family but neglected the duties of a husband.

At the start she was just a young, impressionably beautiful and loving wife in the prime of her sexuality, wanting only to be affectionately and physically loved. Just as I was starting to come into my own, it wasn’t until I one day truly looked into her eyes and saw her sadness. It was then that I begin to understand the pain of her sorrow.

It was also during that time in our lives I first encountered what I thought no woman should ever have to go through. As I began to watch with greater concern, her passing world gradually became a distorted image of my future. As a result of witnessing her pain evolving, it ultimately transformed me into what I am today.

Once naively in search of reasons for what was happening, I eventually found myself conveying her pain into my reality. Treating every potential suitor as someone who wanted only to marry and place me in a home to raise their kids and look out for their possessions, I had essentially become her alter ego. But through it all she kept telling me-“believe in your heart, though it is sometimes without direction, at least it will be true to your soul.”

She and father always emphasized that we should forever stay true to ourselves. Even though love has the capacity to change everything.

“Here we are…Cathedral Hill,” announced the driver.

“How much?”

“That will be Seventeen, forty-five,” he growled, over his shoulder.

“Thanks… keep the change,” I replied, handing over a twenty and five, just as the doorman opened the door. As I made my way out of the car and through the entrance and into the lobby pass the reception desk, the clerk called out.

“Excuse me…Ms. Romero! I have a few messages that were left for you earlier today.”

“Thanks!” I nodded as I swayed over to retrieve them, before resuming my dash toward the elevator. It appeared as if there were three of them. The suspense of thinking who could have sent them was starting to build.

As the elevator arrived and I stepped in, for a fleeting moment I considered this would be a great opportunity to read them before I got up to the room. But then that thought was quickly dismissed when another guest un-expectantly walked on.

Finally reaching my room and making my way inside, in a blurring moment of urgency I found myself dropping everything as I proceeded to open the first of the three. Choosing the one with Amy’s name on it, for a moment I found myself thinking about her and what is going on in her life. As I made my way over to the bed, I immediately started imagining what could be wrong now.

God, I miss her so much.