Black Diamond

10

Normani

After Beyoncé left Angie came back in and led me out and helped me get back to the front of the arena, and from there I got in my car and proceeded to head home. I drove home in silence so I could really reflect on everything that just happened. I thought I would be on cloud 9 right now, but if I'm being absolutely honest...

I'm confused as fuck. 

Don't get me wrong, after meeting Beyoncé my entire life has been made, like if I died right now, I would feel like I had served my life's purpose. But at the same time, I feel like I'm going through a whirlwind of emotions that just might send me over the edge if I'm not careful. I feel incredibly happy and blessed to have the opportunity to have met my idol, but at the same time I feel confused as hell, like why was I so comfortable around her, like I've known her my whole life, and what the hell was that feeling of connection I got every time we made eye contact? It's like her vibe throughout our entire interaction was so...natural and... I don't know...motherly? The way she was so interested in hearing about my passion for art, wanting to know about me, wanting to keep in touch with me, all I could think about was everything that has transpired leading up to now, and the one question that has been ringing in my ear, that won't go away no matter how hard I try to ignore and deny it keeps lingering in my mind:

Is Beyoncé really my mom? 

As an artist, I've developed the ability to really pay attention to detail. I've always been able to spot things that others would miss; it's always amazed me. And since I've been home, so many things have happened that I just can't overlook. I started to connect the dots in my head.

When I first told my dad about the concert and he freaked out.

The look of complete fear that passed over his face when I told him I was going to meet Beyoncé and Jay-Z backstage. 

The way he abruptly went to his room and I haven't seen him since. 

The way he left a note about where he was instead of telling me over dinner like he normally would. 

The connection I felt when Beyoncé and I made eye contact.

The look of shock on her face when I told her my name.

The way Jay-Z said my voice reminded him of Beyoncé's.

The feeling of us talking feeling so natural.

The pride in her eyes as I talked about my passion for art.

The anger in her eyes when Jay-Z said he was ready to leave.

She wanted to keep in contact with me.

SHE GAVE ME HER NUMBER! The way this lady values her privacy and she actually gave me her number, and trusted me to not give it out, I mean, I wouldn't dare, but still, she actually gave it to me. 

How natural and maternal our hug felt. Like a mother holding her child. 

If we're being completely honest, her giving me her number was the icing on the cake to tell me all I needed to know. But I still needed some hard evidence. And there's only two people who could give it to me, and one of those people should be waiting for me to get home from the concert like he said he would. 

Pulling up into the parking lot of the apartment, I quickly found a spot and parked, and then I turned off the car and sat there. The reality of the possibility that Beyoncé could be my mother really began to set in, and all of a sudden, I felt nothing but hurt, pain, and sadness.