Goin' to Jackson { Jackson Wang Series }

Chapter 9 { Finale }

Jen studied herself in the hotel mirror. Her curls were defined and bouncy with a nice shine from the coconut oil she had rubbed liberally through them. She was wearing a long sundress with huge fuchsia flowers printed on it. Her gold hoop earrings were so large that they touched her shoulders. She was wearing her signature deep red lip with a generous swipe of mascara to bring out her green eyes.

"So, tell me again why I had to wear a dress?" Jen questioned her friend, Sandra.

"If we're going to Frida Kahlo's house, we have to show the proper respect," replied Sandra. "You can't show up at Frida's inner sanctum looking all fodonga."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm so psyched about this. I've been wanting to tour her house since I came to Mexico. So, I really appreciate you inviting me to come with you," Jen said as she gave her curls a final fluff.

Sandra smiled secretively and came to the mirror to stand beside Jen. She was wearing a traditional Mexican embroidered blouse with a wide multi-colored skirt, much like the ones Frida often wore. Sandra had forced her curls into a tight braid that stretched past her shoulders.

The two headed to the lobby and out the revolving door into the bright sunlight. Right outside the hotel, a vendor had set up his cart of shaved ice.

"Oh, my gosh, Sandra!" Jen shrieked. "They have tequila shaved ice! We have to get some!"

"It's not even 9:00 AM," Sandra reminded her. "And we haven't had breakfast yet. You want to eat tequila shaved ice on an empty stomach?"

"Listen, I think Frida would approve of tequila at any time of day," reasoned Jen.

Sandra laughed. "I can't disagree with you there."

As they walked down the street, enjoying their frozen treat, the two shared a companionable silence. Up ahead, they saw a large line stretching out of Frida's Casa Azul.

"Wow, when she decided to paint her house blue, she was not messing around," Jen commented as she gazed at the vibrant color of the exterior of the house.

The line finally moved a bit and, Jen and Sandra came to the green doors that marked the entryway of the house. Above the doors, large red letters announced, "Museo Frida Kahlo." As they stepped through the doors, Jen made the sign of the cross, feeling the need to show her respect in some tangible way. All the rooms were painted in vibrant colors and were filled with artworks. Many of Frida's own works hung on the walls and a vast display of traditional Mexican artisan pieces decorated the large rooms. Jen and Sandra made their way slowly through the rooms, stopping to appreciate the woven cloths, clay pots and stone sculptures. One room held Frida's painting supplies, her brushes still displayed in a clay pot. One of her classic still-life paintings of fruit was on the easel, as if she had left it undone and intended to return to it.

When they reached Frida's bedroom, Jen and Sandra stopped conversing to breathe in the scene with hushed reverence. Her bed was covered with a white bedspread. One of her colorful scarves had been laid on the bed, tied around a sculpture of a face, as if it were still on Frida's slim neck. Several small books sat on a shelf on the wall. Her wooden crutches were perched against the wall as if she had casually left them there before crawling into bed. It was here where she had lain during her long recovery from the streetcar accident that had left her body permanently scarred and broken. She called it her first "grave accident." The second was her husband Diego Rivera. According to Frida, Diego was, by far, the worst of the two accidents. Still, the streetcar accident was the cause of her devastating miscarriage which was the inspiration for the achingly beautiful work called "Henry Ford Hospital," which depicts a naked Frida lying in a hospital bed while her baby's fetus hovers above, still connected to her by the umbilical cord.

As Jen pondered the life of this iconic, revolutionary woman, tears formed in her eyes. This extraordinary woman had survived a streetcar accident, polio, a miscarriage, politics, a difficult marriage, and she still became a symbol of unyielding strength for so many women and girls who came after her. Jen felt that out of Frida's pain, she had birthed a new generation of women who stood tall in the face of overwhelming adversities. Overcome by the moment, Jen let the tears flow freely down her face. Sandra grabbed a tissue from her purse and handed it to Jen.

"Clean yourself up. You're going to make your mascara run," chided Sandra.

"I'm sure Frida would understand some smudged mascara," Jen replied.

"Well, of course, Frida would," said Sandra, strangely stressing the word "Frida."

"Right," said Jen. "Afterall, who else really matters?"

"Sure," conceded Sandra. "But still, wipe your face, OK?"

Jen dutifully wiped her eyes under her black-framed glasses. "There, do you feel better now?" questioned Jen.

Sandra studied Jen's face carefully. "Yeah, that will do," she said, sounding oddly relieved. She looked nervously at the time on her cell phone. The phone vibrated in her hand and she read the message on it and then tucked it in her purse.

"Let's take a stroll around her garden," suggested Sandra.

"OK," said Jen, taking one last look at the sacred bed where Frida had spent so many hours of her life.

The two walked solemnly through the lush garden where Frida had loved to sit with her birds and her pet spider monkey, Fulang Chang. In the distance, Jen spotted a man holding a large bouquet of pink roses. As she grew closer to him, she realized it was Jackson. His eyes were intently focused on her, as he had spotted her in the crowd some time ago. Jen looked at Sandra who wore a wide grin like the Cheshire Cat. She nodded at Jen as if to say, "Yeah, this is really happening."

Jen began to sprint toward Jackson and nearly knocked him over as she jumped into his embrace. The pink roses were getting crushed between them, but she didn't care. Jen stepped back to look him full in the face. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he set down the flowers on the bright orange walkway of the garden. He fumbled a bit, searching for something in the pocket of his blue sportscoat. Finally, he pulled out a small, blue velvet box. He knelt on one knee and opened the box, holding it toward Jen. He looked up at her expectantly as he asked, "Will you be my girlfriend again?"

Jen laughed softly as she said, "I wasn't aware I had ever stopped."

Jackson smiled at her response and pulled out the engraved gold band to place it on her finger. Jen studied the ring for a moment before she was hit with a sudden recognition.

"Wait!" she said in disbelief. "Is this the Ring of Power from the Lord of the Rings?"

"Yep," Jackson said as he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, my gosh! How did you know that I've always wanted that ring?"

"I texted your mom," Jackson declared with a playful wink.

"Oh, my Lord," said Jen, rolling her eyes. "I'm going to let it go this time because you got me the ring I wanted."

He placed the ring on her finger and kissed her hand before standing and taking her into his arms. The crowd around them clapped and cheered as Jen looked up at the clear sky above. She felt Frida smiling down upon them.

As she squeezed Jackson tightly, she whispered solemnly, "Thanks, Frida."

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