God's Exotic Masterpiece: Born to Stand out

CHAPTER 1: FOUNDATION

"As a teen, I have always wanted to have four children," said Annie, the woman, my brother, Ryan and I call "Mummy", at least twice every day, on top of our lungs, anytime we were hankering for food.

It was her dream, from as early as fourteen, to have a backyard of four children running around and frolicking on a wooden bench swing, supported by a rope from the sturdy branches of an East Indian mango tree. She was eager to heal the bruises on her son's skin and find her expensive lipstick smeared over her daughter's plastic dolls. Raised in a chaotic household with six siblings, she was armed with the patience and experience to be ready for it.

In the spring of 1981, twenty-four year old Annie laced up her platform shoes, zipped up her knee-high, tight dress, combed out the long, wavy, jet-black hair and stepped out to paint the city in vibrant Technicolor one night. In her mind, it was her Friday to turn the TV off and kick up her heels and let her hair down. Unbeknownst to her, Mom was the prize in a joust between two friends, who were equally attracted to her and were vying for a chance to steal her heart.

The first contender, a long-time friend of hers, was very interested in dating her now that he was a 'new bachelor' in town. He repeatedly tried everything to sway her in his direction. Though, Mom wasn't interested. At the time, she was also single, mending a broken heart from the abrupt ending of a committed four-year relationship. Her ex had other intentions to 'play the field', which, of course, didn't coincide with her life plans. They dated since freshman year of college and she believed that he would've been her 'forever' love, standing at the altar in an angelically white gown, laced with floral embroidery along the train. The sudden breakup was an unthinkable blow to her heart that would take some time to heal. Stepping into a new relationship was the furthest thing from her mind and a deterrent for her heart. Intentionally, she wanted to spend time enjoying the 'single and disengaged life', while climbing up the corporate ladder in her financial career—all of this was her way of healing.

After she rejected the relationship proposal, he told his thirty three year old friend and colleague, Mackie, that 'the coast was clear' to make his bold attempt at winning her still broken heart. They hadn't formally been introduced, though from the moment Mackie saw her from a distance, a few months before, he was 'interested'. Without knowing anything beyond what his eyes could see—long hair, cute shape, nice smile—he wanted to 'try a ting' when she was single again. He was now ready to make his play.

Mackie's crush was escorted to the party on the Fri- day night, to create the perfect scene to initiate a connection between the two. Amidst everyone dancing underneath the strobe lights to Kool and the Gang's 'Celebration', she stood unbothered, wearing the wall like a second skin and rocking away to her own rhythm. Behind her back, she felt the tickle in her ear from the whisper of a gruff voice:

"Hi Annie, my name is Mackie."
With a gentle half-smile on her face and blushing cheeks, she turned around to face a well-groomed gentleman in dark brown pants and a white oxford shirt, armoured with a charismatic scent of Old Spice. He returned her bright smile, with eyes glued to Annie for the remainder of the night. Together, they were the definition of 'opposites attract'. He was the mellow and soft-spoken single parent, standing at five feet ten inches tall, while she was five feet three inches short, fiery rebel who didn't hold back from speaking her mind. But the two believed that they had a synergy that couldn't go unnoticed.

Annie and Mackie spent the entire night talking, while they danced to the likes of Earth, Wind and Fire; Luther Vandross and the Whispers crooning all of the hits to keep her on her toes. By the time night ended and everyone was leaving, he asked the burning question, "Can I call you sometime, Annie?" She paused, eyeing him as he extended a pen, cunningly slipped from his shirt pocket. She smirked, while she wondered, "maybe we can be friends?" She snatched the pen and wrote her number on the cocktail napkin that still had red wine ring stains, folded it in two and slipped it into the palm of his hand, during the subtle goodbye handshake.