Shades of Sepia

XXXII

Onika Tanya Maraj
April 16th
Houston, Texas

Beyoncé had slept next to me with her hand between my thighs for so long. From the moment she was allowed to touch me, at the end of the night, she was here. But tonight she wasn't, and she had been here for so long that I could tell when the bed was empty beside me.

I sat up and blinked repeatedly, challenging the moon not to blind me. I searched the bedroom for Beyoncé and slid into my slides to continue looking. She wasn't in the closet or the bathroom and when I checked the living room, she wasn't out there either. I walked down the opposing hallway to the opposing bedrooms and the last door was cracked open.

I pushed open the door some to see her conversing on the phone at the end of the bed. The moon had come in here through the windows too, but it didn't seem like she cared.

"Stop playing around on my phone little girl and say what you tryna say."

I assumed that was Solange. They were bickering like kids, even at four in the morning.

"I was laying down with my lady but you called me and woke me up. I'm sitting down, yeah."

Silence fell over her and I watched her body language completely shift. It looked like she didn't know what to do with her body, sitting up straight then slouching immediately after.

"What? What are you talking about?" She laughed but it was fake. "I was just there."

My heart sunk, my soul knowing exactly what'd happened before my brain. The silence was deafening, only Solange's voice being barely heard through the phone, but Beyoncé was no longer listening. She placed her phone down on the bed and held onto the sheets, her body swaying and her breaths shaky.

I walked over slowly and hung up on Solange. I stood in front of her and she looked up at me, tears streaming down her heartbroken face. Her lips quivered as she tried to tell me until she gave up and stuffed her face into my shirt, wailing loud enough for God to hear.

I kept my head up and held onto her, trying my best not to cry, but it took everything in me not to break down. Beyoncé was devastated and the piercing sound of her cries drove a knife straight through my heart. I had never heard her sob like this, agony and misery laced in every moment of fuss.

She was undone, and I didn't know what to do to help.

She couldn't speak. She could barely move. All she could do was cry, her tears soaking through my shirt. I just held onto her. Whenever she was ready to talk to me, I would be here. There wasn't room for my emotions and that was fine with me. As long as I at least got to try to take this pain away. At least I could help.

She lifted her head and her eyes were bloodshot red when I went to wipe the tears from her face. "She's gone," Heavier tears fell and her entire face was flushed worse.

"I'm so sorry."

"She's no-no-" She shut down all over again.

"Stop talking baby. I got you," I crawled up into the bed and called her up under me, wrapping her up in my embrace. She couldn't stop crying, and I couldn't even look at her. If I did, we would both be blubbering messes.

"I got you," I cradled her, swaying us, "I always got you. No matter what," I repeated the mantra until hours had passed and her hard tears had lulled her into an uncomfortable sleep.

When I was sure that her tears had knocked her out, I let my own tears fall, covering my mouth with my hand and bawling all alone.

And for an entire week long, there was this deafening silence.