He Calls Me Harmony

Chapter thirteen: Exhale

Construe, a word that gives you a right to defend. A word that gives you the ability to be heard. A word that can help or hurt you. A word that is my life line. Sometimes words are overrated. Sometimes they are underrated. It is up to us on whether we choose to be overrated.

To explain assonance to the one you love without a valid reason is hard. How can you explain being away from someone for nearly four months? How do you look at the tears in their eyes and tell them you gave up. You watch them ample themselves with anger, hurt, pain, and longing. You let yourself become selfish. You go day by day pondering on why you can't get the nerve to contact them. Then comes that word, Construe. The worse possible option of this barring. There I walked down. There I took step after step feeling the tree’s watching me as the wind whispered to me words of encouragement. I took in breath after breath, silently praying that luck was on my side. I didn’t leave a note for my mother to my whereabouts because somehow I figured she would know why I had left. She’s my mother after all. Anyways, as I walked down the street I couldn’t help but feel those feelings of lost hope come back. I couldn’t help but get the gut feeling to turn around. I also couldn’t help but keep going. I soon came to a halt. There stood I, heart in hand. I was dejected by what I set my eyes on. I turned around and ran. I can say I have never ran that fast in my life. Yet I ran like my life depended on it. I ran teary eyed and broken hearted. All I could think of was the fact that she’s gone. She’s gone, that’s all that repeated in my head. That repetitive sentence was all that went through my mind. Of course I didn’t go straight home. I wanted to drown in my own sorrow and swim in the pool of a broken soul. I vaguely remember what I did a little after. I just know I continued to stay in my dreariness for what seem like a month. I talked to my mother. I needed her guidance. She just told me something that stayed with me for the rest of my life. “Don’t give up! If there’s something you want, get up and fight for it! Never sit and watch it slip away, work for it”, I tried to retort with “Mother it’s too late”, She would smile. That smile, a warm motherly smile. Then she would rub my back and lift my chin and make me keep that eye contact with her before she answered. “all good things come in due time my Michael, but all thing’s come to people who fight for it, Good things don’t come easy love”, And she was right. I had to fight for it. It took me awhile until I got to where I am now. I didn’t know where to go or who to turn to but I knew I had to do something, and that I did. I searched every nook and cranny for Joya. I had to find her, I needed to find her. So after four months I found that little miracle I was praying for. I don’t know nor do I remember how I actually came across the miracle. I just knew it happened. I was able to find her; she was enrolled  in some university in California. My first initial thought was why on God’s green earth would they move all the way down to California? I did some research on the location ad how I would be able to configure a way to get to California or at least get in contact with her. Of course I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I had a lot to do and little time to do it. So from that day I began my treacherous process of finding a way to convince my mother to let me leave. It was the hardest thing to do. Joseph could have cared less what I did and where I went,just as long as I was out of his way. So to quickly summarize that evening of concurring into persuasion,it went as so. I told her of my decision to leave Gary and travel to California. At first she was very hesitant. She told me that was a bold move. I quickly reminded her of her words of encouragement to fight for hat I want. And I want Joya. She, after seeing that I had my mind set on this decision,finally agreed. I was happy,nervous,and doubtful all at the same time. I just knew that the hardest part wasn’t over yet. Before departing,I said my goodbyes to my siblings. I even said goodbye to the fact that I actually was accepted to a near university in Indiana. All of that didn’t really matter to me. I knew want I wanted. I knew that I could always apply for another university. All in all,the next month passed before I actually worked the nerve to get into contact with her. I just had one exception,she wouldn’t talk to me. I knew she wouldn’t want to talk to me after all this time,therefore I conjured up a name. I know it might seem ludicrous,but at that point my mind was full of bizarre idea’s. Like I have stated before,love makes you do anything,I mean anything. I came upon a funny name in my dream,Mark Wilbur. I thought it was quite comical,until it became a got to for communication. I am quite surprised it took her so long to realize or at lease so long to wrap her head around. It first started off with letters. I would receive little to no response from her. I soon began to tire of this cat and mouse game. So I called her. Yes,It was bold. I had to do it. So much for breaking the ice might if I say so myself. And now here we are to my current state. I was just about to retire to my room when my phone began to buzz.  I quickly picked it up not looking at the caller's I.D....

*"Hello? "

"Hello",

"Joya look I need to talk to you I-"

"I know, We can talk "

*sighs* "Ok can I meet you somewhere?"

"If you want "

"Ok,  how does California Grill sound? "

"Good "

"ok well I'll meet you there later? "

"sure "

"OK"

"yup "*

She hung up after a few moment's of silence. I know there's a little void between us. I can feel it. I quickly look around my apartment (it's really not much of an apartment, just one bedroom and regular house essentials). My mother helped me lease it. I walk into my room and looked around for something nice to wear. I rummaged around until I came upon a green flannel shirt and black pant with my usual black loafers. I looked into the mirror that was ajacent to my closet door. I still have problems looking at myself. When I do it's only for a few seconds. My vitiligo is quite the same. I still have it covered in places that I can. I looked away and decided to retire to my bed until the afternoon.

I awoke a couple hours later feeling better than before. I looked at the time.  it was a quater to one-thirty. I stretched and went to freshen, again. When that task was completed, I took one last glance at myself before heading out. I drove there in my father's old pick-up truck .  How and why he gave it to me is a long story for another time.

The drive to the restaurant was agonizing. I'm antsy yet nervous. When I finally arrived I was disappointed she wasn't  there waiting for me. I found an outside table and sat there. I was becoming more and more skittish by the minute. It was to the point where I was overwrought. I was interrupted from my uneasy feelings by a voice. A voice I knew all so well. "Michael? ", I slowly turned around.

To Be Continued....