NO LONGER THERE

CLUSTER FIVE

Violet Macarons

I hid my embarrassment like I hid my shame, well.

I had seriously turned twenty-four and was none the wiser. Everyone sang, clapped and smiled as The Bakers Delight chocolate cake was rolled to its destination in front of a surprised guest of honor, me.

I surveyed the room, smiling at the well-wishers and felt as though I was watching a movie with ticking film, glitches and dark flecks on the screen. Front and center was my daddy, leaning on his walker with that tan cowboy hat on his head and his rodeo vest decorated like a five-star general over his fancy suit. That wasn't the Clarence James Reed diagnosed with dementia, but my daddy, smiling at his babygirl with those cherished, brown, almond shaped eyes.

My mother, Lillian Rose Reed stood tall and elegant within the movie set, admiring me with those dazzling, soul piercing, hazel eyes, high cheek bones and sandy brown hair in the perfect updo. My Nana and Hershey Kiss scrolled across the screen, hugging one another and weeping with pure love, for me. To my surprise and joy, Roxy was in the line up, with her gotcha grin sprawled across her face. I would circle back to her later. I looked up at my handsome, warmhearted, mold breaking man, placed my hand over my heart and fought back tears.

Dying inside-- outside, I smiled. I scanned the decor, observing poster sized photos spanning my life from newborn, with a bonnet on my head, to twenty-three, and I saw it clearly for the first time. The length of my hair becoming progressively shorter, lust fading and thickness making way for the appearance of my lighter than my mocha face colored scalp. My eyes were a swamp of tears, and inside, I died a little more.

On the outside, I smiled harder. And as usual, Bryce Allen Phillips was right. My smile had changed. It was the same pearly white, gap toothed smile spread across my face. It was the smile in my eyes that was different, less curved on the corners, darker and increasingly empty. I was really losing my hair, myself, and I was scared. I secretly faced that realization in front of thirty people, people I loved, and who I knew for sure, loved me.

I, twenty-four year old, Avery Grace Reed, daughter, sister, motivational speaker, successful business woman, and girlfriend to the best man on planet Earth, was losing my hair.

In an instant, I felt it again, the imposter syndrome and what does an imposter do? They cringe on the inside, shine on the outside, and go on with the show. But this wasn't business, it was personal. How could I stand in front of a room filled with people that I loved, I knew loved me and feel so... sad. Smiling at the sea of faces smiling back at me, I asked myself, who did they love? Avery with spunk, fire in her belly and long, jet-black hair that tickled her neck down to the bend in her back?

Or was it the Avery who pretended life was wonderful, especially when it wasn't, who still had spunk, but with a question mark behind it, the girl who lied emotionally to herself and the world while being the only thing she knew how to be, number one.

Where had the real Avery Grace Reed gone since her glory days at UT Austin? Was the authentic me, happy me, honest me, fading away like my fragile, jet-black strands? I caught a glimpse of myself in a dining room mirror. That was my face alright, but that was not my soul smiling in the reflection peering back at me. I ran my hand through Imani's magic of my gorgeously laid, shoulder blade bob, and sighed.

Bryce called out, "Babe, blow out your candles."

I turned away from the ghost representing me, and kissed my fine ass, sweet ass, handsome, warmhearted, mold breaking man as tears flowed through blushing Dante's faultlessly slayed makeup. The crowd rumbled with affection.

Bryce looked into my less curved at the corner, darker and increasingly empty eyes, wiped a flood of tears, then whispered, "Too much?"

I looked at him and replied, "Nothing you do is too much for me, thank you."