In Her Footsteps

"Aniyah why would you move cross country for a boy?"

My mom looms in my bedroom doorway as I pack the remaining clothing I have.

"I know L. A sounds more glamours than Tuckerville, OH but your family is here."

I place the cherry red sweater I received for Christmas the previous year on top of the near full suitcase and turn towards my mom. We looked nothing alike. She curvy, me willowy. Her sun kissed yellow, me deep brown. Even on a personality level we differ immensely.

My mom married my dad at eighteen when he was twenty-five. She seriously thought I was going to college to find a husband like some nineteen-twenties debutante. I’m twenty-three, and no I’m not interested in being a wife. Moving to L.A was Jamar’s idea, however, my dream is to be an investigative journalist. What hot leading stories will I write about here? The McCullen brothers cow tipping?

"It's not about L. A being more glamours. I'm young and I want to experience life. I can always come back. Not as if Tuckerville is going anywhere.”

She sighs and leaves me to finish packing.

She was trying to bait me with the “moving for a boy” comment. Had I been moving with Pastor Ruben’s son Jason to L.A she would of been throwing me a bridal shower.

The trip there took us three days by car. Jamar would of preferred to fly but I wanted to take the time to write. I hoped seeing the passing scenery would inspire me.

Our unofficial tour guide is Jamar's cousin James. James is five years older and has lived in L.A for three years. What he does for a living I do not know. I just know he knows a lot of industry people. Thus he Is able to get into the hottest clubs and land exclusive house party invites. This of course excited Jamar. He is an inspiring DJ. He used this as sweetener when he suggested the move. If I was a gossip rag writer then this type of excess would have had me jumping up and down. I find nothing more boring than the obsession people have with the mundane movements of celebrities.

Jamar had been bouncing off the walls ever since James disclosed his surprise invite tickets to an all white party. I smile warmly and try to seem excited. The last thing I want is to be the boring girlfriend.

James passes me the valet ticket to place in my purse. We walk into a sea of people dress in all white per the invite instructions. My jaw drops at the extravagance of the house. Now I grew up middle-class but compared to this my beloved childhood home is a trap-house.

"Alright this is really nice."'

I turn to my left where I expected to see Jamar but he wasn't there. My head swivels to my right to find James has ghosted me as well.

"Seriously!"

Feeling slightly embarrass to be the only guest not conversing, I make my way deeper into the party.

The first guest I come in contact with is a man named Michael. Two minutes into our conversation I know he is the type of person my mother would refer to as busybody.

"I cannot believe she would show her face here."

Michael sneers while taking a sip of his strawberry flute. His eyes are locked on a curvy ambiguous looking woman.

"And that dress. So three seasons ago."

Being that I was no fashionista, I nod in agreement.

The woman Is conversing animately with another guest. She then throughs back her flute of champagne and grabs the arm of her companion, escorting her to the other side of the room.

"So who was that?"

I ask, but without any real interest. I assume she is a reality tv star or some rapper's baby-momma.

"Oh honey Crystal is nobody you want to know. And she's damn sure not someone you want your man to know."

My gaze returns to the direction I last seen the woman walking in, subconsciously looking for Jamar.

I check the time on my silver Kate Spade watch. An hour has passed and still no Jamar or James in sight. This annoys me. These starstruck fools really abandon me.

Finally I see James' long locs heading up the winding staircase. I make a beeline towards him. Most of the guest are on their umpteenth drink and I feel as if I'm playing operation making my way through.

By the time I get to the top of the stairs James has disappeared into one of the closed doors along the hallway. I roll my eyes in annoyance and decide to look for a bathroom. I figure the bathroom would be in the middle of the hallway. I knock on the door but with the blasting music my knock is drowned out. I tentatively turn the knob and discover that I was right, this is the bathroom. It's also where I find Jamar sitting on the toilet with Crystal's head bopping up and down in his lap.

There's a break in the music that coincides with my screech as I hurl the first thing I can find at Jamar's head. The look of ecstasy immediately disappears from his face as his eyes fly open. Crystal is knocked over as Jamar hurriedly stands trying to pull up his pants.

"Aniyah baby..."

He stammers but I don't wait to hear the rest.

I hear him fumbling behind me and Crystal asking where he is going. The heels that I'm wearing may as well be track shoes given the speed to which I'm moving. A few interested faces peek at me from their conversations as I descend the stairs. My heart is pounding in my ears as I head towards the exit. Through my adrenaline I'm able to hear snatches of whispers.

"OMG did you hear that?"

"And you thought Marc's party was going to be boring."

"That bitch is scandalous. You know she was caught doing Tina's man in their beach house last week."

I almost tear the valet ticket as I snatch it out of my purse. I hand it to the bored looking attendant. He squawks into a radio for the car to be brought around. I slide behind the wheel just as Jamar drunkenly stumbles outside.

I speed off with him looking at the taillights.

"Damn girl that is a hell of a way to be welcomed to Cali."

I've spent the last hour pouring my heart out to a friendly stranger named Delilah at local the grease spoon called "Big Al's. She inhales on her cigarette. I'm pretty sure smoking is banned in all restaurants across the country, but no one says anything to her.

"I can tell you have a sweet nature about you but this city may be too rough for you. Have you called your parents ?"

I laugh bitterly.

"My mom would just love for me to come home with my tail between my legs."

"Take your pride out of it. The last thing you want to be in this expensive ass city is desuetude."

I nod dreading the I told you so lecture. If I return home now. My mom will go into overdrive trying to turn me into a Step-ford wife.

"Look I know we don't know each other but if you want to crash in my second bedroom to figure things out it's cool."

So that's what I did. Turns out Delilah lives just up the block from the dinner. Her apartment is spacious although I feel that's mostly due to her barely having any furniture.

"No I didn't just move in, I'm just trying to live minimally."

She says. I guess she could see the question on my face.

"The lease on this place is up in six months. I see no point in buying a bunch of crap to haul later."

She shows me the second bedroom. Its adorn with a daybed and wooden desk. I plug my phone into it's charger. The screen lights up with fifty missed calls and thirty text messages. I switch the phone off and go to sleep in my party clothes.

"Aniyah baby it was the drugs and alcohol."

Jamar pleads with me as I re-pack the few items I unpacked in my brief stay with James. Delilah waits downstairs having followed me to help me return James' car and to get my things.

"That hoe meant nothing. Come on baby don't do this to us."

My jaw tightens. How dare this asshole make it seem as if my reaction is the downfall of our relationship. Against my best judgement I take the bait.

"So you're telling me if I had been the one bobbing for apples with some random at a party you'll be ready to forgive."

My octaves rise with each word. This idiot has blamed drugs, alcohol, "the hoe" , the devil, and even his cousin James. Apparently James is the drug dealer to the stars which is how he gets his exclusive invites.

"What can I do baby please we can't end like this!"

I'm dragging my roller suitcase to the door. Jamar falls to his knees in some sort of last ditch effort to move me. The gesture does not achieve the desire affect and I walk past him out the door.

Me and Delilah end up back at Big AL's dinner. Delilah talked me into wasting twenty dollars on scratch offs. The sparkly words dance up at me with the promises of winning up to fifty-thousand dollars.

"Yes! Looks like I'm going to break even."

Delilah has scratched her final ticket. Wasting money on these games was suppose to cheer me up. So far my first three tickets are busts.

"I know my city is rough but maybe it can send you off with some good luck before you go home."

I decided before returning to James' that I would go home. I didn't call my mom. Figure I'll enjoy some peace on the way home. I dust away the film of my last ticket reveling twenty dollars.

"Looks like I broke even to."

We head to the gas station to cash in our tickets. The cashier hands Delilah a fresh twenty. I step up and present my lone ticket.

"I cannot cash out this ticket ma' ma."

The gas station attendant hands me back the scratch off. I look at the ticket not seeing any defects. He turns the screen around where twenty-thousand dollars is displayed in bright green. I take my nail and scratch off the remaining film.

The prize twenty-thousand dollars stares back at me.

God obliviously did not bless me with this twenty grand to stay in sin city. My plan to return back to the Ohioan sun is still in effect. Me and the other passengers are waiting to board. When I notice a free book bend. Most of the books are tattered romance novels. My fingers pass over a moleskin black book. I pick it up. The cover is blank. Opening the book I see it is a journal. I flip through the pages seeing that every page is filled. I start to place the book back when the intercom announces my bus is ready to board.

Once in my seat I realize I’m still holding onto the black book. I open the first page to see in neat penmanship. The journal belongs to a Rosemary Valentine of Stoneridge, Colorado. I take out my bus ticket and see that is the same city for my first bus transfer.

“What a weird coincidence.”

I type Rosemary’s name and location into google. An article from eleven years ago loads. Rosemary disappeared at age seventeen. I look at the date of the first journal entry. It’s dated three months before she disappeared.

"Hi I could like to cancel this ticket. I'm going to stay in town for a while."

The lady behind the glass sides my bus ticket closer to her and scans it.

"Your refund will process back to your card within 3-5 business days."

I thought there would be some push back with me canceling the rest of my trip once we made it to Stoneridge, Colorado. I take this as a good omen.

My mother was right I had follow Jamar out to L.A but returning home would mean her trying to get me to follow after her. I needed to follow my own path and right now my gut was leading me in the steps of Rosemary Valentine.