Make Room

*An infomercial plays loudly*

“Wow there’s so much more room!” a woman’s voice rang out through the half empty studio apartment, followed by that of an animated salesman.

“Now YOU can get all of that useless junk out of the way and focus on making room for the stuff that REALLY matters! The new SpaceMaker3000 comes in small, medium, large AND XL! So call today to get your--”

“Yeah. A’ight.”

Meinah said sarcastically, muting the TV as she prepared to take a break amidst wrapping the African figurines from her bookshelf. Now two months behind on the rent, she thought it was better to get a head start before the landlord officially escorted her out.

“How did I let this happen....” she mumbled with a sigh while rubbing her dry, strained eyes.

Petty gig after gig, and she had nothing to show for. Eight months had passed like minutes since Meinah quit her day job for the full time pursuit of her artistry.

She had been living off of her savings to focus on creating new material while shopping her work at local open mics and showcases, aspiring to be discovered by someone who could help her get consistent funding with a greater level of corresponding exposure for her work...but now, she was down to her last twelve dollars and the little exposure alone did nothing for the overdue bills. Having been so discouraged, she hadn’t written anything in 16 weeks (which she counted with anxiety).

It was as though Meinah was beginning to resent her work altogether. Over time, she grew more and more uninspired. The one thing that she loved the most, having given the entirety of her heart and soul in hopes of gaining the reciprocity promised by her late grandmother, just felt like another void. Grandma always said that “If you make room for your gifts, they’ll make room for you”, yet after pouring in what felt like her all, Meinah was losing her faith--and on top of it all, she was about to lose her home.

Her last hope was the local Poetry Slam that evening, where she planned to revive some of her old pieces in an attempt to rake in 1 of 3 cash-based winnings. The grand prize was only $500, and while it wouldn’t completely cover the two months of rent that she had missed, perhaps it would be enough to work something out with the landlord for an additional few weeks or so.

It was 6:12 and she had to get ready to head out soon if she would make it in time for sign-up, which officially opened at 7:00...but in that moment, Meinah started to question whether or not showing up was even worth it.

Reaching around for the last figurine on the top shelf, Meinah felt a small dusty something that wasn’t immediately familiar to her touch. As she slid it over to the edge for a better grip and slowly pulled it down, she realized that it was the little black leatherbound book that was gifted to her in her grandmother’s last will and testament.

Right away, Meinah’s body stiffened. She had taken her grandmother’s death the hardest, and initially had no desire to keep the book after her passing because being reminded of what once was and was now no longer would hurt too much. Therefore, she reactively stored it away on the top of her towering bookshelf where it spent the past 9 months unnoticed.

Meinah's grandmother, Willomina J. Vaughn, was a well acclaimed poet of the 1970s. She was most known for taking inspiration from those who came before her and amalgamating their concepts to her own unique style to create pieces that were relevant to the times. Meinah knew that people loved and respected her grandmother for always speaking from the heart and saying the things that most people would be afraid to...and it was for that same reason that Meinah looked up to her. However, since her grandmother's passing, something put Meinah in a place of question. She no longer believed with certainty that she could carry on in her grandmother's footsteps. She hadn't ever imagined her grandmother being gone so soon, which made it all the more difficult to even look at the book.

Holding it to her chest, Meinah felt an instant rush of emotions. Right away, she began to grieve again for the absence of her greatest supporter, which was followed by a sense of guilt for refusing to acknowledge this honorable token sooner. Then, having spent several moments dwelling in self-inflicted shame, she suddenly felt an unexpected, yet welcomed wave of peace over her entire being. A peace that made her feel just a little more willing to see what was inside.

With her newly watered motivation, Meinah opened the front cover of the delicate little book to find a handwritten message:

"Bean,

I've watched you grow from one outspoken infant to a powerful young revolutionary. From the moment that you were born, when you cried out in your mother's arms, I knew that you had so much for the world to hear.

Even as a little girl, you expected to be heard from the forbidden "child's place". And now as a booming young poet, you've settled for nothing less.

While I won't be there to see it all, I know that you'll go on to do so many great things (After all--you do take after me!)

As I’ve watched you blossom in each one of my last days, I wrote a piece just for you. Now, I may not be able to fill this entire book, but it's okay because I know that you can pick up where I left off. Despite what things may look like, I want you to promise yourself that you will never stop writing. You have a gift that this world longs for, and you gotta set it free.

Take what you need. If you should ever begin to wonder, may your search be fulfilled right here in this book.

I'm rooting for you!

With love,

Grandma"

Now in a vulnerable state, Meinah took a deep breath and finally decided that it was time.

*Page 1: The Nominal Woman*

_____

I could be your “Baby”...but I’m not into those ways.

“Sweet Thang”s don’t do me much good, ‘cause I’ve had more than my share for the day.

Perhaps I remind you of your “Mama”, which is why you’ve called me so,

But it’s EXACTLY for that reason--I could never play that role.

“Sexy”, without a doubt, but there’s more to me than my demeanor.

“Hot stuff”? Why thank you! So is my sister--have you seen her?

I am a nominal woman, in my name is who I be.

Yes, a nominal woman. My brother, can’t you see?

Try to oil me up with your words, like butter to a biscuit.

But see the problem is: I’m a vegan, so from here--I wouldn’t risk it.

Yes, I’m cool with conversation. That much I don’t mind.

But you follow me around as if I’m owing you my time.

And when I turn you down for dates, you call me everything you can.

But I don’t see how you could hate my being from outside my life--you can’t even get in.

If only you COULD get my phone number, then maybe you’ll see,

the nominal woman...that’s me.

You told your friends I wasn’t ssshhh because your ego was hurt.

You told your friends that I was ugly, tried to run me through the dirt.

“I should be happy” you said, that you would even look my way.

But see, I’m on my way to work, sooo...I don’t know what to say

See, I was minding my business, and really it’s a shame,

‘cause now you tryna ruin me...but you don’t even know my name.

I told you once, I’ll tell you again, since you won’t seem to let me be:

I’m far beyond what you could ever. I’m a woman--nominally.

_____

The crowd roared without hesitation as Meinah took a bow.

“Keep it going, y’all. That was ‘The Nominal Woman’ by Miss Meinah Vaughn.”

Meinah hadn’t felt this full in a long time, standing before the audience in awe of the atmosphere that this piece had just given rise to. How was it that something she hadn’t even written felt so much like her own? Whatever the reason she may never know, so she just looked to the ceiling with humility and thankfulness, kissed her index finger, raised it upward as an ode to her grandmother in heaven, and left the stage with the little black book in hand while the crowd continued to cry out.

At the bottom of the stairs, she was met by a young woman thanking her for her work, which meant so much to Meinah--especially since she had questioned whether or not she would even come.

“It means a lot to me as an aspiring poet to see those before me moving so freely with such persistence! It just gives me hope that a voice like mine truly does have a place in this world”, the young woman beamed with admiration.

“Little sister, don’t ever let anyone tell you that it doesn’t,” Meinah responded. “Including yourself.”

The young woman smiled timidly. “Thank you.”

As Meinah started towards the back corner of the lounge, she heard the young woman call out “Hey, you dropped something! Out of your book!”

Meinah turned around to find two small, disheveled pieces of paper stapled together on the ground, which she assumed to be an old receipt of some sort. She picked them up and stuffed them into her jacket pocket to dispose of when she got home.

Once the talent showcase came to an end and the judges began to finalize their decisions, Meinah’s butterflies quickly turned to boulders while she awaited the winning announcements.

And just like that, again, she was hit with the weight of question and doubt as three different names were called one by one, none of which being Meinah’s. She instantly closed her eyes to fight the liquid release of her disappointment, took a deep breath, and went home.

As soon as Meinah entered the apartment, she dropped her keys and slid down onto the floor in tears. However, this time her spirit would only allow the weeping to last for one moment. Meinah remembered both the message from her grandmother and the words of the young woman at the lounge, then suddenly that same wave of peace came over her as she wiped her face and picked herself up from the ground. Although she didn’t know exactly what would happen moving forward, she knew that after what she had encountered that night--she couldn’t give up.

After pulling herself to her feet, Meinah looked down and noticed that the small, crumpled pieces of paper had fallen out of her jacket pocket. But when she bent down to pick them up, balled them up in one hand and prepared to shoot them across the room into the trash can...something within encouraged her to look at them first. As she unraveled the small papers and began to glance over the top piece, her eyes immediately started to water again once she realized that it was a personalized check made out to her for $91,478, signed and dated by Willomina J. Vaughn.

Meinah’s heart dropped as she exhaled with relief and began to cry out with gratitude. She could feel the weight of doubt that she had carried incessantly over the past months being lifted from her shoulders. Through the glaze of her tears, she then lifted the check to find another handwritten message hidden underneath in that distinctive, yet familiarly comforting style that simply read:

“Make room for your gifts...Because when you do, they will make room for you. I’m proud of you, Bean.”