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I step out on the balcony and watch the sunrise over the mountain range that cuts through my backyard as I sip my coffee. I am very rarely home, I am usually touring or in the studio, or performing somewhere, so this is a rare treat.
“Come back to bed,” the feminine voice carries to me from across the room, and even though she is trying to sound seductive, to my ears, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and I am ready to get rid of her.
“I have a long day ahead of me. The car will be here to get you in thirty minutes, so I suggest you hurry up,” I tell her without turning around. Bringing her to my house was a mistake, but last night was not a good night for me, and I was not thinking straight.Happy Birthday, Soul,I think as I hear the woman climb out of my bed calling me all kinds of heartless bastards as she scrambles around to get dressed. Truth be told, I don’t even remember what she looks like, let alone what she felt like. All I know is I want her gone…Now.
I got everything I dreamed of and more, everything but her. The two years I spent with Kaleidoscope Records taught me a lot, but I never really gained any traction. My music never took off. Oftentimes, it didn’t even get played on the radio, and no matter what I said to them, they would not listen to anything I had to say to try to help my career, so I changed my tactic and focused on learning. When the two years were up, I elected not to resign. I shopped around to other record companies. Several companies offered to sign me, but I decided to go with Soundwave Records, a newer record company that didn’t have any hit artists on their label. I brought Andre, Daniel, and Gary on board. Daniel played drums, Gary played guitar, and Andre played bass. The first song we recorded wasIn the Absence of You,the song Soul wrote all those years ago, and it went Certified Diamond, opening the door for not just us but also Soundwave Records. Overnight Velvet Harmony was a household name, and we continued to release hit after hit, more than half were written by Soul.I got everything I wanted, everything except her, I think as I hear the door close behind what’s her name?
I make my way to the bathroom to shower and get dressed for the day. I am meeting up with the guys so we can begin on our next album. I said I had a lot to do, but in reality, this is a downtime for me and I plan on enjoying it. The shower was amazing. I wrap the towel around my waist as I pad to the closet to find something to wear. Halfway there, my phone rang, diverting my trek.
“Hello,” I answer without looking at who was calling.
“Gabriel,”
“Mom, is everything okay?” I ask immediately on alert. She and I have a set time we call to make sure my father doesn’t realize his wife is talking to his ‘dead son.’ He has never forgiven me for walking away to follow my dreams, and he’s never talked to me again. To him I was dead. My mother, on the other hand, refused to cut off her only child and made a way to keep in contact with me. I sent money to her, talked to her every week without fail, and went to her for advice and prayer, and she was always there. In the beginning, she would give me updates about Soul until I told her one day, “Mom, don’t. I can’t. Please stop talking to me about her.” I honestly begged. It ripped me to shreds. Soul was she who could not be named.
“Everything is fine, baby. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Name it, Mom,”
“Come home.”
“No,” the response was like a crack of a whip in a silent room.
“Gabriel,”
“They’re both there, mom. Don’t ask me to do this,”
“Yes, they are both here, but you have never been a coward. It’s been almost two decades. It’s time to come home. Your father is retiring, and you need to be here for that,”
“So you want to resurrect the dead?” I ask.
“Gabriel, stop it. How long are you going to let the past influence your present and future? Come home. I would hate for something to happen to your father before you two had the chance to talk and make things right.”
“And if he still doesn’t want to talk?”
“Then you’ve done your part, and the burden is on him.”
“Mom,” I start, feeling like a teenager again.
“Listen, the retirement and passing the torch ceremony will be in two weeks. I hope to see you there. I love you, Gabriel Jibril.”
“I love you too, Mom,” I say, hanging up and resuming my path to the closet to get dressed. I push the request to the back of my mind as I go about my day.
Soul
Pastor Hall is retiring today, and he will pass the mantel to his Assistant Pastor. All the churches in the denomination in the city have been invited, and our choir was asked to sing. The choir I am over, which has won several awards and has performed all over the U.S., will perform in front of our presiding Bishop today. I wrote the song, and the musicians put music to it. I have come a long way from the girl who could hear the words but not the melody, I can hear it all now. I am not only over the choir, but I am in line to become the Assistant Pastor, the first woman assistant pastor in our jurisdiction. I grab my robe, keys, and purse and head to my car so I am not late for this afternoon’s appointment. Pulling out of the garage, I head to the church. The radio is on, playing a commercial about a concert coming to our city. I tune it out, going over the songs I’ll be leading in my head as I drive until his voice rips me out of my internal concert. Our song is playing,In the Absence of You,and I want to rip my sound system out to chunk it out of the window.
When the song was first released I remember sitting speechless listening to Gabe sing about our love lasting over the distance and years. I didn’t realize I was crying until my mom came in rushing to me asking what was wrong. Nothing went as planned, at least not for me but Gabe got everything he wanted. I turn the radio off, electing to sing instead and before long I am at the church.
The church is packed, and the choir stand is so full I am forced to sit next to my mom until it is time for us to sing. There were a lot of other choirs and solos, but they left us for last, one selection before the speaker and one after. Our musicians get on their instruments, as I stand in front of the pulpit facing the choir, the music begins. We sang our hearts out. We sang so much and so well and with so much conviction the speaker never preached because everyone was too busy praising. The four to five-minute song turned into a thirty to forty-five-minute praise break. By the time our Bishop got up to speak, he simply said, “The word has been spoken,” and opened up the floor for remarks about Pastor Hall. The church erupted in surprised gasps as someone made their way from the back to the front of the church, and it was then that I came face to face with Gabriel Jabril Hall for the first time in almost two decades.
“I have some words to say about my father,” he started, and I had to remember to breathe. My chest was tight, my head hurt, and I felt like I was going to be sick. My mother reached over to grab my hand, and it was like a port in a storm for me.
“This man that you all are here to celebrate, the same man who raised and loved me, but I found out it was with conditions. This man who speaks about forgiveness every week in his pulpit but is a hypocrite in his own house. A man who would disown his own son because he wanted to follow his dreams the same way he followed his. A man who ripped his only family apart because he put his desires and wants about everyone else. Hopefully, the next pastor of this church lives what he preaches, unlike my father,” he says, returning the mike to the stand and walking off as fast as he came but not before leveling a stare at me so intense, I am forced to look away from it’s force. Dear gawd, if I thought the man was fine before, time and money have been more than kind to him because he is gorgeous, the epitome of a rock star. The church erupts as he walks away, and it takes the Bishop several minutes to gain control back, and once he does, he ends the remarks portion and hurries through the rest of the service. The entire time I struggle to regain my composure. Who called him back home?
??
CHAPTER10
