And that’s me—a face transposed on cotton—sharing the features of the two people next to me. As happy and aliveas ever.
Jonah pays the vendor for five shirts (because we can’t forget about Aunt Amber), and Lo doesn't seem bothered in the least that her adult-size shirt will be too big for years to come.
The next vendor we stop at is at the behest of Jonah. There are cases upon cases of handmade jewelry featuring every shade of stone and gem under the rainbow. Loretta points to one wedged between velvet rows intermixed with other inexpensive rings.
“That one?” I ask.
She cannot stop her body from wiggling as I pluck the ring. It’s gold and adjustable, with four emerald-green stones that create a sparkling clover design. Jonah catches me slipping the ring on her index finger and tightening it to fit. He doesn’t say anything. Lo fans out her hand and bends her wrist, admiring its splendor.
“That one is lovely,” I say softly. “Do you think it will bring you good luck?”
Her eyes, the same color as the stones glinting on her finger, dazzle with magic.
“I think it will too,” I whisper.
A portly white woman with gray hair leans over the counter to speak to Lo. “That one wasmadefor you.”
Delta pops her head between us to see for herself. “Can I get one too?”
“I’m afraid that’s the last one.” The vendor sighs, but doesn’t appear to be that disappointed in Delta’s frown. “But... I do have a matching necklace.” She pulls a necklace from the rack on the next table, and dangles the fine gold chain in front of Delta, displaying the emerald green clover leaf pendant against the back of her hand.
Both Jonah and Delta whip their heads in my direction, and at the same time ask, “Can I?”
We leave the tent a minute later, the girls one piece ofjewelry richer, and Jonah eighty dollars poorer.
“Should we head back to our seats?” he asks, and flings back a handful of warm candied almonds he snagged for us. My girls’ mouths are full of said candied almonds, but they agree wordlessly. “Hold up,” Jonah says, and stops us again. “One more thing.”
We follow him into a tent where instrument straps cover every square inch.
“Everything you see here is handmade by me,” the vendor boasts in a southern accent. “And I can customize anything you want.”
Jonah casually points to me. “She’s looking for a strap.”
I have to close my eyes and bite my tongue because my mind immediately goes to an inappropriate place.
The young man behind the table doesn’t look the least bit phased. “Alright, let me help you. What kind of instrument?”
I smile and wave him off. “I don’t need one right now. I don’t even know where my mandolin is.”
“Mom, look how pretty this one is,” my daughter says from the other side. She holds out a woven strap and as I step closer, the details come into focus. All different shades of blue and purple stitched into striking florals. “You should get this one.”
“I have exactly that one in the size you need,” the man adds. “And I can stamp the leather buckles with any design you like right here.”
It is so pretty and reminds me of one my mom had, but I shouldn’t be buying a new strap when I don’t even know where my mandolin is or what shape it’s in. “Maybe another time,” I say.
Suddenly Jonah’s hand is tugging mine and he herds me a couple steps away. “Come on. Let me get that for you.”
“You’ve spent enough on us already today. I don’t need this.”
“First of all, no, I have not spent nearly enough on youthree today, so strike that from your excuses. And B, youdoneed this. You’ve reignited your passion, Renée! Let’s celebrate that with something new—somethingyouchoose.”
I didn’t have choice with my ex-husband. But I’ve been on my own for two years now. I’ve been the one to call the shots and design my life, and I’ve centered it around my daughters. It’s a natural instinct for parents to center their lives around their kids.
I think about what happened between me and Jonah in his living room the night after Delta’s party. This man pushed me out of my comfort zone and made me remember another love I once held. My music—and everything that touched it—was stripped away and weaponized by Greg.
Jonah saw it all and gave me the strength to play again.
I do need this strap. I need to start prioritizing the things that make me Renée and not just a mom.
