That comment hit her in the chest. Damn near restricted her breathing. This wasn’t the first time she’d been told that, but for some reason, it hit differently today. She kept that comment to herself. And the next one, which almost made her frown.
“You know damn well your real hair isn’t ginger. Show us who you really are...”
Orielle almost laughed. Instead, she smiled.
“I’ve been on here with y’all long enough. Thank y’all for joining. My new EP is titled ‘Feel Away.’ For those who were asking in the comments. You can search my name on all music platforms, and it will pop up. I may get on here later in the week, but don’t?—”
Before she could complete her sentence, an incoming call from the last person she expected ended her live. Even with her phone on do not disturb, Janelle still found a way to get through. Sighing, Orielle tapped the green phone icon.
“Hello, Mother,” she greeted plainly—sarcastically.
“Well, hello to you, too. It only took me one hundred times to get through. Am I blocked?”
You should be.That’s what she wanted to say.
“No. When you block someone, their call can’t come through. My phone was on do not disturb,” Orielle explained.
“Mm,” Janelle grunted. “Well, you don’t need to put it on that when people are trying to reach you.”
There was no use in explaining the meaning of not wanting to be disturbed to her mother. Janelle had this entitlement complex syndrome that Orielle would never understand. Like every call was supposed to be answered, every request be fulfilled, and every complaint be received with grace. She could’ve taken on any other non-clinical diagnosis besides that one.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. There must be something wrong for you to be calling me.”
It was always the same thing. Had been that way for years. A circular conversation with no rhythm and no desire to catch the beat. Their relationship had been strained for so long that Orielle wasn’t sure it had ever been whole. She tried her best not to harbor any resentment toward her, but Janelle made it easy for her to do so.
“Nothing is wrong. Why do you always think negatively when it comes to me?” Janelle asked. Some days, it was hard to decipher the hurt in her tone.
Should I not?Orielle kept her thoughts tucked away, where they wouldn’t cause more friction. It was best that way sometimes. It kept the peace she was handed in microdoses when it came to Janelle. She wasn’t guarded for no reason.
“No reason,” she murmured instead. “What’s going on, though, Mama? I was in the middle of something.”
“Well, I guess I won’t keep you longer than I already have,” Janelle said. The passive aggression in her tone almost made Orielle hang up. “I was just calling to tell you, Mrs. Ashley from my church needs singers for an event she has coming up.”
Orielle blinked slowly. “Okay…”
She had no clue who Ashley was.
“A while back, I told her that you can sing, and she must’ve looked you up. She asked me to tell you to give her a call if you were interested.”
Seconds of silence filled the line.
“Okay. I appreciate that,” Orielle finally said.
“You don’t sound like it.”
“I said thank you, Mama.”
Janelle grunted. That was her go-to noise before displaying her disappointment for the conversation not going her way.
“But do you mean it?”
Orielle bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming and trained her eyes on the black and white pictures on her wall. The frames held her top ten favorite female vocalists. They were a reminder and inspiration of who she could be and what a blessing their voices were to this world. She refrained from speaking quickly. God knew she was trying not to let the pettiness win today.
Knowing her mama was about to give her a headache she didn’t ask for, Orielle removed the kinky straight ginger wig from her head and hung it up on the mannequin head. The color was so pretty against her copper-kissed complexion, and a way to disguise who she was.
Some people knew, but she loved keeping the mystery of her appearance from the fans who weren’t truly aware of what she looked like yet. Plus, when she sang, she felt like another person. So, the wig was fitting. Underneath it were two messy braids to the back that needed to be redone. For now, she just wanted to let her scalp breathe.
“I do. I’m grateful you called me for this opportunity. I get approached for these types of things all the time, so I’ll check it out. Not every event is meant for me.”
