“Well, you’re not signed to a label, so you should be taking every opportunity that comes your way.”
“Because you suggested it, right?” Orielle asked. Her words came out harsher than she intended them to, but she meant them.
Janelle went quiet. Not because she was done talking, but because she was trying to navigate the conversation in a direction that wouldn’t make her look like a villain. She wanted to be the hero in Orielle’s story since she couldn’t be one in her own.
“Yes, because I suggested it. And because I want the best for you. You always think someone is trying to control you. Has our relationship not progressed any?”
Orielle wanted to believe that it had, and on some days, she was hopeful. But then, Janelle would hit her with this passive-aggressive behavior, acting as if she deserved the Mother of the Year award. Between the two of her parents, she didn’t know who was worse.
Not only did she have one alcoholic parent, but Orielle had two. Technically, Janelle could no longer be placed in that category, considering she was seven years sober, but the damage had already been done. Her father, Orlando, was still putting a bottle to his lips ‘til this day. Every once in a while, she’d spot him out front of his favorite corner store when she visited her grandparents. Like her mama, Orlando would brag about Orielle being his daughter but hadn’t contributed to any part of her life besides impregnating Janelle. He’d even have the nerve to ask her for a few dollars.
It was sad. Orielle didn’t have sympathy for either of them. Janelle finally decided to get her life together and join a church when Orielle was twenty-one. She tried to do right by Orielle, but by then it was too late. Trying to figure out how to have a normal relationship with her daughter was harder than being sober, and some days, Janelle wanted to say fuck it, but she wasn’t giving up.
“I don’t know, Mama. That’s a question you need to ask yourself.”
Janelle’s answer would be yes because saying no would make her face the truth. She wasn’t ready for that. It was like everything she did for Orielle was only to make her look good. Or what she could brag about at work or in church. Even when she was younger, Orielle’s ideas and feelings were shut down; blocked out by shouting and being dismissed to her room. The verbal abuse crippled her. Then, when she showed no interest once her mama was sober enough to remember her name, she was being ungrateful, rebellious, and difficult.
So, no. In Orielle’s opinion, their relationship hadn’t progressed.
Quite frankly, if it never did, Orielle wouldn’t care.
“I only called to help,” Janelle said after a long pause. Refusing to acknowledge the question. “You say I don’t support you. Then, when I try to, I’m wrong.”
“I didn’t say you were wrong,” Orielle replied, sighing. “I said thank you. I meant it. I just… I need space to make decisions on my own terms. That’s all.”
“I’ll send you Mrs. Ashley’s number, then,” Janelle muttered. “You can do what you want with it.”
“Okay.”
“I hope you at least check it out.”
“I will.”
“Alright, then.”
There was a pause. That part of the call where things hovered betweenwe’re done talkingandI still want to say something, but I don’t know how.
“Talk to you later,” Janelle said finally.
“Later.”
And with that, the call ended.
Orielle stared at her phone for a long second before the screen went black. Her stomach felt tight, and her shoulders were tense. That was the thing with her mother. One phone callcould shift her whole mood and ruin her entire day. A day that had started off so good.
But she took a deep breath. And then another, centering herself like she knew how. Thankfully, she had a private yoga session with a group of sorority women in a few hours. It’d be needed. The text with Mrs. Ashley’s contact information came through, and Orielle saved her number before she forgot. She had no plans to call right away, and probably wouldn’t today, but she figured it was worth checking out. She wasn’t doing it for Janelle, but for herself. Opportunities to get her voice and music out there weren’t ones she was too good to pass up.
“Why have a gift and not share it with the world?” Orielle questioned, repeating what one of her viewers said. They’d made a valid point.
“Thank you so much, Dani. You always get me right,” Orielle said, smiling.
“You know it’s no problem. You shouted me that one time on your live, and the girls haven’t stopped shopping with me since.”
That made Orielle so happy. Dani, the owner of Curve Me, a store catering to people’s fitness and wellness journey, had some of the best athletic wear in the city. One day before a yoga session, Orielle had been on live rocking a turquoise halter and short set. The comments were flooded, asking her where she got it from, so of course, she plugged Dani’s business.
It was no sweat off her back, and she wasn’t the type to gatekeep, especially when it came to a Black woman-ownedbusiness. Now, when Dani dropped new collections, they were selling out in less than twenty-four hours, and her storefront was busier than she could’ve imagined. It wasn’t all Orielle’s doing, but she had contributed to her success, and she was happy to have done so.
“I love that for you and them so much. Let me find out I need to become a VIP member so I won’t miss anything,” Orielle teased, but was serious.
