When The Magnolias Bleed

Chapter 1

Noa

It felt good to be back in Chicago, because New York looked and felt coldest after funerals and not immediately after.

Not during the condolences or final arraignment paperwork or the dry casseroles, cakes and pies that get dropped off by neighbors pretending that grief could be fed into something smaller.

No, the real coldness that comes is afterward, once everybody leaves and goes back to their daily routines and the services are over.

My mother always expressed that she didn’t want a funeral service or memorial.

She didn’t even want the news of her passing to be shared with extended family and friends, which is something I never understood but had to respect.

The only people that knew were her neighbors and clients that she worked with.

Those were the people who she interacted with daily and even though there were more than a handful of them, I still had to honor her wishes and cremate her without a service.

Yet it was obvious that she was loved because they all either reached out to give their condolences, came by her condo bearing gifts out of respect or sent flowers.

Going to New York to the place my mom raised me and where she took her last breath felt heavy.

New York was the only home away from home that I knew of, and instead of it feeling like home I couldn’t take being there.

It made me stop and think about how my mom always felt about her hometown of Magnolia Graves, Georgia.

She moved to New York while she was pregnant with me, so I never got to experience what it was like there outside of the pictures I’d seen.

I now understand how she felt about not ever wanting to go back or even to discuss it, because it apparently left a scar that was too deep, too intense for her to delve into.

That was what New York was now to me so making it back to my home in Chicago should’ve felt like a relief, but it didn’t.

The silence that came from her loss finally settled in deep enough for the truth to breathe.

My mom was dead and somehow, I was expected to just continue moving like nothing catastrophic had just happened, but it had.

I was now alone in this world, aside from Julian, my long-distance boyfriend, all I had was myself.

Staring out of the large window in my high rise in Lincoln Park, rain slid down the window in silver streaks while I stood barefoot and naked underneath my short black chiffon robe in the middle of my living room surrounded by half-packed boxes and old photographs.

Looking down, my leather camera case that also contained the urn that my mom’s ashes were in, rested near my feet.

I hadn’t let it leave my sight in three days, and my boyfriend Julian noticed.

But, of course, he did. Even though our relationship was long-distance we’d been together a little over six years and in that time, he always found a way to show me just how in tune with all things me any chance he could.

We didn’t always start out long-distance; we met back when I still lived in New York.

I left New York to pursue my degree in journalism and photography at DePaul University in Chicago and since he’s a successful financial lawyer in New York and already settled in his career, I moved and he stayed back, which to some would’ve been hard to do, but for us, it worked out perfectly.

“Hey sunshine, I see you didn’t eat the breakfast I cooked, and you didn’t eat last night. You haven’t been eating and I’m starting to get concerned because I’ll be flying back soon,” Julian said as he quietly approached me from behind.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he slid his hands into my robe and rested them on the mound between my legs.

His embrace felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket, his touch alone always gave comfort to my soul, and his voice carried the calm steadiness that even made strangers trust him in the courtrooms. It was what made me fall in love with him somewhere between New York winters, missing each other due to our distance and late-night phone calls after homework sessions and school classes.

I looked over my shoulder and just as my face turned toward him, he placed his full lips against mine. “Ion have much of an appetite, babe. Food is the last thing on my mind.”

“I know you miss your mom, but if you don’t eat, you’re gonna make yourself sick. You know I gotta head back to New York for court, but you got me afraid to leave you like this.”

“I’m a big girl, and I don’t need a babysitter. You know I been taking care of myself for a while now.”

“I’m not saying you need a babysitter and I get you’re grieving but you still have to take care of yourself. You gotta eat even if it’s just a little bit here and there. I’m serious, I’m worried about you, sunshine.”

“I’ll be okay. I just have so much on my mind. Her death was so sudden, and I have no answers as to what happened or why. I have so many unanswered questions and going through all of her things, and the letter she left me makes it hard for me to concentrate or think about anything else.”

Julian held me in his arms for a few minutes longer than I turned all the way around to face him, breaking our embrace. The idea of him going back to New York was unsettling and that was a first because I was used to it, it’s just this time felt different.

He came back to Chicago with me last night so that I wouldn’t have to travel alone considering the circumstances.

When we got in, I was so mentally exhausted, I only had time to take a shower and go to bed, the only affection we shared was him holding me in his arms as I slept.

He was standing there shirtless with his expensive gray slacks on that were still perfectly pressed despite the fact that he had clearly slept in them.

Julian was the kind of man that mothers prayed their daughters would find and marry.

My mom absolutely adored him. She always said that he reminded her of my dad, who was someone that I’d never know because he died before I was born.

Julian was safe, successful and predictable in all the ways life rarely allowed.

For years, I’d convinced myself that predictable was what I wanted and needed in my life because it was safe.

“You’ve been saying that you’re not hungry since last night. I just don’t want you getting yourself sick, especially since you’re about to leave-”

His voice trailed off and he surrendered, not wanting to remind me yet again of what I was dealing with.

Instead, he kissed my forehead and gave me a concerned look and in turn I gave a half-smile before distracting myself and crouching beside another open box.

Most of my mother’s belongings smelled like lavender, sage and old paper.

The rest smelled like secrets. Picking up a manilla envelope, I opened it and inside was another stack of photographs that were wrapped in white tissue paper that was so old it was starting to turn a beige color.

There were pictures of a cemetery gate, large oak trees with hanging Spanish moss, Magnolia plants in full bloom, wrought iron fences and stained-glass church windows.

Every image felt darker knowing that my mom spent her entire life refusing to speak about her hometown of Magnolia Graves.

It was a place that she clearly felt wasn’t safe enough to raise me at.

Or it could be that the memory of my dad was there and too hard for her to bear.

Either way, she claimed it was to start a new life, but something in my soul always told me there was more to the story than she wanted to share.

“Noa.”

Something in Julian’s tone broke my train of thought and made me look up.

Concern was sitting heavy behind his eyes.

That was one of the reasons I loved him so much.

He was always there for me, showing me that he’d do anything for me.

His actions proved that he loved me securing his position as my safe space.

“The decision is totally yours, but I really think you should wait a few days before going down there,” he said gently.

“I think now is the perfect time because things are so fresh. There’s nothing for me here right now since I took a leave of absence from work and I definitely don’t want to go back to New York.

Ion think I ever want to go back there to be honest. Even though I’ve never been to Magnolia Graves, I feel like I’m being pulled there because New York just doesn’t feel the same anymore now that my mom is gone. ”

“What about me…what about us?”

His response came too fast. I couldn’t do anything but look away first and the silence that followed felt dangerous.

Not in an angry way, just an honest way.

Before I could respond, outside, thunder rolled low across the Chicago skyline.

It was a gloomy day, and it matched perfectly with how I was feeling on the inside.

Reaching for the leather camera case, my fingers curled around the worn-out strap. I could feel Julian’s eyes watching me intently.

“You still carrying her with you?”

The question hollowed something inside my chest because until now, he’d never asked to see the urn my mom’s ashes were in or even spoke on them.

That camera case belonged to my mom long before it belonged to me.

The leather was worn near the handle from years of travel and restless hands.

Inside of the case, beneath old film canisters and photography cloths rested a matte-black cylinder wrapped carefully in a dark linen which was where my mom would spend the rest of her eternity.

She was reduced to ashes that were now hidden inside the same case that she once carried across three states trying to outrun her hometown.

The irony felt cruel, yet it made sense.

“I really wish I knew why she hated that town so much,” I whispered finally.

Julian crouched down next to me, then placed his hand on my thigh. “Did she ever tell you why specifically?”