Page 112 of The Compass Series

AALIYAH

I t was December when I found the courage to call Marie.

The snowflakes fell softly overhead and melted seconds after they hit the streets of the Upper East Side.

The past few months had been a blur of me being in recovery and falling deeper in love with Connor.

Falling more in love with myself. If I’d learned anything over the past year, it was that loving oneself was truly the best act of rebellion anyone could partake in.

I wasn’t perfect. I still had flaws. Sometimes I judged others; sometimes I judged myself.

I nitpicked at my scars, and at times, I hated the number sitting against the scale.

Yet the greatest discovery of self-love was realizing you didn’t have to be perfect in order to be worthy of love, of respect, of the ability to grow each and every day.

The truest form of authentic love began when one could look in the mirror, see the flaws, and still accept yourself as a full being who deserved the highest level of happiness.

I knew it was important to work on myself before I could face my past. I had to create boundaries strong enough to keep me from allowing others to hurt me.

We planned to meet at our favorite coffee shop.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Connor asked as we sat in the back of his car.

I gave him a lopsided smile. “Yeah. This is something I have to do on my own. But can you wait for me? I’m not sure how this conversation will go or if I’ll be in and out. But...”

“I’ll be right here. I’ll wait for however long it takes.”

My lips landed against his, and his kiss gave me an extra dash of courage. That was what Connor’s love did for me. It made me stronger every single day.

I climbed out of the car, allowing the snow to sweep against my cheeks as I tightened the belt on my wool coat. Marie was sitting inside the coffee shop already, staring down at her hands which were wrapped around a cup of coffee.

As I pushed the shop’s door open, a bell dinged overhead, noting my arrival. Marie instantly looked toward me, her eyes filled with pain.

Those eyes.

How didn’t I notice before how much they looked like mine?

Her eyes, and nose, and the slight dimple in her chin.

A wave of nausea hit me, but I didn’t run away. I allowed myself to feel the discomfort because no feelings were unwarranted.

“Hi,” she breathed out, going to stand.

“No, it’s fine. Keep sitting,” I said, sliding into the chair across from her.

She eased back down and returned her hands to her coffee cup. “I was going to order you a drink, but then again, I wasn’t certain you were going to show.”

“It’s fine. I don’t need anything.”

“I was surprised when you messaged me about meeting.”

“Yeah. Sorry it took so long. I needed time.”

“I get it, Aaliyah, I do. I’m just happy that you called. I know you probably think the worst things about me. And I know my reasoning doesn’t seem to make sense, but?—”

“Are you still with him? With Walter?”

Her eyes flashed with guilt. That was her answer. No words were needed.

“Now, I know it probably seems pathetic…” she started to explain.

“He’s a monster.”

“I can see why you’d think that, but…I mean, he…” She took a deep inhalation and released it slowly. “He’s all I’ve ever truly known.”

“Make a new story. Learn something else.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I didn’t say it was easy, but it’s always worth it.

” Over the past few weeks, I thought about what I’d ask her.

I thought about the questions that I’d have, the pain that I believed she could make dissipate with her replies, the missing pieces of my soul that maybe she could’ve filled.

But as I sat in front of her, I realized our conversation wasn’t about me. It was about her.

I’d already figured out how to love myself.

Marie didn’t even know where to start. It turned out self-love wasn’t given to every individual by a certain age.

Some people died without ever discovering themselves.

Some individuals never were able to stare at their reflections and know that they were loved.

That thought alone made me sad because I knew with a few different choices in my life, I could’ve been her. That could’ve been me. I was no better than any other person who didn’t know how to love themselves.

“I forgive you,” I whispered. “For your choices you made. For giving me up. For scheming to bring me back into your life. For the lies, the scandal. I forgive you.”

Her eyes flashed with hope as she reached across the table, placing her hands over mine. “You have no clue how much that means to me. Aaliyah, this is it. This can be a new start for you and me. We can?—”

“No.” I slowly pulled my hands away from her. “You misunderstood. I forgive you, Marie. But that doesn’t mean I can open myself up to having you in my life.”

Forgiving someone didn’t mean you had to invite them back into your world. Sometimes forgiving meant finally letting them go. Forgiveness meant cutting the final cord of one’s connection to your soul.

“I hope you find happiness, Marie. I do. I hope you start your journey to loving yourself. I hope you have more good days than bad, and I hope you laugh. I hope you find joy in the darkness. And I hope you leave him because even though you’ve hurt me, that doesn’t mean you deserve to be hurt, too.

If you allow it, Walter will hurt you until the day you die. ”

“Maybe I deserve that.” She lowered her head and stared at her hands.

I placed mine against hers. “No one deserves that.”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life.”

“That’s okay. Begin again now. Can I ask why you stay with a man like him?”

“At one point, he was my everything. I was just waiting for him to come back to me… To be the man I thought he’d always been. I’m waiting for something that I know was probably always a lie.”

“Find your ugly truths,” I said, thinking about the conversation Connor had with me months ago. “It’s better to sit with the ugly truths than bathe in the beautiful lies.”

She gave me a halfway grin before wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Aaliyah, for everything. For hurting you. For leaving you. For all the bad choices I’ve made.”

I smiled. “Thank you for that.” I glanced toward the front window, where Connor’s car was still waiting. “I should probably get going…”

“He proposed to you,” she mentioned, staring down at the ring on my finger.

“Yes. A few months ago.”

“Congratulations. He’s a good one.”

“Yes. He is.” I stood up from the table. “I wish you the best, Marie.”

“I wish you the same.”

I turned to begin walking away and paused when I heard Marie call out my name. I looked back to see her standing with trembling hands.

“Cole was a good man. A powerful musician who loved the written word. He smiled like the sun and loved like the moonbeams. He laughed like you, tossing his head back in full chuckles. You have his nose and his Cupid’s bow.

He loved trying new things, and I know for a fact that if he knew you existed, he would’ve never let you go.

” Her lips parted as tears began falling down her cheeks.

“At Your Best, You Are Loved,” she said, making me raise an eyebrow, confused by her words.

“It was the song Cole was playing as I walked into the jazz bar that first night. There’s a version by The Isley Brothers, but the version I knew was by?—"

“Aaliyah,” I muttered, feeling a wave of emotions. I’d listened to that song a million times, wondering if it was crafted for me.

She swallowed hard and nodded. “At your best, Aaliyah, you are loved.”

I could count the number of facts I knew about my mother on multiple hands.

She wore Chanel No. 5 and liked her coffee black.

She loved to read, and when she smiled, you’d see all of her teeth.

I’d gotten my eyes from her and my ears.

She named me after the gone-too-soon musician Aaliyah, who I listened to throughout my teenage years.

She dedicated “At Your Best, You Are Loved” to me.

My mother loved brunch, and hated peas—like me. She cried during commercials, and ate a salad with every meal. She couldn’t stand Brussels sprouts, and the way she loved? She probably loved so much it hurt her. She gave her love to people who didn’t deserve it. She was flawed—like all humans.

She had tight coils of hair dipped in black ink. Her laugh was infectious, the kind that made others chuckle just from the enjoyment of her sounds. She danced, too—poorly, like me, but oh, how her body swayed. And she was sad. Maybe sadder than most. Maybe lonelier, too.

I hugged her. I pulled her into me and held on tight. She held me back, and as she began to cry into my shoulder, I held her some more. I knew once I let go, we’d probably never speak again. I’d move on with my life, and she’d hopefully begin to discover her own.

So I held on a little longer because I wasn’t completely ready to let her go.

“Thank you, Aaliyah,” she whispered.

“You matter,” I softly said back. “You matter, Marie.”

I said the words I’d wished someone would’ve said to me when I was a child. I said the words I’d craved when I was sitting in the realm of loneliness. I gave her the words that she was never able to give to me. Then I let her go.

I walked back to the car where Connor hopped out and opened the door for me. He looked at me with concern in his eyes. The care he showed me made the cracked pieces of my soul begin to heal again.

He didn’t say a word, but he wrapped his arms around me as the snow fell overhead. He knew I needed the comfort, and he delivered it without question. When we arrived home, I still felt a bit emotional.

I hadn’t spoken to Connor about the conversation I held with Marie, and I didn’t think I had to share all of the details.

Not yet, at least. I needed to sit in them a bit on my own, but I placed the song “At Your Best (You Are Loved)” on his living room speakers.

The music filled the penthouse, and I stood up from the couch.

I closed my eyes and began swaying back and forth alone.

Tears began to fall down my cheeks as I moved to the song.

My emotions of the day started to catch up to me, and before I could crumple, before the ache in my chest could grow too large to handle, Connor caught me.

He pulled me into his arms and began slow dancing with me.

He didn’t ask questions. He simply swayed his body with mine.

He slow danced to a song that he didn’t even know the backstory to. I lay my head against his shoulder as the tears fell freely.

“Feel it all, Aaliyah, you are safe here,” he said, holding me close to his body. The song played on a loop, and we kept dancing throughout the night. His lips fell against my forehead, and he whispered, “At your best, you are loved.”

He healed me by simply existing in my world. He was my person.

My lover.

My friend.

My family.

And at his best, he was loved.