Page 165 of The Compass Series

STELLA

O ne Saturday afternoon, I was surprised by a visitor I didn’t expect at all.

“Aaliyah, what are you doing here?” I asked as she stood on my front porch. “Oh, my goodness! Your baby!” I swooned, looking into the car seat she was carrying. My heart burst into emotions as I looked down at the beautiful baby before me.

“Just over six weeks old now. Can we come in?” she asked.

“Of course, come on,” I said, gesturing for her to enter the space.

I closed the door behind me, then led the two to the living room. “Is it okay if I hold him? Can I get you some water? Oh gosh, let me wash my hands first,” I said, walking over to the kitchen. I washed my hands, grabbed a glass of water, and then went back to the living room.

“Here you go,” I said, handing her the water.

I sat beside her as she placed the glass on the table, then she began unbuckling her bundle of joy from the car seat.

She lifted him from the seat and placed him in my arms. “He’s perfect,” I said, feeling overwhelmed.

I knew I cried easily before, but now with being pregnant, all the emotions hit me that much harder.

“He really is something else. Grant Damian Roe,” she said. “My sun and moon.”

I knew his first name was Grant, after a man who seemed to be a father figure to Aaliyah as she grew up. But they gave him Damian’s name, too. That was enough to get my emotions going as little Grant wrapped his hand around my thumb.

“You miss him,” Aaliyah observed.

Every day , I thought to myself.

I smiled at her, and she could read my answer without me saying a word out loud.

“He misses you, too,” she swore.

That made my chest ache. It had been two weeks since I’d last seen Damian, and my mind had been racing every single day.

I’d wanted to reach out to him, call him, tell him how much I wanted him to come back home.

To come back to me. But I couldn’t do it.

I had my own child to think of now. I couldn’t have Damian in his life, and then when things got rocky, he’d run away.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, Aaliyah, because I am, but what are you doing here?”

“I’m staying here with you. Well, at least until things smooth over.

You’re seven months pregnant, Stella, and I’m sure you could use a friend over these next two months.

So, since I’m on maternity leave from work, and Connor is helping Damian with the real estate company over the next few months, I figured I could stop in and help you out.

I know Maple is here for you, too, but I figured another friendly face couldn’t hurt. ”

“You don’t have to do that, Aaliyah,” I said, feeling my voice shake. “I don’t want to take up your time.”

“You’re right. I don’t have to do this, but I want to. Besides, I owe Damian. Remember when he stayed by my side when Connor and I were going through a rough patch? Well, this is me returning the favor.”

I lowered my head.

Aaliyah gave me a comforting smile. “You’re scared.”

“Yes.”

“You’re scared because you know what happens…people and things leave. Like your mother and Kevin.”

“It has nothing to do with them,” I said.

“I think it does. The people you loved the most are gone, and then you had the bad people like your ex and your stepmothers, who probably told you that you didn’t deserve love. Plus, the miscarriages… It hurts when love is taken away from you.”

I stared down at the beautiful baby boy looking up at me.

“I never knew real love could hurt so deeply from the idea of it going away. And now…with my baby, and with Damian…I’m scared, Aaliyah.

If I lose them…if they are taken away…” My eyes shut as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“I can’t keep losing the people I love.”

“That’s the thing about life…” Aaliyah wiped my tears away and cupped my face in her hands.

“With every life’s story comes an ending.

We all start the same way and end with the same fade to black.

But the most important part, the most meaningful times, aren’t at the beginning or the end of the stories.

It’s the content we create in the middle.

It’s the moments that become memories and the small things that become our greatest stories.

It’s the way we love and the way we are loved.

Life isn’t about the beginning and end. It’s about all the good things in-between.

That’s what makes it worth it. That’s why we love. For the in-between.”

“I’m scared, Aaliyah. I’m so unbelievably scared.”

“I know.” She took Grant from my arms and placed him in his car seat.

Next, she took my hands in hers and squeezed them.

“That’s why you need friends to stand next to you and make sure you’re able to get to the other side.

This is just a part of the story where things look a little dark, but in the end, everything’s going to be okay. ”

“How is he?” I asked.

“He misses you.” She smiled. “But he’s okay. He told me to tell you something, too.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re more than enough.”

Aaliyah stayed with me for days, taking care of both Grams and me. She went above and beyond while still raising a child of her own. Connor, of course, stayed in the house, too, being the father and husband that Aaliyah deserved.

Watching them both together only made my heart long for Damian even more. When Saturday came, I’d find a package of blueberry scones on my front porch with a note.

Still here, Cinderstella.

Always here.

-Beast

For the first time in a while, I found myself standing at the coastline, watching as the waves moved in and out.

I took a deep breath as my swollen ankles felt the kisses of the ocean washing over me.

I knew exactly why I’d avoided the ocean for the past few weeks.

The ocean stood as comfort. The ocean calmed my soul.

The ocean was Mama’s way of reminding me that everything was going to be okay.

A part of me was certain I didn’t deserve that comfort.

Another part of me believed that the waves were filled with lies after all the heartbreak and fear I’d experienced, but the truth of it all was no matter how afraid I’d been, I still deserved comfort.

I deserved to have something to lean into when I was scared, something to feel, touch, experience when I was at my lowest point.

Especially then.

“Mama, I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered, lowering myself to a sitting position.

My toes dug into the sand as I stared out into the afternoon.

“I don’t know how to feel everything without feeling insane.

I became good at faking happiness. I’ve become great at putting on a mask and being sure that everyone around me felt good so they wouldn’t even have the opportunity to notice that my own happiness was a mirage.

I don’t know where to start or what to do…

so help me, Mama. Help me figure out how to understand my emotions… help me find peace.”

The waves splashed against me as tears fell down my cheeks. I sat there for hours, uncertain what to do, or how to move forward. Then a nudge of comfort hit my mind.

The letter.

I opened my eyes as those two words hit my mind. “The letter,” I muttered to myself, slowly pulling my toes from beneath the sand.

I stood and headed back to my bedroom. I grabbed the envelope that had been sitting on my nightstand since the beginning of November.

Sitting in my hands was the letter given to me the day of Kevin’s funeral.

The same letter I hadn’t been able to bring myself to read yet.

As I unfolded the letter within the envelope, I held my breath.

It felt like I was saying goodbye to the only father I’d ever known.

Yet, I felt as if it was also the key to being able to ease some of the heaviness resting against my soul.

Stella,

I’ve had to write a lot of letters to different individuals, but this one is the hardest because it is going to the most important person of all.

If I know you, and I believe I do, you’ll probably push this letter to the side for a while.

You’ll feel that if you open it, you’ll be forced to face the fact that I am truly gone.

But you’ll open it at some point. I bet it’s exactly at the right time, too.

I snickered to myself as I read his words. As I studied his cursive. As I missed his physical existence. I kept reading.

I feel as if I owe you the deepest of apologies because I’ve failed you.

I’ve failed you time and time again by bringing women around who were not worthy of knowing you.

I searched day in and day out for this missing piece, and for some reason, I thought it existed within Denise, Rosalina, and Catherine.

In parts, it did. Sometimes, it was seen in the way they laughed or the way they dressed.

Sometimes, in the way they drank their glasses of wine or the way they danced.

There were mere snippets of what I was searching for, and I tried to force it to be something that it wasn’t.

I tried to create a love story in a place where true love didn’t exist.

In those women, I’d hoped to find her—your mother. My true love, my best friend.

I was searching for her heartbeats because I’d missed them each day.

I was searching for a partner to make my heart skip the way she had.

It became clear how toxic and hurtful that had been not only to the women who I tried to use to recreate that feeling but also to the little girl who was forced to be around said women.

A part of me believes that they all knew I was searching for your mother within them, and their bitterness toward you was probably a response to that.

I apologize for the damage I’ve caused. I apologize for the years of trauma that may have led you to experience yourself.