Page 63 of The Compass Series

AALIYAH - TWO YEARS LATER

I could count the number of facts I knew about my mother on one hand.

Two fingers, as a matter of fact: I knew she gave birth to me, and I knew she gave me my name.

That was the extent of my knowledge about the woman who brought me into the world.

Everything else, I made up in my mind, millions of fictional stories I told myself throughout the years.

For example, maybe I’d gotten my eyes from her, or perhaps my nose.

Maybe she had named me after the gone-too-soon musician Aaliyah, which was why I listened to her soundtracks throughout my teenage years, wondering if my mother would’ve dedicated a certain song to me.

My fictional mother loved brunch, which was why I found a new brunch spot each week, and she loved to travel, too.

I didn’t have much time or money to travel the way I wished I could’ve, but I had a vision board with photographs of Greece, Spain, and Bora Bora hanging over my desk at home.

Fake Mom must’ve hated spicy things, she couldn’t stand Brussels sprouts, and the way she loved?

She probably loved so much it hurt her. She loved me so much she let me go.

At least those were the lies I told myself.

In my thoughts, she had tight coils of hair dipped in black ink.

Her laughter 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.

Sometimes, I pretended she was African royalty and was forced to give me up after an affair with some B-list Hollywood actor.

They’d met on a Roman holiday and fallen in lust within days.

Then he’d left her behind to pursue his dreams of becoming an A-list star.

At least those were the stories I’d tell myself throughout my adolescence.

I didn’t create many stories about her now that I was in my early twenties.

Most of the time, I only thought about her whenever a big life event happened, during which I wished to have a mother by my side.

I wondered how she would’ve felt about how my life was shaping up recently.

I wondered if she would’ve been proud of the choices I was making that afternoon.

Get out of your head, Aaliyah, and pull yourself together.

“You can’t be serious,” Maiv said, staring at me as if I were the most idiotic woman to ever exist in the world.

“You’re quitting your job here, at Passion Magazine , a position any sane human would kill for, in order to—I’m sorry, explain your reason again,” she said as she waved her hand toward her head as if trying to recollect my words.

“To get married to my fiancé. I recently learned we’ll be moving to California full-time, and since we’re getting married, I figured it would be best to be in the same location as newlyweds,” I explained as my stomach twisted in knots.

The disapproval of my answer and the way her lips turned upside down made me want to vomit. With one look, she made me feel like a child who’d misbehaved. In reality, the only misbehaving I’d done was falling in love.

Maiv Khang was terrifying. She was one of the most successful women in all of New York, but completely coldhearted and a hard one to read—which was ironic because she ran a magazine about following one’s passion in life.

We covered athletes, scientists, politicians, social businesses, restaurants, etc.

Anything that had a passion behind it, we were writing top-of-the-line articles on the subject.

You would think someone who ran such a business would, oh, I don’t know, be a bit passionate themselves.

Not Maiv, though. She always appeared empty. Bored of life. She did a fantastic job with the magazine, but her people skills were yikes.

Maiv’s hair was gray and always pulled back into a perfect bun.

She wore her most expensive jewels on a daily basis, and although she was in her seventies, everyone who worked for Passion assumed she would never step down from her CEO position to pass the company on to her daughter, Jessica.

She was more than willing to hold on as tight as she could, like Queen Elizabeth, while Jessica was a solid Prince Charles.

“So you’re quitting your job at the top magazine line in the world to go be a housewife for some guy?” she asked, but it came off as more of a disdainful statement.

“Not just for some guy—for Jason, my fiancé.”

“You’re young. What is this, your third fiancé? Fourth?”

I snickered until I saw the seriousness in her stare. I cleared my throat and moved around in my seat. “Um, my first actually.”

She rolled her eyes again and waved her hand in dismissal—again. “Never quit a job for the first man who proposes to you. Not the second or third either. Seventh maybe, but that depends on his status.”

I smiled an uncertain grin and shrugged. “Well, I think I’m going to take this chance with Jason.”

She laughed.

Yup. Maiv laughed out loud—a sound I hadn’t known she was able to create. “How long have you been in a relationship?” she questioned.

“We are going on a year and a half.”

The way she burst into a laughing fit almost made me want to cry. Tact wasn’t her strong suit.

Please go back to the nonlaughing boss I know and fear.

“Well, it’s your life. You’re free to make all the mistakes you want, but remember, each mistake turns into a forehead wrinkle, and Botox is expensive.” She waved me away and went back to reading whatever it was that sat in front of her.

“Um, okay…but I do have one more thing to say.” She looked up from her paperwork and arched an uninterested brow.

“I won’t be becoming a housewife when I move out to California in a few weeks.

I am in search of another journalist position.

I am hoping to ask if you could maybe write me a letter of recommendation? ”

“You should probably leave my office now.”

“Okay, right.” I stood swiftly from the chair I’d obviously stayed in a second too long.

As I was walking away, I turned back to face her.

“I hope you know, Maiv, that I am so honored and thankful for you giving me the opportunity to work for your company. This has been the best job I’ve ever had and the experience of a lifetime, and?—”

She held her hand up to silence me, took off her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“You told me when you came to work here that working at Passion was your biggest life dream, and you are throwing that away for probably an average-sized dick of a man you’ve known for less than two years. Did he ask you how you’d feel about giving up your dream for him?”

“No.”

“Then don’t expect your dreams to go any further when you’re married to a man who doesn’t even try to come up with a way for both of your dreams to come true.”

I stood there, completely quiet and baffled by her words.

She looked back down at her paperwork and cleared her throat. “I’m also assuming my invitation got lost in the mail.”

“Your invitation…uh, right. Yes, of course. Your invitation definitely got lost in the mail.”

“Then you better make sure I have a seat at a table. Send the information to my assistant. I don’t require a plus-one, but I’ll be in attendance.”

“Why?”

She looked up eerily slow and cocked an eyebrow at me, forcing me to speak again.

“ Why that is wonderful news,” I said, trying to shift the why that left my mouth.

“Why are you still in my office?”

“Right. Of course. Goodbye.”

I left a bit stunned, uncertain of what to say, and unsure how I should’ve felt.

Had Maiv just invited herself to my wedding?

Had she said she was coming? Oh gosh, the seating chart was already done.

I’d have to call to get that shifted around.

Luckily, right after work, I was on the way to my soon-to-be mother-in-law’s home, where she’d help me fit Maiv into the chart without issue.

If I’d ever gotten a shot at having my own mother, I’d have wanted her to be just like Marie Rollsfield.

When I first met her, she talked about her son a lot, about how she and her husband adopted him when he was five years old.

I told her about how lucky he was to be adopted by a great woman, and I’d never forget how that comment made her eyes fill with tears.

“I’m not a great woman, but I try to be a good mother,” she explained, wiping the emotions away from her eyes.

I disagreed, though. Anyone kind, filled with love, and willing to take in a child who wasn’t biologically their own was a hero in my mind. I would’ve killed to be adopted by parents as loving as Walter and Marie.

Mr. and Mrs. Rollsfield were my favorite kind of love story.

They’d just celebrated thirty years of marriage the summer before, but if you looked at them, you’d think they were still squarely in the honeymoon stage.

I’d never seen two people who loved so loudly at all times.

From the handholding to the forehead kisses, Marie and Walter were relationship dreams come true.

It wasn’t until Marie invited me over for Christmas dinner that I was introduced to Jason. Marie recalled it better than either of us did, but I remembered being in the Rollsfields’ home and feeling as if I belonged.

Sometimes I wondered if I loved Jason’s parents more than I loved him.

Especially his mother, Marie. She was the definition of motherly love, and she welcomed me into their family with arms wide open.

When I still worked at the coffee shop, she was the one who actually called 911 for me when I had the episode, and from that moment on, she had a special place in my heart.

After that, to keep myself distracted from my health situation, I joined Marie’s book club, and we grew closer and closer.

The best part of Jason’s and my love story?

Not only did I find a fiancé but I also received two dedicated future in-laws who made me feel like I had always been a part of their family.

Being welcomed with arms wide open was the dream I’d always wished for—to have a family, to be a part of a strong unit, to create traditions we could share with one another.

For example, Marie and I still had our weekly coffee dates.

I always looked forward to them, too. If I could’ve grown up with a mother, I would’ve dreamed of one like Marie.

“I cannot believe it’s really happening!

” Marie squeaked as we stood in her living room while I got my last fitting done for my wedding dress.

Every detail of the wedding had been handled by Marie and the wedding planning team she’d hired.

She was hands-on in walking me through all the details I didn’t really care about.

All I wanted, all I’d ever wanted was to walk down the aisle and say the only two words that mattered—I do.

I didn’t care about all the ins and outs of the wedding day. I cared about the happily ever after that came afterward.

I smiled at the overzealous Marie. For the past few days, she’d been jumping up and down over the excitement of Saturday. “I can’t believe it either.” I stared in the mirror, feeling every butterfly form as I stared at the white gown custom designed for me.

Marie and Walter had covered the cost of the gown. They’d covered the cost of the whole ceremony and reception. If it had been up to me and my wallet, I’d have gone down to the courthouse with a dress from a thrift shop.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you and Walter have done for this wedding, Marie—and for me. I don’t deserve all of this.”

She walked over to me as the seamstress finished working on the hem of my dress.

Marie placed her palms against my cheeks and smiled that bright smile she always shared with me.

“You deserve the world, Aaliyah. You will never understand what you coming into our family has done to my heart. You are nothing less than the light we Rollsfields needed, and soon enough, we’ll share the same last name. ”

I fell into her arms and hugged her tightly. When she pulled away from me, I laughed at the tears flooding her eyes. “You can’t start crying yet. We still have to make it to the wedding day.”

She waved a dismissive hand my way. “I think we’ll just have to realize I’m going to be a hot mess that whole weekend. Thank goodness for waterproof makeup and a makeup artist on staff for the entire evening.”

As I gazed at myself in the large mirror in the living room, I took a deep breath. A million emotions rushed through my mind, but only one was sitting at the forefront. And that was the fact that after all these years, I was finally going to be a part of something bigger than me.

I was finally going to have a family.

That alone made me want to tear up, too.

“Hello?” a voice called out, breaking me from my stare. “Mom! Where’s Dad? I’ve been calling him for?—”

I shouted as I turned around to see Jason staring at me with a tuxedo in his grip. “Oh my gosh! Get out of here! You can’t see me in the dress before the wedding!” I ordered, darting behind the couch to try to hide.

“You don’t really believe in those silly traditions, do you?” Jason said, brushing his thumb against his nose. “Just get up, Aaliyah. I already saw it.”

“No!” I said, feeling silly for hiding but not wanting him to get another peek at the gown. I wasn’t extremely superstitious or anything, but one thing I did believe in was that it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding day.

Thankfully, Marie was on the same page as me. “She’s right! What are you doing, Jason? I told you to call before you stopped by.”

“I did. Dad’s and your phones are on silent. Plus, Aaliyah’s went to voicemail. Listen, I’m just here to drop off Dad’s tux for Saturday.”

“Put it in the foyer and then leave. We’ll see you tomorrow for the rehearsal,” Marie told him.

I could almost feel Jason rolling his eyes at the thought of it all. When it came to superstitions, he believed in none of them.

“Whatever. I’m leaving.” He began to walk away and then glanced over his shoulder toward me. “Aaliyah?”

“Yes?”

He smirked widely. “Your ass looks fat in that dress.”

“Take that language elsewhere,” Marie said as she threw a couch pillow at her son, who hurried away, slamming the door behind him.

Marie looked at me as I stood straight, and the warmth of her smile made me grin. “He’s right, you know. You look to die for.”