Don't save me if you can't really see me. Don't see the mask, see the mess.
Dorinda Clark Cole, a grammy award winning singer, part of one of the most influential girl groups of all time. From the outside, she's a joyful prayer warrior. Smiling, st...
N: No Mama, I'm not gonna pretend like I didn't just see this. You can change the subject if you want, but it doesn't change the truth.
Dorinda laughs with a bright smile on her face. A smile too perfect.
D: Truth? And what's that Nikkia? You barging in here like you own everything questioning me like I ain't grown? Get out with that mess.
N: Mama, why are you like this?! God, all I ever tried to be was understanding to you, but you've made it clear every year of my life that you don't need my help. And, you know what? I'm done. I am tired of caring for you more than you care for yourself. In fact, the reason why I came here was to go over your schedule for the SMAC and the Stellar Awards weekend, but find someone else to be your assistant.
Her voice trembled, not from weakness but from the weight of finally letting go.
N: I'm done. I love you. But it seems as if you don't love me back.
Dorinda stands up and walks into Nikkia's space, causing Nikkia to step back. She, now with her finger in Nikkia's face, her eyes saw red. Maybe it was a bit of the alcohol, or maybe she just finally had enough. Maybe it was both.
D: Oh, so now you tryna guilt me? Girl, I been loving you since before you even knew how to spell the word! Don't you ever stand in my face and say I don't love you.
D: If you think I don't love you, then maybe you don't know me at all. Maybe I raised a stranger.
For a while, Nikkia and Dorinda stared at each other. One gaze filled with hurt and the other filled with anger. Both too gone to understand one another's side.
D: Get out of my house.
N: Gladly.
And with that, Nikkia walked out of the house with tears streaming down her face. She didn't know what to do. But at that moment, she knew that her mother was not well.
Dorinda let out a shaky breath, realizing what just happened. But for some reason, she didn't care. Not anymore. Why was her daughter always down her back? Acting like she cared when she knew nothing?
It didn't make sense to the woman.
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In Atlanta, Ziah was in a business meeting, supposed to be paying attention to her team's proposals for her music videos. However, all that could fill her mind was Dorinda. Their conversation, their upcoming meet up.
There was something about Dorinda that Ziah couldn't get enough of. Maybe it was the way that there was a mystery to her. Somehow, Dorinda understood her, without even knowing her. But Ziah was aware of the feeling she felt when her phone would buzz, hoping it was Dorinda. The anticipation had become addictive.
She couldn't help herself. She had to text the older woman. Just to see how she was doing. Maybe more.
