A Portion for the Soul

Welcome Back

My emotions cause me to remember my father. He was a righteous man. People honored him, but I hated him. He filled my childhood with so many rules. Then there's my mother. What a pansy. She wasn't his wife, but his handmaiden in my eyes. Wherever we went, be it church, school, family functions, anywhere, my parents were the perfect couple. Perfect Mr. and Mrs. Wales, who raised six perfect children. And if I'm honest, they were perfect, but not my idea of perfection.

I've always preferred the dark side. My parents, church, and siblings always attempted to deride me, but their so-called convictions never affected me. The motto I live by is do as you will. I discovered that quote online, I believe. Soon I decided that was the only way to live. Today, I don't view things that way. It's then I try to recall the last time I spoke to my parents. Scrolling through my cellphone's contacts, I search for mom, mama, mother. I find nothing. I search dad, daddy, father, pops, parents. Still nothing. Huh? I scroll my entire contacts for a sibling, uncle, aunt, anyone, and find nothing. Now I'm weirded out.

The conference ends. I return to my home in Michigan. The inside has teakwood floors, black furniture, drapes, and blinds. My walls are black with white crown molding. My light wattage is low. Why is my home so dark?

The next morning I go out and buy white and Tiffany Blue drapes and accessories to brighten it. I even order a Tiffany Blue ottoman and chair. I'm now looking for a more modern bedroom set when my phone vibrates. My screen reads, Accountant Tandy. I answer, "Hello?"

"Good morning, Ms. Wales. This is your accountant Tandy Johnson. I've noticed you've spent over $6,000 this morning. Is everything okay?"

"Good morning, Tandy. Yes, all is well. I woke up and decided I needed to remodel. By any chance, are you acquainted with any home designers?"

"U-Uh no, but I can ask around..."

"Thanks, Tandy, goodbye."

"Uh oh, okay, Ms. Wales..."

I hang up the phone smiling and feeling good. I haven't felt good in a long time. My phone vibrates again. It's Sampson.

"Hey, baby. What's up?"

"What's up? You missed your own birthday party! Where are you? The concierge said you checked out at 4 a.m. What's going on with you, Que?"

"Honestly Sampson, I don't know. ... Hey, have you ever met my parents?"

"The religious devils that put you up for adoption at birth? Uh, no. And neither have you! What drugs are you on baby?" He scoffs.

"My parents didn't put up for adoption. What?"

"Baby, where are you? I need to see you. You're scaring me."

I mumble, "I'm home. ...Hey, let me call you back."

I hang up, dazed. "Miss, will that be all?"

Startled, I look up at the saleswoman wide-eyed. I answer, "Yes! Yes, thank you."

"Mhmm." She grunts as she scans my purchases.

I drive home deep in thought. Where on earth did Sampson get that foolish information? I pull up into my driveway, and my phone vibrates yet again. The screen reads, Attorney Lexus. I answer, "Hello?"

"Delightful afternoon, Ms. Wales. This is Attorney Lexus. How are you?"

"I'm well and you?"

"I'm great, now hearing your voice. You sound incredible, Ms. Wales."

"Thanks. Why's a lawyer calling me?"

"Oh? Well, no one's heard from you or your estate in decades, Ms. Wales. We're all quite shocked, to be honest. The last transaction you made was on July 28, 1969."

I chuckle, "W-What? I'm nowhere near 50-years-old! I was born ..."

My mind goes blank. When was I born? "Hello, Ms. Wales? Are you still there?"

"When's my birthday, Mr. Lexus?"

"Pardon me? ...Wait, hold on, let me check your files."

He puts me on a brief hold. He returns saying, "Yes, Ms. Wales. Your birthday is February 13, 1876? Wait, that can't be correct. That must be who established your family's estate. Hold on."

I sit on the phone, breathing. He returns somberly saying, "Um, there's been a horrible error. The year 1891 is when your family's estate got established. My firm must've mixed up your files with an ancestor's. I'm assuming they named you after her. Please give me two days, and I promise I'll have everything figured out. Is there anything else you need, Ms. Wales?"

"No. You called me, remember?"

He laughs, "Yes. You are correct. Well again, it's great to hear from you. I'll talk to you in a few days. God Bless."

"G-God Bless." I stammer out as I end our call.

I wake up bright and early, gazing out into the woods. Removing these ghastly black drapes, I allow the brightness of the snow and sun to fill my secluded home with light. After my coffee's brewed, I sit in the kitchen and call my best friend Elly.

"Hey, Que. How was New York?"

"Basic."

"Did you sex your guy?"

"Yes. Sampson was there."

"Not Sampson, Mr. religious, that you like so much."

"Oh no, no. I found out he's married."

"Bitch he's been married! But what do you care? What does marriage mean to people like us?"

"People like us? Everyone is acting so strange."

"Who's acting strange?"

"You, Nathan, Sampson. I have my family's estate's lawyer and accountant calling me, just weird stuff."

"A lawyer? An estate? Bitch, what are you even talking about?"

"Elly, where are you?"

"I'm at work. I'm a lowly salary worker, not a top exec, remember?"

"Mhmm. Well, come over after work. I need to be with someone normal today."

"Will do, bye Bitch."

"Bye."

I'm not liking being called out of my name. I'm not trying to offend Elly, but I have to tell her. It's only right. If she's my best friend, she should understand.

I spend the day painting my living room and dining room walls bright white. While admiring my work, my doorbell rings. I'm sure it's Elly. I open the door to a gothic, chubby woman. She's pale as snow, with jet-black hair, heavy black eyeliner, a nose ring, and blood-red lipstick, but she's wearing an expensive black tailored suit. She gives me a full pan with a quizzical brow. I'm wearing coveralls, a white tank top, and head wrap.

"Que, what the fuck is going on?"

"Hello to you too, and nothing. I remodeled. Black is drab. I  needed to brighten up the place."

"We invited T.S.S., to have our meeting here tomorrow night!"

She follows me into the kitchen as I pour us both a glass of wine. I slide her glass over asking, "And what's that?"

"Huh? Our church bitch."

Laughing, I ask, "Why do you speak so vile? And if we have a church, we fear G-God. Try harder to speak wholesome."

Now glaring Elly says, "That's not funny Quma."

"Well, I said nothing funny."

"Did Tieg convert you or something?"

Through squinted eyes, I shrug at Elly. She reaches into her purse and tosses a small book onto the table. She leaves.