Beyoncé July 27, 2016
We rode in silence. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts. I glanced back at Sarayah, who was staring dejectedly out her window. I didn't know what Solange had said to Sarayah, but I could tell it had really gotten to her. Good. Maybe she would finally be ready to listen to me. When we pulled up to the house, everyone jumped out of the jeep, desperate to get away from the tense atmosphere. I grabbed Sarayah's arm as she passed me.
"Not you." I said, then turned to Solange. "Can I get your keys?"
She looked at me curiously, before shrugging and tossing me her keys. I slid over to the driver's side and motioned for Sarayah to take the front seat. She gazed longingly at the front door as if deciding whether to make a break for it. Thankfully, she decided against it and sat next to me. I waited for her to buckle her seatbelt before pulling out of the driveway. We didn't speak. We didn't look at each other. We just drove.
20 minutes later, I pulled onto a dirt path. It was barely visible from the road, hidden by trees. Sarayah sat up straight, suddenly alert. I watched her, wondering what she was thinking. She looked nervous. She probably thought I was driving her here to ditch her. I sighed. My own daughter thought I was going to abandon her in the middle of nowhere; what did that say about our relationship?
I parked the car and hopped out, taking the keys with me. She watched me, hesitant to get out of the car. I kept walking, knowing she would follow. She didn't exactly have a lot of options. I pushed aside a few branches and stepped into a beautiful clearing surrounded by trees. I hadn't been there in years, but it hadn't changed a bit.
I walked to the center and stood there with my arms outstretched. I closed my eyes, letting the breeze float through my curly blond hair. Before long I felt Sarayah standing beside me. I smiled. I knew she'd come. I sat down, pulling my knees in to rest beneath my chin.
"I used to come here when I was a kid. My dad would pack up the car, and we'd have a day-long picnic. It felt good to get away. To be free. As I got older, the picnics became less frequent and more meaningful. You see, since my dad saw potential in me, he focused more on being a manager than a father. So, I cherished every fatherly moment he gave me."
I snuck a quick look at Sarayah. She was standing, motionless, staring off into the distance. A few strands of her curly brown hair had escaped her loose ponytail and were blowing around her face. Her face was a mask of indifference, but her eyes gave her away. I knew those eyes. She was pretending not to listen, but I knew she was. So, I continued.
"As I built up my career, things at home fell apart. My dad was always working, and when he wasn't, he was fighting with my mom. I started coming here alone to escape. I guess a part of me was trying to recapture my childhood, but it doesn't really work that way. I eventually stopped coming here altogether. It was too depressing. It just reminded me how fucked up things were at home."
Sarayah slowly lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs beside me. She still refused to look at me. That was fine, as long as she was listening.
"When I was pregnant with you, I decided I would start coming back here. I wanted you to have the childhood I didn't. I'd pack up the car and drive here, just like my dad used to, except now I had my own family, my own daughter. Sometimes Solo would come, but usually it was just me and you. We were our own little team; we didn't need anybody else. I knew that whatever happened with Jay–or anyone really–I would always have you. My own flesh and blood. My child...I would always have my child."
I moved my hair out of my face, snapping out of my reverie.
"And then I didn't," I whispered, a tear sliding down my cheek.
We sat in silence for a long time. She didn't say anything, didn't react. Wouldn't. I hadn't really expected her to, but that didn't stop me from hoping.
"This is the first time I've been here since you went missing. I didn't want to come here without you. I couldn't."
I paused. "When you were taken, I started having this recurring dream. I would be standing in this same clearing, waiting for something. I never knew what, in the dream. I just knew I had to wait. Then I would hear your voice shouting for me. I'd turn around and there you were, at the other side. I would run to you, but as soon as I got within arms reach, I'd wake up. This happened every night. Like clockwork. So every night, before bed I'd tell myself, run faster. I thought if I pushed myself, if I could just run a little faster–"
I stopped myself before I lost it and took a calming breath. "Anyway, um. After a while, I started having the dream less and less. You'd think that would make me happy, but it made me feel so much worse. It was like losing you all over again." I shook my head.
"Then, when I did have the dream, it was different. Your face got more indistinct, like my brain knew you didn't look like that anymore."
"Days went by, then weeks, months, years. No dream. I felt myself losing hope. I needed something to hold on to. So, I promised myself I would come back to this clearing when I found you, like a homecoming. Now you're here, but you're not really here, are you?"
I turned to her, finally looking at her head on. She chewed the inside of her lip in thought. Finally, she looked over at me.
"I don't know what you mean," she answered, impassive. The first words she'd spoken since I'd started pouring my heart out to her, and they were a lie.
"You know exactly what I mean. I don't know you, Sarayah. You haven't let me know you. But one thing I do know is you have a brain. So, for once, stop playing games. Stop trying to fool me, or distract me by purposely pissing me off, because that's not going to work anymore. Just be real with me. Can you do that?"
She studied me for a moment, then nodded curtly. I let out a breath, relieved. "Good, because I am sick of the bullshit, and I am tired of the lies. Now be honest with me. Why do you hate me?"
Sarayah actually looked taken aback. She really wasn't expecting this. I couldn't understand why. That question had been haunting me for the past 22 days.
After a minute she shrugged. "I don't hate you. We just don't get along. Our personalities clash. That's why I think we should just stay away from each other."
I raised my eyebrow. "You think we just 'don't get along'."
She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think it's pretty obvious."
I shook my head, chuckling. "You're lying."
She frowned. "No, I'm not."
I nodded. "Yes, you are. But what I want to know, is how far these lies go. Are you only lying to me, or are you also lying to yourself? Because if you're lying to me, fine. You don't trust me. I get it. But if you're lying to yourself, that's a much bigger problem."
She made a face at me. "Okay, slow down, Dr. Phil. I don't know what self-help book you read, but that's for you, not me. Okay? You asked a question, I answered. If you want to think I'm lying, that's on you. But I'm telling the truth."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Okay, fine. Since you think you know everything, why don't you tell me why I hate you."
I chuckled, looking away. "You obviously aren't ready to accept the truth, so I'll pass."
She frowned, turning her whole body to face me. "No, seriously. You wanna act like you know so much, prove it. Why do I hate you?"
I looked at her skeptically for a few seconds. "You really want the truth?"
She blinked. "Desperately."
"Fine." I turned my body to face her. "You hate me because I'm not the woman who raised you, and you see me as some kind of intruder who's trying to replace her. That pisses you off because you think I have no right to be in your life, but here's the thing. I don't even think that's why you really really hate me. Sure, it puts you off, but it goes even deeper than that. I think you hate me as a defense mechanism. You think if you get close to me then you'll be betraying your so-called mama. And that kills you because you are nothing if not loyal. So, you force yourself to hate me."
I nodded at my answer, feeling more certain with each passing moment. I hadn't known exactly what I was going to say when I started, but now looking at her, I knew I was right. Her whole face had turned red, making her freckles stand out, and she was opening and closing her mouth, unsure of what to say. She shook her head, furiously.
"You are SO self-absorbed it's insane. Do you even hear yourself?" She sputtered out, waving her hands around.
I chuckled. "I thought you said you were gonna be real with me, Sarayah. I have been completely honest with you. Why can't you be honest with me? At the very least you should be honest with yourself."
She stood up and stalked off. I stayed where I was, calmly watching her. I'd expected this. After all, she was just like me, and whenever I was confronted with hard truths, I walked away.
"I've seen the way you look at me, Sarayah," I called out, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Her back tensed, but she didn't turn around.
"It took me a while to figure out what was happening, I admit. Your insults were very effective at distracting me. I would cry all the time, thinking, 'wow, my child really hates me'. These past three weeks, I've been trying to piece everything together. Make sense of things. My thoughts were confirmed on the jet when I caught you staring at me and Blue."
I walked over to her. She was glaring angrily at the ground: chest heaving, fists clenched tightly at her sides.
"You may not have distinct memories of me, but you remember the feelings, like with Grandma and Solo, right? You remember the love, and you miss it."
I tried to put my hand on her shoulder, but she quickly threw it off, spinning around to face me, her eyes blazing in defiance.
"Listen and listen good," she spat out. "The only thing I feel towards you is mild annoyance. I am not your daughter, and you are not my mother. Like you said, you don't know me. So, stop pretending we have this deep connection. Because. We. DON'T."
She gave me one final look before she turned around and walked back to the car.