Born of Darkness. Rita Vetere
that they’d spoken little over the past couple of days as result of what Aunt Dora termed her carousing. She found her aunt in the kitchen, tidying up.
Aunt Dora smiled at her as she entered the room, a smile that turned her normally worried expression into one of sweetness.
“Let me look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”
Jasmine was relieved Aunt Dora wasn’t mad anymore. Perhaps she had intuited that Jasmine’s careless demeanor was just her way of masking the isolation she felt. She also noticed that, for once, Aunt Dora had refrained from commenting that her outfit might attract the wrong kind of attention.
After a slight hesitation, her aunt said, “I have something for you. Something I’ve been keeping for you.”
Jasmine’s face lit up. “Sounds mysterious. What is it?” She followed her aunt to the foot of the stairs.
“Wait here,” said Dora. “I’ll be right down.”
A moment later, Aunt Dora came back downstairs, carrying two parcels wrapped in red paper and bound together with gold satin ribbon. She handed them to Jasmine.
“These belonged to your mother,” Dora said. “I thought today might be a good day for you to have them.”
Jasmine, who adored opening gifts, became doubly excited to learn her present had come, indirectly at least, from the mother she had never known. She was beginning to develop a real soft spot for Aunt Dora, despite their constant arguments.
“Open the small one first,” instructed her aunt, as they moved to the living room and sat down next to each other on the sofa.
“I’ve never seen this picture before. Where was it taken?” asked Jasmine. The photo showed her father and mother with their arms around one another.
“During their last trip, at the marketplace in Marrakesh.”
Jasmine said nothing at first as she studied the picture, trying to imagine what her parents had been thinking at the precise moment the snapshot had captured them. They looked so happy and in love. “Thank you, Aunt Dora. This means a lot to me,” she said.
“I’m glad. Now open the other one.”
Jasmine gasped. The exotic silver pendant looked to be very old. Fashioned more or less in the shape of an elongated cone, about three inches long, the bottom was rounded and two tiny, ancient-looking coins dangled from it. The top of the piece was worked in a lacy pattern with openings. The antique silver gleamed against the black velvet bed of the jewelry case. She lifted it out of the box carefully, surprised by the weight of it.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
A strange sensation of déjà vu fell over her as she held the necklace in her hand, a feeling of familiarity that seemed to vanish as quickly as it had arrived. Wasting no time, she slipped the pendant around her neck, liking the heavy feel of it against her bosom. She marveled to think her mother had once worn this very same necklace.
“Thank you, Aunt Dora,” she said, hugging her aunt tightly. For one of the few times in her life, Jasmine actually felt loved and safe. Maybe there was hope for the two of them after all.
“It’s the same one your mother’s wearing in the photograph, see?”
“Oh, Aunt Dora, this is so special,” she said, looking at the photo again and seeing that it was, in fact, identical to the pendant her mother sported in the picture. Perhaps that was the reason the necklace seemed familiar to her. Maybe she’d seen the picture as a child.
“It looks lovely on you. Happy birthday, Jasmine.”
Jasmine smiled at her aunt, grateful for what she had just done. “Thank you so much for this. It’s… well, it’s almost like...”
“Like your mother is here,” Dora finished for her.
“Yes.”
Just then, the beep-beep of the taxi horn sounded outside.
“I’d better be off. My taxi’s here. I’ll be late I’m sure, so no need to wait up, okay?”
“Have a good time tonight, but please remember to take a taxi home,” Dora said emphatically.
“I promise,” Jasmine assured her, bussing her aunt’s cheek and then hurrying out the front door.
* * * *
Loud, pounding music spilled out onto the street as the door opened to allow a few patrons inside the club; the lineup outside stretched halfway down the block when Jasmine stepped out of the cab in front of Raven’s.
“Jasmine. Jazzy, over here!”
Jasmine spotted Carla and the others milling around out front, awaiting her arrival before going in. As she began to weave her way through the crowd, men and women alike turned to take a second look as she passed by.
“Wow!” said Carla. “Look at you! Happy birthday, Jazz,” she said, hugging her when she got close enough. “That dress looks amazing on you!”
Jasmine returned her friend’s hug. “Thanks, Carla, you look pretty awesome yourself.” Jasmine thought Carla’s jet-black hair, olive complexion and eyes like black pearls gave her a sexy, earthy beauty all her own.
Jasmine accepted birthday hugs from Jenna and Anne, her co-workers at the Blue Flame, where she worked part-time waiting tables, and from Mike and Emma, her friends from the university. Then she spotted T.K. making his way toward her.
“Hey. Happy birthday,” he said awkwardly when he reached her.
She saw he was about to embrace her in a hug and quickly proffered her cheek. He took the hint and kissed her lightly on the cheek, but remained standing a bit too close.
Noticing the look of disappointment on T.K.’s face, and finding herself suddenly uncomfortable in his presence, Jasmine said, “Damn. I forgot to stop for cigarettes. I’m out. There’s a place around the corner. I’ll be right back.”
Before T.K. had a chance to stop her, she left, walking as quickly as her three-inch high heels would allow to the end of the block. Once she turned the corner, relieved she was out of sight, she slowed her pace a little.
* * * *
Carla watched Jasmine sashay down the street until the flash of her red dress disappeared around the corner. As usual, everyone turned to gawk at her as she passed. Her best friend was a hard act to follow, that was for sure. It wasn’t that Carla didn’t think herself attractive. She had her share of admirers. But the minute Jasmine showed up, all eyes immediately gravitated to her. Jasmine’s peculiar thought-projection ability aside, there was something about her that caused people, men in particular, to swarm to her like bees to nectar. Jasmine just oozed sex appeal. Carla had spent most of her life emulating her best friend. She copied the way she talked and walked and dressed. Yet, no matter how hard Carla tried to define and duplicate that special quality Jasmine possessed, she never quite managed it. Never one to be jealous, and despite the fact that her best friend had always been a bit of an enigma, Carla loved Jasmine like a sister. After Carla’s parents passed away three years ago, it was Jasmine with whom she shared her grief and the sense of isolation that had ensued. Jasmine had understood better than anyone else what she’d gone through, and their friendship had only deepened after that.
Carla sighed and turned back to the group. She smiled brightly at T.K. She had a feeling Jasmine was no longer interested in him and, as far as leftovers went, T.K. would do nicely.
* * * *
Don’t sweat it. Jasmine walked to the convenience store. Once they got inside the club, things would be more relaxed. A couple of drinks and she’d be back in party mode and on the dance floor.
She entered the shop, asked the clerk for a pack of Lights, paid with her last ten, then decided she better stop at the ATM inside the store to get money for a cab, and whatever else she might need.