LeOmi's Solitude (4 page)

Grand-Mère was no different. She was also
always angry, no matter what.

If LeOmi was fifteen minutes early they just
sat there and wait until promptly five p.m. No conversation—only
the angry scowl, at least it always seemed like it. They would sit
quietly and lady like and Hannah would serve the meal. After it was
over—LeOmi would ask to be excused and she would go to her room
which is where she spent the rest of the evening, reading library
books, studying for school assignments, or thinking.

But the dinners were infuriating. Her goal to
“be the best” was always something that she strove for whether it
was at dinner, school or at the gym. She didn’t make friends easily
even at the best of times and Grand-Mère didn’t make it easy or
even a working possibility. After Henry was gone there was only
Hannah--who tried to be all rough and tough on the outside but was
really a behind the scenes ally for LeOmi, in her own way.

Tonight, as dinner was served, LeOmi said, “I
have a few questions that I would like to ask you.”

Grand-Mère just sat there and continued
eating her soup. Spoon down, gently ladle, spoon up, slightly
sip—no noise, head erect and back straight. Again, spoon down,
gently ladle…LeOmi watched. Grand-Mère said nothing. It was as if
she were deaf.

Hannah came in with the rolls; Grand-Mère
didn’t look at either of them. She just continued…spoon down,
gently ladle…

LeOmi shook her head. “Grand-Mère, my mother
is dead.”

Still, gently ladle, sip.

Hannah also stood there watching Grand-Mère
and then as if she had realized what she was doing, she turned and
abruptly left the room.

“Grand-Mère, do you know anything about my
mother’s death?”

Grand-Mère took a roll and gently buttered
it.

LeOmi lost her patience and prepared to get
up from the table, but first she slammed her spoon down. Grand-Mère
said, “It doesn’t feel good to be ignored does it?”

LeOmi sat back down.

“I know that your mother, --also known as my
daughter, is dead. But you may not begin a discussion with those
words. It would seem that I don’t even know you, and I certainly
will not begin to learn more about you by discussing the death of
your mother, my daughter.”

Grand-Mère’s commanding voice was enough to
leave LeOmi dumbstruck and with no response at all. Grand-Mère
smiled her pleasure at putting LeOmi in her place.

“Now we will discuss what has brought you to
me, here in New Orleans in the first place. Let it be known that I
know that all...all things happen for a reason. I had not known the
reason for your presence here before this past week. Still it is
not completely clear.”

“Hold on Grand-Mère, are you telling me that
all this has happened because it was supposed to happen?”

“Why yes, of course.”

How can she be so calm
? LeOmi felt her
left leg start to twitch and then suddenly the muscles had a mind
all their own, her leg started almost vibrating up and down. LeOmi
grabbed the muscle above her knee; she almost gave herself a
Charlie Horse she grabbed it so hard.

Grand-Mère looked down her nose at LeOmi.
“Why else would your mother have left New Orleans and married your
father, a man far below her means.” Grand-Mère seemed to be
speaking to herself, “Going off and having a house full of
sniveling children, forgetting about her Ma-Mère who had given her
everything that she could desire.” At this, she got up and started
to pace the room.

Hannah quietly came into the room and removed
the soups, replacing them with the second course—rice, buttered and
still steaming with the most wonderful herb aroma. LeOmi inhaled
deeply. —
Saffron?

Hannah did not look at either of them—only
kept her head down and quietly left the room.

LeOmi picked up her fork and Grand-Mère
stopped abruptly beside her—she uncharacteristically placed her
hands on her hips and gave LeOmi the most silly and childish
grimace. Grand-Mère always so ladylike and so prim and proper—now
there was nothing that LeOmi could do but place her fork gently
back down on the table. That is when the aroma reached Grand-Mère’s
nose. Her face seemed to fall back into its normal shape. She
turned and went back to her chair, all else forgotten. She picked
up her fork and began to eat.

“You hate my father don’t you?”

Grand-Mère was back to her old self now, not
speaking and consuming her food in the most ladylike fashion as
possible. She placed her fork down and started to address LeOmi,
but she stopped as Hannah came back through the door. Hannah
replenished water glasses and left a cup of coffee for
Grand-Mère.

Stirring the coffee meant the end of the
dinner. Now is when LeOmi usually asked to be excused. Instead she
decided to change her tactics with Grand-Mère—which was probably
just what Grand-Mère wanted—but …

“When I was a child, my mother was different.
We would do things together—go to the beach, shop together, go on
walks and then one day it was as if she was encased by a dark
cloud. It was devastating to me. It wasn’t long after that she left
for the first time. She came back. It was almost like she needed to
be rejuvenated someplace, but then she left again. This time when
she came back, it took less time for the cloud to come back. We no
longer talked, no more walks, no more— ‘How was your day at
school?’ It wasn’t long before that man came for her.”

Grand-Mère continued to stir her coffee.
“What do you want me to say? That the same thing happened here—well
that is true. Do you blame me; do you think that it is my fault
that your mother left me as she left you? Well…” The rhythm of the
coffee swirling in the cup seemed like a black hole. With
impatience Grand-Mère resumed, “When you do things excessively
wrong, you are always looking behind you to see who has almost
caught you. Your mother has always had to look behind herself to
see who was fast approaching. It seemed she liked the thrill of it.
Don’t you agree?”

Hannah came in again to remove the dishes;
this seemed to be grandmother’s cue. Grand-Mère stood up and left
the room. She continued up the stairs to retire for the evening.
Hannah and LeOmi watched as she went. “I hope that you are happy
Little Missy. Tut, tut, tut.”

“Hannah, what is going on?”

“You will see how much wood is kindled by now
a small fire. The tongue is a fire.”

“Who’s tongue, mine or hers?” LeOmi grabbed
the back of the chair, and hugged it, “This is not what I want. I
want to know why my mother was killed, why she left my father and
me and why Grand-Mère hates her more than I do.”

“Little Missy, your Grand-Mère calls you her
Petit Yvonne. That is what she calls you, can you not guess
why?”

* * *

“Don’t be quick tempered. Attitude, if only
you could remember. Say…I can do it. You must be loyal and
dedicated. Not just physical training and endurance on the fighting
field. It takes time and patience. Training is what every Magi
needs.”

The voice seemed to resonate through her
head.

Magi.

Fatigue always allowed for good restful sleep
but tonight there was a voice that seemed to be trying to teach her
something that she needed to know.

Was it Henry? Was it her father? It wasn’t
her mother or her Grand-Mère or Hannah. Was it her guardian, from
her dreams of long ago? Curiosity allowed the sleep to come again,
and it came very quickly.

Chapter 4

Use What is Around You: Earth, Wood,
Fire, Metal, and Water

It felt like LeOmi had been floating around
in a dream. Just taking things as they came, but now it was like
the sleeper car had stopped—with a jolt, tossing her out onto the
tracks ahead. They would stop for a cow, or a mudslide, but would
they stop for her?

More foggy haze, and then… in her dream she
was yelling,
No!
Trip. Fall. Get your heel caught in the
crack of the sidewalk. Anything.
No matter how hard LeOmi
yelled--her mother still walked down the path that led to the
street. Seeing her mom break her neck would be better than
this.

Mom.
The scream was so loud that even
the neighbors should have been coming out of their homes.

Finally, Yvonne DuBose Jones stopped. She
didn’t turn.

Mom.
This time the sounds were not
quite so loud.

Still not turning, her mother tilted her head
up, without seeing her face LeOmi knew the expression of impatience
mingled with disappointment. She could almost hear,
“I don’t
want any of this.”
But, there were no words. LeOmi held her
breath. Yvonne lowered her head; the long black locks of hair fell
forward, almost caressing the woman. Then as if with reformed
resolution she stood tall and with a long sweep of her hand she
positioned her hair with such perfection, with such elegance, with
such beauty. Then she began walking again.

“I hate you!” This time the scream tore into
the very air. It seemed to LeOmi that she felt the house shake and
the trees move aside for the words. There was nothing left that she
could do but watch as her mother walked out of her life and then
everything was black.

The darkness swirled and took a shape, the
shape of the wheel on the mantel and a soft voice, as if coming out
of the darkness, kind-of like changing channels, kind-of like the
gurgling retching of puking up your lunch.

Blackness wasn’t enough. It was like it was
nothing, like someone had a huge eraser, smudging out what was in
front and behind. There had to be a reason –not just nothing.

How long will it last?

The lunge from darkness to the wheel
then...the tips of blue clouds. A lighter side, not like the sludge
of the blackness. Not like the heavy weight of depression.

She was pulled back; something grabbing at
her feet pulling her down again as if she were covered by a pool of
tar, and then the soft voice began.

“All may destroy one another. Accused and
Accuser. Both are the same. Come.”

Come?

“Yes, come. Come and enjoy the riches of the
other life you were meant to lead.”

Lead?

“Yes lead. Be the one who makes the choices
and avoids the traps. Be the one that survives, but not just
survives –thrives. Thrives on the compassion, the love and the
mercy. You will be weighed and balanced. Come.”

The smothering tar engulfed her again. LeOmi
reached out with her hands and pulled herself through the sludge,
the water of blackness, grabbing the roots of trees and grabbing
the helping hands—the hands that showed compassion, love and mercy.
Sobbing, she reached up and stood on her own two feet, in a desert.
She was under a tree, the leaves shielding her from the blinding
light of the sun—after such darkness.

At first everything seemed to be hazy—then
the Mountain came into view, The Seventh Mountain. Somehow, she
just knew it was The Seventh Mountain.

The mountain was massive, too massive for
words. Then everything else around her focused. She seemed to zoom
in on the old gnarly tree. Its roots were as large as the tree
itself, olives hung down in bunches, heavily laden on the branches.
The tree was planted in a huge pot, as big as a swimming pool, an
oasis of its own, here in the desolation of a desert.

A person stood under it, looking towards the
fuzzy outline of the mountain. Her long dark hair was simply pulled
back and bound. She wore the long tunic of the Magi. She turned to
face LeOmi and as she did LeOmi seemed to almost float closer and
closer. The girl’s eyes, a shimmering blue, seemed to be
penetrating and searching for the very heart of LeOmi. As LeOmi
settled down beside her, the girl flamboyantly waved her hand out
in front of her as she once again turned towards the mountain.

The fuzzy fog cleared and she said, “This is
The Seventh Mountain, the school for Magi.”

The huge multi-tiered mountain stood tall.
Taller and bigger than anything she had ever seen before.

“This is The Seventh Mountain. You will go to
school here...you will.”

“If you do not succeed you will disappoint
many people, but mostly, you will disappoint yourself.” She turned
and looked deeply into LeOmi’s eyes. She smiled. Immediately the
scenery changed from the spacious rock strewn desert to a dark room
that almost seemed like an arena for the gladiators. A beam of
light that came from nowhere drew LeOmi to the center of the
room.

“This is the Council of Elders’ Chamber.”
Looking up LeOmi could see that there was a sort of shelf of tall
desks.

“I’m Bekka, and I met with the Council here
to speak for you. There are three categories that potential
applicants for The Seventh Mountain are placed in. Number one—of
course that is the good group. The ones that pass with flying
colors: the thumbs–up, confirmed, high hopes and all that. There is
the number three category, which as you can guess is the not so
good group. No flying colors, no high hopes and afraid to say that
the thumbs are down on this group. Not everyone is Magi material.
Now there is the second group—the glass half full or
empty—whichever the case may be. This is the group that you now
occupy. Do you understand that?”

LeOmi nodded in her dream, but she understood
in real life too.

“I have stood up for you. I feel that you can
be a wonderful Magi, but the Council needs to be convinced. You
shall be a student here for the first year. It will remain to be
seen if you will be chosen to be a true Magi. School starts the
first of September. Orientation starts the week before. Do your
best and remember that there is more to being a Magi than physical
strength and training.”

The Council Chambers faded and a boy was
suddenly there in the darkness. He reached for a staff that was
illuminated somehow by the sun in the darkness of a huge cave. As
soon as his hand touched the staff, the cave melted away and he was
in the Council of Elders chamber. He motioned with his hand for
LeOmi to come and stand with them. In her dream, she walked over to
his side. Several others were already there at his beaconing.
Suddenly the whole chamber was filled with bright sunlight and the
dream faded into darkness.