Sometimes, life hands you so many things at once. Like, once in your life you had nothing, you feel like you’ve hit rock-bottom, and then suddenly, things turn around. You get so many things on your plate, and though that could be a good thing, sometimes, you feel like you’re being handed too much more than you could handle.
That’s why, right now, I am so surprised to be in the company of a guy who is now kneeling in front of me, asking me to marry him.
1
There's only your life, how you mess it
up, and who is there to save you.
Or who isn't.
-Mitch Albom, “For one more day”
A few months ago…
Hi, I’m Miranda Larsen, I’m sure you know me as Mindy, the youngest sister of Kim, Leigh and Caroline, and Drake’s elder one. The one who’s been in and out of rehab, the one who constantly messes up, the one who’s an illegitimate child and didn’t find out about it until she was seventeen. Yes, you’ve heard about me, but really, do you know my story?
I was eight when I first realized I was different. It was Kim’s 16th birthday party then when I heard my mom talking to her so-called friends about…well, me. I heard her say “Miranda is a mistake”, “She would never be like Kim”, “She’ll grow up to be weird and unlike all my other daughters…” Well, tell you what: I never wanted to be like Kim or any of them. I was happy in my own little world. My mom and I have never really been close, but I had dad. I always had dad. Or so, I thought.
I was a daddy’s girl: He bought me my first painting set, staged my first “exhibit” (it was just my paintings being shown to our relatives and some neighbors and friends), and brought me with him when he would go all over Europe. Dad was my rock, my bestfriend, the reminder that even though I’m not like my sisters, and my mom seems to hate me, I still belonged in our family.
But the unthinkable happened. A few days after my seventeeth birthday, my mom went on a hissy fit and because I got a belly ring. She told me in my face that I was a disappointment and that my father should’ve just taken me away with him. Everyone in the house were astounded. I mean, my dad was there, how would he take me away? Dad asked mom what was going on, what she meant. She didn’t answer for a couple of minutes until dad became really angry and forced her to tell him, tell all of us. She finally shouted that I am not his daughter; that once upon a time, she had an affair with our then gardener, she got pregnant, he said he would stand up for it but when she refused to go with him, because he was just a gardener, he ran away, leaving me with my mom. She didn’t tell dad the truth because she figured it would be better that way; there are things you have to keep for yourself. And then that fateful day happened. I was shocked, but dad was definitely the most surprised out of all of us. We all thought he would leave, but he didn’t. “We’ll save this marriage.” He said and that was that. Things never really came back to normal.
Mom was often away, Kim burrowed herself in her studies even more (she was in law school then), Leigh kept herself busy with work, Caroline with school and her social activities, and Drake with sports. Dad, well, he became busy, too. He asked Kim to handle the family’s business for her, and he spent all his time in the library, reading books over and over until he fell asleep. We never really got to talk again, and that killed me.
I started drinking too much, spending my nights with random people in bars all over the city, trying to see who passed out first, who knew how to drink better. Alcohol became my friend, and so did some anti-depressants. Prozac, Xanax, you name it, I did it. At first, it was alright, I was getting by fine. We tortured artists always had this weird aura, but soon enough, my sisters found out about my vices. It was Kim who hit the roof and sent me to rehab, saying that if only she wasn’t the eldest, she wouldn’t have done anything about it. Honestly, I couldn’t care less. Rehab did nothing for me. When I leave, I give myself a few days or weeks, and voila, there I go again. It was hard battling your addictions. Old habits die hard, they say, and my drinking just went on and on.
Until some two years ago when my dad found me sprawled inside my bedroom, and along with Caroline and Drake carried me to the hospital. I don’t remember much about that day except when he told me that he was sorry. I told him I was sorry, too. And then I went back to rehab, promising myself that it would be the last time I went there. I needed to get my life back.
So, after that final rehab stint, I decided I needed a breath of fresh air, I needed to live somewhere else. And now, here I am, in New Orleans, with my auntie Muriel (my mom’s youngest sister, and the best she has. Seriously, she’s nothing like my mom. She’s an artist, a very great painter, and she has always inspired me). Actually, I just got back from New York two days ago, after my sister Leigh’s wedding. I’d probably stay here for another week or two and then I think I’m heading back to New York, stay in Leigh’s flat for a while (which now belongs to our only brother, Drake) and see what happens. I met someone here in New Orleans, her name’s Belinda, and she owns an art gallery downtown. She’s also planning to go to New York, explore the city and maybe put up a gallery, too. Well, we’re planning to put up one together. Besides…I really do miss my siblings. Kim, not too much, but everyone else, yes. And dad (okay, he’s not my real dad but…)…Though I have no idea what to say when I see him, I miss him, too.
Oh, you’re probably wondering about my real father. Will I ever try to find him? No, maybe not. He left me. I just can’t go looking for someone who doesn’t seem to want to be in my life, anyway.
Back to my life now.
I was going to get out of Auntie Muriel’s house to go to Belinda’s shop. I found her at the living room, her back to me. “Hey, auntie,” I said, “Just going to Belinda’s…You need any—“ And then I noticed she was actually talking to someone. A guy. I presumed he was my age, or maybe a year or two older, he had shaggy hair, some stubbles, and beautiful brown eyes. Oh, and a vibe that says “I’m an artist”; Believe me, I know one when I see one. “Oh, hi,” I said when I saw the guy. I was never really friendly, but after my last rehab stint, I just felt a whole lot lighter, and somewhat more open to other people. Okay, well, just to some…
“Hi,” The man greeted back. When he smiles, he looks like James Blunt.
“Finally,” Auntie said and smiled, “Mindy, I’d like you to meet Paul, he’s a son of my good friend Anne, and this town’s famous jazz artist…He just came back from Florence.”
Paul laughed, “Come on, Muriel, that’s too much.”
“Nah, that’s the truth.” Auntie said.
“Well, hi, Mister famous jazz artist,” I said, holding out my hand for a handshake. He took it and saw my tattoo, which I got after I got out of rehab for the last time. It was a flower; the head and petals were in my hand, and the stem and leaves were up my arm. It reminded me that I was a flower, and maybe, just maybe, it was my time to bloom.
“Hi,” he greeted back, “What a lovely, tattoo.”
“Thanks.” I smiled.
“Oh, so listen,” He said, “I was just inviting your aunt to my show at the Cove bar, you know, just down the street, I’ll be there tomorrow evening, around 9…I decided to put a show since I haven’t been here for quite some time…I have no idea if jazz is your kind of sound, but, I’d love it if you’d come.”
The way he said it felt like he really meant it. Uh, what am I saying? “Yeah,” I said, “Sure. I’ll be there.”
“Great.” He smiled.
“I’m sure Mindy will love your music,” Aunt said, “She’s an artist herself. A painter, you should see her work.”
r /> “Wow, that I’d love,” He said, “Runs in the genes, I should say?”
I laughed, “Aunt’s still better than me.”
“No, don’t believe her,” Auntie said.
“So, uhm, I should go,” I said, “Running to Belinda’s, she’s waiting for me…”
“Belinda?” Paul said, “Belinda Moore? Blonde hair, blue eyes, balck and white canvass artist?”
“Yes, that Belinda. You know her?” I asked.
“Yeah,” He said, “We were classmates back in High School. Wow, tell her I said Hi, and come along tomorrow.”
“I will.” I smiled, “See you.”
“See you.” He smiled back.
2
“I’m a wildflower
growing in the sunshine…”
-The Jane Dear Girls, “Wildflower”
“Hey, you…” I said as I went inside Belinda’s shop and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Hey, Miranda…”
“Shut it.” I said and we laughed. I started going around the shop to get new paint tubes, those in mauve and yellow, and some new large canvass papers when I remembered Paul.
“Hey,” I said, “Paul says hi, by the way.”
“Paul?” She said, probably trying to recall who it was, “Paul, the jazz artist?”
“Yes, him.”
“Oh my God, he’s back?” Belinda exclaimed, “Wow.”
“Yeah, he was talking to my aunt a while ago, back at home, he’s inviting us to this show he has tomorrow evening—“
“We’re going,” She said happily, “You’ve no idea how great the man is. He sings so well!”
I laughed, “Bells, you’re talking like you like the guy.”
“Nah, don’t be silly,” She said, “We were friends, back in High school. He was an upperclassman, but you know, we artists flock together. We’ve lost touch in college, though, since I went to Columbia and I think he went off to NYU or something, but he comes back here every now and then, puts on a show, and then last year, he went to Florence. In Italy. I bet he knows how to speak the language now and even sing in Italian…Imagine that.”
“Sounds like a dream…” I said nonchalantly.
“He is,” She said, “But not for me, I’m just glad he’s back, I haven’t seen the guy in ages! And as you know, I am happily engaged.”
I smiled, “I know! Do you think your future kids would be artists, too?”
“Who knows?” She said, “Besides, why are we talking about kids! Dan and I aren’t even married yet!”
I laughed.
“But seriously,” She said, “We must go to the show tomorrow evening. You’ll see when you hear him.”
“Well, in that case, I’m excited.” I winked and she laughed.
3
"Why go through life unnoticed?" - Aquamarine.
The following evening, we went to that Cove bar. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It felt like I was back in the 1920’s or something—the bar had these faux palm trees surrounding the area, even inside, and some of the ladies were even in total flapper wear! Curled hair, extra red lipstick (you know how Charlie Chaplin’s lips look like, yeah, like that, just extra red), and those fringy outfits.
“Wow,” I told Belinda, “this place is exquisite!”
She laughed, “Wait ‘til you hear Paul.” She said and we looked for somewhere to sit. We found a table near the stage, and saw the band set up. A few minutes later, Paul went out and we heard the people cheering. People were cheering behind me.
“Hey, goodevening, everyone,” Paul greeted, “I can’t tell you how great it feels to be back…”
People clapped.
“Thank you,” Paul smiled and went on, “Anyway…While I was in Florence,” He paused, “I fell in love…but…let’s just say, things happened and it’s over now. But still…this song is for her, and for all of you, as well.” He said and then he started singing his own version of Norah Jones’ “Don’t know why”. It was really heartfelt, and I realized why all these people adored him (my aunt and Belinda included)—it was because he was a real, genuine artist. Like, his talent is just born, not made. He sang every line so good, you would almost forget that it is actually someone else’s song. And his eyes—man, he has the nicest, deepest, most expressive eyes I’ve seen. He sang one more song, and another, and then some more, doing a full set. After which, the crowd roared and cheered. He went down the stage, talked to some of the audience members and finally, spotted us (well, after Belinda called after him, that is.)
“Paul, over here!” Belinda called out.
He looked at us, smiled and went over, “Hey, Belinda,” He said, “It’s been forever!”
“I know!” Belinda exclaimed as they hugged, “Geez, you’re still so good!”
“Don’t flatter me too much,” He quipped and saw me, “And Mindy, hey…” He smiled, “I’m so glad you stopped by.”
Belinda nudged me and smiled playfully.
“I’m so glad I came, too.” I told Paul and smiled back.
“So, how are you?” Belinda asked, “How was NYU?”
“Oh, barely stayed there,” He said, “Actually…I got out of college two years ago…”
“No way…” Belinda said.
“Well, it’s the truth,” He said, “And it’s alright, I mean, music’s really my passion.”
“Yeah, you’re quite good at it.” Belinda winked.
“So, what about you?” He asked her, “Got good grades at Columbia, I suppose?”
She laughed, “Not as good as I had in high school, but it was fine…”
“And…you?” He asked me.
“Oh, uhm,” I said, “I didn’t really…uhm…go to college.”
“Oh,” He said, “That’s alright. I don’t think you need college, you seem smart and okay your way.”
“Even if I was in rehab a couple of times before?” I don’t know why, but I seem to have just blurted that out. But, whatever, at least I’ve been upfront with the truth.
“Don’t worry,” He smiled a bit, “You’re not the only one.”
But before I could ask why, we heard Daniel’s voice in the background. Daniel is Belinda’s fiancé. He was supposed to meet up with us hours back but his mom was being her usual self, which is, being over the top about most things, and being so fishy with details about his wedding to Belinda, even if it’s months and months away.
“Sweetheart,” He said as he kissed Belinda, “I’m really sorry. You know how mom’s crazy about everything regarding the wedding, I had to keep reminding her that it was our wedding, not hers.”
Belinda laughed, “That’s alright,” She smiled.
“Hey, man,” Dan said as he and Paul hugged a bit, “It’s been a while, I’m really sorry I didn’t catch your set…”
“That’s okay,” Paul said, “Congrats, by the way, I always thought you two would end up together.”
“She couldn’t let me go…” Dan joked and we all laughed.
“Hun, why don’t we go to that table over there and give Paul and Mindy here some room?” Belinda smiled at Dan.
“What?” Dan said, “Oh, well, yeah, sure,” He smiled after a bit, “Get to know each other well, okay?”
“Bells,” I said.
She just tapped me on the shoulder, said she’d see me in a few, and went off with Dan. She went back after a few seconds and whispered to me, “He’s safe, don’t worry,” She said, pertaining to Paul, “Dan and I will just be over there…” She pointed to a table by the back door and went away.
Paul and I looked at each other and smiled.
4
"why'd you have to be so cute,
it's impossible to ignore you..."
Imogen Heap, “Goodnight and go”
“You wanna go out?” Paul asked, “I mean, you know, get some fresh air…”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, and he led me outside the bar. Ther
e were some unoccupied seats at the bar’s exterior and we sat on one near a beautiful, lighted palm tree.
“Drinks?” He asked.
“No, I’m alright,” I said, “I try not to drink anymore.”
He smiled.
“This place is beautiful,” I said, “It’s very unique. And you’re really talented,” I said, “I enjoyed your show.”
“Thank you,” He said, “You have to show me your paintings!”
I laughed, “Oh, you remembered?” I said, “Yeah, sure, maybe sometime…”
“I’m looking forward to that.” He smiled, “So,” He paused and then, “How long have you been sober?”
“Wow, direct,” I said, “Well…It’s been sometime, two years or so…It’s not so easy,” I told him, “I’ve been in and out of rehab for quite a while, since I was seventeen…”
“What happened?”
“Well,” I said, “I learned that I wasn’t my father’s daughter…That I was the product of my mom’s affair with their former gardener. And so, my father, or rather, the father I grew up with stopped talking to me…”
“Sorry.” He muttered.
I smiled a bit and shook my head.
“I was in rehab, too, you know?”
I was surprised, “Really?” I asked.
He nodded his head, “I…uhm…actually, the past year wasn’t just spent in Florence alone, I was also in a treatment facility…”