March 2014

Today's my sixteenth birthday.

I chose a gold color themed party. My dress is golden and sparkly, while my hair is pulled back in a curled hairstyle.

Momma is finishing up the touches on my eye shadow.

I'm trying my hardest to not cry it all off.

"You look so pretty tonight, baby," Momma says through tears. "I have a surprise for you later on."

Everything is exactly how I imagined. The dress, the shoes, the decor...

But we're missing one thing.

"He still isn't here yet, Mom. I don't want to have this party without him." I dab in the corner of my eyes with a piece of tissue. "Where's Cleopatra?"

Jahseh was supposed to be released a month ago. He promised me he'd be here in time for my birthday, yet he's nowhere to be found.

Skyla places a tiara on my head, being careful of the heated curls that sit there. "Don't stress, Charisma. Whether he does or doesn't show, this is still your day. Remember that."

"Entrance starts in five minutes," our party planner reminds us.

I release a breath of air.

"Stop that," Momma mutters.

"Stop what— Oh." I look down and see myself cracking my knuckles out of nervousness. I straighten my hands out by my side and nervous laugh.

They call out my name informing me that it's time for me to go out. Moment 4 Life by Nicki Minaj is the song I chose for the entrance.

I smile and wave as everyone gasps when they see my dress for the first time.

I skim through faces. Surprised on how many people actually came.

My mother and friends are all giving speeches on how proud of me they are, but this entire time my mind is wandering back to him.

"Charisma," the party planner whispers, waking me from my trance. "Your turn to give a speech."

"Oh," I let out a weak chuckle. "Thank you." Together, we raise my dress as we walk towards the podium.

"You look beautiful," she whispers before walking off toward the crowd.

There are a few camera flashes and phones in the air.

I smile even though I hate being recorded. "First of all, I would like to thank everyone for coming. Honestly, I didn't think anyone would show up. This was all last minute."

"If you know me, you know I really don't care for parties like this, but I just want to thank my mommy for taking time out of her busy schedule to make sure I can have this day as a memory."

"Now, I could give you some bull shit—"

"Charisma!" My mom yells from the audience.

"I could get you some bull crap," I correct. "On how I'm happy I even made it this far along, but I won't. Speeches are boring and I'm sure more than half of you aren't even listening. So to make this quick, thank you for showing up, and let's enjoy ourselves, right?!"

The DJ cues the music and everyone begins to clap and dance on the dance floor.

I sit back down in my seat at the center of the room and watch everyone else have fun at my party.

𓆩♡𓆪

After cutting my cake and awkwardly getting sung happy birthday to, we finish the night off with a dance.

The DJ plays a slow song as everyone who wants to dance with me comes up and dances.

No one's dance lasts for more than 30 seconds, as I get spun to the next person.

When I get to Reign she's on the verge of tears. She fixes my tiara and reminds me that my eyeshadow is a shade lighter than my actual dress.

I laugh.

"I love you, girl. Happy birthday." She plants a kiss on my cheek and spins me to my Skyla.

"You look so beautiful, Chari. We have our ups and downs, but at the end of the day you know you have me whenever you need me, okay?"

She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and hugs me one last time before spinning me to Zaelyn.

Due to his height, he has to lower his head to whisper in my ear over the music. "Yo, I'm not gonna lie, this shit weak as fuck."

"Wow," I laugh.

"Nah, on some real shit though. Happy birthday, Charisma. We grew closer this year and I couldn't have been more appreciative."

He pulls me into a hug and sways me to the music, "We family in this bitch. But you know I don't fuck with this sentimental shit. So as long as you know how we rock, it's cool."

I crease my eyebrows. He has a hard time expressing himself which is completely understandable. "Love you too, Z."

He releases me and I look over at my Mom who seems to just smile and wipe her tears.

Looking at it now, everyone's on the verge of tears. "Damn, should I be crying too?" I mutter.

There's a tap on my shoulder. Turning I see a portrait of my dad smiling in his uniform. "Oh.." I say under my breath, seeing as to why everyone is crying.

I lift the portrait, hold it in my arms, and begin to sway back and forth with it. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to imagine what he'd say if he were here right now.

"Charisma, I'm so proud of you. You went from this beautiful ray of sunshine to the young lady I knew you would become. I can't wait to see you grow each and every day, and support you even on your worst decisions. Happy birthday, baby. Don't forget, my love for you is the strongest."

A sad smile crawls on my lips at the thought that this isn't reality.

I haven't gotten to the point where I can truly grasp that my father is gone. It doesn't seem real.

Everyone is quiet while I rock to the slow song with my dad's portrait. I'm trying my hardest to keep a smile on my face as the song ends.

They clap for me and the DJ turns on his mic. "Before we let this party come to an end, we have a small little guessing game for our birthday girl here."

"Guessing game?" I repeat. Skyla comes up to me and places a scarf over my eyes. She leads me to a chair and tells me to sit down.

"I heard from someone in this room that you hate being touched by people. So I decided, why not force this girl to touch as many people as possible?" The DJ laughs. "If you win, you get the surprise your mother told you about earlier. And if you lose..." He pauses. "I'm charging extra. LET'S GET STARTED!"

He plays a blowhorn sound effect. I feel someone lift my arm and flatten out my hands.

"The objective of this game is to correctly identify five people by the feeling of their hands."

"How am I supposed to know whose hand belongs to who?"

"I don't make the rules."

I roll my eyes under the scarf and feel a light hand placed on my palm. I cringe a bit at the contact but decide to feel for noticeable features.

First, I feel for any rings or pieces of jewelry. This person has none.

Then, I feel the nail beds to help me figure out the person's nail shape. This person has acrylics that feel like they can reach for a mile.

"Aunt Sarai," I say confidently.

"Are you sure?" He says through the mic. I nod my head. "You really sure?"

"Yes, positive."

"Are you really, really, really, really, really—"

"I'm about to snatch this damn blindfold off and beat your ass."

"You're no fun." People laugh as he hits the buzzer that lets out a little ding. Which I'm guessing means I got it right.

Another hand comes up. I follow the same tactic I did with Aunt Sarai.

There's a ring on this hand though. He's male by the feeling of his palm. "Avantee," I call out.

There's another ding.

I easily guess the next two people with ease following the same moves.

"For someone who claims to dislike touch, you know what everyone feels like."

I shrug and hold my hand out waiting for the next hand to meet mine.

These next set of fingers are a bit more difficult for me to guess. They have cold hands. There's no ring; the nails feel long, but they don't feel fake.

No bracelet or watch on the wrist or anything.

That's when I decide to lightly allow the hand to rest on my palm.

The fingers are fidgety and are shaking lightly. "Are you nervous?" I joke.

There's no response, obviously, but there's as I'm feeling the hand I take note of the fidgeting.

Nobody else's hands have done that, nor anyone else that I choose to hang around... Except—

"It looks like she has her thinking cap on. This one might be a head-scratcher! Have an answer, yet?" The DJ says.

"I think..." I feel around some more. "But I don't wanna be wrong." I let out a weak laugh.

"Ten seconds before I charge double the price!"

I feel around some more silently hoping I'm not going to be wrong.

"Three more seconds!"

I know there's a ninety-nine percent chance I'm wrong, but I'm clinging on to that one percent. "Is it Jah?" I force out.

I feel my heartbeat speed up as I await an answer.

But nobody says a word.

My nerves spike up and my patience is far too thin to hear whether I'm right or wrong.

I quickly untie the blindfold and look down at the hands displayed that I was once holding.

Right in front of me is Jahseh Onfroy himself.