Chapter One
As a college student, it has never been easy to live on my own. To live without my Nana and without my brother to care for me. I wish Riz were here. If I could really turn back time, I would. I would protect Riz the best I could. I was too young and frail back then; I couldn't do anything.
It was a good old night in New Orleans where Nana, my twin Rizanna, my big brother Rolly, and I were camping. We were in the middle of some woods and a cabin. It's kinda creepy to have only a cabin in the middle of the woods. I don't really love the idea of the forest. Bigfoots, werewolves, and other little demons with wings lurking around.
It was one of my favorite weekends. I never experienced playing with Dad because we haven't seen him since we were little. Whenever we asked Nana about him, she changed the topic, and I didn't ask her again. Some things are probably better left unsaid.
The smell of s'mores, barbeque, and burnt marshmallows fueled our night. It was my twin's and my birthday. Nana looked at us with her ocean-blue eyes and pulled out two little boxes with black bows. She sat down on the mat and gave each of us a box. I opened mine and found a bracelet with a beautiful stone that looked like a colorful opal. Riz got a necklace with a beautiful red stone resembling a ruby. I was so happy to have it, and we hugged Nana tightly. Rolly wiggled his foot to show us his anklet with a beautiful stone like ours, but his was a glowing blue stone that looked like a sapphire, which he got on his last birthday three years ago.
For the first time, Nana spoke of our father. She became teary-eyed and said that it was our father's gift for us to be given on our 12th birthdays. She hugged us tightly and sang our favorite lullaby.
"See me soar to faithful heights...
When the moon is high and the sun rests at night...
Be my darling morning light...
The water runs to the south...
He's waiting there at the hidden spout...
Follow my glowing sound...
When one is lost, it will be found..."
Riz was asleep in Nana's arms. I was sleepy too. Rolly put out the fire, and we went inside our cabin and all went to sleep.
In the middle of the night, while we were all asleep, we were awakened by a horrific scream, even me because I was wounded in the chest. Nana hurriedly came to our room and grabbed me, and my brother was limping. My twin Rizanna was nowhere to be found. An ambulance took me, and my brother was attended to by the first aiders. All I heard was that Rolly's foot was okay and only dislocated. The police didn't find any traces of a break-in. They found a dead white hawk (which was odd) and a handful of gunpowder on our doorstep. My Nana believed that Rizanna was kidnapped by "night-drifting bloodsuckers," but of course, the police didn't believe her. I just cried and cried because my sister was gone, and the burning pain in my chest drained my energy. Then I saw blood! I had been stabbed in the chest. My vision went black, and I don't remember anything after that.
*Choooooooooooo chooooooooooo*
"The train to New Orleans will be leaving in 20 minutes!"
There was my train, going home. The memories of that place reminded me of my childhood, with both happy and sad memories. I took the seat nearest to the window. I enjoyed watching the fields and trees pass by, and then it rained. The rain poured down the window, blurring my view of the beautiful fields. I always find the beauty of nature to be my inspiration for my designs. I am in my fourth year of college, studying interior design. The pleasant and warm ambiance of the colors of nature is my color palette. The colors of the seasons: Autumn, Spring, Winter, Summer.
The last time I left New Orleans was after Christmas. I had never seen snow until I moved to the big city where it snows heavily. I love the cold. The humidity in New Orleans is what I hate most. I have a condition where I sweat a lot. Some people shed a little sweat around their foreheads and still look good. Then there's me, sweating profusely, with sweat dripping from my face, my armpits, and my back. Ugh, yuck! This is my insecurity.
"Miss, aren't you feeling cold?" said the old woman beside me, wearing a thick jacket.
"No, ma'am, I'm fine. I like the cold; it feels warm," I smiled at her, and she looked at my bare arms. I leaned my head against the window.
I don't know how long it's been since I left home. I miss Nana, I miss the cinnamon-scented room, I miss the freaky things inside the bottles, and I miss the weird things hanging. I used to call Nana's shop "the freaky room." It had lots of freaky stuff that I could never understand because I was just a kid. My Nana actually owns an exotic herb and spice shop. She sells herbs used for herbal medicine, spices for cooking, and other unusual and exotic spices. She even sells dried lizard powder and concentrated swamp algae! My hometown is on the south side of New Orleans. It's a small, peaceful town, not too many big buildings, and everything is old. Yeah, it has convenience stores, little department stores, and a library. But the weird thing is, you can see herb and spice shops everywhere! Literally everywhere! On a single street, there are at least two or three shops!
They must be money laundering or something. Or maybe the whole neighborhood is pestered with witches with green faces and pointy noses! I don't blame them. It's just my assumption, so chill.
The memories. Rizanna. That night. I touched my chest, just between my cleavage.
This scar. This scar will forever haunt my memories. Memories of Rizanna. Our scars will haunt our memories forever. As soon as I woke up in the hospital, I saw Nana crying, holding my hand, and then I saw Rolly sitting at the table, eating. His eyes widened, and he wiped his mouth and hurriedly came to me.
"Rosetta, pumpkin. Are you alright? Should I call the doctor?"
Those were the last words I heard before I saw a bandage covering my chest. I wanted to speak. I wanted to scream. I had so many questions! Where is Rizanna? Nana, are you okay? Is Rolly okay? Is Rizanna okay? Then I felt sleepy, so I closed my eyes again.
I haven't been able to ask Nana about Rizanna. Her mood changes, and she cries when I ask her. The last time I asked her was the day I got discharged from the hospital. The doctor said that no vital organs were punctured or damaged. Luckily, my esophagus was safe. When we got home, I asked Nana about Rizanna. She didn't utter a single word; she forced a smile and went to her room. She cried and didn't come out for three days. She didn't eat anything. My Aunt Cleo took care of us. After that, I never dared ask Nana about Rizanna again. If it's too hard for us, then it must be very depressing for her. A wife who lost a husband is called a widow, a child who lost both parents is called an orphan. But what do you call a parent who lost a child? No words can describe the pain of a parent losing a child.
Change of topic.
The shop has been in the family for generations. That is what Nana told me. I remember one time that one of the pipes exploded because of rust and had to be changed. The ceiling was leaking and needed to be fixed. I heard the plumber say it was probably more than 100 years old or so; the pipes were all crumbly and fragile. That's what he said.
Anyway, I brought my sketchbooks, coloring materials, fabric samples, and some design proposals. Yeah, I know it's too much since I am just revamping my family's business. But I need to do it professionally so that I can adapt this kind of attitude in the future. The sketches are in my portfolio, and I brought a camera with me to take photos of the finished products to add to my work portfolio. I need it for applying to the Fashion House Interior Designing team. Since I first saw their work in a magazine, it inspired me to be an interior designer. So I am really looking forward to it.
I talked to Nana on the phone before I left my apartment, and she was so excited that she left her cookies burning in the oven. It's been so long since I last smelled and tasted her cooking. I am planning to take Nana with me to the big city when I get a job. I heaved a sigh.
This is a long trip. I put my earbuds in and listened to "Home" by Michael Bublé. I'll just take a nap. The trip to New Orleans takes a tiring three and a half hours. The music slowly drifted me to sleep, and the sleep turned into a deep slumber...