Another Christmas season had come and gone, It was almost a New Year again. A year after Andrew's death_or as some would have it, his murder.
I sat on the train as it rode on its rails through the bushes of England.
I tried trying to calm my mind down, but it wouldn't be still.
I had promised myself not to be afraid anymore but I was still very scared. I would flinch at every little sound around me.
The train had reached its station and I boarded a cab, it was snowing heavily.
The traffic cops looked like abandoned snowmen.
I took a glance at my reflection in the window of the cab, my very long black hair packed in a high ponytail, my best physical attribute, I thought.
Freckles that no amount of makeup would ever cover, there was my ever-perfect nose.
My brown eyes had regained some of their lost sparkles.
My small thick, dry lips that were dry and cracked, were Andrew's best feature of me.
He always told me that my lips were my most sexy feature though I didn't see that myself.
The thought of him made me shudder, the idea of love made me afraid, the idea of sex was much worse.
My recovery was slow both mentally and physically, a part of me was still missing.
My brain couldn't function with the clarity I had once taken pride in.
I saw threats in nightmare streets when none existed. I would cry for no reason, be suspicious of friends, and be afraid of strangers.
I always wanted to be left alone in my solitude.
I cut everyone off from my life, I had no friends or even enemies, sometimes I hated myself.
The investigation was over, there was no trial, the fact that my three-year-old was badly treated and had lots of injuries as I had made our claim of self-defense more convincing.
I took a flight and traveled to England where I rented a one-bedroom apartment. It was a third-floor walk-up on Lakers Street. I didn't have much money on me.
I had come to England looking for what I needed most: a demise to the pain, a start to a new life.
I was just twenty-three, I had taken someone's life even if it was in self-defense.
Giving up couldn't be an option, I urged myself. I was chasing a dream I held on to and cherished for more than a decade.
I also had the destiny of Alicia in my hands. She was the only one I had left and I promised to make sure she lived a good life.
She wouldn't be as miserable as I was...Never!
Today was a start of a new life.
Was I ready? Was it the right step? Was I about to make an awful mistake?
I held my handbag tightly, it was filled with songs I wrote in the past year.
I had written lots of songs in the past year, it was a medium of easing my pain and expressing my hopes for the future.
I'd been writing songs since I was twelve when I lost my mother. It has always been a pain killer for me.
Most times I make songs in my head, when I had the chance, I write them down on paper.
The songs were one thing people seemed to like about me, one thing people truly appreciated, the one thing I was best at.
Were they any good?
I thought there were, but Alicia was the only one who had heard them, I knew enough not to trust the opinion of a three-year-old.
Soon enough there will be other listeners, I hoped they'll appreciate them as much as Alicia did.
I was on my way to audition the songs for Raj Empire, a music empire owned by Raj Singh, the singer, and songwriter who had electrified London, one of the most important record producers in the world.
Raj Singh wanted to hear my songs ___or so he said.
I was stunned, and then it got much worse.
I was about thirty minutes late for my appointment... This wasn't a good start.
I got to his office, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
"I work on a very tight schedule, You're late", he said.
Those were his very first words to me.
" It was the snow, it took forever to get a cab, the train was too slow, I asked the driver to go faster but he rather went slower and___", I said
Jesus, Amanda You sound like a dumb parakeet, Put yourself together right now!
He was unmoved. Seemed like a real bastard.
"You should have left earlier. My days are full. I plan, so should you.", he said.
" Coffee or tea?", he asked.
The sudden politeness took me by surprise.
"Yes, coffee please", I said.
He rang for his secretary.
" Cream and Sugar?", he added.
I nodded.
His Secretary appeared.
"Coffee for Ms.Powers, Liam"
"Nothing for me", he instructed with the huskiness that made his singing so distinctive.
"The Works, Danish?" He asked
I shook my head.
He dismissed Liam with a wave, sat at his desk with his eyes closed as though he had all eternity.
"Who the hell is this guy?", I wondered.
He was in his late thirties, I guessed, with a receding hairline, black hair, a long nose, thin mouth, and brown eyes.
A homely face its lines suggested struggle and repose peace.
His fans who saw him as sexy must have been attracted by his soul not looks.
He was dressed casually in blue flannel snacks and a grey shirt, open at the neck expensive but worn with lack of care.
He looked rather sweet and harmless.
Single, I deduced and lived alone. I wasn't interested in him that way, but I noticed anyway.
I'm good with details. I always notice things, especially about people.
Liam returned with coffee in a china cup, and I took it from her.
Then I lost grip and the hot cup of coffee fell from my hands and poured down on my legs.
The cup shattered into pieces.
Ahhhh!, I screamed.
I was clumsy again, I had to put myself together!