Little Missy Latoya (Part seven)

T h e  V i s i o n

Just after dawn, a mournful call awakened Little Queen Missy. She scowled toward the sound to see the damp morning rippling down the window panes. She sat up and took stern barefooted steps toward it and peered through the mist. A lonely mourning dove balanced on the dripping phone wires singing its woeful song. Missy Latoya blinked against the strange sensation welling up in her throat. She perked up instantly, as a sudden vision obliterated her thoughts. A rush of adrenalin pushed through her veins. She pinched her lips together and her nostrils flared. Her fingers formed fists at her sides and her eyes narrowed. There was trouble lurking in her queenly domain. Her breathing quickened.

“MOTHER!” Her hard voice penetrated the quiet and she stomped toward her closet. She began whipping through her dresses, shoving one hanger aside after the next. She stopped. Yes, the black satin one. Just as she was about to bellow out to her mother again, the bed-headed woman had shuffled to her doorway.

“Baby doll…” Her voice was hoarse and pasty. “Why you up so early on a Saturday, precious?”

Latoya sent an annoyed gaze toward her mother’s face. “Breakfast. Now. I have important matters to attend to this morning.” She returned her gaze to the closet.

Lifting the hanger ever so gingerly, she drew the black dress from the rod and placed it on her bed, running her fingers over the glistening hand-sewn bead and sequins patterns. The deep pink beads were placed for romantic distraction among the swirls of glistening black.

“What can I do to help my sweet little princess? What’s wrong, baby?” She began moving toward her daughter with her hand on her heart and the other outstretched.

Queen Latoya turned on her heel with her jaw clenched. “I said, make my breakfast!” Her mother’s face fell and she quickly raised her reaching hand as a peace-offering, as she took slow steps backwards.

“Okay, baby, okay…So special. My baby Queen…” She shook her head as she turned away.

Missy’s voice softened. “Thank you mother dear. And I’m just fine. I have the Ancestors to protect me, remember? You just worry about your job.” She manufactured a sparkling smile, then erasing it as her mother nodded with understanding and exited the room.

Missy spread the full skirt and bodice open over her quilt, ensuring that not a bead or sequin was loose or missing. Today she had to be perfect. Everything must be perfect. Troubled by an abrupt thought, she dropped her head and flared her nostrils. Something vital was missing.

She grasped at her arm. “Oils!!” She hissed the command.

And the hands came, with whispers of joy and giggles of delight. And the husky voices spoke. “Oh, yesss, yesss!” Our Queen does know…oh, yes she does!”

A sound of slick liquid warming between rubbing hands joined with the voices and the pungent, earthy aromas swarmed among them. “New oils, our youngest Queen…more powerful than the last! Our foremother’s recipe for dominant power, and it is yours now. Yours now…”