One Week Later

Dear Charise,

            I know you probably won't ever read this, but I'm writing on the small chance that hopefully you will. I just wanted to say that I love your song "It's All About You (Not About Me)"! I pretty much listen to it on repeat. It gave me the courage to walk away from a toxic relationship. Thank you for writing it! I can't wait until you come to Colombia. I've been dying to see your concert! Your music makes me feel like I can do anything. Thanks so much for being awesome!

            XOXOXO

            Callie 19, Colombia, SC

Char smiled to herself, her heart swelling. She re-read the message several times before responding. What could she say to something like that? Her music made some nineteen-year-old feel empowered? Sometimes, it was all to easy to get wrapped up in the politics of the industry, or complaining about the long hours, lack of sleep, and invasion of privacy, that she forgot why she made music. Lord, forgive me for the times I've been ungrateful, she thought to herself. Hitting the new message icon in the right-hand corner of the screen, Char began to type out a response.

            Dear Callie,

            Thank you so much for your kind words. I try my best to read every letter and check my email as much as I possibly can. You have no idea how much your words mean to me. Thank you for reminding me why I do what I do. I am so happy that you feel empowered by my songs. Where are you sitting for the Colombia show? Do you have VIP passes? If not I'm sure I can arrange a meet and greet. I would love to meet you!

            All my love,

            Charise Wilson

After proofreading her message, Char hit send and let the email travel through cyberspace. Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped her words were sufficient. She never quite knew how to properly respond when people complimented her. With the promotion of her album, and her single climbing the charts she was receiving fan mail at an unprecedented rate. At times it could feel overwhelming, and she felt inadequate when she couldn't give every single fan a personal response. But overall, she was grateful that people she'd never met had been able to connect with her through her music. Sometimes, she felt like her fans knew her better than the people closest to her. Glancing at the clock on her desk, Char saw that it was nine-forty-five PM. Deciding to take a break from responding to fan mail for the night, Char closed her pink Apple clamshell laptop and rolled back from her desk.

Standing up, she walked over to her bed, and flopped down on the California king belly up, staring at the ceiling. Releasing a sigh, she felt the tension slowly roll off her shoulders. It was rare that she had a Sunday night off. She knew she should relax, but how? How could she shut her mind off? No, I need a distraction. I need to occupy my time. Reaching over to her nightstand, she pulled her Motorola off it's charger, and flipped it open. First, she dialed JC. After three rings, she got the message that his inbox was full. Next, she dialed her best friend, Amanda. The line was busy. She knew she couldn't call Nikki, because it was almost seven PM in L.A. and she'd be on set filming for her new TV show. Finally, she dialed her cousin Bridget-Leigh.

"Hey Cha-Cha!" Bridget-Leigh greeted, picking up after the first ring.

Char scrunched up her nose. Only family could get away with calling her that. "Hey Bee."

"Why so glum, chum?" Bridget-Leigh asked.

Char feigned a yawn. "I'm not. Just tired is all."

"I know you better than that."

"Fine." Char sighed. It was best to get it all out now, rather than making her cousin drag it out of her. "I'm nervous about the ‘Diary' episode," she admitted.

"What? I thought you said you had fun filming it, and that the MTV crew were nice and accommodating."

"They were," Char replied. "And it was a lot of fun to film. It's just that I don't know how they're gonna edit it, and I don't know if the fans will like it."

"I highly doubt that MTV would edit the subject of a ‘Dairy' episode in a bad light- unless you had a full-on diva fit or something."

"Oh God no! You know Mama would whoop my ass on camera!"

Bridget-Leigh chuckled. "Oh, Aunty Di def would've embarrassed you. ‘Charise Lynette, I brought you into this world and I will take you out!'"

Bridget Leigh's impression of her mother made Char laugh. It was spot on. "Remember that time I got in trouble in sixth grade, and you just happened to be home sick that day?"

"And just as luck would have it, Mama sent me to stay with Aunty Di while she and Daddy were at work."

Char smiled as the memory came rushing back. "I was so relieved when you answered the phone when Principal Reyes called home!"

Bridget-Leigh snickered. "Boy, did my Aunty Di impression come in handy that day."

"You sure did save me from gettin' my ass whooped!" Char dissolved into a fit of giggles, remembering the situation. Bridget-Leigh, who was seventeen at the time, was in her senior year of high school at Nashville School of the Arts in the Theater Arts conservatory. She'd been honing her impressionism skills all semester, and that phone call finally gave her a chance to flex what she'd been working so hard on.

"I miss those days," Bridget-Leigh admitted.

"Me too," Char sighed, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Everything was so much simpler."

"So that's what's got you down." Bridget-Leigh said, identifying the source of her problem.

"Yeah. It's part of it anyway."

"What's the other part?"

Rolling onto her stomach, Char heaved a sigh, wondering where to begin. "Bee, I'm afraid to move out!"

"What?" Bridget-Leigh guffawed. "Not you! The one who's been so anxious to break free!"

"I know! But now that I'm actually in the process of buying a house, it's becoming more... real." Confessing her fear, Char sat up and looked around her room. For the past six years it had been her sanctuary. She hadn't seen much of it lately, but now that she was in the middle of her bed, she felt like a fifteen-year-old all over again. Her eyes shifted from the lilac walls, to the two plush pink papasan chairs in opposite corners of the room, to the silver bubble beaded curtains, the white baby grand piano, her computer desk, and her large vanity set up. When they first moved into the house after the MMC ended, Diahna was determined to turn Char's room into the ‘perfect princess room'. Being an only child had its perks, but also, it's setbacks. "Bee! I can't be alone! I've never been on my own before!" At almost twenty-one years old, she was embarrassed to admit it. Even to her own cousin.

"Relax, Cha-Cha, you'll be fine!" Bridget-Leigh assured her.

"How are you so sure?" Char asked skeptically.

"Because I made it just fine on my own when I moved out to LA after high school."

"Yeah, but you lived in a dorm and had a roommate." Char pointed out.

"I did, but it wasn't easy, living with someone my own age for the first time. And it was incredibly hard being miles away from Mama and Daddy the first time. I cried myself to sleep every night for the first week. But I got through it. And, when I came home for Thanksgiving break, I felt smothered and couldn't wait to get back to LA! You may be leaving the nest a little later, but you'll be just fine. You're perfectly capable and responsible. And it's not like you're moving across the country, you're just switching zip codes. You're still going with the place in Rose Isle, right?"

"Yes. The house in Rose Isle." Char replied, thinking of the four-thousand square foot, traditional home with it's five bedrooms and four and half baths. It had everything she could possibly want in a home, a state-of-the-art kitchen, her dream luxury bathroom, a pool, ceramic tile flooring, decent distancing from neighbors, miles of land, and a decent HOA price. It was the epitome of a dream home, and yet a small nagging part of her had reservations.

"Have you signed the conract yet?." Bridget-Leigh asked.

"No, not yet." Char answered, sheeplishly. 

"Charise! What are you waiting for?! The owners aren't gonna wait forever before they move on to the next interested buyer. Besides, I already have my room picked out!"

Char snorted. "Oh, really?!"

"Yes, really. I want the one on the second floor closest to guest bathroom. It's the second biggest one, after the master bedroom." Char giggled. "Wait, you're not getting cold feet, are you? Your dad can only hold the house for so long. I mean, it's not like you're buying your first property."

She was right. A year prior, Char's father, who also happened to be the biggest real estate agent in Orlando had suggested she buy a home as an investment property and rent it out. Taking her father's advice, she bought a two-bedroom condo in the Central Business District, which proved to be a smart investment, earning her passive income after a newlywed couple rented out the unit. However, it wasn't that she feared buying a house. She feared being alone. "It's not that Bee. What am I gonna do with all that space?"

"Live in it." Bridget-Leigh replied, in an obvious tone.

"But it's a lot of space for just me."

"It won't be just you. I already told you I have my room that I plan on staying in whenever I come visit. And I'm sure JC will be there when his schedule permits it. Besides, you'll be busy touring the world. After spending over two hundred nights a year sleeping in hotel rooms, tour buses, and airplanes, you'll want a place all your own to come home to."

But that was the thing; after spending more than half the year touring, she didn't want to come back to an empty home. She wanted to come back to her parents home. Where her dad would be grilling, or where her mom would be making her Jambalaya and homemade beignets. She wanted to come home to family. "You're right. I just..." Char began, forcing back tears. "I'm a big baby! Mama and Daddy completely infantilized me. I'll never survive on my own! I can't do it!" Tears began spilling from the corners of her eyes as she confessed something she'd only ever tell Bridget-Leigh. Bridget-Leigh's response? Full belly laughter. "What are you laughing at?"

"You really think you can't survive on your own? You can, you just need a little tough love and a shove from the nest. Gee, I thought I was the spoiled one!"

Char gasped. "Bridget-Leigh Fabre, you did not just call me spoiled!"

Bridget-Leigh snickered. "Oh, you're totally spoiled. You may not be a spoiled brat, but spoiled you are. You've never been on your own, you've never had to do anything for yourself, and anything you want, you get at the drop of a hat."

Ouch! Char winced, pursing her lips.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it princess?" Bridget-Leigh asked, as if reading Char's mind. "Listen, you'll be fine. You just need to toughen up a little. I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't love you."

"I know," Char sighed, digesting her cousin's words. "Thank you. Even if it's not what I wanna hear."

"What are sister-cousins for?"

Char smiled, a warm feeling flooding her body. "On that note, I'm gonna get off of here and let Daddy know that I'm gonna close on the house."

"Good! I want my walls painted orchid!"

"Ha! You're lucky you're even getting a room!" Char teased. "Bye. Love you!" She called, before hitting the red end button and flipping her phone shut. Throwing her phone onto her pillows, she rolled over and slid off her bed. Time to bite the bullet, she thought as she left her bedroom. It was now or never. If she didn't tell her dad she wanted the house now, then she knew she never would.

Walking down the staircase she pondered on Bridget-Leigh's words. Was she really that spoiled? She'd never thought of herself as such because she wasn't the type to demand things and throw temper tantrums when she didn't get them. She'd always had an even temperament, and never expected her parents to bend to her will. However, she had grown accustomed to asking for things, and then receiving them shortly after. Maybe she was spoiled.

When she reached the landing, Char searched the living room, kitchen, and den for her parents. "Mom, Dad?" She called. No answer. Turning into the corridor left of the living room, she checked her mom's office, which was empty. In a final attempt, she decided to check her dad's office. As she approached his door, she heard her parents voices. It sure didn't sound like they were gleefully chatting while sharing a bottle of wine. As she got closer to the door, Char lightened her footsteps, as not to make her presence known. She saw that the door was cracked, so she flattened her back against the wall to hide herself from view and listen in on the conversation.

"Diahna, I am tired," Lennie hissed.

Tired of what? Char wondered.

"I feel like I'm the only one constantly compromising here." He continued.

"You?" Diahna shot back. "You're not the only compromising! I've made plenty of sacrifices!"

"For Charise!"

Char's breath caught in her throat at the mention of her name.

"She gets cast on the Mickey Mouse Club, and we have to uproot our family. I have to rebuild my business from the ground up. She gets a record deal and you become her manager. The two of you are gone galivanting around the world, and I don't see my wife or my daughter!"

Like a baseball, crashing through a sheet of float glass, Char's heart shattered into a million pieces.

"Well excuse me for wanting to set my daughter up for success!"

"You think I don't want my daughter to succeed?" Lennie argued. "She's my child of course I want her to be successful and happy. I just think we've let this whole thing get away from us."

"This ‘whole thing'?" Diahna repeated. "What do you mean by this ‘whole thing'?"

"The whole music business thing." Lennie clarified. "It was fine when it was just a hobby. But now it's interfering with everything."

"Leonard, are you serious? Do you hear yourself? This is her career!"

"We should have never let her go on that show. She should be in college."

"Leonard, we can't stop her now. She has contractual obligations to fulfill. Not to mention, she's an adult now with her own money and she can do whatever the hell she wants!"

Lennie let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "You're right. Charise is an adult. She can pursue whatever career she chooses. But I think you should step down as her manager, and let Johnny take over."

Char's mouth dropped as her heart plunged to her stomach. She couldn't fathom not having her mother as her manager.

"So now you're telling me what to do with my own career?" Diahna accused.

Lennie groaned. "No Di, that's not it. I'm just... when was the last time we went on a date? Or spoke more than two sentences to each other without fighting? When have I gone more than one week at a time with you being home?"

Deciding she'd heard enough, Char quietly crept away from her father's office and made her way to the kitchen. Feeling completely dejected, each footstep she took felt slow and heavy. The front of her head began to throb, and before she knew it, she as crying again. Now, for a completely different reason. Bridget-Leigh was right. She was spoiled, and because of it, it was tearing apart her family.

Entering the kitchen, Char padded across the floor and made her way to the refrigerator, pulling out a container of leftover red beans and rice. She grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer, and bowl from the cabinet. After scooping out a sizeable portion and placing it in the ceramic bowl, she popped it into the microwave. While waiting on her food to get hot, she replayed her parent's argument in her head. She'd never considered the sacrifice that went into moving from Franklin, Tennessee to Orlando, Florida and her dad having to rebuild his business and establish his name in a whole new city. Her parents had always presented a united front in her presence, and she'd never noticed problems in their marriage. Or was she just to self-absorbed in her own problems to realize the toll that her career was taking on their relationship, and overall family structure? A wave of anxiety overwhelmed her as she came to the startling realization that she was not only spoiled, but completely and utterly selfish. Her family was going up in flames and it was all her fault.

The microwave went off, and Char removed the bowl. Grabbing the spoon off the counter, she stuck it into the bowl and walked over to the island, taking a seat on one of the cushioned barstools. Spooning the red beans and rice into her mouth, Char let the heat from the andouille sausage and cayenne pepper warm her body and offer a temporary warmth to her soul. Food may not be the solution to her problems, but it would do in a pinch. With every bite, she got a taste of home, and her anxiety was alleviated if only for a short time.

Hearing footsteps, Char looked up from her bowl and saw her parents walking toward the kitchen. "Hi honey!" Her mother said, smiling brightly. Knowing what she now knew, she could tell it was fake. She watched as her mother walked over to the wine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Bordeaux.

"Hey Mama, hey Daddy." Char said to her parents as they approached.

"What's the matter babygirl?" Lennie asked, before kissing the top of her head. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, no I'm fine." She lied. Two can play this game. "I'm just tired," she explained, faking a yawn. "By the way, Daddy."

"Yes, babygirl?" Lennie asked as he walked toward the refrigerator.

"Umm..." She stammered. "I want to buy the house. For real."

Lennie raised an eyebrow. "Really? Are you sure?"

Diahna turned to look at her daughter and caught her eye. She flashed her a What's really wrong look? Char shook her head in response, mouthing Nothing. Diahna eyed her suspiciously.

"Yeah, it's time for me to move out." Char said, trying to convince herself.

"Well honey, I'm proud of you." Lennie replied. "We'll start the process tomorrow morning and I'll have the paperwork ready for you to sign."

"I'm so excited! I can't wait!" Char lied again, forcing a smile. Maybe hearing her parents' argument was the tough love she needed. Perhaps, it was the figurative push from the nest that Bridget-Leigh had been talking about. Whatever it was, it created a pit in her stomach and feeling if impending doom that would not go away.