It had happened again. America was on her knees. The attacks were well organized and coordinated. New York, Philadelphia, Washington, DC, Chicago, Seattle, and Los Angeles burned. This time, tens of thousands of people lost their lives. They were innocents, just pushing through their daily grind of rushing to work, getting children to school, sweating over bills and fighting through rush hour traffic. Those worries were gone now, gone in spectacular flame. But from that flame rose new fears, new realities. Infrastructure could be repaired. Survivors were treated for their physical wounds. As for America's psyche, the damage was uncertain.
The media spun its usual web of assumptions. The attackers were retaliating for America's actions overseas. They hated the West for spreading democracy and freedom. The terrorists were young Muslim men who were angry with the "usurpers." Hate crimes rose exponentially against Muslims and anyone thought to be of the faith. Brown people were in imminent danger. There was no debate that the people who perpetrated the attacks were terrorists. When arrests had finally been made, America had an ugly truth to face. Brown faces did not flash on television sets across the nation, but the faces of white men who hated their government. When the FBI and the US Marshals raided several of their compounds, racist and anti-government propaganda littered the property.
The time had come for America to gaze into its looking-glass.
XxX
Andrea Harrison had just joined the ranks of a very small and exclusive group of women in Hollywood. During the previous award season not only had her film been nominated by The Academy but she had been nominated for the best director category. It was still a boys club she knew, so she wasn't the least bit surprised when she lost in both categories during that amazing evening in March. Despite her loss, her life would never be the same. She was the paparazzi's newest muse. But tonight she'd choose the blinding flashbulbs of cameras over the pain and agony the country was experiencing. She had family and friends she would never see again. Andrea wiped away her tears and took a deep breath. She had a show to run. Rick watched Andrea give her introduction at the top of the broadcast. When she called him in the middle of the night and told him about the benefit concert she had been asked to direct and produce, he was all in. He had thought he was just volunteering his musical talents but when he arrived in LA, Andrea told him he would be co-anchoring the program with her. Rick vehemently protested but Andrea reminded him that as a former police officer, his narrative as a first responder would be powerful. He finally agreed as he would do anything for his childhood friend who knew him before his stardom and multi-platinum albums. Tonight Rick left behind the cowboy hat and boots. He wore a pair of blue jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a pair of blue Pumas. At first he didn't know why he felt the need to forego his usual attire but then he concluded that maybe it was just important for everyone at this horrible moment to just strip themselves down and show what they really about...no pretenses, no barriers, no nothing.
Andrea concluded her introduction and introduced the first act. She slid onto a stool next to Rick and smiled.
"So you and Jessie Anderson are going to close out the show with "God Bless the USA", correct?"
Andrea noted the indifference in Rick's voice. "What's wrong? Did rehearsals go bad or something?"
Rick rubbed Andrea's back and chuckled. "No. Rehearsals were great."
"Then what's the problem! You do realize that this is show is being broadcast all over the world!" Andrea snapped.
"Relax. You've got nothing to worry about. I've got you."
"Don't let me down Grimes. The networks wanted you and Jessie. They felt that you two would look great together."
"Apparently Jessie feels that we look great together too." Rick confessed.
"And?" Andrea probed, her eyes growing wide with excitement.
"And what? She's a good talent."You know what I mean Grimes. The two biggest acts in country music hooking up. That would be so huge.
Rick sighed. "Andrea the public knows nothing about me or Jessie and they're putting us together. Hell I don't even know that much about the woman except the ink is barely dry on her divorce papers."
"But you would like to get to know her, right?"
"I feel like we're in the sixth grade again passing around those stupid little notes. Do you like me check yes or no."
"Just talk to her."
"I'm not in the mood. Maybe under different circumstances."
"Who cares about circumstances, Rick. People are dead! Tomorrow isn't promised! That's why we are here! How many of our loved ones would wish for one more day, one more opportunity?" Andrea pleaded. Water gathered in her eyes. She turned from Rick
Stagehands flew in from all directions, giving Andrea some tissues. Her assistant offered her a bottle of water and asked her repeatedly if she were ok. After a few seconds of coddling, Andrea shooed them off. Rick grabbed her hand.
"Hey listen. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be an ass about it."
Andrea gathered herself. "No it's fine. I guess we're all under a lot of stress."
"It's going to be all right, you know."
"But we can't go back, Rick."
"And despite all of the pain that surrounds us, that can be a good thing. We've got to change the way we do things-change the way we think about things-people.
" I never figured you to be a philosopher."
"You never gave me much credit. I'm more than a pretty face with a good voice." Rick quipped.
"Jessie thinks you have a pretty face."
"Andrea!"
Giggling as she took a sip of water, Andrea reached over and tousled Rick's hair. "I'm sorry. I can't help myself. But she's so pretty."
Rick dropped his face in his hands and sighed. He was about to respond to his friend before his attention was called back to the stage. A major starlet was highlighting some of the lives lost during the attacks. A four string quartet was setting up beside her. Rick enjoyed classical music. Back when he was a deputy in Georgia he would play Vivaldi in his patrol car. At first his partner Shane protested. He mocked what he called "nose in the air music". But after a few close calls chasing crooks on I-85, Shane 's outlook changed. He admitted to feeling more calm and balanced. Shane even went as far as scoring tickets to the Atlanta symphony. The highlight of the evening was not only the quality of music but seeing Shane shed a tear at the end of the performance. Rick and his wife, Lori teased him but Shane didn't bother to hide his emotions. He did promise to break Rick's nose if the guys at the station ever found out about him crying at the show.
The quartet situated themselves around a platform brought out by stagehands. As soon as Rick saw her he was captivated. Michonne Rhodes ascended up the platform. She was dressed in a black bodysuit with an exquisite jade colored shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her makeup was flawless. Her hair was fixed in long locs that framed her silhouette like a prominent ebony cloud. As the cameraman gave Michonne the cue, she closed her eyes as the quartet began to play. Rick was intrigued at the arrangement as soon as he recognized the song. As the quartet finished the introduction, the rich alto voice sailing out of Michonne's body carried Rick on a journey.
The road is long
With many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where
Who knows when
But I'm strong
Strong enough to carry him
He isn't heavy, he's my brother
Everyone in the studio paused. The celebrities gathering donations ignored the ringing phones. Rick stood up from his chair and shut his eyes. He bit his lip, trying to fight whatever emotions were overtaking him as the camera crew scanned the studio trying to capture the energy that shook everyone like a powerful thunderstorm. By the time Michonne had reached the last verse the phones stopped ringing. America went silent and gave this mystery woman its undivided attention.
It's a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we're on the way to there
Why not share
And the load
Doesn't weigh me down at all
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
He's my brother
He ain't heavy, he's my brother
Tears were streaming down Michonne's face as she sang the last verse. Instead of hanging onto the final note for a great finish, her voice trailed off, reminiscent of the great Joe Crocker when he sang "You are so beautiful" decades ago. The gentle hush remained as everyone gathered glanced at one another in awe and bewilderment. What just happened? That was question being asked through their puzzled expressions. Who was this woman that black America was so in love with yet virtually unknown by white America? Neo Soul was an art still ignored in the mainstream entertainment.
The phones began to ring again. With tears streaming down her smiling face Michonne looked over to Rick who had been given the signal to begin the next segment. When he missed his cue, Andrea nudged him. Despite the brevity of the moment, this tickled Michonne who stifled a laugh in her hands. Rick read the cue cards accurately but if someone had quizzed him, he wouldn't have been able to recall anything that had just come out of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Michonne descend from the platform and gracefully exit the stage. He decided that he loved her laugh even if it came at his own expense. If he tried, on purpose, if given the opportunity would she give him a chance to make her laugh and smile?When Rick finished his segment he went to search for her. Abruptly, doubt and a bit of self loathing cut off his path. He cursed himself and went to the restroom. Sitting behind a monitor off stage, Lori Grimes observed Rick's reaction to Michonne Rhodes with great interest. She laughed to herself as a mischievous smirk grew over her lips. What would she do with the hopeless case that was named Rick Grimes?