Call of the Song Sparrow: A Novel
by
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Ida had frequented the Coffee Pub often enough, but today as she stepped inside, it felt as though she was entering unfamiliar territory and seeing everything for the first time. From the bakery display case full of muffins and pastries to the beige and then forest green of the wall-papered walls that was covered with a number of framed headshot portraits signed by the famous people enclosed within. Ida wavered while glancing around the restaurant, still unsure of whether she could handle what was about to transpire. A waitress greeted her. "Good morning. Will it be just yourself dining today?"
"I'm meeting someone," Ida responded, clasping the strap of her shoulder bag with both hands. "I'm not sure if she's arrived."
"Oh, yes. I think maybe in the next room..." the waitress offered as she gestured to her left. "Feel free to have a look."
Taking a deep breath and donning a quick, courteous smile, Ida nodded and made her way gingerly into the secondary seating area. Within seconds, she had spotted her daughter. There she was, sitting at a corner table sipping on a glass of water from a straw. Tia. Ida saw her immediately, and while it was merely a profile view, she knew unmistakably at first glance who she was peering upon. The honey-brown tone of skin, the wavy locks of thick hair falling like spongy coils of burnt copper and molasses down her back, the striking poise and softness of manner all captivated Ida, sending her back in time with shockwaves of emotion that took her senses by surprise.
That day was January 22, 1975, and the small life she had painfully brought forth to so agonizingly leave behind had just met her in full-grown bodily form this day. Here they were, almost forty years later, and the bated breath of the moment-timeworn breath that she had swallowed and unknowingly held submerged all these years-was suddenly emerging with considerable buoyancy. Ida exhaled and gasped all at the same time in the instant her eyes fell upon Tia, and before she could take another step forward, she found herself backpedaling into the other portion of the restaurant. The waitress who'd first met her questioned, "Not who you're looking for?"
Stammering for words, Ida blurted, "I-it's her. Your bathroom, I need to..."
"Oh, right over there," she pointed.
Ida was retreating, if only for a few minutes. The fear and almost delightful shock of the moment were taking her by storm. She hadn't been certain how this meeting would affect her, but for now, it was launching her into minor arrest. She found herself trembling in front of the mirror of the dimly lit bathroom facility, fighting hyperventilation. Watching as tears once again collected in the crux of her eyes, she pulled her glasses off and snatched a handful of toilet tissue from the roll. With several dabs at her cheeks and nose, her breath and heart began to steady some. "Get it together, Ida," she whispered, tucking her glasses into their case in her purse. She placed one hand on her chest and the other on the door in preparation for reentry into the reality waiting on the other side as she pondered what had already been seen of Miss Tia Blackwell: a striking woman for sure, but she never expected anything less.
With a sigh of resignation, Ida proceeded from the bathroom toward her newfound daughter once again, this time with more assurance, knowing what to expect-at least on the surface. She placed both palms on either side of her face, hoping her cheeks weren't too flushed. Goodness, they feel hot, she thought. And her eyes-she imagined them still red and puffy from the cry, but with honest determination, she willed them to be clear and dry. No more delay. The meeting was set for 11:30 a.m., and it was now 11:35, so she collected herself and set out to round the corner of the room where Tia was seated. Before she knew it, she was already five feet away. With a stop, Ida heard her daughter's name pass from her lips for the first time. "Tia?"
"Yes!" Tia confirmed quickly while maneuvering to stand and greet Ida who was still at least three feet from the table.
With a little hesitance but also by natural force of habit, Ida moved to embrace Tia-sort of as one would embrace a distant cousin who'd just turned up at the five-year family reunion. What seemed like a million thoughts came into Ida's mind during that initial moment of contact. She could feel Tia acquiesce to her initiation of an embrace. There was a mixture of joy and reticence intermingled with intrigue and perplexity, as well as fulfillment and sadness even. This careful balance of sentiments teetered from one emotion to another and seemed like a shared phenomenon taking place in both mother and daughter. It generated a rather palpable yet sufferable tension between the two. Ida's senses simultaneously took in Tia's scent-fresh almost like white cotton, stature-five foot sixish, the texture of Tia's hair against the cheek-dense and fuzzy, and the faint fragrance of her perfume oil-which was ambiguously reminiscent of orange zest and cinnamon. Yes-perhaps that.
In this moment, Tia astutely scanned every facet of Ida's face and demeanor, comparing what she saw to everything she had conjectured in her mind's eye of how "Mother" might be or look now. Ida too beheld Tia's face-which was shaped like a heart-a milk chocolate heart-and spotted the lavender nails on slender fingers of hands now taking hold of her own. They were warm hands, with a gentle grip that appropriately accompanied the diminutive smile-a smile flashed warily, yet still unmistakably resembling Ida's own. And resembling her brother Elias' too. And someone else's... some long-lost and familiar other one. "You're beautiful," Ida announced as they stepped apart, hands still clasped.
"Thank you," Tia said meekly, pulling the lapels of her linen blazer together. "And so are you."
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About the Book
Call of the Song Sparrow is a novel both genuine and captivating in its storytelling as its delicate portrayal of the familial ties that bind parents, children and siblings is cast against the backdrop of a scandalous family secret.
The story centers around Ida Mabry and her thirty-nine-year-old illegitimate daughter, Tia, whom she abandoned at birth on the doorstep of her paternal grandparents' home in Oakland, California. Ida, who is white had Tia at 17; Tia, who is bi-racial and half black, was born in 1975 at a time when U.S. race relations were still rather tumultuous. The story begins in 2014 with Tia and Ida meeting for the first time in Las Vegas, Nevada. Ida has never divulged anything to her husband and two grown sons about Tia or her past and does not plan to do so even after establishing a relationship with her daughter, but when a series of unlikely events threaten to unsettle Ida’s long-held secret, she is forced to lay everything on the line.
About the Author
Carmen Brady-Bronston was born in Tucson, Arizona and grew up in Las Vegas, Nevada where she now resides with her husband. Her first publication, Seven Winters Quelled, was a compilation of 40 inspirational poems published in 2008. She completed her Master of Arts in Creative Writing from Dartmouth College, where she further developed the knack for fiction storytelling.
Carmen’s appreciation for family and its universal impact on the lives of people everywhere served as the impetus for Call of the Song Sparrow. She has learned that part of what people need in life is the ability to process their own individual journeys, to tell their stories, and have their stories heard. She hopes this intimate look into the fictional, yet very real, family dynamic characterized within her novel will resonate with all who read it.