Someone Like Me Read online

  “I know. But all of that business is a direct result of your new sauces and the other additions you’ve made to the menu. I’m so proud of you.”

  “I wish I could convince Jack to open for dinner.”

  “Keep working on him. Jack knows what needs to happen. He’ll agree to it, I’m sure.”

  “Mary told me something similar when she and I discussed it,” he says as we fix our plates and move to the kitchen table.

  “Well, you know Mary knows him better than either one of us, so if she thinks he’ll start opening up to it, then you can consider it done.”

  He laughs. “You’re right.”

  “Speaking of making some changes, I might be making a few of my own,” I say as I pour each of us a glass of wine. “I was talking to Jazzmyne earlier today. She called me to see if I would be interested in recording something with the band. Apparently she has a record label that wants to talk to me.”

  “Is that what you want?” he asks as he takes a sip of wine.

  “I don’t know. It’s a thought.”

  “Well, if that’s something you decide to do, I’ll support you.”

  “I know you will, and I thank you for that.”

  As I watch Matt eat his salad, I can’t help but smile. I like that he understands that it has to be my decision, that he doesn’t push or try to convince me to do anything. I reach over and wrap my hands around his for a second, and then gently pull away so I can eat.

  “What was that for?”

  “For getting me.”

  “I think we get each other.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  He grins, and his smile warms my bones. “After dinner, why don’t we run out and grab a few movies to watch tonight.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” I say, digging into my salad.

  Matt places his fork on the table and looks up at me. “The other day, I saw your journal on your bed. How’s that going?”

  “Faithfully done every night,” I say, staring at him and waiting because I know there’s something more to that question.

  “Is there still a bunch of pages being filled up with Michael’s name?”

  “Michael who?”

  He grins again. “I really hope that’s the case.”

  I reach over and bring his hand to my lips, giving it a soft kiss. “It is. I promise you. The only name that has filled my journal for quite some time is yours. Well, Jack and Mary are in there, too, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  I want to tell him.

  I want to tell him that the only space in my heart is occupied by him.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  March 8, 1995

  “I love the snow and I love the way it layers roofs in a white blanket of softness. In a couple of weeks, it will be gone and spring will come,” I say as Matt and I stare out through his big bay windows with glasses of wine in our hands and full bellies.

  “I can’t believe that it’s still snowing in March. But I love how you can see the smoke coming from the chimneys nearby. Tonight, even the stars seem as if they are shining brighter than I have ever seen them,” Matt says as I rest my head on his shoulder.

  “I think it’s your turn to do the dishes,” I say as I sit up to take a sip of my wine.

  Matt looks back at the kitchen and sighs. “Isn’t that what you said last Wednesday?”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember. Okay, it’s my turn,” I say as I slowly stand up.

  He touches my hand and I look down at him, seeing the love that he has for me reaching his eyes. “I’m not ready for you to leave me just yet. I think I need a taste of that wine that’s on your lips.”

  “It that right?”

  “It must certainly is,” he says, gently pulling me back down to the sofa, and then moving his warm lips on mine. “Wine tastes so much better that way. I think I need more of it.” His lips envelop mine as I slip my arms around him to bring us closer. “You know I love you,” he adds, gracing my chin with the tips of his fingers and meeting my eyes in the soft moonlight.

  “I didn’t know you loved me.”

  “Yes, you did. But I’m not expecting you to say it back. I told you that we would take things slow, and I meant that, even if my heart doesn’t want to.”

  I was afraid to ask him what his heart did want, afraid to admit how much my own heart aches for him. More than anything, I was frightened of what I saw ahead for us.

  Marriage Lane.

  I wasn’t sure if I could take traveling down that road again without turning on Forever Boulevard. “Why do you love me?”

  “For one thing, you’re smart, courageous, and you don’t let fear paralyze you. You don’t give in to it. I love how modest you are. You understand that you have limitations, like when you took the car that Jack and Mary gave you.”

  “I love that car. I will probably drive it until it falls apart on me,” I say with a fond smile.

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about. You get how to have much and how to have little, and you know how to enjoy both. I like how down-to-earth you are. It’s refreshing. When I was in New York, I always felt like the people around me put on airs. It was hard to see who they really were. Laura was like that sometimes, but I didn’t realize it until after we broke up. When she and I went out, we always did what she wanted to do. I’m glad that you and I haven’t been like that. It’s been the right blend of your likes and mine.”

  “So, you really like all those sci-fi movies I make you rent on Wednesdays?” I jokingly ask.

  “I think we’ve learned how to create win-win situations.”

  “I wasn’t always that way,” I say. “I used to doubt myself and for a long time, I hated my skin. I called my hair nappy and was afraid to go after the things that I wanted. I have Jack to thank for who I am today. He pushed me to leave my comfort zone, to see my inner beauty, to feel my strength, to sing, and to remain humble and thankful for all of it.”

  He runs his hand through his hair and then says to me, “Jack has a brain tumor.”

  His words seem explode in the air between us as I slide to the other side of the sofa and stare of him. I place my hand on my heart and feel it beating rapidly as my mind struggles to comprehend the words that my ears just heard.

  Cancer?

  “How long? How long has he known? How long have you known?” I ask, feeling tears slip down my cheeks. I don’t bother wiping them away.

  “Since about three months before I came back to Atlanta. Mary called me and asked me if I would consider taking over the restaurant when the time came.”

  Mary and Jack knew that long ago and didn’t tell me? How could they do this to me? They said I’m their daughter.

  “How bad is it?” Matt runs his hands through his hair, but doesn’t immediately answer, so I press, “Tell me the truth, Matt.”

  “It’s terminal, Mýa.”

  I stand up and gasp in disbelief. “Did the doctors say how long he has?”

  Matt gets to his feet, too, and wraps his arms around me. He lets a few of his own tears fall before answering. “The doctors gave him three to six months, but Jack is determined to prove them wrong.”

  “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Is it because I’m not really—”

  He wipes my tears away. “You know that’s not it.”

  “Then what? Why am I just finding out?”

  “Jack made Mary and I promise not to. He didn’t want you to give up on pursuing a singing career to stay and help out at the restaurant. He loves you so much.”

  “Why tell me now? What has changed?” I ask, terrified to hear the answer, but knowing that I won’t be able to take another breath until I hear it.

  “The tumor is progressing faster. At first, Jack was only coming in to work the two days that you would be there, but
now, he doesn’t come in at all. He struggles every Monday to pull himself out of bed for our family dinners, and he’s still insisting that Mary and I not tell you what’s going on with him. You can’t tell him that you know; it would crush him.”

  “I feel like screaming,” I say, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of me.

  “Then go ahead,” Matt says, pulling me into his arms. “My shoulders can take it.”

  I place my head on those shoulders and feel the strength of his arms enveloping me. “How am I supposed to act like I don’t know?”

  “It’s going to be hard, but you have to do it for Jack.”

  “Poor Mary,” I say, lifting my head to look up at his face. Part of me hopes that I’ll find something to convince me that this has all been just some sort of bad dream, and that in a few minutes, we’ll go back to watching the icicles form on the trees outside, or the smoke climb up to the sky from the chimneys around us.

  But of course, that’s not the case. Instead of doing any of that, I spend the rest of these evening crying on Matt’s shoulder.

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  As I slip around the back of Jazzmyne’s place and make my way inside through the kitchen, I can’t believe how packed it is on this cold Friday evening. I wave at the kitchen staff as I head toward my dressing room.

  My dressing room—I wouldn’t have it if Jack hadn’t pushed me.

  It’s taken every ounce of self-control in my bones to keep me from calling Jack. Part of me is angry that he didn’t tell me about the tumor. The other part of me loves him even more for it.

  Jazzmyne knocks on my door as I pull a box of Kleenex out of the bottom drawer and begin trying to clean myself up.

  “We missed you at four today,” she says as she looks at my swollen eyes. “What’s going on? Why the tears?”

  I can barely keep my emotions in check as she leans against the wall and listens as I tell her about Jack.

  “I am so sorry to hear that,” she says. “I know how much Jack means to you. He and his wife come here faithfully every Sunday with your boyfriend. It’s like they’re part of the family here.”

  “They are the reason I’m even here—Jack in particular.”

  Jazzmyne takes a seat in a chair next to me. “You know, right after I lost my husband, I had to perform in front of thousands of people. It was back when the band and I toured in Europe for a while. To this day, I can’t tell you how I mustered up the courage to do so. But I will tell you that I know I did it for him.” She gives my hand a reassuring pat and then looks around my dressing room. “This place was his dream, but it became mine. It’s funny how life does that—teaches us how to love so much that we love the dreams of others. We allow their dreams to melt into our hearts and make a home.”

  “That’s true. I’m sorry for being late and not calling.”

  She gives me a sincere smile. “I’m just glad you showed up; you could have stayed at home. So thank you.”

  I put the box of Kleenex back in the drawer. “Jack would kill me if I didn’t,” I say through a weary smile.

  She stands up. “Before I leave, I thought I should warn you; your old boyfriend is here. He asked if he could come back here and speak with you, but I told him that you weren’t here yet. Just thought you should know so you aren’t startled when you walk out on that stage and see him in the audience.”

  My hands shake as I grab a bottle of water.

  Michael is here.

  As soon as the show is over, I make my way back to my dressing room. I saw Michael sitting in the crowd, just as Jazzmyne said I would.

  He looked as good as ever.

  When I hear the knock on my dressing room door, I instantly begin to think about all the things I want to say to him. One being, “I hope you got the ring I mailed you.” I count to three, tell my nerves to behave themselves, then finally say, “Come in.”

  “Hi, Mýa.”

  I turn around to find Matt standing there. The moment I see the tears in his eyes, I know.

  What it feels like as my body slides out of my chair and my knees hit the concrete floor, I don’t know. What I do know is that the darkness encroaching on my vision overwhelms me, blocks out everything else. The agony that blazes within me won’t be comforted, not even by Matt’s touch as he sinks to the floor beside me and draws my shaking body into his arms.

  The hurt in my kidneys is familiar. It was there before, back when Mama died. As tears stream down my face, I long for one thing.

  Mama’s Vaseline to heal the pain.

  Chapter Sixty

  Matt and I sit outside Jack and Mary’s house for what feels like hours. Every time I look at their front door, the tears come back and I remember that Jack will never come out from behind that black painted door again.

  “We need to go in,” Matt finally says.

  “I know,” I say, unbuckling my seat beat. “Let’s go.”

  I find Mary sitting on the sofa staring at Jack’s chair, and I have to force myself to choke down my tears and be strong for her.

  “I’ll go to the kitchen so you two can talk,” Matt says as I join Mary on the sofa and take her hand in mine.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she says.

  “Neither can I.”

  I want to tell her how upset I am that no one told me about Jack’s condition, but I know that now is not the time. Mary needs my comfort, not my reproach.

  “I keep staring at that chair. Did you know that I hated that chair?” she asks.

  My smile is faint, but my love for her, for Jack, never could be. “I didn’t know that,” I say.

  “I remember when Jack brought it home. I thought it was the ugliest chair I had ever seen, but after I sat down in it one day, I could see why he had purchased it. It has great back support. I commented on that so much that he went out and bought me one a few weeks later. Whatever I wanted, my Jack gave me,” Mary says, placing her hand on her heart. “He brought me so much happiness. He gave me so much love—over forty years’ worth—and yet, as I sit here without him, that doesn’t seem like enough.”

  I can’t find the words to comfort her, so I sit and hold her hand. Finally, I ask, “How did it happen?”

  “Jack had been sleeping all day. I assumed it was from the new pills they gave him, but when I went into our bedroom to wake him up so he could get ready for dinner, he didn’t respond. I checked his pulse, but there was none, so I called 911. When the ambulance got here, they said Jack had died in his sleep.” I watch as she struggles to hold back the tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone, Mýa. I keep going into our bedroom, staring at his side of the bed. Touching his pillow.”

  We both start to cry.

  “Why didn’t someone come and get me sooner?” I eventually ask.

  “It’s my fault. I needed time. I didn’t call Matt until around ten. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  Matt comes back into the front room carrying a tray with a couple of cups of tea on it. “I thought you two could use this.”

  “Thank you,” I say as he places the tray on the coffee table and takes a seat in Mary’s chair. “I’ll stay here tonight.”

  “No,” she says firmly. “You have a show to do tomorrow and another on Sunday. I’m coming on Sunday, like usual. Jack wouldn’t have wanted me to miss it. He never missed your shows. Remember that. Even when he could barely move, barely talk, barely breathe, he was there.”

  “I don’t think I can—”

  “Yes, you can. You know how much your singing meant to Jack. This is what he would have wanted, and I won’t have it any other way. Promise me that you will perform this weekend.”

  I slowly nod, but inside, I can’t imagine going through with it.

  We all sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at the walls. Staring at Jack’s chair. Loo
king at all the things he once touched in this room. Things like the portrait that hangs on the wall, just to the left of the television. In it, Jack is wearing a black suit with a sky-blue tie, and Mary has on a white lace wedding gown that seems to flow down and behind her to the white and blue flowered aisle of the wedding chapel they were married in.

  Jack not only touched that picture often, he loved it and everything that it represented.

  “Jack didn’t want anything big,” Mary says as she, too, stares at the portrait for a moment. “So I’m just going to have the burial and then invite the family back here. He and I had already talked about it. I’ll call and make the arrangements tomorrow; they should be open on a Saturday. I would like to have the burial by Tuesday. No sense in—”

  Mary’s tears cut her off, and as I watch each one of them fall, all I can do is cry with her.

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Margaret knocks on my dressing room door and then sticks her head inside. “Hey, great show tonight. I’m not sure how you pulled that off, considering everything that you’re going through.”

  “It wasn’t easy,” I say.

  “I’m sure. There’s someone here that wants to speak with you. I didn’t know how you would feel about it, so I thought I’d better check with you first.”

  I take a deep breath. “It’s my ex, isn’t it? Michael?”

  “I think so.”

  “I saw him in the audience tonight and I’m pretty sure I saw him out there yesterday.”

  “What do you want me to tell him?”

  I dab the corners of my eyes, wiping away the tears that had fallen just after I wrapped up the show. “It’s okay, you can let him in. Just give me a few minutes.”

  “No problem. I’ll tell him to wait five minutes before coming back.”

  I study myself in the mirror. Am I ready for this?

  “Mýa.”

  I take a deep breath and then turn around. “Hi, Michael.”