Someone Like Me Page 8

  My knees are knocking under the table as I consider how that kind of money could help me get a car and a new place—no more riding the bus or looking at the peeling walls of my apartment. I have to admit, it all sounds so good, but how could I leave Jack?

  “I’ll think about it,” I say as I take another sip of my martini. “I can’t make any promises right now.”

  I don’t miss the shocked look on Marco’s face, even though he’s trying hard not to show it. “That’s cool, but don’t think too long. I’m ready to get this thing going,” he says as he stands up. “You should thank your boyfriend for talking me into letting you sing tonight. I’m not going to lie, I’m glad I listened.”

  “You want to go by the park and talk?” Michael asks as Marco takes the stage again and thanks the crowd.

  I nod and grab my purse, glancing up at the stage once more. A couple of the band members give me a quick wave. I wave back. Wait, what are you doing?

  Michael smiles. “Look at you, already making friends.”

  “Whatever,” I say, giving Michael a playful little shove toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Out the corner of my eye, I see Marco watching us.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You have to love these hot summer nights in Georgia,” Michael says, removing his tie as we take a seat on the weathered gray bench.

  “It is hot, but I still love how peaceful the night air is. You can hear the bees humming in the trees behind us. They have a purpose, and they know what that purpose is,” I say.

  “You feel like your purpose is to be there for Jack?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe, but Jack wouldn’t agree with me.”

  “That’s because he wants something better for you.”

  “I know, but I’m not sure Marco’s is it. Don’t get me wrong, the money would allow me to finally get a car and even a better place. But there’s something about Marco that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it, but it was the way he spoke; it reminded me of someone else.”

  “Your thirty-five-year-old love?”

  “Yes, but not in the way that you’re probably imagining.”

  Michael places his arm around me, and I find comfort in resting my head on his shoulder. “I understand.”

  “You’re not disappointed?” I ask, raising my head so I can search his face.

  “There are other places that you could sing at. They might not pay as much; then again, they could pay more. The important thing is for you to feel comfortable,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Do you want me to call around?”

  “I will,” I say, surprising myself with the sincerity in my voice.

  “Wow, I wasn’t expecting to hear that, but I’m glad that you said it. Why the change?”

  “Tonight, the memories of singing in front of my mother made me cry a little, but it also made me feel something that I haven’t felt since I was a little girl full of romantic notions.”

  “Romantic notions?”

  “Stop. I’m serious.”

  “Sorry, but can we come back to those romantic notions after you’ve finished your serious thought?”

  I roll my eyes at him and give him a wry smile. “Like I was saying, it felt like something was opening up.”

  “Like what?”

  “The future and all the possibilities that come with it.”

  “I see that as a good thing. A reason why we should continue to pursue this.”

  “We?” I ask, glancing up at him and immediately falling deep into his eyes.

  “As Marco said, I’m your boyfriend.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever really had one of those.”

  “What about what’s-his-name? Oh yes, Zee.”

  “Jack would say that he doesn’t count.”

  “That’s great news for me.”

  “And why is that great news for you?” I ask, playing into the lightness of the shift in mood.

  “Because that means that I’m your first, and I hope to be your last.”

  My last?

  “Do you really mean that? All of that? Including the part about being my last?”

  He tilts my chin up and places his warm summer lips upon mine, making me feel like a little girl dancing on the top of soft clouds.

  “Does that answer your question?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “I think I need some more convincing.”

  When he pulls me close enough to feel his heart beating against my own chest, I don’t stop at just turning onto Love Lane. I’m flying down it with my head hanging out the window, screaming joyfully. This is what love should feel like.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  This is going worse than I thought it would.

  I watch Jack pace the floor in front of me, hands in the air, and he stops a few times to point at me in heated anger.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to turn him down!” Jack says, outraged with my decision not to go with Marco’s offer. “Am I going to have to fire you so you can go live the life that you need to be living?”

  “Jack, let me explain,” I say, trying to defuse the situation, but Jack isn’t listening.

  He looks at Mary. “Say something to her, because I just can’t right now.”

  “Sweetie, think about what you could accomplish by making that kind of money. Think about how much better your life would be,” Mary quickly says as she reaches over and places a concerned hand on my shoulder.

  I look at each of them, my heart melting as I see the love they have for me. It reminds me of Mama.

  “Can we all just go talk in the office?” I plead as I look around and notice that everyone has stopped working because they are deeply engrossed in our conversation.

  Mary grabs Jack by the hand and leads him to the office as he continues his rant about how unreasonable I’m being, heedless of who’s listening. I follow closely behind and hope Jack will give me a chance to explain before he actually fires me.

  I close the door and lean against the wall as Jack plops down in his chair, still huffing and puffing. Mary takes a seat and tries to calm him down, but it wasn’t working.

  “All right, kid, we’re away from listening ears. Now, explain yourself,” Jack demands.

  I glance over at the statue and then move a little closer to Jack’s desk as I murmur, “Marco reminded me of Zee.” Jack drops his shoulders, so I go on. “It was the way he spoke. I felt like he was trying to convince me to do something, and not in a good kind of way. I could hear the manipulation in his voice. It was so familiar. The moment Michael and I left, I understood why I felt that way. It was the same feeling I had that night with Zee—the night that forever put blood in my memories.”

  Mary stands up and comes over to hug me. “I’m so sorry, Mýa. Jack and I should have known there was more to this. I’m sorry we didn’t give you a chance to explain first.”

  I see the sadness in Jack’s eyes and give them a small smile as I say, “It’s okay, Mary. I know you both love me.”

  “We really do,” Mary says softly as tears begin to gather in her eyes.

  “I am going to sing,” I say, looking in Jack’s direction again. “I’m not giving up on that. It just won’t be at Marco’s.”

  Jack sits up in his chair and I smile as his bowed head lifts up.

  “That’s wonderful, honey! Something else is going to come along. Just you wait and see. I bet it will even pay more,” Mary says.

  “Thank you. I’m finally realizing that I want this. Last night was eye-opening. I felt like I was on an emotional roller coaster, but once I got off, I knew this is what my mama would have wanted me to do with my life. Last night reminded me of how much she used to love hearing me sing. I had forgotten that.”

&nb
sp; “It sounds like Michael knew what was best for you,” Mary says, glancing over at the still quiet Jack. I blow him a playful kiss, and just like that, a forgiving air enters the space and we all take a moment to inhale it.

  “Yes, he did. Although I have to admit that I wasn’t too keen on the spotlight at first.”

  “It sounds like he wants the best for you, too. I, for one, think that’s a good thing. Don’t you, Jack?”

  “He wears hard-bottom shoes, so you know he’s all right in my book,” Jack says, entering the conversation.

  “Jack,” I say cautiously, hesitant to bring up what could start another disagreement. “I’ve been thinking.—Most of the jazz restaurants will only need me Friday through Sunday. That means that I can still work here during the week.”

  “You’re not changing my mind, Mýa.”

  “I have to agree with Jack,” Mary says as she takes my hands in her own. “You will burn yourself out trying to do both.”

  Sensing that I’m still not going to win this one, I give in. “Okay. No working here once I find something. Just remember I still have to pay my rent until then, so stop trying to fire me.”

  “I’m not promising anything,” Jack says with a dimpled smile.

  Mary claps her hands together, glad that Jack and I are smiling again. “Hey, I meant to ask you if you started journaling. Jack said he gave you one,” she says as I take a seat on the floor.

  “Every night since Jack gave it to me. Don’t worry; this whole conversation is going to get journaled tonight. You can both count on that.”

  We all enjoy a moment of laughter because that’s what families do together.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  August 3, 1994

  I take a seat on the bus around six, exhausted from working the breakfast and lunch shifts, but determined to make it to the Goodwill near Perimeter Mall before they close. Michael and I are finally going to see David and Michelle’s baby this weekend, and I want to make a good impression.

  A lady in scrubs smiles at me as I lean my head against the window. She looks even more exhausted than I am.

  Pain recognizes pain.

  I remember when Michael said that, and as I sit here with swollen feet that ache to kick my shoes off, all I can think about is finding the perfect dress to wear for him this weekend. Jack would have a field day with my thoughts right now. He’d probably say that I’m the one who will be saying “I love you” to Michael before we hit date number six.

  An hour later, as the bus pulls up to the Goodwill shopping center, I can’t help but wonder if he’d be right.

  I rush over to the dress section the moment I hit the store, knowing that I have less than an hour to search through a hundred dresses and find what I’m looking for. A white lady with fiery red hair is digging through the dresses, too, and talking to herself.

  “I can’t believe some of these dresses still have the tags on them,” she says, pulling out a blush sequined dress. She then throws it into her buggy, which already appears to hold at least ten other dresses.

  “You must have a few special events coming up,” I say. “All the dresses in your buggy look perfect for a formal affair.”

  She glances up at me. “No, these aren’t for me. I’m looking for dresses to serve as costumes. This is the fourth Goodwill I’ve been to today.”

  “You’re getting costumes for a play, or something else?” I ask curiously.

  She pulls out a stunning red strapless dress, and we both take a moment to admire it before she tosses it in her buggy with the others. “I’m the costume designer for a new musical that’s opening up at the Alliance Theater.”

  “That sounds like fun. That red one is beautiful.”

  “It is, isn’t it? I’m getting dresses in different sizes since I don’t know who our lead singer is going to be. I got a call this morning that the young lady we offered the part to turned it down, so now we’re back to auditioning. I hate sitting through hours of auditions, but the director insists that everyone be a part of the entire production process.”

  “None of that sounds good,” I say, continuing my own search.

  “It happens. That’s the nature of the beast in this business, but we’ll find someone. We already have another casting call out.”

  “What kind of musical is it?”

  “It’s a jazz musical.”

  A shiver runs down my spine. Jack will kill me if he finds out that I didn’t say something.

  My hands begin to shake, so I rest them on top of a nearby clothing rack. “Where are the auditions being held?” I ask as casually as possible.

  She stops her search. “Why? You sing?”

  Say yes. Say something, girl. Don’t just stand here like a deer caught in headlights. “I—I do, but I’ve never done any acting.”

  “Neither had the girl we were trying to cast, but this part is strictly for a role as a jazz singer in a local club that the main characters go to throughout their courtship. It doesn’t require acting, just a great voice. Who’s your favorite jazz singer?”

  “Nina Simone.”

  She gives me a quick once-over, as if she can tell whether or not I can sing just by looking at me. “You certainly have the look the director is going for.”

  I stand up straight—like it makes a difference.

  “I need to hear you sing, of course.”

  Instantly, my knees go from a wobble to a wild and uncontrollable knocking.

  Please don’t let her hear them.

  “I can sing something for you,” I say faintly. “Do you want to go outside?”

  “Why do we need to go outside? The audience isn’t going to be outside; they will be staring right in your face. Thousands of them.”

  Please don’t ask me to sing in front of all these people.

  “Go ahead. Sing your favorite Nina Simone song.”

  Too late.

  I take a deep breath and glance around the store, praying that the few shoppers I see browsing the nearby racks won’t take notice once I start to sing. “Okay. I’ll sing ‘Blackbird.’”

  “Perfect,” she says as she reaches in her purse and pulls out a tape recorder.

  This just went from bad to worse. “Wow, you keep a tape recorder in your purse?”

  “I can’t live without this thing. I use it to remind me which characters and scenes I’m shopping for,” she says as she turns it on and then holds it up close to me. “Ready when you are.”

  I close my eyes and begin to sing the moment I hear her turn the device on. By the time I hit the second note, I no longer care that a recorder is hovering in front of my lips, capturing each lyric that I breathe out.

  All I see in the darkness of my mind is Nina Simone, standing on a stage and dressed in all black with gold chains gently draped over the front of her blouse. I see her big afro and that soulful look of life upon her face as she sings about the loneliness of a mother and the pain of a father. I hear her rhythm as she digs deep into the tragedy of a blackbird that had no one to hold it and no one to love it.

  I was that blackbird after Mama died.

  I open my eyes and watch as my audience of one turns off the recorder just as I bring the song to a close. She says nothing, but the applause of those who stopped to listen gives me hope.

  Feeling silly and unsure of myself as she places the recorder inside her purse, I wonder if I should ask something, say something, or just run out of the store. At this point, I’m leaning toward running.

  What if she hated it?

  “You have a voice. That was most impressive, and if I’m being honest, you sound better than the girl we had cast.”

  Don’t scream. Be calm.

  “I’m Francine, by the way,” she says, offering me her hand.

  “Mýa. Nice to meet you,” I say, reaching for her hand and hoping that
by the time the connection is made, mine will have stopped trembling.

  We both stand there for a second or two, listening to a voice on the overhead speaker alerting shoppers that the store is closing in thirty minutes.

  “I guess that’s my cue to get going. It was nice meeting you, Mýa,” she says as she reaches into her purse again and pulls out a piece of paper and a pen. “Come to this address on Friday. I’ll arrange for the director to see you at six thirty in the evening, sharp.”

  I almost reach out and hug her when I take the piece of paper and slip it into my purse. “Thank you so much, Francine. I will be there.”

  She glances at her watch. “I need to get going, but I’m glad I happened to stop here when I did. I look forward to seeing you on Friday. Please don’t be late.”

  “Me, too, and I won’t be late. I promise,” I say as I feel every bone in my body light up with joy.

  I watch as she walks away with her buggy full of dresses and it dawns on me that I could be the one wearing that red dress if all goes well on Friday.

  As I frantically search through the dresses, a fifteen-minute warning comes roaring out through the overhead speaker. I grab a tea-length black dress with gold buttons going down the front of it, squealing when I see that the dress’s original price was more than two hundred dollars.

  At the register, I hand the cashier a twenty-dollar bill with a big smile on my face.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “Mýa, it’s three o’clock. You need to get going. I don’t want you to miss your audition. You know how bad Friday afternoon traffic can be,” Jack anxiously shouts as he glances at the clock and then points to the front door.