by L. B. Dunbar
“Oh, Jess is being modest,” his mother laughed. “He promised me a date for his birthday. In honor of his birthday, I get the present. Such a good son.” She smiled endearingly at him.
He was clearly uncomfortable with this information being shared and I tried with great difficulty not to look at him. He was too distractingly good looking and he was still standing too close in front of me, leaning against the seat behind him to put some distance between us. The lights dimmed to signal the beginning of the concert, and I suggested that Nana and I return to our seats.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carter,” I said politely.
“You as well. Stop by and see me some time,” she invited.
“Thank you,” was all I could reply.
The music was amazing, sultry and low, but I was focused on trying not to stare at the back of Jess’ head. He was so full of contradictions. I could hardly take my eyes of his appearance change, and yet as much as I willed him to look back at me, he didn’t, reconfirming for me, once again, that he really was not interested.
Nana was very entertained throughout the performance. She tapped her feet and clapped her hands lightly to the beat of the classic, upbeat music and big band sounds. The time grew late quickly, though, and I noticed that Nana was tired. I suggested we leave at one point, but Nana ignored me. She was closing her eyes the second time I suggested we should go, and she consented. As I assisted Nana into the aisle, I took one final glance over my shoulder in the direction of Jess and his mother to find him watching me. I had to turn away quickly before he could see the smile forming on my lips.
THE NEXT MORNING when I went to the repair shop to work with Katie, I noticed Nana’s radio was starting to be pieced back together. As I worked with Katie, repeating signs and the alphabet, two young girls came into the shop.
“Hey Uncle Jess, is Dad here?” one of the girls asked. She had white blond hair like Katie, but it lay straight along her tan back. The other girl had darker hair and practically drooled as she looked at Jess. Both girls looked about thirteen or fourteen years old and they both had on bikini tops under see-through white t-shirts with tight jean shorts.
“Hello, Mr. Carter,” said the second girl in a flirtatious voice. I coughed.
The two girls looked over at Katie and me.
“Hi, Katie girl.” The blond girl was friendly toward her cousin. The other girl said nothing.
Jess answered. “He’s at the hardware store, but he should be back in a few minutes. Want to have a seat in the back to wait?” The dark-haired girl leaned on the counter and pushed her newly-growing breasts together.
“I’m okay, Mr. Carter. I’ll stand.”
Jess ignored the girl and went back to work. The phone rang in the distance and he left the work area for the office.
“Why are you flirting with my uncle? Gross.” The blonde girl teased her friend.
“I wasn’t flirting with him, but he is hot.”
“Ew, he’s my uncle and he’s old,” she replied in that high school talk all girls have these days.
“I’d do him,” the dark haired girl replied. I was appalled and embarrassed for Katie who was staring at both girls.
“Shut up,” Katie’s cousin said in an exaggerated voice.
“You shut up. I’m serious.”
“Gross. Seriously, shut up.”
Jess walked back into the work area and stopped in mid-stride as he looked at Katie. I turned to see Katie standing with her head down and her hands on her ears.
“What’s going on?” Jess asked, eyeing the two girls, then me.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
The two girls said nothing as they stared at Katie.
“What’s wrong?” I signed and spoke.
Silence.
I touched Katie’s hand on her ears. “What’s wrong?” I asked again.
Silence.
Then Katie removed her hands and began to play with the tin dishes in front of her again. She never looked up at either Jess or myself. I gave him a brief questioning glance as I shook my head in a way to suggest I had no idea what had happened. I didn’t understand what Katie was trying to say.
BEFORE I LEFT the shop, Jess invited me to return around eight that evening. He predicted the radio would be done by then. He said he’d had a brainstorm at the concert and he wanted to show me when it was complete. I hadn’t seen Jess so excited and I showered and dressed with care for the big unveiling. I wore a yellow sundress with flat sandals where I admired my new pedicure. I’d finally gotten a manicure as well to repair the damage from yard work and housecleaning. I kept my chestnut colored hair hang loose and let it air dry for some soft waves.
When I arrived at the shop, the door was locked and I could see Jess motion one minute, grab a rag, and wipe his hands. The cool air of the repair store was refreshing when he finally opened the door. There was only one light on over Jess’ station and the way the shop faced, the lowering sun was not shining into the front window. The dim lighting made the place almost intimate.
Jess walked over to the swing door in the counter and held it open for me. He smiled with excitement as I approached the workbench.
“Like I said, I was inspired last night at the concert. And I remembered what you said about rigging the old radio with an iPod. I told you the radio would only get AM frequency and no stations in this area play classic music or swing music, like your grandmother wants to hear. So I wired the iPod into the main switch of the radio. When she turns the dial, it moves the iPod dial to the various options on a playlist. If she presses the button gently inward it will start the process of playing a song. I downloaded all the music, so it will play different classics on shuffle. Some of them sound traditional like a scratchy vinyl record, and some don’t. I’m hoping your grandmother’s not picky. The knob on the radio will only stop on two stations, so if your grandmother doesn’t like the present song, she can rotate the knob in the opposite direction which again triggers the dial to move to another playlist.” Jess demonstrated to me how this worked as he spoke.
“When she pushes inward again on the knob, a new song will play. It’s random, but you can’t really choose the songs on the radio anyway. I also added a playlist of old radio shows. She’ll have to just twist the dial back and forth to find the selection. The biggest difference is pushing the button inward to activate the iPod for the music to start playing, otherwise, it is generally the same.” Jess was so excited about his creation he was like a little kid who’d just won a science fair.
“Well, it isn’t really the same at all,” he continued, “but I think it will serve the purpose. Bring back the music without the modern technology confusing her.” He hesitated on his last comment. I knew he didn’t want to upset me by referencing Nana’s state of mind.
“Jess, this is amazing. You’re a genius.” I reached out to hug him and stopped myself, defaulting to an awkward clap instead.
“Um, it’s perfect,” I added.
“Want to hear it?” He didn’t wait for my answer but already had the radio on and was tuning the dial. He stopped at one station when the knob hesitated and pushed the dial inward. The music started playing the soulful sound of a baritone male voice. Soft strings and flutes played in the background. Jess looked up at me and smiled that dimpled smile.
“Do you want to dance?” He asked with a bit of elation still in his voice.
“Here?”
He looked around. “Why not?”
I bit my lip. “Why not?” I answered and put up my hands in a formal dance stance.
Jess walked around the table and joined me, slipping his hand into mine and sliding his other hand around to lie flat on my lower back. My free hand rested on his shoulder and he intertwined our fingers in the hands we held together, drawing them in between our chests as he tugged me closer to him. His lead was remarkable as he moved us around the workstation. I had formal dance instruction during college for a dinner engagement, but Jess’ perfection
confused me.
“How do you know how to dance like this?” I asked as he rotated me to slowly spin away from him.
“Formal dance class before my wedding. Debbie was really into it. She wanted us to look good.” Jess said the statements without thinking, but I felt like he was suddenly within a memory I didn’t want to share with him. I lost my concentration and stepped on his foot when he tried to tug me back to him from the spin.
“Sorry. I’m not very good.” I apologized.
“You’re fine.”
Step, step, step, and turn.
“So is there anything you can’t do?” I wondered aloud.
“What do you mean?”
Step, step, step, and turn.
“You fix things that are broken. You invent new things. You know how to dance. You can dress like a runway model. And…” A woman’s voice came on the radio continuing the song and I recognized the sound of Julie Andrews singing in response to her male partner.
Jess stopped dancing abruptly. “What do you mean I dress like a runway model?”
I bit my lip again, uncertain what to say. I couldn’t say it to him. I couldn’t tell him he was gorgeous last night. I simply shook my head in a never mind motion.
He began to dance again. He moved the hand on my lower back to push me into him and I leaned against him. I didn’t exactly place my head on his chest, but I was aware of his heartbeat and very aware that my breasts were now brushing up against his firm upper body. Step, step, step, and turn. Step, step, step, and turn. Jess rotated our clasped hands so that my hand was now tucked inside his frame and gently pressing on his chest above his heart. I felt surrounded by his presence and that scent of male and musk. He leaned his face closer to my neck.
“You smell delicious,” he whispered to me.
I tingled everywhere with the sensation coming up my middle. I swallowed as I had before as my mouth watered for his lips. Jess pulled back and placed his hands on either side of my face. We stared at each other for a moment. Pure blue looked into my eyes with unasked questions, and just when I thought for sure he would kiss me, the music stopped and Jess pulled away. He walked over to the radio and twirled the knobs as I stood still, watching and waiting. I felt the imprint of his large hands still on my cheeks and the warmth of his body still lingered against me, but when I looked up at Jess, he had his back to me. His hand lay flat on the radio.
“I can’t do this,” he whispered in a raspy voice into the darkness in front of him.
I didn’t respond although I wanted to scream. Not again.
“I can’t do this. It isn’t fair.”
I shuffled my feet nervously. Had I just been dancing in these old flip-flops on this brown tiled floor in a wood paneled repair shop that seemed more romantic at that moment than any fine dance hall or elegant ballroom in the big city?
“Can I ask why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
“We’re from different worlds, Emily. And you’re leaving. My life is too complicated for anything and so is yours.”
“I see,” I paused, but I really didn’t. I didn’t want to tell him that all he had to do was give me one word of encouragement. I knew in my heart that he was what kept me from running away and making Nana go with me. It wasn’t Nana holding me back anymore. The feeling had been there for a while, but I had been ignoring it, stalling it, and then had begun waiting for it, anticipating it. I wanted Jess Carter. But it seemed very clear that he didn’t really want me. No, it wasn’t Nana holding me back. It was Jess Carter himself.
Maybe he was attracted to me, but he wasn’t going to let me in. Maybe this dance had been to relive a memory, but it wasn’t in remembrance of me. Either way, I couldn’t compete. I knew I needed to leave before the tears came out of my welled-up eyes.
“I guess I’ll be going.”
“I’ll deliver the radio tomorrow to your grandmother’s house and explain to her how to use it.”
I didn’t respond as I walked out the door and into the steamy night air.
Leave your host or hostess with something to remember you by. A gracious thank you for all that he or she has done is the right way to show your appreciation. A hand-written thank you card should promptly follow your departure a few days later.
“Matters of Manners,” 1964
I CALLED ROSIE when I arrived back to Nana’s house and explained the past few days of emotional frustration and rejection from Jess. It was obvious I was crying, although when Rosie asked me I said I was not. It wasn’t a sobbing kind of cry, just the kind that slowly trickled down my face and I didn’t bother to wipe the tears away.
“I’m taking Nana and leaving. I know it will be hard for Nana, but I’m going home.”
“Good girl. Get out,” Rosie affirmed.
When Jess came over later the next day with Nana’s radio, I was hoping not to be home, but I also hoped that Jess would bring Katie along so I could say goodbye. I didn’t want this little girl to be hysterical again and I was convinced Katie understood what was going on around her more than she wanted to admit. I also thought that Katie had a secret inside her that she was afraid to share. This secret was the spell that kept her bound to silence. With sadness in my heart, I knew that I was not going to be the one to break the spell for this little soul. Katie’s situation was bigger than me and the few lessons I could give her in sign language.
I took Katie into the backyard and watched her play in the fairy tale play house when Jess finally arrived. My mind wandered with quaint sayings like, “When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are.” Makes no difference who you are, I wondered. When do we lose the innocence to believe in such things? Is it when we become a teenager or adult? Or is it when something traumatic happens like the death of a parent or a parent who leaves? Is it when responsibility takes over recklessness? Do we give up our dreams or do we move them over? Or maybe the dream just changes.
Katie walked up to me and I looked her square in the face. She placed her hands on each of my cheeks, and I was afraid the child recognized another adult female who was leaving her behind.
“I want you to promise me something,” I began. “No matter what the secret spell is that was cast on you, sometimes the power to break that spell is within you all the time. The power is in here,” I emphasized my words by pointing a finger over Katie’s heart, “and here,” I further emphasized my meaning by tapping Katie’s lightly tan forehead. I briefly recalled a modern fairy tale movie I had taken my nieces to see. The theme was a powerful message about true love being the love of yourself and that you need to have this love before you can give yourself to love another.
Jess coughed behind me, and I decided I couldn’t make another scene of goodbyes like before. I would tell Jess my plans and he could handle the situation with Katie. He was her father after all and, as he had reminded me, I didn’t have children. I grabbed Katie for the first time and gave her a tight hug.
Katie pulled back and signed, What?
I signed and spoke, “Because I…” but I stopped myself. I blinked hard several times before I could continue. “Because I think you are wonderful.” I completed the sign with each word I spoke.
I stood to look at Jess. “Thank you. I’m sure Nana is very excited to get her radio back.”
“Yeah, she invited me to a radio show at eight tonight.” Jess smiled a lopsided smile with no real emotion behind it.
“Charms ladies of all ages,” I muttered with a half laugh, adding this trait to the list of talents of Jess Carter.
“Why don’t you head to the truck, Katie?” Jess motioned his head toward the driveway and turned back to me. “About yesterday…”
“It’s okay,” I interrupted. I held up my hand to stop him from saying anything further, not wanting to hear his apology or his sympathy, or a long explanation of whys. “I’ve decided to take Nana to Chicago. We’ll leave in a few days. She won’t be happy, but we need to go.”
“
I see,” Jess said as he looked at me with eyes shifting to steel blue-grey. The hardness had returned.
“She’ll be happy to take the radio with her. It will be a good memory for her.” I wasn’t convinced the memory was for Nana only, though.
“I didn’t tell Katie,” I continued. “I figured since you’re her father, you should handle it.”
“I see,” he replied again with a bit of anger in his voice. He was clenching his jaw in a rhythm.
“I’ve made a list of things that need to be done to the house before I can use it as a rental. I still need my sister, Rosie, to fully consent. I hate to sell it.” I looked over my shoulder at the fairy-tale cottage playhouse my grandfather had built. So many daydreams of princes, castles, and happily ever after were lived in that house years ago.
“I see,” he mumbled on repeat one more time.
I couldn’t fill the empty silence with any more words - not the words I wanted to say or the feelings I had inside. It would be a heavy burden, but some words were best left unsaid.
I BROKE THE news to Nana as best I could. I explained that I wanted her to come visit me at my home. This was the ruse, of course. I promised Nana she could take the radio and any other small items. I also promised tickets to plays and concerts in the theatre district. I joked with Nana to bring all her fineries for going out in the city and shopping downtown. She listened in silence and knotted crooked fingers together. I knew I probably wasn’t fooling her. That was the problem. When Nana was off, she was in a different time frame and a different state of mind, but when she was on, she was coherent and present. At the moment, I believed Nana was on and saw right through my scheme of visiting.
That night I sat with Nana in the living room and listened to songs play on the newly restored radio. Some of the songs were crystal clear and obvious reproductions, while others sounded like scratchy records spinning classics. If Nana was fooled, she did not let on. She listened with her foot tapping and a smile on her face, lost in another decade that included women in pretty, frilly dresses and men in uniforms for grand dance halls. I was sure Nana thought of stolen kisses and broken hearts as she moved her head side to side with the recognition of a song. A tear or two occasionally escaped her old, sad eyes, even with the smile on her lips, and I again had a feeling of intruding on a memory too personal and intimate by being in the room.