Screaming Divas

by Suzanne Kamata

  It had been easy. When Harumi and Esther excused themselves to leave the band in peace for a while, Cassie stayed. She sat on the sofa as John stuck his head under a faucet and then shook his head, spraying water all over. Gretchen did some yoga stretches to unwind, then changed her clothes and went back into the bar. All this time, Noel stood leaning against the wall, watching her.

  As soon as they were alone, he crossed the room. He sat down beside her and unzipped her dress. And then they were pawing at each other, sucking, devouring. The whole thing was over in five minutes.

  Later, sitting alone and abandoned in the dressing room, after the van had already left, Cassie was sorry. She really hadn’t meant to hurt Trudy. But to tell the truth, she had probably done her a favor. Maybe now she’d be able to get him out of her blood and find someone who really loved her. Anyway, she’d apologize. They’d patch things up.

  “You got a place for me to stay?” Cassie asked Leo when she found him in the bar. She had changed into a sweatshirt and jeans. The lamé dress was stuffed into her bag again.

  “You’re still here?” Leo asked.

  Cassie nodded. “Trudy and I had a fight. My band left me behind.”

  He took it all in stride. He was probably used to the crazed antics of musicians. “You can take the Greyhound tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll even drive you to the station.”

  Cassie wasn’t ready to sleep yet, so when Leo suggested dropping in at a party, she agreed.

  An hour later, she found herself in a house with a bunch of other night owls. They probably worked in clubs and restaurants and slept during the day. Leo fell into conversation with some people he knew and Cassie wandered through the rooms on her own. A half-naked couple was making out in one corner. Cassie almost tripped over them. She saw a closed door and knocked. When no one answered, she let herself in.

  Two guys and a stubble-headed girl were sitting in a circle. There was a candle at the center. Cassie recognized their gear—the spoon, the belt, the syringe.

  The three of them turned their heads in slow motion when she walked into the room.

  “Hey,” one of the guys said. He was wearing a stocking cap over long greasy black hair. “You’re a Screaming Diva. I saw your show tonight. Far out.”

  “Want to join us?” the other guy asked.

  Cassie hesitated for only a moment. Her head was starting to ache. She wanted to forget about the whole scene with Noel. She was no longer part of the band, but she’d deal with that later. Right now she was craving sweet forgetfulness. She wanted that singing in her veins. She moved to the circle, and they made room for her. She sat down and rolled up her sleeve.

  40

  It was nine o’clock on Sunday morning, and Harumi was sitting on the edge of Esther’s bed, the same bed that they had shared during childhood sleepovers. Esther had just opened her eyes, and she thought she might be asleep still, in the midst of some crazy dream.

  “Harumi. What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

  “Chip gave me a ride,” she said. She hooked a long black strand behind her ear and took a deep breath. “I have something to tell you. It’s about Cassie.”

  She’s been kicked out of the band, Esther thought with a sinking feeling. Well, then, I’ll quit, too. She hadn’t been in the dressing room when Trudy had tried to wrap her hands around Cassie’s throat, but she’d heard about what had happened. Trudy had raged all the way home about Cassie’s betrayal. Or at least it seemed as if Trudy had never shut up. Amazingly, Noel had fallen asleep, but Trudy’s anger had unsettled Esther. It had been impossible for her to relax.

  Esther couldn’t believe that they’d just left her behind. If Cassie had tried to get into the van, she doubted that Trudy would have been able to stop her. After all, it wasn’t Trudy’s van. Ligeia had rented it for the road trip. But when they were all packed up and ready to roll, Cassie was nowhere in sight.

  Esther had worried about her all night. How would she get back to Columbia? Did she have enough money? Would Leo take care of her? Now, struggling into a sitting position in her canopy bed, she heard Harumi say, “It’s bad. Are you ready?”

  Esther nodded.

  Harumi studied her face for a moment. She hadn’t looked at Esther so closely in a long time. Even though they’d been together in Trudy’s living room for hours on end, Esther felt that they hadn’t been in such close proximity in years. “Tell me,” she said.

  “Cassie went to some party up in DC,” Harumi began. She reached out and took Esther’s hand in hers. “Leo was with her, I guess, but he ran into some old girlfriend and they went out for coffee and then he lost track of Cassie. There were drugs at this party. Some people were shooting up and Cassie walked in on them and they invited her to join them. And she did.”

  Esther could feel her bowels freezing. Fear was tightening her chest.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened,” Harumi said. She sniffled then, and reached up to brush away a tear. “She took too many drugs and someone found her in the bathtub. Her skin was all blue. An ambulance came, but she was already dead.”

  It was impossible, Esther thought. Things like that didn’t happen here, not to people that she knew. Dirty strangers OD’ed in dark alleys or abandoned houses. She’d seen it on TV, in movies. Girls like Cassie became airline attendants or movie stars.

  “It must have been a mistake,” Esther said. She was wide awake now, sitting straight up in the bed. “It must have been someone else, some other blonde girl.”

  “She’s got that scar,” Harumi said, touching her own face. “Who else has a scar like that?”

  Leo had called Trudy, and then Trudy had called Harumi. Esther wasn’t sure if anyone had notified Cassie’s parents, but she figured someone had.

  “She’s—her body’s being flown back today,” Harumi said. “I guess the funeral will be tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday.”

  There were tears running down Esther’s face now, though no sound came from her throat. She leaned toward Harumi, and Harumi opened her arms. They embraced on the bed.

  “I know that she was special to you,” Harumi said.

  “I loved her. She’s the reason I joined the band.”

  Harumi nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

  There was no band now. It was all over. They’d never cut a record or be on MTV. No one would ever ask for her autograph. She didn’t think she’d ever touch those drums again.

  Esther thought that she had never felt so alone in her life. She suddenly wanted to call Rebecca. But then she remembered Harumi. She breathed in Harumi’s skin and shampoo. “Thanks for coming over to tell me.”

  “It was the least I could do,” Harumi said. “As your oldest friend.”

  Later, when she was once again alone in her room, when she’d cried all the tears she could cry, Esther opened her notebook and started to scratch out a song:

  SCAR GIRL

  She was there on the stage

  Spinning in the light

  We thought we knew her so well

  We thought that we were tight.

  But under that skin

  Beyond those flashing blue eyes

  Her heart was etched with scars

  Her cries were stifled by lies.

  Where was her mother?

  Where was her father?

  Where was her lover?

  Why didn’t we bother?

  Scar Girl, we’re sorry …

  41

  Harumi stood in front of the mirror in her black dress, staring at her freshly scrubbed face. Should she wear lipstick, or not? Was it better to appear haggard and bereaved, or to make oneself presentable? Harumi didn’t know. She’d never been to a funeral before.

  Cassie would try to look nice, she thought. She’d cover up her scar and line her blue eyes. Harumi twisted the lipstick tube and smeared on a layer of Passion Punch.

  She wondered if she would cry, if her mascara would run. How the hell did she feel, anyway? She couldn’t decide. She was in shoc
k, maybe. Grief and sorrow had yet to sink in. Right now she felt something that was oddly like relief. The band would fall apart; she could go back to the violin.

  When she was finished with her face, she checked in on Mrs. Harris, found her engrossed in some black-and-white movie on TV, and went outside to wait at the curb for Chip. He had volunteered to accompany her.

  It was warm outside, the air full of birdsong and lilacs. The sky was blue. Harumi tried to feel sad, but she couldn’t.

  Chip’s Saab appeared a few minutes later. He jumped out and opened the passenger door for her, escorted her into the car. He was wearing a dark gray suit and a drab, striped tie. He handled her elbow like an egg. “How are you?” His eyebrows scrunched together. “Holding up okay?”

  Harumi shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem real.”

  They didn’t speak all the way to the church. Chip left the radio off. Harumi kept flashing through scenes in her mind: Cassie at the lakeside party where they’d first talked, Cassie pounding the stage with her combat boots, Cassie and Trudy laughing in each others’ arms. People were saying that Trudy had killed her, had driven her to her death, but Harumi didn’t believe it. It had to have been accidental. Trudy would have let her back in the band eventually, no matter what had happened between her and Noel.

  The church parking lot was full. There were BMWs and Mercedes Benzes—Cassie’s father’s friends, Harumi figured. She thought she saw Esther’s hatchback off in a corner. Chip parked across the street, in the shade of an oak, and they made their way to the sanctuary.

  The pews were full of kids from school. They probably hadn’t even known Cassie, but here they were, wallowing in the melodrama. Sobs broke through the mellow organ music. One girl was near hysteria. Trudy was up in the front. She was wearing dark glasses, as if she didn’t want to be recognized. Adam was nowhere in sight. Neither was Noel.

  The mahogany coffin was open at the altar. Cassie’s blonde hair shone in the light. Her cheeks were a little too rosy. Sleeping Beauty, Harumi thought. Any minute now, she’ll sit up and start singing “Lady Lazarus Rises Again.”

  Chip stood beside her, as solid as granite. She led him to the front and slid in next to Trudy.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  Trudy nodded slightly. Her jaw was clenched. Harumi realized that she’d been crying. The dark glasses were for hiding tears. Harumi laced her fingers through Trudy’s and they sat there in silence.

  She could make out the faint smile on the waxen corpse. Did Cassie die like that, or had the undertaker crafted her expression? Harumi shuddered. She wished someone would bring down the lid.

  Harumi saw Cassie’s father in the front pew with his young wife. A few months before, Cassie had predicted their divorce, but here they were together, leaning on each other like fellow cripples. Funny how these things brought people together. Harumi couldn’t help thinking of her own parents. What if it had been her instead? Would they be as wrecked as Cassie’s father appeared to be? Or would they suffer stoically, according to some Japanese code of decorum? Maybe they were here somewhere, in a gesture of community solidarity. She would call them after this. She’d tell them what had happened and she’d invite them to meet Chip. She was almost ready to forgive them.

  Esther slipped into the pew. Chip moved over so the Divas could sit together. Harumi held out her free hand, but instead of taking it, Esther handed her a folded piece of paper. She raised her eyebrows.

  “Read it,” Esther mouthed, sitting.

  Harumi pulled her other hand away from Trudy and opened the paper. She could tell right away that it was a song, a ballad. The first stanza brought fresh tears to her eyes. She tapped out the beat of the words on her knee. A melody began to form in her head. Everyone rose to their feet for a hymn, but Harumi could barely hear the organ. All she heard was the song in her head. The Divas would have to stick together at least long enough to perform this song. They had to do this one thing for Cassie.

  The ceremony passed in a blur. Afterward, they followed the other mourners to the Haywood house. The living room was crammed. Harumi picked out Ms. Claiborne, the high school English teacher. There were a bunch of kids from school with their parents, including, oddly enough, Todd Elsworth, that jock she’d escaped from at the party.

  “Maybe we should offer our condolences,” Esther said.

  Johnette was carrying a tray of drinks. Harumi hadn’t noticed before, but her dress was just tight enough to show off a swelling at her middle. She was obviously pregnant. They would go on, Dex and Johnette, with their new family. They would take down Cassie’s photos and put them in a box. She would become a ghost, like her mother.

  “Maybe ….” Esther prodded again.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” Trudy said. The three of them linked arms and went over to Cassie’s father, who was leaning against the doorjamb. His suit was immaculately pressed, but his face was furrowed. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Harumi detected a whiff of Scotch. How Cassie would have hated that smell. He stared blankly at the three of them, there in front of him.

  Harumi spoke up first. “Um, Mr. Haywood, we’re sorry for your loss.”

  He nodded and gulped. “Are you friends of hers? School friends?”

  They all nodded.

  “She was our guitar player,” Trudy blurted out.

  “We were in a band together,” Harumi said quietly. “We called ourselves Screaming Divas.”

  His face started to crumple. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  Trudy shrugged. “I guess you weren’t paying attention.”

  “I guess you’re right.” He took a deep breath and composed himself. “Look, why don’t you go into her room and take something to remember her by. Take whatever you want.”

  They looked at each other and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  The last time they’d been in that room, the bed had been unmade and clothes had been strewn all over the place. Cassie’s textbooks had been in a leaning tower on the floor. Today, everything was neat and orderly.

  Harumi and Trudy watched as Esther slowly pulled back the quilt and lifted the pillow to her face. She inhaled deeply, then threw it back down. “It smells like Downy,” she murmured. “There’s no trace of her at all.”

  No doubt within a few days, Johnette would have all this stuff bagged and sent off to Goodwill. Then they could get busy putting up a wallpaper border with ducklings or whatever.

  Esther crouched down in front of Cassie’s bookcase. After a moment, she pulled out The Collected Poems by Sylvia Plath and held it against her heart.

  Harumi’s eyes roved slowly around the room, taking in the portrait of her mom in beauty queen regalia, the Doc Martens and ballet flats lined up under the bed, the bottles of fingernail polish on the vanity. Then something caught her eye—Cassie’s sparkly pink guitar pick, nestled in a crystal tray. Harumi reached down and plucked it out. She held it for a moment, remembering how it had caught the light when she played, before tucking it in her skirt pocket.

  Now it was Trudy’s turn. Without a moment’s hesitation, she claimed the guitar propped in the corner. “Okay,” she said, clutching it by the neck. “Let’s get out of here. This place is starting to give me the creeps.”

  42

  When Trudy stumbled into her rented house the night of the funeral, she was totally wasted. She’d broken into her father’s apartment and helped herself to a fifth of whiskey. Her dad was apparently off somewhere on vacation.

  She didn’t know why she’d gone to him. He wasn’t the “kiss it and make it better” type. Yet she’d wanted something a little familiar and comforting to counteract the shock of Cassie’s death. When he wasn’t there, she’d felt like vandalizing his place. Instead, she’d just filched the liquor.

  Her answering machine at home was full of malicious messages, left by fans of Screaming Divas—fans of Cassie. Some of them were threats, others just prolonged sobbing. And then there was that other message.

&
nbsp; “You bitch!” one of the callers, some high school girl, no doubt, had wailed. “You killed her. I hope you go to hell.”

  Yeah, she was probably headed there anyhow, but who cared? It was no doubt more interesting than sitting around on a bunch of puffy clouds listening to harps. That’s what she told people, anyhow. She didn’t really believe in all that.

  No one seemed to understand that she’d loved Cassie. They’d been like sisters, like halves of one self. She’d felt their personalities oozing together at times. Maybe that’s why she’d screwed Noel. They’d both been involved with Adam, they shared songs, why not share Noel, too? It made sense in a weird sort of way, but when she’d seen them together, she’d totally lost it. Maybe she was afraid that they would team up and leave her behind, when she needed them both.

  She hadn’t talked to Noel since they’d returned from Washington, DC. Right now she didn’t think she could stand the sight of his face. She wanted to see Cassie and plan the future of their band.

  Among the rants and slurs on her answering machine, there was another message that she’d played over and over:

  “Hey, Trudy? This is your mama calling from Los Angeles. You’re probably not going to believe this, but I’ve been temping for Wild Blue Records and I handed your demo to the A & R guy. That’s Artists and Repertoire, by the way. And guess what? He was impressed. He said y’all had a lot of energy and he wants to hear more.” There was a long pause before she went on. “And Trudy, I’d really like to see you. Why don’t you come on out here and give us a visit?”

  Sarah must not have heard about Cassie, and that was just as well. She’d have to find a replacement for Cassie, and maybe for Esther and Harumi, too, if they were giving up on her. But Trudy had put so much into this band that she wasn’t about to quit now. She would carry on as a tribute to the lost Diva.

  It was midnight in South Carolina, but still suppertime on the west coast. Trudy listened to the message once again, scratching down her mother’s new phone number. Then she erased the other messages. She stabbed out the digits with her index finger and waited for the ring.