“Yes, but I’d like to go down here. I’m not sure about doing the show in Queens.”
I asked Ray to help me decide. We locked ourselves up in the root cellar and I read him what I’d written.
“What do you think?” I asked when I was done. “Is it stupid or what?”
Ray tossed his hair out of his eyes. “It’s art.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s art. Don’t act like I’m simple.”
“I’m not acting like you’re simple. I just want you to explain.”
“It’s art like my paintings of Saint, like my portrait of Lissa. You didn’t judge me and I’m not judging you.”
“That means you don’t like what I wrote.”
He stamped his foot. “I didn’t say that. I like it a lot.”
“What do you like about it?”
“I like it because it sounds true.”
But I decided not to do the show. I just couldn’t.
My seventeenth birthday came and went. There was no word from Rupert and Ruby, which I took as a good sign. Aunt Minnie made me a birthday cake. It had eighteen candles on top. One for good luck. Ray, Lola, and the straw man came over. Lissa and I had always been the same age. Now I would always be older.
There is a run of mint in our garden
Holding back the fallen leaves
Yesterday I saw a footstep there
Just your size I tracked you
To a well and peered down
The sight of a bucket to pull
Made me thirsty
So I filled it with water
Instead of seeing your face reflected
The face I saw on the surface was mine
When I am old a part of me
Will always be sixteen
SAVED
You’re probably thinking the show should be over. But how did we get to Club Nirvana? I can’t leave that part out. If you want to know, it started with a preacher named Isaiah Robinson.
Isaiah Robinson, the preacher, is Rupert’s distant cousin on his mother’s side. I didn’t know all that when he came to the store. Isaiah is young with big muscles, smooth cheeks, great cologne, and an incredible rumbling voice, which gives him an air of authority beyond his years. When he stopped by, Aunt Cleo and Aunt Minerva really put the dog on for him: homemade peach pie with peach ice cream. I’m kind of skittish when it comes to preachers; probably some buried memory of the backs of my knees sticking to the front pew in Daddy’s church for the first seven years of my life. But this guy was genuinely friendly. He seemed to know all about me, for some reason.
“I bet you’re a literary type.” He had a roguish gleam in his eye.
“I do write poetry.”
“I do a lot of writing myself, preparing sermons and such. I’m working on one inspired by the prodigal son. Familiar with the parable?”
“Sure.”
“A wandering child pops up on his family’s doorstep, and the entire community celebrates the visit. That’s why I’m here today,” said Isaiah, “to invite you to the Homecoming.”
“Homecoming?”
“Minnie and I go every year,” Aunt Cleo chimed in. “Lola gives us a ride.”
“This year I’ll go with you, then.”
“Folks will be glad to welcome you,” said Isaiah, cutting his pie carefully. “You’re famous, you know. You were in the newspaper.”
The day of the Homecoming was a peak day in terms of nature: flowers bloomed along the road, birds chirped, and I’d never seen so many butterflies. As Ray helped me settle my aunts in the back of Lola’s car along with the baskets of food they were bringing for the supper after the Homecoming service, I felt as cheerful as one of Aunt Minnie’s new chicks. After months of mourning Lissa, a dark cloud was beginning to lift.
Going to church was exciting not because it was church, actually, but because there were so many people. Over the winter it had begun to feel as if my two aunts, Ray, Lola, and I were the only inhabitants in the world. Things had picked up when customers began coming to the store, especially after we went into the portrait and poetry business. But the Homecoming was something else again! The parking lot was packed to overflowing and young and old were dressed in their best. Folks’ relatives had come from all over the country for the occasion. Aunt Cleo and Aunt Minnie were beaming. It was the first time in years they’d had another family member attending the service. Even Ray, who had gone along to help out with Aunt Cleo’s chair, looked excited, though he did opt for hanging out in the car while the four of us went into church.
The church building itself was so sweet and small, with polished dark wood walls and windows banked with fragrant red lilies. Everybody in the world seemed to be nodding our way. We stopped in a room in back of the chapel that was set with long tables, so that Aunt Minnie could drop off her food. The spread was out of sight, roasts and chickens and dishes of vegetables and macaroni and cheese and fifty or sixty cakes and pies. The smell of it all! My stomach was rumbling—you get the idea. When I snuggled down next to Aunt Minnie in the fourth pew, I felt so at home. I was sitting in the very same church that Nadine had come to when she was a little girl, where she had sung “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” in the choir. And when Isaiah Robinson got up into the pulpit, I surprised myself by thinking of Daddy, and how he’d once been a young preacher standing in that very spot. I rested my head on Aunt Minnie’s shoulder and Aunt Cleo squeezed my hand. I glanced over my shoulder to the back of the church and caught sight of Lola, her elbow leaning against one of the flower-laden windowsills.
Then in one of the very front pews on the other side of the church, I saw the back of a very familiar neck. It was during Isaiah’s sermon. At first I couldn’t believe it—Rupert was there! Nodding to beat the band, testifying under his breath, muttering something that sounded like “Preach it, man!”
Isaiah had gotten to the high point about the prodigal son’s big celebration when Rupert twisted his neck around and stared. His eyes looked beady with meanness. Sweat popped out all over me. I felt like I might faint. How could he be there? I’d felt so safe. There hadn’t been a word from him or Ruby. I’d tricked myself into believing that I never had to see them again. A panicky feeling rose up inside of me. Rupert kept staring at me, which made the people sitting next to him turn and stare, too. I glanced around for an escape but I was pinned into the pew between Aunt Minnie and six other people on one side, and on the other side Aunt Cleo’s wheelchair. Rupert stopped staring for a minute and turned around. I fanned myself with a church program. Aunt Minnie and Aunt Cleo hadn’t a clue about what was happening; Aunt Minnie’s eyes were glued to Isaiah and Aunt Cleo had her eyes closed while she swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the choir’s background music. I glanced back to catch Lola’s eye, but she, too, was captivated by the sermon. So I settled back and tried to relax. Maybe I wasn’t the reason Rupert had come to the Homecoming; after all, his mother was from Handsome Crossing. It still seemed suspicious, though, because I’d never known him to go before. Seeing him brought back the rage in his voice on the morning Lissa died; my face experienced a visceral memory of his fist. I gazed up at the preacher for some kind of rescue. Though I wasn’t quite sure what God thought of me, I was pretty certain He wouldn’t let Rupert beat me up again, especially not in a packed church.
Then came the part where Isaiah began saving folks. The sermon was over and the choir was humming loudly. Isaiah had his arms out and folks came straggling forward. I saw a woman whisper in his ear. He hugged her and said a prayer over her.
“Come and unburden yourselves, children,” he invited us all. “Come home to the place where all is forgiven.”
Rupert turned around again and started eyeballing me. I did my best to ignore him. But it was impossible, especially when Isaiah asked if there was anyone else who needed guidance and my brother announced in a very loud voice:
“Save my sister, Orphea!”
Aunt Minnie sat up and Aunt Cleo’s eye
s popped open. Everybody in the whole church turned to me. No wonder—Rupert was pointing his finger at me! The organ began to play faster and faster and the choir kept on humming. I felt myself becoming smaller and smaller. Then Isaiah Robinson called my name.
“Come, Orphea. Don’t be afraid.”
I was like a deer caught in headlights. Then the choir began singing “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” reminding me of Nadine.
I stuck my tongue out at Rupert and hopped over Aunt Cleo’s wheelchair, hightailing it down the aisle to a chorus of amens. I don’t know about you, but I think a person has the right to decide for herself if she needs to be saved.
My brother followed me out into the parking lot.
“Just a minute. What’s your rush?”
“Leave me alone! Why are you here?”
“It was my duty to come down,” he said, catching up with me, “when I heard about that picture in the newspaper.”
“What about it?”
His eyes narrowed. “Told you to be quiet about that. Might as well be taking out an ad for your next girlfriend.”
“Get a life, Rupert! Nobody here gives a damn.”
“People aren’t as stupid as you think, Orphea. They put two and two together. Isaiah sent me a copy of the news clipping.”
“And you filled him in?”
“It was my duty. He’s your preacher.”
“I hardly know the man! All you did is humiliate me again, Rupert—that’s what you did. I’m seventeen now. I don’t need you controlling my life.”
“Like hell you don’t! I’m your guardian. I was wrong to think the old ladies would set you straight.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can change,” he said, stepping up closer. “You blew it today in the church but you still have a chance.”
“I am who I am, Rupert. You might as well try to change a can of potted meat into a can of tuna.”
“Told you we don’t have those kind of people in our family,” he growled, grabbing me by the collar. “You’re going home with me right this minute.”
“I’m not!” I screamed. “Let go!”
He tried to drag me. I struggled against him.
One second I saw Ray crouched on top of a car. The next second he was on Rupert’s back, yanking at his hair and kicking him.
“Get off, you simpleton!” Rupert screamed. “Get off!”
By now people were running out of the church, Isaiah and Lola in front.
“What’s the disturbance here?” Isaiah’s voice boomed out.
“What are you doing, Ray Grimes?” shrieked Lola.
Rupert had fallen on his knees while Ray clung to his neck fiercely.
“Get this fool off me! He’s choking me.”
“It’s okay, Ray!” I cried.
Ray hopped up abruptly and Rupert fell face-first onto the ground. “Oh, my God!” He grabbed his mouth. “That fool chipped my tooth!”
Some folks in the crowd started tittering, but most just shook their heads. Isaiah came forward to help Rupert. He led him back into the church.
“Let’s go home,” said Aunt Minerva.
Aunt Cleo looked back longingly. “Without supper?”
“I made some extra and left it home. There’s been enough excitement for one day.”
When he got into the car, Ray was grinning. “Did you see me, Orphea?”
“Yeah, Ray. You really did ride him.”
That day changed my mind about going to Queens. I would perform the show I’d been writing and dedicate it to Lissa.
But I didn’t want to go by myself. I wanted Ray to go with me.
“What would I do in the big city?” he said stubbornly.
“See the sights. We could go to an art museum. You could even be part of the show.”
“Doing what?”
“Painting.”
“I don’t paint in front of people.”
“You paint in front of me all the time.”
“That’s different.”
“Come on, Ray. I need you. I might be afraid up there all by myself.”
“Will we get paid? I’m thinking of saving my money up for a real horse.”
“Icky and Marilyn already gave me two hundred dollars. I can give you some of that. Maybe we can even sell some of your paintings.”
He smiled. “I’ll go.”
But we still had to talk Lola into it.
“How are you going to get there?”
“We can take the bus. I’ll pay for Ray’s ticket.”
“I’d have to talk to the club owners.”
“We can call them.”
“Ray’s only fourteen.”
“For Pete’s sake, Mama!” Ray snapped. “You don’t expect me to spend the rest of my life in a root cellar, do you?”
“Of course not, sweet pea.” She turned to me with a worried expression. “How long will you be gone?”
“Just for the summer.”
“You won’t let anything happen to my boy in the big city?”
“I’ll take care of him,” I promised.
“We’ll take care of each other,” said Ray.
I called Icky and Marilyn. The next week Lola drove Ray and me into town and we got on a bus.
The trip only took took seven hours. I slept most of the way but Ray was wired. He had to get off at every rest stop to try some new brand of cupcake or soda. And he wouldn’t stop staring.
“People are going to think you’re loony,” I warned. But a lady with a baby across the aisle from us seemed to like him. When the baby wouldn’t stop fussing, the lady gave him to Ray to hold. The baby was cooing in no time, though he did pull Ray’s hair.
When we got off the bus in Manhattan, I think we both needed a shower. The air conditioner on the bus had stopped working. Marilyn was there to meet us and we went on a subway. The crowds and the noise might have made Ray feel a bit timid. I kind of had to hold his hand. But by the time we’d been in New York for a week, Ray was galloping down Queens Boulevard.
Putting the show together with Icky and Marilyn was the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. It was Marilyn who helped me string all my writing together. Icky concentrated on the set and the lights and buying materials for Ray.
Except for the fact that I kept forgetting what I was supposed to say, the rehearsals seemed to go okay. Then one day Marilyn yelled at me.
“Stop turning around!”
Just like in the root cellar, I’d been watching Ray.
“I’m just making sure he isn’t painting too many horses,” I explained.
“Can I paint at least one horse?” Ray whined.
“Maybe one.”
Marilyn chuckled. “We’ll call the show ‘Not a Rodeo’ just to remind him.”
“Keep your eyes on the audience, Orphea,” Icky directed from the booth. “We’ll make it a rule that you can’t turn around.”
Opening night came. The crowd was much smaller than today, yet I was so nervous. But as I started to tell the story, I got a warm feeling inside. People were listening.
Next week Lola and the straw man are driving up! They’re staying with us a couple of days in Icky and Marilyn’s loft.
I wish Aunt Minnie and Aunt Cleo could come see us. But they’re keeping it together at home.
“When you have a store, you can’t go out of town,” said Aunt Minnie.
“Confining,” said Aunt Cleo. “But we love it.”
So that’s our show. Me running my mouth a mile a minute, and Ray painting a canvas that only you see. Even when it’s over, I don’t turn around. Things are going so well, I don’t want to jinx them. There’s magic in the air here. I think the magic comes from the audience. You never know who’ll show up. Last week after the show, Lissa’s sister, Annie, came up to me outside. It was a shock. We both cried. She’s living out in Brooklyn. I’m going to try to see her before we go back to Proud Road.
Now I have a fantasy that Lissa will walk into
the club one day; that she didn’t die. She’ll pass the club and see my show being advertised, and come that same evening just like Annie did; sit right down and watch the show and go absolutely nuts about Ray’s painting. She’ll hug me and the next day we’ll take Ray to a big museum. Only a fantasy … I saw the urn with her ashes.
But if this were a fairy tale or a myth, she might materialize out of Ray’s canvas and be standing behind me … a girl with thick black hair and gray eyes.
You know the myth about the guy named Orpheus? The one Nadine named me for? He was a great poet and singer. The love of his life gets bitten by some sort of snake and she dies. But Orpheus goes after her, straight to the underworld. He almost gets to bring her home. But the deal is that he can’t turn around. Just as they’re about to step back on earth, Orpheus gets nervous and takes a peek. The love of his life disappears, lost to him forever.
If Lissa were behind me right now, I wouldn’t turn around for a million bucks. I would keep my promise not to look back. She would step out of Ray’s painting and follow me offstage and out of Club Nirvana. Even though my arms would throb with the urge to give her a hug, I’d resist. Just knowing that she was a step behind me would be enough. I’d feel her breath on my neck and take in the fragrance of peanut butter, lemons, and patchouli.
The truth is I’m the one who comes alive, when I step onto the stage to tell you I’ve been loved. I feel you listening. I feel them, too—the ones who loved me—somewhere deep inside. Breathing, if only for a little while.
Pebble smooth, found in snow
Finger pricked the blood that flowed
With parched tongue, I sing you
Ocean’s mist, our first kiss
Hot ice
Taboo to the touch
Fire in the cold
Us
Thanks for coming!
Let’s give it up for painter Raynor Grimes!
On lights, Mr. Icarus Digits!
Your waitress and sometime bass player, Marilyn Chin!
You’re a great audience!
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