by Zuri Day
“The Carter . . . what, ma’am?”
“That big ass you’re working with, child. I got one, so I know. It’ll catch them every time. Can I taste one of these? I have to make sure they taste like something before I feed them to my family.”
“Sure.” Trying to keep up with Liz subject-hopping had Jan flustered, but she liked her. “Oh, those smaller containers are the dipping sauce—barbeque, honey mustard, and ranch.”
Jan watched as Liz spooned some of the barbeque sauce on a roll and took a hearty bite. She watched, waited, and finally asked, “What do you think?”
Liz finished the bite and reached for a dish towel to wipe her hands. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”
“Mama!” Doug came into the kitchen. “What are you doing, putting my girl to work? She’s a guest.”
“There’s no such thing in the Carter house. You’re either family or foe.”
“What are these?” Doug spotted the soul rolls, picked one up, and took a bite.
“They are for later,” Liz said, placing the lid back on the rolls and taking them to a large table to join other covered dishes.
“Um, those are good. When did you make them?”
“Jan made those.”
He looked at her. “You did? Dang, girl, I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Um-huh,” Liz shook her head. “Somebody has been spending more time in the bedroom than in the kitchen.”
Before Jan could be embarrassed, more of Doug’s family came into the kitchen including Marvin, the brother who worked as a cook and was the family’s self-proclaimed baker, Nelson, the middle brother, and two of their cousins along with their dates. Liz shooed out the men and organized the women to help transport the containers of food to the backyard where a rectangular, tablecloth-covered table was set between two round tables. There was also a smaller table for the little ones. By the time everyone arrived and had gathered out back, there were nineteen happy, hungry people ready to give thanks.
After a one-sentence blessing delivered by Doug’s father, Willie, with a demeanor Jan felt was more like her, an organized chaos ensued. Plates were filled, drinks were poured, children laughed, and everyone seemed to be talking. Names and faces became a blur as everyone spoke to Jan and made her feel welcome. Doug’s happy-go-lucky personality began to make sense. Growing up in this type of household, who wouldn’t be?
“Jan, sit here!” Cynthia waved her over to one of the round tables. Jan walked over. “Have you met Ava, Doug’s sister?”
“Yes, a little earlier. And . . . I think your daughter?”
“Yes, Leah. That’s pretty good after meeting a backyard full of people.”
“This is a large family.”
“Over here, Dougie Fresh!” Ava yelled for her brother.
“Dougie?” Jan smiled broadly.
“Oh, oh.” Ava put a hand to her mouth. “Oops. You’re going to have fun with that one!”
“Is it just you and your brother, Jan?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes, and my mom, who’s over to her sister’s house, my aunt. My aunt only had one child, my cousin Crystal, and I have an uncle who lives on the East Coast.”
Doug sat down. After joking with him a moment Ava returned her attention to Jan. “I really enjoyed you the night I came to Breeze. You have a beautiful voice.”
“Thank you.”
“Jan will be singing at our holiday party,” Cynthia said.
“Oh, really? Very nice.”
“Jan’s a songwriter, too,” Doug said.
Jan gave him a side eye. “Not really.”
“Yes, she is! She wrote a song called ‘Just Jan’ and sang it last weekend.” He regaled the table with a spirited recapping of Jan’s handling of Melissa at the club.
Ava high-fived her as others who’d joined them congratulated her courage.
“I love that message,” Cynthia added. “Is that really a song?”
“No.”
“It should be. So many of our kids are bullied and made to feel bad if they don’t look or act or talk a certain way. There’s so much pressure to conform and not enough encouragement to be uniquely whoever you are. Really, Jan. You should turn that into a real song and sing it at the party. Then I’d incorporate it into our program as one of the behavioral modification tools.”
“Are you serious?” Jan asked.
“Absolutely.”
Jan shrugged. “I could give it a shot.”
“Don’t worry, sis,” Doug said to Cynthia. “I’ll help her out.”
“Please don’t,” Ava deadpanned.
They didn’t make it to the aunt’s for dessert. Instead the family fun and teasing went well into the night. Regarding his brother Marvin’s baking skills, Doug had not exaggerated. Jan ate the most decadent pecan pie ever and the lightest, fluffiest, most flavorful slice of sweet potato pie she’d ever tasted in her life.
Lionel stayed the entire time and had just as much fun. Ava’s daughter’s boyfriend was around the same age. They and a couple cousins bonded in a den that held a sixty-inch TV screen and multiple video game consoles.
All in all, it had pretty much been the best Thanksgiving Jan ever had. Later, chocolate syrup and whipped cream were some of the props that she used to show Doug her gratitude.
30
As promised, the next Saturday Doug went over to Jan’s so he could spend time with Lionel. He looked forward to their outing. Aside from the motorcycle gang, whose hanging out was usually on the road or at their club, Doug only hung out with his brothers.
“Where are you guys going?” Jan asked, after answering the doorbell and greeting Doug with a hug.
“That’s for us to know and you not to find out,” Doug replied.
Lionel entered the living room. “It’s man business.”
Rochelle came into the living room. “Hello, Doug.”
“Hello, Ms. Baker. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. Glad to have the weekend off. Please thank your mother again for that Thanksgiving spread she sent over. Everything was delicious and after forgetting to bring leftovers home from my sister’s house, right on time.”
“I sure will, Ms. Baker. Next time I hope you’ll join us.”
“Perhaps I will. I also want to thank you for what you’re doing for Lionel. It is very thoughtful of you.”
“No thanks necessary. It just so happened that my sister-in-law’s colleague directs the program I’m taking him to check out today. I’m happy to do it.”
“Well, I thank you nonetheless.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, enough of that yapping.” Rochelle frowned. Lionel laughed and rolled over to her for a kiss. “We’re out, Ma. Sis. See y’all later.”
Since the van was retrofitted for Lionel, it had been decided that Doug would park his motorcycle in the Baker driveway and drive the van.
“Are you sure you can handle it?” Lionel asked once they were in and buckled. “This is a little bigger than that girlie bike you’re riding.”
“Whoa!” Doug started the car and checked the mirrors before pulling away from the curb. “The trash talking has already started, I see.”
“That’s no trash talk. Real men ride Harleys. Everybody knows that.”
“One trip around the block on my Kawa . . .” The rest of the sentence died on Doug’s lips. “Sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No problem. That would normally be the thing to say. This situation I’m dealing with isn’t normal.”
Doug glanced a look at the now-brooding teen. “Like I’ve said before, Lionel. I can’t imagine transitioning from an independent brother to one who can’t live life totally on his own. It’s got to be a painful situation to live through. Maybe even to talk about.”
“It is what it is.”
“Jan said you were riding on the back of someone else’s bike. What happened to him?”
“Oh, he fared better than me. He died.”
Doug took a longer look a
t Lionel this time. Was silent until they reached a red light, and then somberly asked, “Are you thinking about suicide?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
Doug let Lionel’s words sink in. What could he say to a comment like that? Tell him not to? Give him reasons to live? If Doug were faced with a life such as Lionel’s, who was to say he wouldn’t think the same thing? And the harder question. Should he tell Jan? The light changed. The silence continued.
“I’m not going to kill myself, man.” Lionel sighed as he looked out the window. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it.”
“I understand.” He did, in a way. But not as comprehensibly as his counselor sister-in-law could. He would never break Lionel’s confidence but made a mental note to suggest Cynthia do an evaluation before Lionel began the basketball league.
He had other serious questions but decided to lighten things up. “Do you have a favorite NBA player?”
“LeBron, who else? Plays that position almost as good as me.”
“You’re a forward.”
“Used to be pretty good.”
“Life has changed and the situation is different, but you can be good again.”
* * *
“All right, guys. See you Tuesday at ten.” Jan left the studio where the band had rehearsed. She hadn’t heard from Lionel or Doug and was tempted to call and see how everything was going. But she decided against it. That neither had been in contact was hopefully a really good sign. With nothing planned for the next couple hours Jan got in her car, pulled off, and called Crystal.
“I’m bored. Please tell me Brent is home and you can sneak out of the house for an hour.”
“He’s here. An hour to do what?”
“Help me pick out an outfit for the holiday party.”
“You’ve got it. Come on by.”
Jan had barely pulled out her phone to tell Crystal she was there before she came bounding down the steps. “Hey, girl.”
“Dang, somebody was ready for a break.”
“Your timing is perfect. Brent’s mom is coming over.”
“Chris! And you’re leaving?”
“Yes, and hurry up. She called from her car and might be around the corner.” Crystal looked around furtively, ready to duck.
“Why are you playing, you love your mom-in-law.”
“To pieces. Which is why I wouldn’t be able to leave if she was here, but since she’s not yet . . . go, go, go!”
“Ha!”
“So how was rehearsal?”
“It was good. We’re learning some new material, incorporating some Christmas songs. The guys are excited.”
“Since becoming friends with the postal worker, your life keeps getting better.”
“You’re right.”
“What? You’re agreeing with me?”
“Completely.” Jan told Crystal about Thanksgiving at the Carters. “I never laughed so hard in my life. I fell in love with his mother, and his dad’s slow, calm demeanor is the perfect complement to her zaniness. They made me feel totally welcome.”
“And the director wants you to write a song?”
“Cynthia, yes.”
“Can you do it?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying not to force it, but let it happen. Like it did the other night.”
“I don’t know, girl. You might have to go start something with Melissa, you know, for motivation.”
“Listen to you, being as messy as she is.”
“I’m just saying.” Crystal smiled at her cousin. “I’m happy for you, Jan. You’re with a good dude, have a sweet gig coming up and maybe even a reality show. You deserve it all. But I still think you need to beat up Melissa.”
31
Monday night and the last open spot for Starr Power was going to be chosen. Knowing this, Jan tried to get into it, to bring a little extra. But she knew almost from the beginning that she wouldn’t be doing the show. Something about the way Starr looked at her earlier, with a look that was part pity, part guilt. Like he knew that she deserved to be on the show but didn’t feel like she belonged in show business. The role of superstar singing female was reserved for skinny girls with pretty faces and the best body that either a personal trainer or money could buy. She’d never been that girl. And as Jan left the venue seconds after hearing the name of the last contestant chosen, she realized something. She didn’t want to be that girl. She just wanted to be who she was. She just wanted to be Jan. Was there something so wrong with that?
When her phone rang she didn’t even bother to look at the dash. It was either Crystal or Doug and she didn’t want to talk to either one of them. The ringing stopped, but moments later began again. When it rang for the fourth time she tapped the icon on the steering wheel and retrieved her voice mails. Only one message had been left.
“Jan, if you don’t call me back within the next half hour I’m coming over to your house. So I hope you get this message.”
She tapped redial.
“Hey, where are you?”
Jan heard the concern in Doug’s voice and felt guilty for ignoring his call.
“On the highway, headed home. And before you ask, the answer is no.”
“What?! That’s some bull right there. That fool knows good and well you should be on that show.”
“Yeah, well, it is what it is.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
She sighed. “Me too.”
“If you come over I’ll try and help you feel better.”
“Listen to you trying to sound all sexy.”
“Trying? Dang, I didn’t succeed?”
Jan laughed in spite of her mood. “I wouldn’t be good company. It wouldn’t be fair to invite you to my pity party, and I’m definitely having one.”
“That’s understandable, babe. But don’t let some old, washed-up, tone-deaf, blind, wannabe singer producer make you feel bad. You have more talent in your titty than he has in his chump ass body!”
Jan really laughed at that one. “Titty, Doug? Really?”
“Sorry. That’s Liz Carter coming out. Sometimes that happens.” Jan wanted to respond but couldn’t. Reality was replacing shock and tears flowed. “Jan? Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Do you need to pull over? Do I need to come get you?”
His caring tone only brought more tears. She spoke through them. “I’m just hurt. And angry! I really believed this was it.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, babe.”
“Me too. But if you hadn’t worked late and Pat hadn’t filled in, I wouldn’t have been able to compete tonight. Then again, maybe that would have been a good thing.”
“Don’t say that, Jan. You belonged in that competition and you deserved a slot.”
“I don’t look like those other women. The ones Starr chose. Doesn’t matter that I can sing circles around them. I’m not what that industry promotes. For as much as I hated her for saying it, Melissa was right.”
“Just because of the way something is doesn’t make it right. There’s nothing right about a singing competition that passes over true talent for people who can’t sing.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m done.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s over. I’ll still perform here and there, but it’s time I faced reality. I’m never going to be that R & B star topping the charts and playing on the radio.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do! And there’s no use trying to sugarcoat it.” Jan cried openly now. “It’s over.”
“You’re headed to my house, right?”
“In this mood I should probably just go home.”
“I want to see you.” No answer. “Are you coming?”
“I guess.”
“Jan.”
“Huh?”
“No matter what anybody else says, you’re a star. My star.”
They talked a bit more before Crystal beeped in and Jan let Doug g
o to talk to her.
“Hey, Chris.”
“Oh, man, Jan.” More sisters than cousins, Jan knew her somber greeting would tell Crystal all she needed to know. “I’m so sorry you didn’t get it. I know how badly you wanted to be on that show.”
“I know. You were right all along. I should have stopped this foolishness a long time ago and come to terms with the fact I’m just not cut out to be in the game.”
“That’s not true, Jan! You belong in that business as much as anyone. Now, I know I don’t always sound like it, but I really want you to succeed in your passion. To be honest, a part of me is a little envious of you.”
“Girl, please.”
“I’m serious! You’ve always had a drive to be successful and more importantly, the talent to make that happen. Brent and my family are everything, and I’m right where I want to be. But sometimes I’ve wondered about who Crystal is aside from wife and mom. What it is that individually defines me. You’ve never had to ask that question. Girl, that’s a blessing. You’ve always known. And you’ve been right. You were born to be a singer and I don’t care what Starr or moon or sun”—Jan chuckled—“or galaxy or planet or anybody else has to say about it. Don’t let them tell you when it’s over. You decide when it’s over. But don’t quit because someone else says you should. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you. Thanks, cousin.”
“I love you, girl.”
“I love you, too.”
Jan decided against going over to Doug’s house. It was late, and she was tired. She went inside, fixed herself a large bowl of ice cream, grabbed a sleeve of cookies, and headed to her room. She’d just gotten cozy in her bed and had turned on the TV, when she heard a noise. She stopped, spoon halfway to her mouth, and listened.
There it was again. Tap, tap, tap.
She muted the television and listened once more. It happened yet a third time, distinct and unmistakable. Somebody was at her window! Were they trying to break in?
She reached for the phone, her thumb already on the nine, her mind on the one-one. Easing out of the bed, she turned off the television and threw her room into darkness, hoping she’d see a shadow, a movement or something. She didn’t want to call the police and then find out what she heard was a tree branch scraping against the house, or it settling onto the foundation.