Amy was quick to correct him. “That is so self centered of you, Jesse. In the first place, the Voodoo voice does not belong to you. You said it yourself. The voice is there for anyone who knows how to listen. Do you think the sun rises and falls because of you?”
“Maybe I could have done something to prevent it once I heard it was going to happen,” Jesse said.
Amy stayed on him. “You’re the one who always talks about escaping the prison of self. Then you jump right in and take the blame for something you had nothing to do with. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Self pity is still self centered.”
Jesse was groping for answers. “Do you think the Voodoo killed him? I mean, it was such a freak accident. Even his passenger has no idea what happened. That guy wasn’t even hurt. He told Rene’s father the impact didn’t feel strong enough to injure anybody. He thought it was a fender bender until he reached over and found out Rene was gone.”
Amy switched into a more comforting tone. “All the voice said was the drummer must die. It didn’t say Rene must die. It didn’t say when or how anybody was going to die. And, what the heck, everybody dies. That’s not exactly news.”
Jesse spoke with desperation in his voice. “Come on, Amy. My Voodoo voice says the drummer must die and, before we know it, Rene is killed in a freak truck accident. How much more connected does it have to get?”
Amy handed Jesse a beer she had just gotten out of the refrigerator. “Again, it’s not your Voodoo voice. And the only thing that killed Rene was his own crazy driving. I’m just glad you weren’t in the truck when it happened. How many times have I said that man was going to kill the whole band with his crazy driving? Did anybody do a blood test on him after the crash?”
Jesse almost laughed at that notion. “I don’t think so. But I’m sure he was all smoked up.”
Amy knew he was right. “So blame the marijuana. Why blame the Voodoo voice? We both know what killed him. It was drugs and reckless driving.”
Jesse wasn’t looking for something to blame. “Let’s say it was the drugs. That doesn’t change the way I feel.”
“And how is that?” Amy asked.
Jesse pronounced his emotional verdict. “Guilty.”
Amy stood up and looked down on Tchoupitoulas Street as if that would clear her head. “You feel guilty because you’ve been mad at him for so long. You can feel bad about that. Don’t feel bad about something you didn’t do.”
“Maybe what I really feel guilty about is something else,” Jesse said.
“What?”
Jesse hung his head. “I guess I’m feeling guilty because I’m thinking about quitting the band. It’s starting to feel like I’m leading them down a long road to failure.”
Amy was smart enough to remain silent.
“I keep thinking about that white horse I tried to jump on in Minden.”
“You mean the one that almost broke your leg after you crashed its ass and slid down its tail?”
“That’s the one.”
Amy nodded her head. “Are we talking about the little things of today predicting the big things of tomorrow?”
“Exactly,” Jesse said. “I keep thinking that horse might be the music business and I’m the fool trying to ride it without reins or stirrups or a saddle or even a blanket.”
“You’re lucky that horse didn’t kill you.”
The day after Jesse finally admitted to himself his doubts about the band, he went to Butch’s apartment to talk. He was surprised to find that Butch was feeling a lot the same way. They both needed a break from the road and the band in general.
Butch made a pot of coffee and the two of them sat down on his second-story veranda. “If you leave, Jesse, the band is over. We lost Rene and Rick and we were getting sick of Dale’s singing. Tim won’t have any trouble finding another gig. You’ll go to law school like you swore you never would. What I worry about is me. What am I going to do after The Divebomberz?”
Jesse loved the way Butch could cut through the crap and get right to the point. “We keep writing and recording songs. We don’t need a band to do that. We can hire the players.”
Butch took a slow sip of coffee. “How are we going to pay for that?”
“We’ll get day jobs and save our money,” Jesse said.
Butch laughed as he put down his cup. “Oh, we’ll have to get jobs, for sure. That’s long overdue. But I doubt we’ll be able to save enough to pay for studio time and musicians.”
“It might not happen overnight,” Jesse conceded.
Butch gazed into the leaves of the Magnolia tree. “You know. I was wondering if you getting married would be the beginning of the end for the band.”
Jesse got defensive. “It wasn’t getting married that did it. Amy never asked me to quit the band. It was the going nowhere that did it. Going nowhere and getting older.”
Butch looked at Jesse. “I know. That’s a bad combination. I’ve been thinking about the same thing. And I’m not saying Amy killed the band. It’s just that once a guy gets married he starts thinking about his future.”
Jesse stared into the Magnolia leaves. “I have no idea what I’ll do without the band. It’s going to be hard, for sure. We can’t just give up on all our hopes and dreams.”
Butch got up to get the coffee pot. “Hopes and dreams change. We’ll be all right.”
“I’m not ready for law school,” Jesse said.
Butch poured him another cup. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
Butch and Jesse got all coffee’d up and rehashed the band’s greatest escapades for a couple hours. Later that day, they met with Tim and Dale. Everybody agreed it would be best to take a break from trying to keep the band on the road. It had been like rolling a giant stone up a steep hill for months. They would get day jobs and try to save some money. Nobody talked about breaking up the band. But everybody knew it was the end.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
PEOPLE
Three months after The Divebomberz unofficially disbanded, Jesse found himself nailing down roll roofing in the warehouse district of New Orleans. It wasn’t a bad job. It was hot and dirty, but it was steady work. The roofs were enormous. They stretched out as long as football fields.
He was learning the roofing trade from his friend, Paul. The pay was seven dollars an hour, which was fine with Jesse. He and Paul were working time and materials for a landowner who wanted them to stretch out the job for as long as possible. Their employer wanted to continue collecting from his insurance company for storm damage repair and loss of rent.
Amy and Jesse met Paul more than a year earlier in New Orleans’ Audubon Park, near the zoo. The Divebomberz were still playing at Fritzel’s. Jesse had just been talking about adding a banjo player to the band when Amy spotted Paul walking in the park by himself, carrying a banjo over his shoulder.
“There he is,” she squealed. “There’s your banjo player. How amazing is that? “
“Don’t bother the poor man,” Jesse said.
Amy ignored him and ran over to the man with the banjo. “Hey, mister, can you play that thing?”
“No, I just like to walk it in the park,” Paul said.
Amy and Jesse laughed. They introduced themselves and sat down to have a chat. Paul was pleased to play a little banjo for them. He was quite good. After two songs, Amy had heard enough to make him a job offer. “Jesse here has a band on Bourbon Street. They’re looking for a banjo player. They’ve already got a fiddle player. They’re really good. You’d fit in great. I’ll bet you could sit in tonight.”
Jesse and Paul had to laugh at her forwardness.
Amy was undeterred. “Where do you live?”
Paul looked at her and smiled. “In my van.”
“You sound like my kind of guy,” Jesse said.
That was the start of a fine friendship. Paul did sit in with the band that first night. He sounded great, but he would not be persuaded into joining a band on Bourbon Street. He’d already been in
too many bands.
Paul and Jesse had long, philosophical talks while they put down miles of roofing together. They talked about their fathers and mothers and what they wanted to do with their lives. They talked about music and the music business. Jesse talked about The Divebomberz and what a heartbreak it had been to see his dreams go up in smoke. “I hate to say it. But I didn’t even see it coming. One day, we were plotting our musical careers together. The next day, we were all going our separate ways.”
Paul was blunt. “Bands break up. What did you expect? Even The Beatles broke up. Don’t worry about it. You can always start another band if you’re a glutton for punishment.”
Starting another band was the last thing on Jesse’s mind. He felt like he was still getting over four divorces and a funeral. He still went over to Butch’s apartment to write songs. He still went over to Tim’s to play music on the porch for the kids on Annunciation Street. He still went out for drinks with Dale in the French Quarter. He even had a couple good talks with Rick. But it wasn’t the same and he knew it never would be. The Divebomberz had been Jesse’s first real band. Watching it come apart at the seams had been nearly more than he could take.
Working with Paul on the roofs turned out to be the perfect therapy for Jesse. He could tell it was good for Paul too. They were both coming up on thirty years old and beginning to wonder what they could do to make some sense out of the world. They took a lot of breaks so as not to make too much progress on the job. The roofs turned out to be the perfect place to play Frisbee, even though a few disks a day went over the edge and had to be retrieved.
One day, while resting after an extended Frisbee session, Jesse asked Paul, “What’s the most important thing in life?”
“People,” Paul answered without hesitation.
Jesse thought about the answer for a minute. “Yes, I suppose that’s right. Without people, life would get pretty lonely and boring.”
Jesse was drenched in sweat and half covered with tar when he looked up and into the sun. Wincing from the brightness, he heard the Voodoo voice again. It was as loud and clear in his mind as it had ever been.
“Time to move on.”
Jesse’s head began to swirl as he received the message. He closed his eyes and felt completely surrounded. He was afraid to open his eyes again. Instead, he looked into some dark recess of his mind that was gradually being illuminated.
In the trance vision, Jesse was surrounded. Paul was there. The Voodoo witch doctor was there. Marie Leveau was there. So were Gypsy and Dupre. Carmen, Ruthie the duck lady, and the mystery man were all there. Butch and Rene and Tim and Rick and Dale were there. Dutch was there. Amy was there with his mother and father. Dr. John was there with Professor Longhair and Allen Toussaint and Aaron Neville. Casey was there. The last person to come out of the shadows of Jesse’s mind and into the circle of his enlightenment was the biggest surprise of all. It was none other than Johnny from Johnny’s Cimarron Club.
Nobody said anything. They didn’t need to. They just stood there and stared at Jesse like they were waiting for him to come to an inevitable conclusion. In an epiphany, Jesse realized that all these characters had been teaching him lessons far more important than the selfish pursuit of pleasure. It was all part of the directive he had just heard from the Voodoo voice.
“Time to move on.”
He realized that the rock band from New Orleans was a level of education he had to pass through in order to get to the next curriculum. Events had been slowly turning his head in a new direction. From going to jail a couple times to negotiating with the Wheelers and the Gypsies to realizing he needed a lawyer to deal with his lawyer, Jesse was beginning to understand that his new level of education would also be his next adventure. Much of the sorrow he had been feeling about losing his band melted away in the message of the moment.
Jesse felt a warm glow inside. He knew what he had to do as he opened his eyes. The only person he actually saw was Paul, who was staring at him like he was afraid his friend might be suffering from heat stroke.
“I’m going to law school,” Jesse said.
Paul sat down beside him. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Jesse said as he looked back up at the sun for confirmation.
Paul waited for a long moment before he began asking questions. “Don’t you have to apply and be accepted and all that? Doesn’t it cost a lot of money? And where will you go?”
“I’ll go back to Indiana with Amy and everything will work out,” Jesse said. “It’s time for me to get back with my family. I guess I was starting to realize that when I dragged the band back to Indiana and Michigan to get married.”
Paul looked at Jesse to make sure he wasn’t fooling around. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Jesse couldn’t wait to tell Amy the news. He called and asked her to meet him at Tortilla Flats as soon as she finished teaching her painting class.
“What’s up?”
He took a deep breath and let it out carefully. “I’m going to law school.”
Amy was slow to respond, like she wasn’t sure if he was serious. “Oh, my goodness. Good for you, I guess. I hope I’m going with you.”
Jesse raised his volume. “Of course you are. We’re going to live happily ever after.”
Amy had to cut the conversation short. “I can’t talk now. Besides, this is too important for a phone call. Tell you what. I’ll see you at 4 p.m., Tortilla Flats. Hold that thought. Don’t be late. I love you.”
Jesse was waiting at the bar when she came rushing in the front door to hug him with all her might. “What the hell is going on? One day you’re trying to be a rock star and the next day you’re going to be an attorney? Isn’t that completely switching teams?”
Jesse sat her down and poured her a glass of Sangria. “Not at all. It’s all about people and getting back to the ones we love and seeing what we can do to help. We’re going back to Indiana. That’s where our people live.”
“What about our new people in New Orleans?” Amy asked.
“They can come visit us,” Jesse said. “I haven’t told anybody yet.”
Amy was beginning to bounce on her bar stool. “Wait until Casey hears the news. Wait until your father hears the news. Oh, my God, Jesse. What happened?”
Jesse told her about the Voodoo voice and his epiphany on the warehouse roof with Paul. “The more I think about going to law school, the more I realize I was always going to do it. It started to feel like the more I said I wouldn’t do it, the more I knew it was what I have to do.”
“I suppose life is all about doing what you say you’re never going to do,” Amy said.
“So true,” Jesse said as he took her by both hands. “How many times did we say we were never getting married?”
“That was mainly you.”
Jesse squeezed her hands. “You said it too.”
“I know I did, but I didn’t mean it.”
Jesse kissed her softly and whispered in her ear. “Looks like I didn’t mean it either.”
“What about my job?” Amy asked as she let go of Jesse’s hands and grabbed her drink. “It took me a long time to get this gig teaching painting at Delgado University.”
“We’ll wait until the end of the semester. I’ll keep working. We can save some money. And then we’ll be off on the next exciting chapter of our lives.”
Amy grabbed him by both shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I know you’re not giving up as a song writer.”
“I’m not done with music by a long shot,” Jesse said. “But I am done with reading contracts I don’t understand. Who knows? I might end up representing people like us.”
Amy was so happy she could barely remain seated. “Think of all the good you can do. You can help musicians and artists and writers and I’ll be a painter and a teacher. We can make a stand together.”
Jesse was pleased to see her getting excited about their future. Making her happy was becoming more and more
important to him.
They clinked glasses as Jesse toasted. “Here’s to all the creative souls. With any luck at all, we’ll be able to help them save the world.”
Amy put her drink down on the bar and looked Jesse in the eyes. “I know this is the right thing for us to do. I’ve known it for some time. But I still have to ask what made you come to this new conclusion? What happened to make you want to take this new direction?”
Jesse thought about her questions while finishing his glass and pouring himself one more from the pitcher of Sangria in front of them on the bar. “You know, I don’t want to say it was the voice that made me do it, but it was definitely the things I heard the voice saying that made me come around to this new way of looking at things.”
“What new way?”
Jesse spun himself completely around on the bar stool for dramatic pause and emphasis. “I’m starting to see the connection between the getting high and the thrill seeking and the need to be the center of attention.”
Amy’s eyes widened as she waited for him to elaborate.
“I started getting the picture when Carmen was interpreting the Voodoo slave uprising where I killed the old white plantation owner who turned out to be me. I realized the connection between the slave and the slave owner, and how that connection is the battle going on inside of everyone.”
Amy poured herself another glass of Sangria. “What battle are you talking about?”
“The battle to be less selfish.”
Amy took a slow, thoughtful sip of her drink. “What’s that got to do with the slave and the owner?”
Jesse began snapping an imaginary whip. “Oh, you know, we whip ourselves into getting what we want and then we do whatever it takes to get it. We give the orders and we take the orders and, in the end, we get no satisfaction and wind up feeling lonely and confused about why we’re so unhappy.”
“Wow,” Amy said. “I didn’t realize you were so unhappy.”
“Neither did I until I found you.”
Amy put her drink down and threw her arms around Jesse, spilling his drink. “Oh, Jesse, I love the way you sweet talk me. You know it works every time. So, what was it Carmen said about the obstacle course of life?”
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