A Different Kind of Blues

by Gwynne Forster

  “I hadn’t planned to look, but not knowing finally got the better of me. I found her address and phone number in Ellicott City, Maryland, but I didn’t get much satisfaction from that call, because the woman who answered the phone said she wasn’t there and hung up. That left me wondering about the kind of people she lives with.”

  “What time did you call and when?”

  “Night before last, around midnight there. When I got the number, I was so excited that I couldn’t wait to find out how she was and to talk with her. Boy, what a letdown!”

  “You probably woke somebody up.”

  “I guess. Don’t think I’ve given up. I haven’t. At least the person didn’t say that she doesn’t live there. I’ll find her, even if she’s been laid to rest and even if I have to walk all the way from Oakland to Ellicott City, Maryland.”

  “She hasn’t been laid to rest. Next time you call, be sure you do it at a reasonable hour. The ice is melting in this pitcher of lemonade.”

  He swung off the hammock, went over to her, and poured a glass full. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be off my rocker by now. Thanks for the encouragement. Sometimes it’s seemed as if I’m staring into a vast nothingness.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

  “Men usually think they’re sinking when they fall in love. You’re no different.”

  A half laugh slipped out of him. “It happened so fast that there wasn’t time to think about sinking or anything else. It’s getting cloudy. I’ll put these chairs in the garage for you. Then I have to go.” He doubted that anyone would believe he discussed his personal affairs with his grandmother. He’d done it for as long as he’d known himself, and she had yet to censure him. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do without her.

  He drove slowly as he headed to Oakland. Whenever he drove along that two-lane road leading to the highway, it was as if Petra was there with him, for he relived the time when she went with him to his grandmother’s house. If only he could be with her again and know if the Petra he remembered, the one he loved, was real. He got home shortly before five, went inside, and phoned his travel agent.

  In Ellicott City, Krista’s shrieks caused Petra nearly to fall down the stairs in her rush to know what ailed her daughter. Then she remembered the grand piano and walked down more carefully. She stood on the bottom step watching Krista run her hands over the wood, as if testing it or adoring it, she didn’t know which.

  “You like it?”

  “Do I like it?” She jumped up with her arms toward the ceiling. “You asking me if I like it? I think I’m going to faint.”

  “Please don’t do that. Mama bought it for you.”

  When Krista gasped, Petra said. “We have to talk. Mama’s going to live with us now, so she said that since she won’t have the upkeep of that apartment, she’d buy the piano.”

  “Gee. That’s real deep. You won’t be alone while I’m at school; I’ll have a piano when I’m home weekends, and Grandma won’t be by herself.” A grin crawled over Krista’s face. “And Grandma is a better cook than either you or me. I’d better practice. Won’t Daddy be surprised!”

  “I’ll be at your department at Dwill’s tomorrow at five. We have to start shopping for your college things.”

  The next morning, Petra sat in her lawyer’s office. Speechless. “The laboratory made an offer of two hundred and sixty thousand,” he said, “and I suggest you take it. If we turn it down, they’ll ask for a jury trial, and you probably won’t get as much. If the laboratory’s error had caused you physical harm, you’d have gotten at least seven figures, but it didn’t harm you, only frightened and inconvenienced you.”

  She was in no mood to tamper with a sure thing. After the lawyer took his forty percent, she’d still have one hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars. She would be able to pay her bills, wipe out her mortgage, and have some left for a nest egg. “All right,” she said. “Let’s settle.”

  “Good. I should be able to complete the transactions within a couple of days.”

  “I’m not throwing this money away,” she said to herself, “but I’ll be able to get a good little used car. Maybe I can get one at an auction of repossessed cars.” She felt lighthearted and happier than she’d been in months, now that she had money in the bank once more.

  She swished into her house several days later and stopped as if she’d been poleaxed. Goodman Prout sat at Krista’s piano.

  “Oh! Uh…hello,” she said, seeing him for the second time since she told him he had a daughter named Krista Fields.

  He got up, walked to meet her, and extended his hand. “How are you, Petra? I’m tuning the piano, and this one’s a beauty,” he told her. “Fortunately I know how. I hope you don’t mind, but whenever you move one of these babies, it must be tuned. Even moving it three feet can affect the tone.”

  “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’m grateful. How is Krista progressing?”

  “Beautifully. She takes to music the way a bird takes to the air. I’d say she has a natural gift for music. My sons are musical, too, but not nearly to the extent that Krista is. Thank you for giving me a chance to be a part of her life.”

  “I’m ashamed that I only did it under the threat of death. Her father should have had an opportunity to help nurture her.”

  “I’ve thought about that a lot, Petra, and I know I could have made a difference, but I’m not dwelling on it. We have a good relationship now, and that’s more than many parents can say of their eighteen-year-old daughters. She’s all set for Howard University, and I’m as excited as she is.”

  “So am I, and nervous. She’ll be on her own for the first time, and I hope she remembers what she’s been taught.”

  “It takes a smart one to get past Krista. She’s got some strong principles, and she’s very observant, so I’m not worried about her, and neither should you be. I’ll drive her to school, and you’re welcome to come with us. I hope we can agree on her restrictions. I wouldn’t like to see her stay away from the dormitory any night except when she’s here, that is, unless the university is responsible.”

  “I agree. She’s planning to come home every weekend for her music lessons. I don’t know how long that will last.”

  “If she wants to participate in something at school, she’ll have to let us know in advance,” he said, “and as long as we’re together on this, she’ll cooperate.”

  How good it would have been all those years to share the parenting with him. She hadn’t been wise, but she hadn’t made a good relationship between Goodman and Krista impossible. For that, she would always be grateful.

  “What y’all doing with this door wide open? The devil’s still busy you know. I brought some flow—” Lena’s lower lip dropped, and she stared at Goodman, who stood only a few feet from Petra. “What you doing here? You a married man, for Heaven’s sake. When you shoulda been here, you wasn’t.”

  Petra grabbed her mother’s arm. “Mama, we have to get this straight right now. If I had told Goodman about Krista, he would have been here for her then just as he is now.”

  Lena put the flowers on a chair. She narrowed her eyes. “Some people are like puppies: feed ’em once, and they always come back. Krista’s grown now, and she don’t need you.”

  “Calm down, miss Lena. You’re getting hot for nothing. Krista will be eighteen soon, and, from then on, what she does or with whom will be none of your business. Her mother and I are cooperating like civilized people, and you can do your share. This piano is out of tune; Krista asked me to tune it; and I am going to tune it. Period!”

  “When did you learn how to tune a piano? All I ever saw you with was that good-for-nothing guitar.”

  Goodman turned to Petra with a shrug that suggested the hopelessness of trying to talk with Lena. “You explain it to her,” he said to Petra.

  “Mama, Goodman owns and operates a music studio.”

  “Oh, I know he’s teaching Krista the piano, but…” She threw up her hands. “I gotta put t
hese flowers in some water.” It wasn’t often that Petra saw her mother capitulate, and it gave her a good feeling. Maybe she’d be less difficult to live with than formerly.

  “I’m thinking of buying a little used car,” she said to Goodman. “You know, one of those that the banks or rental car companies auction off.”

  He wrote something on the back of a card. “Call that number, and don’t accept the first price. Bargain.”

  “Thanks. I’ll leave you alone and get supper started. Krista’s shopping this evening.”

  “I know,” he said, and she realized that she knew nothing of Krista’s relationship with her father. A little over an hour later, the sound of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23 floated through the house. She stumbled into the living room stunned by the elegance of his playing.

  Lena joined her. “I never heard such playing. And that piano sounds fantastic.”

  “It’s fine now,” he said, ignoring the praise. “I have to get on home. Good seeing you both.”

  Petra walked to the door with him. “I’ll see about getting leave from the office in January to go to Washington with you and Krista. Thank you for letting me join you.”

  “It’s the right thing to do, Petra. You gave me a beautiful, well-mannered, charming, and intelligent daughter, and you deserve to share her every moment of glory. Call me when you know whether you can travel with us.”

  “I will, and please give my regards to Carla and the boys.”

  Give her regards to his wife and children? Goodman didn’t know how to deal with that, for neither his wife nor his sons had confided to him that they knew or had had contact with Petra. He didn’t want to join the two families, but he wanted their relations to be cordial. Carla opened the door for him, as she had recently begun to do, and stood on tiptoe for his kiss. He gazed down at her and couldn’t help grinning. She wanted him, and hell, jolts of happiness shot through him. He slapped her on her buttocks, picked her up, and let her have his tongue as far into her mouth as she could pull it.

  “With a welcome like this, I may quit work and just hang around here,” he said when she finally released him. “By the way, I was over at Petra’s house tuning Krista’s new piano, and Petra asked me to send her regards to you and the boys. I didn’t know she’d had any contact with you.”

  “We’ve talked twice,” Carla said. “I like her, and the boys like her, too.” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember Krista cooked chili for them and sent us some.”

  “I remember about the chili, but I didn’t realize they ate it at Petra’s house.”

  Carla frowned. “Surely you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. I’m marveling at how things fell into place without my having to bother about it,” he said.

  “I suppose that was inevitable; Krista likes having brothers, and Peter and Paul like having a big sister, especially since they know she’s so fond of them. They learn from her, too. Would you believe I was taking out the trash and Peter jumped up and said, ‘I’ll do that?’ I’m still getting used to seeing them clean the kitchen after supper. She’s good for them.”

  “Yes. Funny. I used to be glad we only had boys.” He wanted to get off the subject of family and to keep Carla in the mood she was in when she opened the door. “Come on, woman,” he said, “feed your hungry man.” He didn’t deserve to be so happy, and in the future, he meant to keep it between the lines.

  “I hope you’re not going to start something up with Goodman again,” Lena said to Petra at dinner. “He had his chance and didn’t do a thing about it.” Petra heard Krista place her fork on the side of her plate, but she didn’t glance in her daughter’s direction.

  “Mama, Goodman is married. We have a daughter in common, but that’s all. I respect him, and he respects me, but I don’t even feel sisterly toward him. He’s good to Krista, and he’s good for her. End of topic.”

  “Thank the Lord,” Krista said. “That would be weird. Besides, you’re in—”

  “Krista, that’s enough.”

  Lena looked at her granddaughter. “What were you going to say?”

  “According to Mom, I’ve already said enough. We have banana pudding for dessert. Who wants some?”

  Petra couldn’t help laughing. Krista could change a conversation with such finality that you didn’t dare return to the rejected topic. “I’ll have some,” she said, “but not too much. My weight is exactly where it should be.”

  “Well, mine’s not,” Lena said, “but I’m sure going to have a healthy helping of that pudding.”

  After dinner, Lena watched the news on television and then went to her room, saying that she had to get up early. Krista practiced the piano. Suddenly, as if she’d been dropped into a well of loneliness, Petra had to fight tears, and the more she tried to stop their flow, the more difficult it became. On the way to her room, she saw the telephone book, picked it up, and found the Oakland, California, area code.

  “I can’t do it,” she told herself, but she got Winston’s number nonetheless and dialed it. As she listened to the ring, she thought her heart would bound out of her chest, but slowly, when he did not answer, futility and despair descended over her. She hung up and gave in to her feelings.

  However, the faint sound of a knock on the back door rescued Petra from the torment that was about to conquer her. She rushed to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and ran down the stairs. It didn’t surprise her that Ethel stood at the back door, but Petra would not have dreamed that her friend would be dressed up and wearing makeup.

  “Hi, Ethel,” Petra said. “I almost didn’t hear you.”

  “Sorry to bother you so late and all, but I was wondering if you had any chili peppers.”

  Petra imagined that her eyes doubled in size. “Did you say chili peppers?”

  “Well, I stewed some collards for supper, and Fred loves them with real hot chilies, so—”

  Petra interrupted her. “Fred? Fred’s over at your place? Since when? Is he back to stay?”

  Ethel fastened her gaze on the steps beneath her feet. “He say he is. He say Armena fuss at him all the time about where he put his shoes and his soiled laundry and things. He say she ain’t ever quiet. Maybe all that’s true, and maybe it ain’t.”

  Petra swallowed hard, trying to find something to say. Finally, she managed. “I guess constant talk would get on anybody’s nerves. Come on in and let me see if I have any peppers. Mama likes them, so she could have put some in the refrigerator.” She found a bag of chilies in the vegetable crisper, wrapped a few, and gave them to Ethel.

  “I’m glad Fred’s back,” she told Ethel. “Now you won’t be alone.” And she’d feel less guilty.

  “I don’t know, Petra. Right now, he sitting at the table waiting for his friggin’ supper, and I keep asking myself, who’s this little old man who thinks I’m suppose to wait on him while he sits on his ass and don’t even set the table.” She looked into the distance. “Petra, I never used to think like that. Well, thanks a lot.”

  Petra watched Ethel drag herself home, as if she’d rather go anyplace but there. If only I’d kept my mouth shut, Ethel never would have found out how dull, boring, and selfish Fred is. Will I have to carry this guilt for the rest of my life?

  She raced after Ethel. “All this is my fault. I’m so sorry. If only I hadn’t—”

  Ethel spun around and stared at Petra. “Your fault? How’s it your fault? Fred ain’t worth chicken poop and never has been, but I’d lived with him so long I got used to him. I thought I missed him while he was away, but he wasn’t back here half an hour before I was sick of him. Thanks, again.” Petra went back into her house, shaking her head in bemusement.

  She left home the next morning prepared to walk at a fast clip and stopped short when she saw Fred rushing out of Ethel’s house with a suitcase in his hand and his shoulders sagging as if he carried the weight of centuries.

  “And this time, don’t come back,” Ethel yelled. Pretending not to see the u
nfolding drama, Petra walked on until a white garment whizzed past her head.

  “Take your old drawers,” Ethel screamed. “Ain’t no man getting somethin’ for nothin’ here. And wash your dirty feet.”

  Petra looked toward the house where Ethel stood with her back to the door and her knuckles fastened to her hips. “You never was no bargain,” she yelled after Fred, piling on another insult.

  Alarmed, Petra rushed to Ethel. “You sure you’re not taking this too far, Ethel? I mean…You’ll be lonely by yourself.”

  Ethel sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Armena kicked him out, and he’s a liar if he says she didn’t. He thought that after fornicating with her for months, he could move back in my house and half an hour later start jumping up and down on me. He never was no good at that anyway. Shucks, I’d rather watch TV and eat pretzels.”

  “Oh, Ethel. I’m sorry.”

  “Humph! Wasted sympathy. I made fresh coffee. You got time for a cup?”

  She didn’t have time for coffee, but she went inside anyway, drank one cup, put the scones she was offered into her briefcase, and made it to work with less than five minutes to spare.

  As soon as she’d finished transcribing her notes from the previous session, she telephoned Goodman. “Hi, this is Petra. If I’m going with you to take Krista to Howard, would you please tell Carla, and ask her to come along. I want to have good relations with her, and that means respecting her. She is, after all, my daughter’s stepmother. And Goodman, please don’t do anything that causes her to feel excluded.”

  “You’re right on all counts, and I hadn’t even thought about it. The boys told us you said they’re free to come to your place whenever they like, and I thank you for that. Krista’s showing them that obedience isn’t a bad thing. Peter can be obstinate, and she’s already taught him how to snow Carla and get what he wants by being a loving and helpful son rather than by confronting her.”

  “I’m so happy that it’s working out, Goodman. What time do we leave Saturday morning?”