The Duet

by D'Angelo, Jennifer

  Jay’s gaze slid to Izzy’s for a split second. “You mean Trisha? She’s visiting friends. Apparently she grew up in New Jersey. They’re inland, so she’s just going to stay put until this blows over.”

  Miranda raised her eyebrows just slightly, then nodded with a knowing smile on her face. Jay wasn’t sure she completely understood the situation, nor was he about to elaborate.

  “This is pretty well orchestrated. Who organizes all this?”

  Miranda chuckled. “All the full-timers along this shore have evacuation plans. After Hurricane Sandy a couple years ago, they had to do a little tweaking, but usually it all goes very smoothly. We’ve all of us here had to evacuate enough times to be old pros at it.”

  He nodded, taking another look around the place before taking a seat in the chair Miranda offered him. Izzy hadn’t said a word, and he hadn’t addressed her directly. He wasn’t sure if Miranda and Uncle Fred could sense the tension, but he’d be shocked if they couldn’t. The air was thick with it.

  Not much more was said as, little by little, the large room stilled, people drifting off to sleep, despite the excitement of the night. It was after midnight, the lights were dim, and Jay pretended to read an old battered copy of Salem’s Lot that Miranda had offered to him. Sydney was curled up in a mass of blankets, her small hand resting on the pillow beside her. Miranda snored softly next to her granddaughter, and Uncle Fred snoozed in a chair, his head twisted in an uncomfortable-looking position.

  Jay gave up on the pretense of reading and finally did what he’d been wanting to do all night. He let his eyes finally rest on Izzy. She lay on her side, body protectively spooned around Sydney, her eyes as wide open as his own. She was looking right at him, an indecipherable expression on her face. Their gazes held, and he had no idea how long they sat there like that. He didn’t smile or nod, or even blink that he knew of, and she didn’t either. He wondered if it was just his imagination, or if they were communicating without words. It seemed to be the way they’d always done things in the past, why not now?

  A sharp, loud series of pops pierced the air, like gunfire, and suddenly the room was plunged into absolute darkness. There were some muffled cries, a few screams, and a chorus of babies crying. An endless minute went by, and for a moment Jay thought he was about to witness a mass panic similar to the one in the club the night of the fire. He held his breath, waiting. But a strong, radio-friendly voice filled the air just then, and he was instantly put at ease. “Folks, everyone stay calm. You’re all safe and sound in here. That noise you just heard was a transformer popping outside, which unfortunately means we have no power. But, if you’ll just be patient, we’ll have the generators fired up in a little while, and breakfast will be set up by six. In the meantime, get some rest and get comfortable. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  Jay was just contemplating getting up and offering to help in any way he could - he would make coffee, gas up the generators, anything to keep busy – when he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Sydney standing right beside him. “Don’t worry, Jay. We’ve been through this before. Everything will be fine.” She patted him awkwardly, then went back and sat down beside Izzy.

  He stared at them both, barely visible in the dim auxiliary light. He’d spent seven years alone, swearing that he was better off that way. Then he’d flown out here to simply make amends with Izzy, knowing deep inside that he would likely be back in California within the week.

  But now he wasn’t so sure. Because how could he go back to California; three thousand miles away from not only one, but two girls holding on tightly to his heart?

  37

  The storm raged on throughout the day. We made the best of it, entertaining the kids by organizing games of basketball or tag in the church gym, reading them stories or playing board games. I helped where I could, though things were so organized, there wasn’t much to do unless it was my turn to help with meals or whatever. Jay pitched in too, but mostly he just stood on the fringe, watching. I caught him more than once with his eyes on me, but it was the way he looked at Sydney that had my gut twisting in shame.

  It was late at night; dinner had been served and cleaned up, and most of the smaller children were sound asleep. I had been feeling restless all day, and knew that sleep was a pipe dream, so I got up quietly and went for a walk around the building. We would be allowed to go back home most likely by this time tomorrow. Many would stay until their power was back up, but I would be leaving the second I could. I was going stir crazy – not just because I was cooped up, sleeping on a hard uncomfortable floor in the midst of hundreds of my friends and neighbors, but because I needed space and more time to process this thing with Jay.

  But I wasn’t going to be offered that luxury, because I happened upon him as I was walking. He was standing by the front of the church, staring out the glass doors, watching the storm. He looked up the minute I rounded the corner, and I had no time to retreat. I decided to saunter over as if we were normal people; folks who spoke once in a while and didn’t feel uncomfortable when we were within ten feet of one another.

  But I regretted my choice as soon as I did it. Standing this close to him only made it more evident how much I ached for him. His body was like a powerful magnet, and mine was just drawn to it.

  I stood beside him, facing the window, our shoulders just a breath from touching. We watched the rain silently; the wind whipping across the parking lot in angry bursts, making me shiver. Or maybe it wasn’t the wind that had that effect on me.

  I turned my head to look at Jay. I studied his profile, noticed in the dim light how his jaw clenched and unclenched. He was either really angry with me, or fighting the same losing battle as I was.

  I knew it was wrong. I knew that we should be talking; there were a hundred conversations we really needed to have, and this was so irresponsible. I am ashamed to say that Trisha didn’t even weigh in as a deterrent to my touching Jay. My hand, perhaps of its own accord, slid over toward him and rested on his arm, the first thing it came in contact with. I heard his breath catch. For a second I thought I might have imagined the sound. But then he turned, and pulled me to him, capturing my face in both of his hands. He dipped his head down to kiss me. It was as violent as the storm outside, and it was exactly what I needed. My hands clutched at his shirt, then came up around his neck so I could press myself closer to him. We were so close, my head was tilted all the way back in order to keep on kissing him.

  Thoughts of all the reasons this was wrong escaped my brain. There was only me and Jay and a desire so powerful, it was as if it had been trapped in a cage for a very long time, waiting to be released. This was always how Jay communicated best – at least with me. Maybe I should just let go; take a page from his book and stop placing such importance on the spoken word. I was saying all I needed to say right now.

  His hands traveled down my arms, then rested on my hips. He nudged my shirt up and when he touched my bare skin, I felt like his fingers were burning a hole right through me. An involuntary moan came from somewhere deep inside me. He took a few steps backward, pulling us further into the shadows.

  It really got blurry after that. Not that I would ever forget a second of what happened next, but it was one of those times you just wish you could slow down and really savor the moment, only instead it speeds by so fast, it slips out of your fingers before you grab on.

  We were under a staircase now, in some room – could have been a coat room, I didn’t really take the time to inspect my surroundings. His face was buried in my neck, and I was panting like some wild animal. His hand lay flat against my belly, and I guided it down, unhooking my pants to let him take whatever he wanted. I kicked my jeans aside, then pulled his shirt off over his head. His wandering fingers found what they were looking for and I cried out in pleasure as the first thrust brought me over the cliff. My fingernails raked his shoulders and my head flew back, giving him better access to my neck which was tingling with sensitivity.


  He backed me up until we hit the wall with a thump. The breath was momentarily knocked out of me, but when I recovered, my fingers made quick work of the buttons on his fly. He grabbed my leg behind the knee, then the other one. I guided him into me, and he filled me up deliciously, over and over with not even a trace of gentleness, just raw power. I bit his shoulder, maybe a little harder than I meant to, but I had to in order to contain the guttural scream that would have escaped when he made me come again. He thrust in twice more before his own release. I could feel, rather than hear, the growl in his chest as he pressed his full weight on me against the wall.

  My legs felt like jelly, my brain was filled with cotton. I had just fornicated in a house of God. With a man that I hadn’t spoken to in seven years. A man that I would never stop loving no matter how badly he hurt me, no matter if he left again for another seven years with no word. He had my heart and had ruined me for anyone else.

  Jay set me down slowly, then moved away. The first thing I noticed was the cold; the cold on my skin from his absence, yes, but more than that, the harsh cold reality of right now. We were no closer. This was not okay.

  Jay may have just spoken volumes about the way he still felt about me, but I couldn’t play his way. I thought I could, but I was wrong. What happened when he just checked out on me again? The minute something bad happened, he would disappear, and honestly I just didn’t think I could survive that another time.

  38

  They made the announcement that our neighborhood was indeed intact and that we were free to return to our homes late the next afternoon. When we walked outside to the car, arms laden with all our belongings, the bright sun shone mockingly in the sky. I did not connect with this weather. Inside, my emotions were still violently blowing around like the wind last night.

  Not two minutes after Jay’s body separated from mine, I had flipped onto auto pilot. I got dressed, my movements not rushed, but deliberate. I think a part of me desperately hoped that he would say something, but deep down of course I knew that he wouldn’t. I left him standing there without looking back. I don’t know if he left right then or what, but I didn’t see him again.

  If he went back to California, I would be crushed. But I had no one to blame this time except myself.

  The storm had left some destruction in its path, but it was minor compared to what we had endured a couple years earlier when Hurricane Sandy had blown through. There were some downed trees, power outages; all fixable stuff. Both our house and the coffee shop were mercilessly spared.

  I opened the shop at five thirty the next morning, anxious to get back to my routine. I called Jay and left a message, telling him we were home safely. I should have apologized, I suppose, but honestly, where would I begin? And I wasn’t going to babble on and on in his voice mail only to wonder when he didn’t call back if he was ignoring me, or if he never listened at all. I wasn’t chasing after him. He knew where to find me. If he came back, I would do the right thing and beg his forgiveness then. Or maybe I would just spin it all around and blame him for the whole damn mess. I kept going around in circles in my head. It was like a chicken or the egg situation. Who started it? I felt like a second grader trying to pin the broken vase on my big brother or something.

  We were super busy all day. The morning rush melted right into the lunchtime crowd and the afternoon pick-me-up surge, without any down time in between. It was after five by the time I sat down. Miranda had insisted that I take a half hour and eat something before I fell over.

  I shoved a mini muffin in my mouth, dropping crumbs all over the break room table while I checked my phone. Jay had left a message. I tried to swallow, but the dry baked good was stuck in my throat. I took a sip of coffee to wash it down and slumped back in my seat. Maybe if I just ignored the message for a few more hours, I could imagine what I wanted him to say, and by the power of positive thinking, those words would be the ones I heard later when I checked.

  Or, maybe I should put on my big girl panties and get this over-with. If he told me he never wanted to see me again, or called me a teasing, lying bitch… well, that was no more than I deserved after all.

  Disgusted with my wishy-washy behavior, I stabbed at my phone, then pressed it against my ear to listen.

  “Izzy.” He said it like it was a statement all its own, but his voice gave no indication of how he felt. “I’m playing at the Stone Pony on Saturday. It’s a last minute thing.” There was a long pause. “You should come. I dropped off a ticket in your door at home.”

  The phone beeped, indicating the end of the message. I held it out and stared at it as if it had all the answers I sought. But the device had no words of wisdom for me. I listened again, and then a third time. Okay, maybe there was no hidden meaning in the damn message. He just wanted to tell me he was performing and that maybe I might like a night of live music.

  I threw the offensive phone across the table and popped another muffin in my mouth. I was starving.

  39

  Jay had done nothing but think and write since he’d left the shelter. And it had done very little to calm him down. The walls of the now familiar hotel room were closing in on him. For the first time in years, he felt the panic of performing on stage settle over him. He had thought he’d left that flaw behind him long ago, but now it was back with a vengeance. He wished Cooper would be there tonight to hand him his shots of tequila and smack him on the back with his own brand of a pep talk. “You’re a fucking star!” Cooper would say every time. “Get out there and show them how it’s done.”

  He missed his friend.

  He still didn’t know what he would do once he stepped on to the iconic stage. He had a set list prepared, but it was unlikely he would stick to it. He was just too damn angry. Why couldn’t he get past this?

  The night in the church shouldn’t have happened. He had snuck away from the crowded auditorium, full of families all huddled together. He didn’t feel like he belonged there. Not even among his own family. Maybe because it wasn’t his at all. He had tortured himself all that day, watching Izzy with Sydney, seeing how natural and easy they were with each other, and he had felt like a stranger, having no business watching. Because that’s what he was to his own daughter. A stranger.

  When Izzy came to stand beside him, he hadn’t planned on touching her. He wanted to, there was no denying it, but time and too much hurt had built a wall bigger than China between them. And even though all the words in the world couldn’t begin to tear it down, he wanted to try. Instead, she reached for him and all rational thought left his brain. He had no self-control where Izzy was concerned; he never had.

  They had acted like animals; but when the calm settled over him, he wanted nothing more than to drag her down with him to the floor so he could just hold her. He wanted her to fall asleep knowing that she was safe and loved by him. He even thought they could spend some time talking in the quiet of the night, getting to know each other again. He’d been ready to open up to her, and he wanted that more than anything.

  But then she’d hurried off, not even looking at him, not saying a word, and he was left there completely and utterly stunned.

  He’d left right after, driving through the worst of the storm, not caring that he shouldn’t have been on the road at all. He drove and drove, trying to make some kind of sense out of what had just happened, but instead he’d just grown more and more angry.

  He flipped through his notebook until he found the page he was looking for. He crossed out a line with such force, the pencil dug through several pages. Then he made his changes, reread the whole thing and shut the book with grim satisfaction.

  He may have felt like this was something he needed to do. But it certainly wasn’t going to be pleasant; not pleasant for either one of them.

  40

  Despite the fact that my very existence had begun in the parking lot of this building, I had yet to set foot in the Stone Pony. The place held a lot of memories for my mother; both good and bad ones I imagined. So I
guess some part of me had never wanted to trample there.

  My parents had met here. Though my dad was also a musician, and had written some beautiful songs just like Jay, that was where the similarity ended between the two men. From the little I remembered of my father, and the stories I’d heard – some from Miranda, but most from Uncle Fred – he had been a very shallow, very selfish man. Yes, he loved music, no one could deny that. But he was in it for the lifestyle, and if he ever could have, he would have been in it for the money.

  Jay was the polar opposite. He performed despite the notoriety, not because of it. He wrote and then he sang what he wrote; not to share with everyone else, but because it validated him somehow.

  I got there early. Jay was the last act to come on before the headliner. There were at least three other sets before him. I got a drink at the bar, which was starting to fill up, and settled in to watch a mediocre Ska band that was about fifteen years past their time. I hoped the other music was better.

  I had half hoped that maybe Jay would see me there, and come out to talk to me before he went on. I wanted to gauge his mood, see where we stood. I had come close to just blowing the whole thing off, but curiosity got the better of me. So here I was, nervous as a whore in church (okay, maybe that wasn’t such a great analogy), and trying to lubricate my uneasiness with dark rum.

  I suffered through the next two acts – a band in spandex who shouted obscenities and gyrated in unison, making both my ears and eyes bleed, and a solo acoustic female singer; she wasn’t terrible, but her penchant for dressing like Stevie Nicks was an instant turn off for me. There was no sign of Jay. I knew he was up next and wondered if he still had to perform his little anti-stage fright ritual before going on. He had told me that was all to appease Cooper, but maybe he still did it anyway.