by C D Cain
“Yeah, I just read that,” I said as I looked back at the sign on the door. “Hey, wait a minute, how do you know if I wasn’t planning on staying tonight?”
She laughed a deep throaty laugh. “Um, because you’re in scrubs and a T-shirt.” I followed her finger as she motioned down at my betadine-covered clogs. “And not in your dancing shoes.”
“Very observant.”
She shrugged. “I’m a bartender. Comes with the territory.” She turned her head toward the street when a car drove past. Its headlights reflected off of the freshly dampened asphalt. Moments earlier, a light rain had come and gone. “When did it rain?”
“Oh yeah, very observant.”
“Ha.” She chuckled. “You’ve got some smartass in you.” She smiled broadly. “I like it.”
“Thanks. It’s genetic. You didn’t miss much. It was only a sprinkle. Just enough to wet the ground and smell the air.” This was the only smell that reminded me of home. The one when an asphalt road is dampened with rain. I inhaled lightly so as not to be noticed.
Jazlyn turned back at me. “I can offer you a drink but first you have to keep me company.” She pointed down the street. “Care to take a walk with me?”
“Sure.” I stepped quickly alongside her to prevent being lost once her long legs began their walk. “Where are we headed?”
“To get my Thai take-out. I’m starving.”
The leaves of the small Bradford pear tree stirred against the light breeze that followed us as we stepped off the curb into the street. I let my hand trace down its rough bark as we passed by it. It stood alone among lines of parallel-parked cars.
“But wait, isn’t the Thai place on this side of the street?”
Jazlyn, already a good two to three steps ahead of me, turned around and walked backward. “Well, yeah, but then we couldn’t walk under the Alabama sign.”
Above Jazlyn’s head was the sign proclaiming the site of the old movie theater.
“Ummm…okay.”
She held her hands out for me as we reached the sidewalk under the sign. She moved me to stand directly under the vertical sign composed of bright red-light bulb lettering with a blue tile backdrop.
“Now, look up,” she instructed before standing next to me and doing the same.
The brightness of the bulbs burned my eyes but I refused to close them. They stretched into the sky nearly as far as I could see. They seemed as brilliant as the stars beyond them.
“This place was built in 1927. It opened the day after Christmas.” Her voice was strained as she kept her neck stretched up. A smile crept across her face. “It’s one of the few remaining theaters from that era with seating up to twenty-five hundred people. Look at those windows.”
The glass had a bluish tint as it contrasted against the rustic brick. The panes were separated by thin pieces of wood.
“Do you know it was the first public building in Alabama to have air conditioning?” She looked down at me with a child-like innocence of excitement.
Her happiness in describing the building was contagious as I felt the confusing dread of the day disappear. “I did not know that.”
“Come here.” She took my hand again to pull me to the large window next to the entrance. “Look…look in here. See that?” She tapped the glass.
Sitting in front of a long golden drape was an expansive red and golden ornate organ. It was an elaborate instrument with four rows of ebony and ivory keys in front of a rather odd-shaped seat.
“This little baby saved the place. You’re looking at a Crawford Special-Publix One-Might Wurlitzer organ.” She stepped back and looked across the front of the building. “Originally, they played silent films here. The American Theater Organ Society stepped in when they were set to plow this place down to make a parking lot. Can you believe that? A parking lot.”
“How do you know all of this?”
Jazlyn looked directly at me and shrugged. “It’s my thing.” She stepped away from the building to walk down the sidewalk.
“Your thing?” I sprinted to catch up with her. “What do you mean?”
“My thing. You know the thing that calms you when you’re stressed, makes you happy when you’re sad, comforts you when you’re lost. My go-to—my thing. What’s yours?”
I stopped momentarily and tried to think of what it was that calmed me when nothing else could. Unfortunately, I had felt anything but calmness in a very long time.
“I don’t think I have a go-to.”
“Sure you do,” she said as she shrugged. “You just haven’t figured out what it is yet.”
When we walked into Jazlyn’s apartment, I was reminded how quickly sadness could overpower happiness. I had felt lighter and happier while walking with her but those feelings were threatened the moment we walked into her loft. It reminded me so much of Sam’s. In fact, their similarities made me question if the developer was the same.
The same but different. Find the difference, Rayne.
Jazlyn’s apartment was a narrower space than Sam’s. It reminded me of the shotgun homes of Louisiana. The walls were stark white with accents of natural pinewood, chrome metal, and black. Different but the same. I steadied my breath and stopped the tears before they could form. Flashes of memories of her did that to me no matter where or who I was with.
“Make yourself at home,” Jazlyn said as she walked in behind me. “I’ll put some music on and set the table.”
“Oh no. I can’t eat your food. You weren’t planning on company tonight.”
“Honey, I was starving when I ordered so I can assure you there is enough here to feed you, me, and a small army.”
The sofa and loveseat were eclectic pieces of furniture in the center of the living area. As focal points, they brought the architectural design of the room together with their oil bronzed metal bases and thick black cushions. I ran my fingertips along the cold metal of the back of the loveseat as I followed Jazlyn into the space. She walked to a stereo system that rested on top of pinewood shelving hung in symmetrical lines across an exposed brick wall. Soon the slow sounds of a trumpet followed by a violin’s strings bellowed through the speakers. The sultry, smooth voice of a woman began to sing.
“Ah, yes,” Jazlyn murmured and began to sway to the music. She lifted her head as if she was trying to drift into the air to be as light as the music floating up into the piping that hung from the ceiling.
“Who is this?”
“This is the First Lady of Song, Ella Fitzgerald. I hear her voice and I can’t help but to want Lady Ella to sing to me all night long.”
“Wouldn’t she get drowned out by the club noise at night?”
“Not that Lady Ella couldn’t be heard over any noise but I help her a little. The walls are soundproof. I hear nothing but her.” She let her hips sway to a snare drum’s beat as she set places for us to eat. “My friend, Mo, introduced me to jazz several years ago. She’s one of those that listens to anything and everything. Music is her thing.”
The table’s modern feel matched the rest of the loft. The bright white chairs and table reminded me of elementary school days with its simple plastic design. The wall-to-wall windows were separated by a large white beam but instead of downtown city lights shining through, I saw only white-washed reddened brick. Different.
She wore her long, black hair down tonight. I watched the length fall across her face as she leaned over to set the table. “What do you want to drink? I have beer, wine, or I could make you a mixed drink. Oh and of course, water. But who wants that with Thai?” She tucked the fallen strands of hair behind her ear as she looked back at me.
“A beer would be great.”
“Thought you might say that. No problem, but will you at least taste this wine I’m going to open? I’ll feel foolish opening a bottle to drink all by my lonesome.”
“Sure, but I go
tta tell you, I never really developed a taste for it.”
“But see. You’re open to it. You said you haven’t yet, not I don’t like it. It’s all about pairing the right wine with the right setting and the right palate. And of course, the right person,” she said as she smiled broadly.
“Club owner. Jazz. Wine. You keep surprising me.” I pulled the plastic chair away from the table to take a seat.
“It’s all about the company you keep. I learn a lot from my friends.” She filled two stemless wine glasses with wine and sat one in front of me. “This is a riesling. It has a kiss of sweetness which mixes well with the spices of Thai food. Taste it for now but hold your reservations until after we start to eat. Which is in two seconds. I’m starving.” She laughed and sat down behind a row of take-out containers. “See I told you there would be enough. Hope you like spicy.”
“I’m from Louisiana. Spicy is all we know.”
“Then let’s start with this.” She handed me a bowl filled with a greenish liquid topped with fresh basil and sliced red pepper. “This is green curry chicken. The green curry paste is one of the spiciest of the curries.”
I filled my spoon with basil, chicken, and red pepper. The spicy flavor was delicious but she was right. The sweetness of the riesling softened the bite of the spice in a way that really added to its flavor. It was a very good combination.
Her dimples gave the telltale sign of a beginning smile as if she knew the swirling tastes were having a party in my mouth. “Good, right? Or should I still get you that beer?”
“No, you’re right.” I took another bite of food and sip of wine. “This is excellent.”
“Wonderful. I was hoping you’d like it.” She pointed her spoon in my direction. “Not that I don’t enjoy your unexpected company tonight but what brings you to the club? I mean, scrubs are hot alright but not the typical attire for a night out.”
She had Sam’s ability to make me smile. Different but the same. “I don’t know. I had a pretty big day and thought I could use a drink before going home.”
“Simple enough. Yet you passed at least a dozen bars to come to a lesbian one to get that said drink.”
“Well, it just happens to have the coolest bar owner I know running it.”
She laughed and pointed her spoon at me. “Which is the only bar owner you happen to know.”
“Well, if we’re being technical about things.” I returned her laugh and stirred my spoon around the bowl before taking another bite.
“Forgive me for asking the obvious.” She let her spoon rest against the bowl and focused her attention on me. Her cheekbones seemed to stretch up to the corner of her eyes. Eyes of dark chocolate stared directly at me. “Are you a lesbian?”
And there it is…lesbian. The word that strangled in my throat and cut off my speech. Lesbian. Hadn’t it scrambled my insides each time I heard it pass from Sam’s lips? Wasn’t it again burning within me? Truthfully, had it ever stopped?
Jazlyn wrapped her long fingers around my hand as it lay frozen on the table. “You’re safe here. Safe to express what you feel. Safe to express what you know and even what you don’t know.” Her fingers tightened around mine. “There’s no judgment or pressure. No family. No woman sitting across from you, holding onto your every word hoping to hear what she’s been waiting for you to say.” She rubbed her thumb tenderly across the back of my hand. “It’s just a friend.”
“Baby, I’m home.”
The front door opened widely and made me jump in my seat. Jazlyn must have been startled as well because she released my hand quickly. There in the doorway stood Dr. Breaker dressed in her salmon-colored obstetrics scrubs. Her usually spiked hair was flattened on her head, no doubt from wearing a scrub cap most of the day.
She stopped abruptly in the doorway. “What is she doing here?” Her tone was sharp, if not angry.
Jazlyn slid her chair back and walked to her with her hands out. “Baby, wait one second. Just listen. I saw her outside the club when I was leaving to grab dinner. We’ve been talking, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry, but how does her being outside your club end up with her in my house having dinner and wine with my wife?”
Wife?
Dr. Beaker slammed the door. The chain lock banged against the metal door repeatedly until it slowed to silence. She lifted her head. “I’m sorry, but is that jazz I hear? What the fuck is going on?”
“Vi, come on. I’m just having company for dinner on a night you’re on call.” Jazlyn ran her hands down Dr. Breaker’s creamed-coffee colored arms before taking her hands within hers. “You called earlier and said you were stuck at the hospital. I was starving so I called and got take-out. I ran into her on my way to get it. I wasn’t expecting you home, so I invited her up. That’s it. That’s all.”
“And what? That makes it alright? If it had been anyone but her, maybe it would’ve been. But her?” She shook her head and looked directly at me with very near the same color of brown eyes as Jazlyn. Yet, these didn’t seem to harbor the same tenderness as hers. “Whatever.” She stomped on the metal stairs as she ascended the staircase toward the clear glass wall that lined the upper loft area. She quickly disappeared from sight.
I stood from my seat with only a quick exit on my mind.
Jazlyn turned around. “No. Please. Sit.” She held up her hand. “Don’t go.”
“Jazlyn, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay.” I wanted to get the hell out of there before Dr. Breaker came barreling back down the stairs.
“Please, Rayne. I’m asking you to stay. Please. Just give me a minute to go talk to her. I promise this is a misunderstanding and will all be okay.”
I sat back down and watched her follow Dr. Breaker up the stairs.
The acoustics in the apartment that had complemented the music so well became a megaphone to their upstairs argument.
“Baby, why are you so upset? I’ve had friends over before.”
“Friends?”
“Yes, friends. I know this isn’t some sort of jealousy. We don’t do that…you don’t do that. So, what is it?”
“Don’t play coy with me.” Dr. Breaker’s voice was so loud I had to look around to ensure she wasn’t standing right beside me. “That woman is not a friend and she never will be. You got it? She never will be.”
“Ah, I see. So, this is the phase of our marriage where you’ll dictate who or whom isn’t my friend? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we had grown to be this couple where I had to ask your permission before I made a new friend.”
“What about our friend?”
“You mean your friend.”
“No, I mean our friend,” Dr. Breaker said as if through gritted teeth. “Do you not remember what she did to Sam?”
Sam! Did she say Sam?
“Do you not remember her crying night after night after night over what that girl down there did to her? Because I remember it very well!” She was yelling at this point. “I also remember the fact that she was so destroyed she threw her whole fucking career away. Where is she now? Oh, that’s right. No one knows because she left. I don’t get to have take-out with her.”
“I know, Vi. But you know as much as I that Sam had a very skewed idea of relationships. She wasn’t really one to invest in anything long term. She was always more of a player.”
“A player?” Dr. Breaker screamed. “You want to talk about a player? Why don’t we talk about your friend Mo then? At least, Sam didn’t lie and manipulate her girlfriends to get them into bed.”
“Okay. Let’s calm down a little. We are starting to go down a road that really has nothing to do with tonight. All I’m saying is we only heard one side of the story. Don’t you think there may be two sides to everything that happened?”
There was a brief silence followed by the sound of footsteps.
“Is this
about her or about you?” Dr. Breaker asked as she appeared at the top of the stairs. “All of that is in the past and there it will stay.” She stopped on the bottom step, looked directly at me and snarled, “I’m going back to the hospital. Enjoy my dinner.” She slammed the door behind her.
“Sam? Did she say Sam?” I couldn’t stand from the table. My legs wouldn’t allow it.
Jazlyn rested her forehead against the door that had been slammed twice this evening. She didn’t turn back to me as she sighed and said, “Yes, Rayne. She said Sam.”
“So, you know who I am? You know about Sam? You know about me and Sam?”
“Yes.” Her voice was nearly a whisper. “Yes, I do.”
“Then why? Why bring me here? Why pretend to be my friend?”
“I wasn’t pretending. I’m not pretending. I want us to be friends.”
“Then why?”
She turned around and leaned against the door. “Because I remember.”
“Remember what?” None of this was making any sense. Sam had been here. Sam knew them. I rubbed the charm at the base of my neck.
“What it was like when I met Violet. How hard it all seemed. We aren’t so different you and I.” She returned to her chair. “Except I wasn’t engaged.” She paused as she tapped her finger against her chin. “I was married.”
“Married?”
“Yes. He and I had been married only a few years when I met Violet. I fell in love with her instantly. Everything in my life seemed to make perfect sense, yet at the same time be the most confusing of my entire life. I think we both may need more of this.” She topped off our wine glasses and shook the empty bottle. “And if we have more of this, I know we need more of this.” She filled the bottom of our empty bowls with rice and covered it with a shrimp sauce. “I’m sorry, but I have got to eat more or I’ll never make the night. This is tom yam goong.” Her voice didn’t hold the same excitement as she described the dish.
I passed my spoon through the food which released the aroma of lemongrass, lime, and shallots. The kick of the chilies and fish sauce was chased with perhaps too large of a swallow of the riesling.
