by K L Going
“Are you telling me you’re jealous? Of me? ”
My face must have showed pure shock, because Keisha laughed. “Tia, no one else can sing like you can. You’ve got this amazing talent. I know we both pretend we’re going to be stars, but you’re the only one who might actually succeed. And then on top of that, a really nice guy is head-over-heels in love with you.”
“Wow,” I breathed. “But you’re so much prettier than me, and you make friends a lot easier, and you have the best family ever.”
Keisha smiled. “Can’t argue with the last part,” she said, “even if they do drive me crazy sometimes. But you’re prettier than you think.”
She nudged me with her foot, and I couldn’t help smiling.
“Keisha?” I said.
“Uh-huh?”
“I have something to show you.” I’d been carrying the square of yellow paper with the fund-raiser invitation in my pocket ever since Ma gave it to me, and now I took it out and unfolded it on the floor between us. “They want the Rainbow Choir to perform ‘I know,’ and they asked me to sing the lead.”
Keisha’s mouth fell open. “They what?” She shook her head as if she couldn’t quite believe what I was telling her. “No offense, but why would they do that?”
I’d been wondering the same thing. “Honestly?” I said. “I have no idea.”
“Whoa,” Keisha breathed. “That’s huge.” For a moment she was stunned into silence, but then she looked up at me. “So when are you going to tell Ms. Marion? Don’t you dare let Mary-Kate sing the lead. And I’m not even saying that because of Khalil. You sing it so much better than she does.”
Keisha was moving ahead as if the decision had already been made, but my throat felt dry and my pulse pounded in my temples.
“Keisha,” I said, “I couldn’t sing a note at June Fest, and I didn’t even know Danielle’s family was there that night. If I choked at the fund-raiser, it would be so much worse. I’m not sure I have the guts to show up, let alone sing.”
Keisha’s brow wrinkled. “Of course you can do it,” she said, reaching over to stroke my arm. “This will be different from June Fest because they’ve invited you. Just imagine . . . we joined the Rainbow Choir so we could make a difference, and now we’ll be able to help raise money for a great cause. And we can use our voices to make people stop and think. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”
I couldn’t argue with that. It was what I’d always hoped would happen. And there was no doubt that Lyle Frank’s daughter singing at Danielle Morton’s fund-raiser would make people think. But what if all they thought was that I shouldn’t be there?
I remembered the woman yanking the soap out of my hand at June Fest, and heard Mary-Kate’s harsh whisper. I can’t believe you showed up. That’s nervy. Considering.
But then I thought about standing in front of the baby’s house, and knowing I had the perfect song to sing. What if my voice was the one gift I could truly offer ?
CHAPTER 25
THE NEXT DAY, I decided to talk to Ma. I should have had my lesson with Ms. Marion that morning, but since we were still on break, I didn’t have any excuse to put things off.
When I got home from Keisha’s, Ma was standing in an ocean of bubble wrap. I stood in the middle of the kitchen and cleared my throat. “Ma,” I said, determined to force the words out, “can we talk?”
Ma sighed. “Haven’t we done enough of that lately?”
Wasn’t exactly the start I’d been hoping for.
“It’s just . . . I’ve been thinking about that invitation. To the fund-raiser.”
“And?”
“And . . .” I want to say yes. “It’s exactly the type of thing Ms. Marion would want us to do, so it would be wrong to keep this from her. Don’t you think?”
I could see the wariness in Ma’s entire body. She’d been packaging several small porcelain figurines, but now she set them down.
“Are you saying . . . I mean . . . would you want to sing too?”
I shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it. Keisha thinks I should.” I paused. “What do you think?”
Ma sat down at the kitchen table. Sagged was more like it. She held her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. I could practically see the migraine coming on, and guilt spread from my head to my toes.
“I know your singing is important to you, Tia,” she said at last, “and you have real talent. But this . . .”
My chest constricted and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. My body felt hot and sweaty, and my skin prickled. She was going to say no.
“Ma,” I blurted, “why didn’t you deliver the bread?”
Ma looked up like this was the last thing she’d expected.
“Don’t lie again,” I said. “I stopped by the house to write a note, so I know it wasn’t there. Do you think we’re not good enough to do anything nice? Is it because we’re bad people?”
Ma reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her.
“No,” she said. “That’s . . . good Lord, Tia. How could you think such a thing? Of course you’re good enough. Your choir is wonderful. You’re wonderful!”
“How would you know?” I spat. “You’ve never come to a concert or to any of our rehearsals.”
Now Ma’s cheeks flushed, and her nostrils flared as she drew in her breath. I waited for her anger. Maybe she’d slap me again. But this time she only nodded.
“You’re right.”
My jaw fell open, and I had to force it shut.
“I am?”
“Of course you are. And you’re right about the bread too. I should have delivered it. I don’t know why I didn’t, except . . . I was scared.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I think I’ve been scared for the last eight years.” Ma searched my eyes. “Sometimes when something terrible happens—something you never saw coming—you live the rest of your days protecting yourself from the next terrible thing.”
I thought that over.
“Ma?” I asked. “Did you ever ask Dad why he murdered Danielle? I mean, what he did changed everything. For everybody. Don’t you want to know why?”
Ma’s eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. “I don’t think there’s an answer to that question.”
“What if I wanted to ask anyway?”
The silence between us stretched on a long time, but finally Ma cleared her throat, her voice cracking. “Are you asking to visit your father in prison?”
I bit my lip. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
Ma got up and paced the length of the kitchen. Then she sat down at the table and traced the grooves in the wood with her nail, etching deeper and deeper.
“Is this why you’ve stopped singing?” Ma asked at last.
I looked up, and Ma sighed.
“I don’t miss half as much as you think I do. I might have missed the fact that you’d find out about the murder on your own and then go over to the Mortons’ house. I sure didn’t see that coming. But I haven’t missed how quiet it’s been around here. I noticed that you stopped doing your morning vocal exercises, and that you don’t sing in the shower anymore. And I noticed the way you stopped crunching your food in rhythm to whatever song is in your head, and how you’ve stopped humming those soft little melodies once you get in bed at night.”
I felt like I’d been underwater for a long time and I was fighting my way back to the surface. “You noticed all that?”
“Of course I did,” Ma said. “I love you, Tia. And I love listening to you sing more than anything in the entire world. I’d do just about anything to get that back again.”
I sat up straighter. “Does this mean you’ll let me go see my dad ? And maybe you’ll come to the fund-raiser if Ms. Marion agrees that the choir can sing?”
“Tia,” Ma start
ed, but then she stopped. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know, Ma,” I said. “I’m scared too. But maybe if we did things together . . .”
“Together, huh?” Ma laughed a quiet, bitter laugh. “Tia, you have no idea what you’re asking.”
But she was wrong. I knew exactly what I was asking.
I just wasn’t sure Ma had it in her to say yes.
CHAPTER 26
BY THURSDAY afternoon, Ma still hadn’t given me an answer about the choir. She’d made some calls about visiting my father, and I supposed that would have to be enough. I’d get to look him in the eyes after eight years and ask him why. Maybe the answer would make things better.
Or maybe it would make things worse.
Ma and I moved around the kitchen like two magnets with the same charge, silently pushing apart even though we wanted to connect. We made our meals and I washed a few dishes, but it was awkward right up until the moment Ma had to leave for work. She stood in the doorway in her store uniform with her purse tucked under her arm. Hovering.
“Are you going to tell Ms. Marion about the invitation tonight?” she asked at last.
I frowned. “Yeah. I won’t tell her I’ll sing the lead or anything, but . . . the rest of the choir should have a chance to do it, right?”
Ma paused. “Right.” She nodded. “Good decision. Smart.” She turned as if she were going to leave, but then she stopped again. Her mouth opened and shut as if she’d meant to say something. Finally she said, “You’ll be careful walking to the church? Don’t talk to strangers and—”
I groaned. “I know, Ma. You say the same thing every time. I think I’ve got it by now.”
Ma walked over and kissed the top of my head. “It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s—”
“People like my father. Uh-huh.”
I finally knew how that sentence ended, but Ma’s eyes opened wide, as if even now she hadn’t expected me to understand. She sucked in a breath, and then forced a thin smile. “Okay, then. Have fun tonight.”
I shrugged. Seemed like a long time since anything had been fun. I remembered what Ms. Marion had said that day in my lesson about how some people needed joy in order to create. Was I one of them? Did that mean I might never create anything beautiful again? If I wasn’t brave enough to sing for Danielle’s family, and I wasn’t good enough to sing for the Raven woman, then what was the point?
At that moment, joy seemed impossibly far away.
When the clock hit five, I left my house, locking the door behind me. I followed my usual path, trying to push away the oppressive gray of the sky and the hopeless feeling in my heart. As always, I took the shortcut straight through No Man’s-Land.
The temperature was 102, so I had on jean shorts and flip-flops, but as I got nearer, I wished I’d worn long pants despite the heat. I could see the men watching me as I approached, and I willed myself not to turn around.
They were sitting on the steps of the abandoned building drinking beer, just like always, but this time instead of studying my feet, I made myself look at them.
There were five men, three older and two younger, and one of the older ones wore a tropical shirt and a straw hat. They were laughing and joking, tipping back their drinks like they were at a summer barbecue.
“Hey baby,” one of the young guys called out. I recognized him immediately. He was the guy who’d aimed his fingers in the shape of a gun. My palms started to sweat, and I almost broke into a run.
“Come on over!” He held out his beer, as if there was even the slightest chance I would take it. But this time, one of the older guys swatted him upside the head.
“Knock it off. Leave that girl alone.”
“What?” the young guy said. “Why you messing with my mojo?”
“’Cause you’re being a fool as always.”
They broke out in a chorus of laughter, but it wasn’t at my expense, and for the first time I wondered if maybe these guys weren’t as dangerous as they’d seemed. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t going to stop and chat, but my heart quit pounding out of my chest, and instead of sprinting the rest of the way to church, I kept a steady pace.
Then, just like that, I was off their radar, moving past them, on my own.
For once I was early to choir, and I was surprised that Keisha was too. And Kenny. Seemed odd, since Keisha had dance class right before, and Kenny came straight from practice, but it felt good to walk into the sanctuary and see my two best friends standing side by side, heads together. I knew in my gut they’d showed up early especially for me, just so I’d know they cared.
“Ah!” Ms. Marion said when I joined them. “The third Musketeer has arrived!”
Kenny grinned, and I snuck a glance at Keisha, hoping she was okay with that.
The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Fine,” she said. “Guess there’s no arguing with Ms. Marion.” She was acting put-out, but I could tell she didn’t mind adding Kenny to our group.
I went up to Ms. Marion and handed her the yellow flyer.
“I got an invitation for the choir to sing at this fund-raiser. I’m not sure I can make it, but I think the choir should do it. It’s for . . . Danielle. The girl who . . .” I was pretty sure Ms. Marion knew exactly who Danielle was without my having to explain. “Er . . . the foundation raises money for families who are affected by violence, and Danielle’s family organizes this event.”
Keisha appeared at my elbow. “They asked Tia to sing the lead on ‘I Know.’” She shot eye rays at Mary-Kate, who’d just arrived hand in hand with Khalil. The two of them sat down together in one of the back pews and within seconds they were practically making out. “They specifically asked Tia to do it.”
“Keisha,” I said, “I’m not even sure I’m going to be there.”
“You have to go,” Keisha said. “Just because your mother won’t come, doesn’t mean—”
“Girls . . . girls!” Ms. Marion said. “How about I start by contacting the foundation and verifying the invitation? Then we can check the choir’s schedule and then we’ll worry about who will sing the lead.”
Keisha scowled, but I couldn’t help feeling relieved.
Kenny had come up beside me, and he reached over and took my hand. “You should d-do it, Tia,” he said. “Esp-esp . . . especially if they asked for you. That’s really amazing.”
His hand felt good in mine. Solid and warm.
“I haven’t sung in weeks,” I said. “I’m not even sure I can sing tonight, let alone at the Mortons’ fund-raiser.”
“Then let’s practice,” Keisha said. “I’ve got music on my phone. Want to sing something?”
I could feel Ms. Marion’s eyes on me, waiting for my answer.
“I guess if—”
“Oh my God. Is that your mother?”
Keisha’s jaw dropped, and I spun around, completely certain she was wrong. Ma had gone to work. I’d watched her leave.
But there she was, framed in the open doorway.
Parents were arriving with their kids in tow, the preacher man was straightening a pile of papers in the back, old Nana Whiskers was muttering to herself, and Ms. Evette was chasing Jerome around the sanctuary, but all of that activity came to a grinding halt.
Ma was still in her Winn-Dixie uniform. Her face was pale, and she looked like she might turn and run. I knew I ought to go over, but I was too stunned to move.
“Is that her?” someone asked.
“That’s the murderer’s wife,” Mary-Kate whispered to Khalil, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Her words kicked me into gear. “No,” I snapped, stomping down the aisle. “That’s my mom.”
It was as if I’d turned a faucet back on. Ms. Evette hurried to Ma and hugged her, and the preacher man came over to shake Ma’s hand. Then Ms. Evette was herding Ma down the center aisle, a
nd I met them halfway.
“What are you doing here?” I sputtered. “You have work tonight.”
Ma smiled in a strained way that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them tight. “I haven’t taken a sick day in eight years,” she said. “I decided it was time.”
“That’s . . . I mean, I can’t believe . . .” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of Ma here in this church. At my rehearsal. I flung my arms around Ma’s middle, not even caring who was watching. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” Ma said.
“Do you want me to sit with you?” I asked, but Ma looked taken aback.
“Of course not. I came to hear you sing.”
“I’d be happy to keep your mother company,” Ms. Evette said. “Now you kids run along and get some warm-up time before Marion starts rehearsal.”
“Come on,” Keisha said, tugging at my elbow. “We have five minutes left, and we need to make sure your voice is strong for your mom. Let’s sneak downstairs.”
Keisha was pushing me forward the way she’d pushed Dwayne that night in the hallway, digging in her heels to make me move, but it was hard to leave when Ma was sitting just a few feet from me, her shoulders stiff and her back straight. Felt as if she might disappear the minute I looked away.
“Your mother is p-pretty,” Kenny said. “Like you.”
I knew I had a goofy grin spreading from ear to ear, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I followed Keisha and Kenny downstairs and we leaned against the lockers, our feet making a line of V’s.
“Ready to give it a try?” Keisha said. “I have the perfect song queued up.”
I nodded and she hit the play button on her phone.
I’d been expecting “Amazing Grace” or “A Note to God,” but it was “Pyramid,” and for some reason that made tears pool in my eyes. I reached over and squeezed Keisha’s hand. She was right—“Pyramid” was perfect. I listened for my cue, reaching down to that solid inner core, right where Dwayne had poked me.
