by Sandy Nathan
“Please, turn it off,” Jeremy said between sobs. “I can’t stand it.” Henry stopped the recording. Jeremy whispered. “He died. Oh, Henry, he died. I was nine years old, and he left me.” Henry held him.
“Son, your daddy loved you. He loved you like life. You can hear it in his voice; you can see it in his face. Jeremy, there wasn’t a man alive as sweet or kindhearted as your daddy. He loved people, honey, and he loved you.
“That song he wrote for you, he wrote that the day you were born. Your mama was in the hospital, and so was he—a different hospital.”
Jeremy looked up, tears and snot all over his face, Henry’s clothes, and his own. “Here, son, clean up your face.” Henry handed the boy his handkerchief. “Your daddy would have liked to have been there with you and your mom, but he had to take care of something more important. It was life or death for him. He was tryin’ to kick, Jeremy. And he did kick, that time.
“He wrote that song, son, in the hospital. I brought up the equipment to record it and we did it there. That’s the only copy. He told me to play it for you when you really needed to know that your daddy loved you, and when you could hear how much.”
Jeremy began weeping again. “He died. He left me. With her...”
“Yeah, he died. Most addicts think they can beat it. Just one more hit. They’ve got it in control. But the monkey’s in control, laughin’. Your daddy tried to beat it, son, and he couldn’t.
“Wasn’t all his fault. It was the life, Jeremy. Do you remember those times? The rush for him? The rush to the stage after a performance? The people screaming? All the TV, and radio; all of them calling for a piece of him. And someone always in the corner sayin’, ‘Hey, baby. You need something? I got it. You need a dime, sugar? I got it. Your credit’s always good with me.’ You never heard any of that, did you?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“He swam in it. It was like an ocean tryin’ to suck him down. An’ the women. Jeremy, they’d be in his dressing room, naked, ready to go. In his hotel room, snuck in somehow. In his car. They wrote their names and phone numbers on their panties, Jeremy, and bribed someone to put them in his pocket, hoping he’d call. I don’t think he wanted most of them. He just didn’t want to hurt their feelings by sayin’ no.
“And your mother. Can you imagine how it was for her? Him being rushed by every female in the world? The darker ones saying he’d sold out for a rich honky bitch, why don’t he stick to his own kind? She knew what he was doin’ on the road and in every place they caught up with him. Not to say, he didn’t catch some of them himself. Your father wasn’t a saint, Jeremy.
“She got wild from it. Your mother was always a liberated woman, ready to take who she wanted when she wanted. But she wasn’t like she was when you were little, runnin’ all the time. Do you remember that?”
Jeremy nodded. “Sort of. I remember her being mad, and her... boobs sticking into me. I remember her holding me.”
“That’s because she couldn’t have him. Not most of the time once he got real famous. Oh, son. They both had monkeys on their backs. An’ those crazy people loved each other. Loved each other so they burned up the sky. Your mother couldn’t let go of him, and he couldn’t get off the horse and turn away from the fame that was killing him.
“They were legendary people, Jeremy. Bigger than life. And sometimes those people burn themselves up, and sometimes they burn up each other.” Henry paused and looked into Jeremy’s eyes. “They burned up everybody. Including me.”
“How Henry?” Jeremy was limp.
“Well, what does it say in the Bible? Something about thy brother’s keeper? I took as good care of my brother as I could.”
“Your brother? What do you mean?” Jeremy sat up straight and looked at him.
“I got a different last name than him, and I’m darker and not so pretty, but Chaz and I got the same father. To make Chaz, my daddy went runnin’ around uptown; with me, it was downtown. All the time, he was based at your grandfather’s house, the Piermont mansion in New York City. He was married to my mother, his legal wife.” He dropped his voice. “My mama was not one of the fanciest numbers in his stable.”
“You’re my uncle! You never told me. You sat in that freezing box in front of the school and never told me.”
“I’m telling you now, son. I never told you for a bunch of reasons, all of them stupid. Me bein’ the ugly brother that nobody knew about got to be a habit. I didn’t feel like your family, Jeremy. Maybe I shouldda listened to Lincoln Charles about self-esteem.” He smiled. “But I didn’t. And, son...” Henry covered his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, Lord. I hate this. I hope it isn’t true.” He looked into Jeremy’s eyes.
“I’ve never heard you say one good thing about your father in all your life. I know you have reason to hate him. I know he stole from you, and I know he lied to you, and her. I know he was a shiftless...” Henry waved his hands. “But he was more than that, Jeremy, and he loved you.
“I didn’t tell you I was your uncle because I knew how much you hated him. I thought that if you knew I was his brother, you’d hate me, too. And I’d lose you.”
“Henry! That isn’t true. You’re wonderful.”
Henry raised his hands to the ceiling. “Oh, Lord have mercy.” Then he started to cry. He grabbed Jeremy and held him tight. When he could, Henry said, “Look at you—you’re nothing like your father. I thought you’d hate me if you knew we had the same blood.”
“Did I sound like I hated him that much?”
“Yes, you did. I know it was stupid, not telling you who I was. But, Jeremy, I didn’t bring you here just for you. I needed to get a few things off my chest, too.
“I loved my brother. I thought he was everything a man ought to be.” Henry sighed. “But he wasn’t. He was just a beautiful man with a monkey.” Henry wiped his eyes. “And he left all of us. Let me see that hanky, son.” He looked down at the boy, whose eyes were full of questions.
“How come I sat out front of that school? Because I did. Wasn’t where I thought I’d end up, but that’s what happened.” Henry sighed. “You never knew your Uncle David, Jeremy. He died before you were born. David was as fine a man as walked the earth, and, since he was the oldest Piermont, he was the heir. I got to know him well, traveling with your grandfather and him. My father was your grandfather’s butler—I’ve told you that. I went hunting and such with them. Saw a lot of the world that way.
“I thought I’d spend my life taking care of your Uncle David, the way my father took care of your grandfather. And then David died.
“Your mother became the heir and everything changed. I went to work for my brother, helping him, bein’ his bodyguard. Seeing he got where he was supposed to go, in shape to work.
“I introduced your mother to my brother, son. She knew me from when I worked for your family. I took her back to his dressing room. Not that anyone couldn’t have introduced them—those were a couple of skyrockets on a collision course.
“Well, after Chaz died, your mama offered to set me up. Give me a job in her house with a good income. But you know how she is. I wasn’t gonna be a lapdog, watching her rip and run, working in her house or driving her car, cleaning up after her. So I said no.
“Then she wanted to give me money, but, Lord have mercy, all the years I’ve known her and her family, I’ve seen what money does. I didn’t trust myself to be any better than the rest. So I said no to that. I’d get a job on my own.
“Turned out I had trouble getting a job on my own.”
“Why, Henry? You work so hard.”
“I’ve been in prison, Jeremy. I was ashamed to tell you. One time after a big show, the cops busted into your daddy’s dressing room. He was in there, loaded. He’d made a big score—a very big score. While they were breaking in, I took the junk and put it in my drawers. I put the needle and other stuff in my pocket. I said it was mine.” He sighed. “I got a light sentence. When I went on my own after your father died, my record made
it hard to get a job. Your mother created the watchman’s job at the academy for me. She’s always helped us out, Lena and me.”
Jeremy’s mouth contracted. “I knew you were my dad’s bodyguard and you worked for my family before that. I thought my mom was helping you because you took care of me. And so she could do whatever she wanted and not think about me.”
“She’s been wild, Jeremy. Wild as a beautiful untamed horse. Running where she wanted. But you know what she’s been doing the last few years? Who’s she been with since your daddy died?”
“The general.”
“Yeah, the last few years. But, before that, it was others. Politicians. Powerful people. She’s been workin’ on them, Jeremy. I told her about the camps and what they do to people. She saw me when I got out, and she saw the camp I was in. She knew about the atomics and she knew what you’ve been doing. She’s been part of it.”
Jeremy ducked his head, acknowledging what he already somehow knew.
“She’s a smart woman—and she paid for your lab. Plus she paid for this shelter.”
“So she’s not such a bad person.”
“Not so bad. But not perfect either.”
“Is every family screwed up?”
“I don’t know, son. Lena and I done pretty good. The girls are fine. And we love each other. I think that’s enough. For me, anyway; may not be for you.”
Jeremy thought. “I want a lot.”
“Yes, wanting to start a new world and do it right is ambitious. But that’s your job, son. You were born for the heights, for big dreams and a high place. Both of your parents got it in their blood. Your mom ended up with the most powerful man on the planet, trying to make peace her way.” Laughter bubbled out of him. “That ain’t a bad way, by the way.” He held his fingers up in the classic peace sign. “Make love, not war. You can go a long way making love. Maybe that’s what your parents were doin’ their whole lives. Huh?”
Jeremy couldn’t handle any more revelations. He scrambled to his feet. “What do we do next, Uncle... that sounds dumb. Can I call you Henry?”
“That’s what you been calling me for sixteen years.”
“What do we do now?”
“I’d like a roast beef sandwich. And Lena made some pecan pie. I’d like that. Then we’ll go from there. Hopefully, Eliana’s people will come for us and we’ll get to explore new worlds. And, if they don’t, we’ll get in that shelter you made and look at each other until we die.”
Jeremy laughed.
“Oh, my son. When you laugh, you do sound like your father. Look at him, Jeremy. Look around this room at who he is.”
Henry walked around and looked at each picture. “Look at that— that handsome young buck in the background is me. Can you believe how gorgeous your uncle was?”
Jeremy smiled. He had a family. A good family.
“What do you notice about this room, Jeremy?”
“It’s all my dad. A few pictures of my mom and me, but it’s my dad.” The room was a shrine.
“How long has he been dead?”
“Seven years.”
“And what’s your mom’s name?”
“Mrs. Edgarton.”
“Yeah. She could have gone back to Piermont. She could have put up pictures of herself or flowers or the ocean in here. She kept your father’s picture all over, even though she was with the general. Did you ever go in all the closets in her room?” Jeremy shook his head.
“She still has your father’s stuff in there. She brought me up there to give me some of it. She’s got all his clothes. What does that mean?”
“She loved him.”
“Yeah. She loved him, and won’t let him go. It was crazy love. Really crazy love, but true love, in their way. I’m going to go get that sandwich. You can join me, or look around down here for a while.”
44
Jeremy wandered to the huge photo of his father on the wall by the sound system. He looked up at Chaz Edgarton’s soft, smiling face. Who was this man?
What he’d just learned conflicted with what he remembered. Mr. Jazz was real, his life was real, and his love for his son and his wife was real. Jeremy fought to make sense of it.
He walked slowly around the ballroom, moving from photo to photo, looking at them carefully. Who were you, Chaz Edgarton, the father who sang to me but didn’t let me know it until the last night of the world?
Jeremy pulled out a bunch of recordings and loaded them on the player. He knew his father through his music. Those riffs, the improvisations, the soaring heights. The complicated turnings and returnings and variations. He’d made peace with his father’s music. The man remained out of reach, untouchable. Gone.
Very early, Jeremy had learned that dying is the biggest desertion. You could take all the drugs you wanted and absent yourself from the assault of life. Drugs could mellow the battering, but not take you totally out of the game.
Nod out, Dad, don’t come home, it’s cool. Don’t pay the bills; don’t handle anything. Mom will deal with it. Or some accountant will.
But die? Croak? Pack it in? Those were permanent.
Dying meant not taking care of things ultimately. Putting your beautiful brown-eyed boy in the hands of lawyers and managers who looked out for her—right after they took care of themselves. Who took care of him?
He was glad everyone had left him alone. He didn’t see moon faces in the windows, the village spying on the folks in the big house. He listened to Chaz Edgarton, Mr. Jazz, playing in the ballroom.
Without thinking much, Jeremy found himself at one of the cabinets, taking out his clarinet. Come on, Chaz; show me what you’re made of. Hit it, daddy! Show me what you got.
He blew full on, no stops, playing with his father. He went through the Carnegie Hall series, the compilations, and the recording from the Black Swan, all regarded as Chaz’s best work. He leaned down on it, plying his clarinet in and out of his father’s sax. In and out and around.
Come on, daddy! Beat me if you can. Your boy’s gonna be a man soon, daddy, and he will whip your butt. Come and get me, daddy, or I’ll reach into the grave and get you.
He was down in this blue adagio thing, blowing with his dad. Son of a bitch dad. Do you like the way I play, baby? Maybe we could have played together, if you were alive. Maybe we could shoot up together, daddy. Would that be fine?
He was screaming with the horn, not playing it how it should be played, sliding and stretching. I’m sixteen, daddy-o. Is that cool? Hey, I’m comin’ up.
Eliana slid into the room on her little hooves, bent forward with her hands out and back like a little fairy. He hated her. She tiptoed closer to him, prancing. She looked at him, knowing full and well what he was feeling. He wanted to scream at her.
She folded in half and rolled on the floor on her back, pulling her knees up to her chest, putting her hands over her knees. She wrapped around herself, forming an egg. She spun on her back on the floor.
He watched her as she danced. Danced from the inside out, moving to his music and his father’s. Outside to in, like a fine spool of silk being unwound. She moved. Nothing he’d seen at the academy matched her dancing.
She took his anger, put it into movement. And made it disappear.
Then she began to really dance, and he began to really play. With his father and her. He followed her with his horn, weaving the notes to pursue her feet. She was so graceful, spinning and filling that huge hall.
He didn’t notice the others coming in. He just noticed her. How could she be so pure? How could she walk into this scummy earth and make it clean? He blew and played, astonished.
Why did her people want us? Now he could see some of them floating in the room, golden outlines like hers. Taller than her. Curious. Very alert. Why do you want us in your world?
She spun and spun, leaping. Still he didn’t notice the others. Didn’t see anything but his beautiful, beautiful girl. Why do you want me, Ellie girl? I’m too dark. I brood. I hurt. I might devour you.
/> Arabesques of moving silk, turning hands spiraling. Leg held high over her back, making a dance of love. He didn’t see the others, but he felt his father in the room. Playing with the brown-eyed boy. His brown-eyed boy.
I love you, his music said. I’ve always loved you. I didn’t mean to leave.
Tears ran down his face.
The recording changed. Whose music was this? Did his father play like this? Happy. Happy music. Straight up with no darkness. No ambiguity. Drums in the background. Old drums, long dead. Dead and happy! His father was happy, blowing up a storm. Playing with his son while his beautiful daughter-in-law showed the world what dance meant. Lovely child. He could hear his father’s voice— “Beautiful girl.”
Ellie was on the other side of the room spinning amongst giant portraits and ancient moldings and the swath of walnut floor. As though she heard his thoughts, she turned toward him, spinning, leaping. Throwing herself into grand jetés, legs extended like double knives, leaping toward him. Arms high, head poised. She circled around, and flew toward him again.
Doing cartwheels! Cartwheels, from one corner of the floor to him. She ended the run with a double flip, skidding to a stop, in the splits!
His horn shrieked and he jumped off the stage, embracing her. “Oh, Ellie, you are wonderful.” He held her to his heart. Everyone was applauding, but he didn’t hear them.
When he let her go, she said, “I great! Jeremy great!”
45
Val fought her way along the riverbank, staying close to the shore. The sun was long gone. She didn’t know what time it was; it seemed to be the middle of the night. Wearing the big hiking boots made swimming difficult. She was going to take them off, tie them by their shoestrings, and hang them over her shoulder so she could swim. But then she stepped on something hard and slimy. Her boot slipped off it, and whatever it was moved under her foot. Moved of its own volition. She pulled up her feet and headed for the middle of the river.
