Sometime near eleven, while I was watching one of Anthony’s friends dressed as John Lennon sing “Help!,” Bendrix grabbed my hand and said he needed to talk. Bendrix never took my hand and said things like we need to talk, and from the ashen look on his face, I gathered I was about to hear terrible news.
He led me outside to the backyard, where fewer guests mingled and we had some privacy. After leading me to the edge of the fence, he looked out at the fairy lights surrounding Lake Merritt and turned to me. “It’s nice seeing you have so much fun, Abbey.”
“But that’s not why I’m out here,” I said when he wouldn’t look me in the eye. “What is it? You’re making me nervous.”
He swallowed and tensed his jaw. “I’m thinking of asking Anthony to marry me.”
“No!” I cried. “I mean, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” I jumped up and down. I felt my bouffant wig topple and snatched it off. “I’m so happy for you!”
“Hold on, now. Hold on. I haven’t asked him yet.”
“But you will! I mean, I hope you will.”
He stuck his hands deep inside his tuxedo pockets and dug his foot into the ground: his way of blushing. “I do love him,” he said.
“I know you do. Oh God, Benny, I’m going to make the most beautiful, the most elegant, most outstanding wedding cake for you guys. We could do something in chocolate. Maybe something with ribbons. Do you have a favorite flower? You don’t, do you . . .”
“Abbey—”
“Oh, I know. We could go with boutonnieres! Wait, what am I thinking? I’ll make a tuxedo cake!”
“Abbey—”
“Oh God, that’s so cliché. What the hell am I thinking? Sorry. Just give me moment. I think I’m caught off guard.”
“Abbey.” He grabbed me at the shoulders. “Abbey, would you shut up for a second?”
I closed my mouth.
“So you think I’m making the right decision, right?”
“Ha! You’re asking me? Ha-ha-ha!” I laughed. “I don’t know what the fuck about marriage.”
I saw how he studied my face, and I calmed down. “You are absolutely making the right decision. I’m not the poster kid for how to have a happy marriage, but you and Anthony make each other better. I’m really happy for you.”
We hugged.
“Dance with me?” I asked.
He stared down at me in his arms. “Let’s not get carried away.”
“Fine. I’ll dance for both of us.”
Since he refused to dance, I partied with Janis Joplin and later Sammy Davis Jr. I was still dancing when I heard yelling over the din of music and talk. “Is there an Abbey Ross here? Abbey Ross? She has a call.” Mick Jagger stood at the edge of the living room holding the landline. “They say it’s important.”
I gazed around the room and sought out Bendrix. He was already walking toward me, looking concerned.
I took the phone. Dizzy was on the other end. “Abbey? I’ve been calling your cell. Samuel told me where you were. It’s Dad, Abbey . . .” He choked then. I could hear his voice catching in his windpipe. “It’s Dad—”
“Dizzy?”
“Abbey?” Bailey’s voice.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but your daddy’s gone.”
I knew perfectly well what she meant, but I tried anyway. “You mean he’s in Germany. He’s in Germany.”
“No, honey. I mean he’s gone. Aiko called from Germany and said he was suffering from chest pains. He had a heart attack. I’m sorry, baby.”
The floor shook. You have to be kidding me. An earthquake? Now? I looked around when I heard screaming. When I saw Ike and Tina Turner and the Shirelles all staring back, I knew the screaming was coming from me. I wailed again. I heard Anthony in the distance trying to calm me but saw that he was standing right next to me. Bendrix tried to pull my hands by my sides, then grabbed me with full force. I collapsed in his arms and wept.
• • •
Dad’s funeral (still hurts to put those words together: Dad’s funeral) was held at First Baptist, one of the largest churches in Oakland.
The immediate family, including the wives and exes and their spouses, all my siblings, Uncle Dex, and Uncle Walter took up the front of the church; friends and extended family, some media, filled the rest of the sanctuary all the way up to the balcony. The family had decided to wear pastels in Dad’s honor to symbolize that he would not want us to focus on his passing as much as on the incredible life he’d lived. Aiko and the boys wore white. It was heartbreaking to see Bud and Ornette in their suits.
Bailey and Dinah sang a rendition of “You Taught My Heart to Sing.” Theo played Bud Powell’s “Elegy” on his trumpet. Uncle Dex and Uncle Walt, each looking like he’d aged ten years, joined Miles, who played piano, in a version of “Going Home.” One of the saddest and strangest sights was seeing my uncles up there without Dad. I think the entire church broke down.
There were lighter moments, too, however. Dad would’ve wanted it that way. Several people told funny stories. Rita had two performers from the Oakland Ballet perform to a medley of Dad’s songs. Finally, all of my siblings who played or sang joined together and performed a song Phineas had written titled “Cool, Cool Daddy.” I wasn’t sure when they’d had time to practice, but they sang and danced and played their instruments like they’d been rehearsing for weeks. I felt Dad’s presence off and on. I knew he was proud of us, at any rate.
• • •
I stayed at Dad’s with my brothers and sisters for a couple of nights. It helped to have them and to reminisce together. I went to bed once I returned home and pretty much stayed there for five days straight. Samuel tried to coax me out by telling me I needed to get back to work, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to think about wedding cakes or cream puffs. I’d already spoken to Beth and asked her to close the shop for three days. I then asked if she’d run the place while I was out sick. I had cakes to get to, but they’d have to wait. I needed to get used to the idea that my father was gone.
Mom had flown out for the funeral and stayed at the house to look after me. In an uncharacteristic fashion, she crawled in bed with me one evening and told me stories about the early days of her courtship with Dad. She played with my hair and held my hand and basically was an odd touchy-feely mother I’d never known before. At one point I told her she was making me nervous, and we laughed.
By day seven, after Mom flew back to Connecticut, I started going to Dad’s house, where the family was congregating every night. We all wanted to be there for Aiko and the boys and for one another. It helped that all of my brothers and sisters stayed in town for a while. Night after night, we banded together at the house and swapped stories, ate, argued, and of course played and listened to music. Rita came up with the idea to set up a fund in Dad’s name, something that would raise money to help bring music back to Oakland’s public schools. Joan and I went ice-skating. Carmen and I watched a couple of movies—comedies, of all things.
Three weeks after Dad’s passing, I woke up at my old baker’s hours and left a note telling Samuel that I’d gone to check on Scratch and not to eat because I’d return with breakfast.
I drove through the dark, empty streets, one of only a handful of people out and about at three a.m. I let myself in and turned on the lights. I went to the stereo and programmed a mix that included Nina, Billie, and Otis. I went to the kitchen next and scooped flour and cracked eggs. I took my time mixing and shaping dough.
While currant scones and banana nut muffins baked in the oven, I went to my office to check the mail. There were several sympathy cards mixed with the usual. I sat in my chair and looked at the names and decided which ones to open and which I’d save for later. I froze when I came to an envelope with the surname Cooper in the upper left corner. I used my thumb to tear open the back
flap. There was a homemade card inside. On the front, glued to stock paper, was a black-and-white photo of Jason, Dad, and me, taken the night he’d met Dad. I opened it and read the note inside.
Dear Abbey,
I was deeply sorry to hear about your father’s passing. I count hearing him play that night as one of the best nights of my entire life, and I will never forget it as long as I live. He was a genius at the piano and he will be sorely missed. I don’t know if you believe in heaven, but I like to believe your dad is in a better place, somewhere up there playing with all the greats—Bird, Miles, Coltrane, Basie . . .
Please know that you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers. Gina sends her condolences as well.
Sincerely,
Jason
I pulled a photo from inside the envelope: Jason and Gina posing next to their wedding cake, their hands joined over a knife as they prepared to cut. They looked as happy as I would’ve expected. I drew the picture closer and stared at Jason while thinking about our night together and the fun we’d had. I felt my heart rise into my throat and my breath constrict. Tears came hot and fast. I’d known him only that one night, and I felt silly for thinking it, but I longed for him to hold me.
• • •
I went home with a bag of warm muffins and scones. Samuel was already awake and sitting at the dining room table reading on his laptop. He kissed me hello and offered coffee. Since Dad’s death, he’d been treating me as if I might break or was ill. I stood at the edge of the dining room while he went to the kitchen to pour mugs full and grab plates and napkins.
He said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Mom called while you were at the bakery to see how you were doing and I was glad that I could tell her you’re ready to go back to work. She wanted to know if you wanted anything.” I was still standing in the same spot when he returned with my coffee. “You okay? Why don’t you sit down?”
I let my bag drop and walked up to him. I took the mug of coffee from his hands while I stared into his eyes. Then I reached up and clasped my hands behind his neck. I didn’t want to feel or think, and I especially didn’t want to talk. Just for a few minutes, I wanted . . . I wanted . . .
“Let’s have sex.”
“What?”
“Sex.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now.” I pulled his mouth toward mine and kissed him on the lips. Funny, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d kissed just for the sake of kissing. When I heard his breathing deepen, I started to pull him toward the floor.
He laughed nervously. “What are you doing?”
“Let’s do it here.”
“Are you kidding?”
I pulled off my T-shirt and started to unfasten my pants. “No, I’m not. Let’s do it on the floor.”
He shrugged doubtfully. “Okay. If you say so.”
Coffee and muffins forgotten, we moved to the floor. He looked at me briefly as though I might change my mind, but he was wrong. When he pressed his body into mine and I felt my body tense, I tried to relax. I tried to remember all the things I liked about Samuel, his eyes and smile, how responsible he was. His intelligence. I tried to remember those early days when I was crazy about him. I squeezed my eyes shut until it hurt and kissed his neck, then bit his ear. I did my best to try to relax and remember. When the note Jason had written came to mind, I told myself not to think. But then I gave up and imagined that Samuel’s lips were Jason’s, Samuel’s hands on my hips were Jason’s. Feeling guilty, though, I forced him out of my mind and focused instead on moving in ways I knew that Samuel liked.
I rested my head on his chest afterward and thought briefly of Dad. He once told an interviewer that the difference between a real musician and someone toying with the idea was that a real musician followed his or her gut. A real musician wasn’t afraid to go there, to feel the music and leave all the rest behind. A real musician followed his or her gut, which was real quiet-like. Pianissimo. The gut doesn’t have to go on with a lot of nonsense because the gut knows it’s right. It’s just waiting for the player to have the courage to listen.
Samuel helped me up and we dressed. He picked up a scone and took a bite. “We should go somewhere today. A drive or something.” He took a sip of my coffee. “This is cold.” He went to the kitchen and I heard him dump the coffee down the sink and pour more. “What do you say to a drive?” He came back out with jam and butter. “We could go to Santa Cruz. It’s kind of tacky, but why not?”
I was on my feet now and zipping my sweater. “Samuel?”
He went back to the kitchen and returned with my coffee and set it on the table.
“Samuel.”
“Yeah?”
“I want a divorce.”
20
Sneakin’ Around
“We want one cake shaped like Beauty and the second like the Beast.”
“It’s our favorite movie, you see. Jane is my Beauty.”
“And Burt is my Beast turned into a handsome prince.”
Burt and Jane were in their mid- to late fifties and hailed from the moneyed land of Danville. Burt was a computer software engineer who had worked for HP in the early days. Now he enjoyed fishing and his mineral collection. After thirty years of searching, he had met the love of his life, his Belle, Jane. They told me about all the songs they knew from the movie and all the Disney resorts they’d been to.
“We’re going to the Disney Polynesian resort for our honeymoon,” said Jane. “For our wedding we’re going to sing a medley from Beauty and the Beast.”
Rita stole a peek my way: Are they serious? She had stopped by to pick up surprise treats for Aiko and the boys, but in her own Rita-like way, she’d managed to join the consult after explaining to Burt and Jane who she was, and—“I would love to know what you two are planning. Mind if I sit for a moment?”
Burt explained that they’d met on a Disney cruise last year while they were both watching the live musical version of (drumroll, please) Beauty and the Beast. Burt said they wanted a gazebo on top of the cake with little Beauty and the Beast figures kissing underneath.
“The Beast should have on a blue tux,” said Burt.
“And Belle has to wear white with a blue ribbon,” said Jane.
I pulled up images of the cartoon characters on my tablet, then took out my sketch pad. Rita placed her hand on mine before I could start drawing and looked at Burt and Jane. “I cannot—I absolutely refuse to let you do this. You don’t want to look back on your wedding day and see Beauty and the Beast.”
“Yes, we do,” said Jane.
“We do,” said Burt.
I kept a strained smile on Burt and Jane while muttering: “Rita, Burt and Jane can have whatever they want. It’s their money.”
“I don’t care whose money it is,” said Rita. “I can’t let them do this. No. Draw them something else, Abbey. Anything.”
I turned, keeping my smile in place. “You can’t tell people what cake to order. It’s their wedding.” Granted, I agreed with her fully, but every so often I had to deal with a couple with bad taste. Tacky happened.
“But, Abbey, they’re trusting you to help make their special day beautiful. You can’t possibly let them have a Beauty and the Beast cake. It’s beyond ridiculous.”
Smile still plastered, I asked if I could speak to Rita alone, then promptly dragged her off.
“They are allowed to do whatever they want. If they’re paying me for Beauty and the Beast, that’s what they’ll get.” I glanced back at them, happy-go-lucky in their matching khaki shorts and tennis shoes. “They’re obviously in love. Who are we to judge? Isn’t that what Dad would say?”
She frowned. “It shouldn’t be allowed.”
“Everyone heard you.”
She studied me while fussing with the collar of my chef’s coat. “How are you? Samuel all moved out?”
“Poor thing. First your father and now a separation.”
“Divorce. There will be no trial separation. It’s over.”
“Are you sure you want to make such a big decision so soon after your father’s passing?”
“I think losing Dad helped me to come to my senses.”
She nodded and pressed her hand against my chest. Rita was the only wife who seemed upset about the breakup. When Joan and I had had tea, she’d shrugged: “Life goes on, dear. Keep your chin up and do things you love.” Bailey was also rather indifferent: “He was fine, I’ll give him that, but he had a way about him. Kind of stiff, you know? And at least you won’t have to put up with that weird-ass family of his.” Amen to that. When I told Mom about the divorce, she asked if I needed anything. Marriage and divorce were social constructs, in her opinion, irrelevant labels, when you got down to it. You were either happy and getting on with life or not. She supported me in moving on.
Samuel stayed at the house for a few weeks until he found an apartment, a loft, actually, in a hip pocket of West Oakland. At first he was heartbroken that I wanted to end the marriage. He told me his parents were disappointed in him and he was disappointed in himself. He was the first in generations of Howards to get a divorce and he felt disgraced. We didn’t even make it to the four-year mark. We don’t have a child. Why did you marry me if you weren’t going to keep your vows? Social construct or not, I felt guilty as hell, and there were moments when I was crazy with doubt. But my gut, that quiet pianissimo, told me I was doing the right thing.
A Pinch of Ooh La La Page 25
