In My Heart Page 3

  “These are good, Mom,” he said, brushing cream from the corner of his mouth.

  “Your little sister made those.”

  “I’d say she’d make someone a good wife, but I don’t think she’ll ever leave this house.”

  “You never know. Alice had a date with a young man a while ago, didn’t you, Alice?” Mama’s eyes shone as she looked across the table at me. I turned my attention back to my plate, tearing open my roll.

  “Well that’s marvelous, Alice. Do you have plans to see him again?” Janice asked.

  The faces of everyone at the table were turned toward me. “Sure. Soon.”

  What would they think if they knew that Tommy had told Henry he’d like to see me again, but I’d refused? May kept trying to talk to me about it at work, but I cut her off every time.

  “Well, maybe some feller will finally marry you, and you can give Mama some more grandchildren,” my sister Francine said.

  I looked over at the kids’ table. One of my nephews was pouring milk onto his sister’s plate while she bawled. “I think she has enough.”

  Janice, Francine, Mama, and I cleared the table while my brothers went out to the porch to smoke. After we were done, Mama and I made coffee and carried mugs into the living room. My niece Norma clambered up onto my lap, asking me to plait her hair.

  “Alice! Be a doll and get us the guitar? We want to sing a few songs,” my brother Buddy yelled to me from the front door. His cheeks were flushed, and a lock of hair hung over his eye.

  I patted Norma’s hair and gently pushed her off my lap, then went to my room to fetch my guitar. As I handed it to Buddy, I hesitated. “Just don’t break a string like you did the last time, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said. He stubbed his cigarette out under his boot and grabbed the neck from me.

  I sat on the stairs with my hands underneath my thighs. Buddy played “Will The Circle Be Unbroken,” and Francine’s husband Joe joined in. Buddy fumbled the chord changes, squinting down at his thick fingers. The rest of the family drifted outside, though my parents didn’t join us. They didn’t like the bawdy combination of booze and music, but they never tried to stop us.

  Buddy passed the guitar to Gus, who played an old gospel song we’d all grown up listening to.

  “Why don’t you play us a song now, Alice?” Janice said when he was finished.

  I shook my head and pulled my legs up toward my chest. Gus played another song, and I watched mosquitos buzzing around the naked bulb hanging above the porch. I’d play tomorrow evening while my folks were out visiting my grandparents.

  When it was late, and the house had emptied out, I got into bed and turned off my lamp. It was a hot night, my nightgown sticking to the sweat on the back of my legs as I moved. I clutched Daddy’s transistor radio, throwing the top sheet back to lay on the thin cotton. I switched on the radio and turned the volume down. One song gave way to the next and then Dorothy Long’s lush voice was casting its spell, low in my ear. It was a ballad called “Stay for Me.”

  These last months, I’d followed her career closely. A few stations had picked up her songs since I’d seen her play at Merle’s. Bill liked her almost much as I did, and we listened to her all the time at the record store.

  Though I was happy for Dorothy’s growing success, I had the feeling, a puzzling one, that I was sharing her with the world. It didn’t seem possible that all the people who were buying her records understood her music or that they could connect with her in the special way I did. Even Bill, who said she might be on her way to becoming one of the best girl singers around, wasn’t quite as awed by her as I was.

  I hadn’t told a soul that I’d been writing for her. It was crazy, but I was acting as though one day I’d be able to walk right up to her and hand her a tune. Each night when I was trying to sleep, desperate to shake off the mundane day, I’d soak myself in fantasy about what she’d say to me about this song or that one. She became a collaborator, eager to give me ideas and have me shape them for her.

  I wished I’d written “Stay for Me.” I wanted to fashion songs that could give someone a lump in their throat like this song did for me, even if it was about feelings I’d never had. I’d come close with a girl called Sandra when I was in high school. But I knew that it wasn’t what most people thought of when they were thinking about love.

  I turned off the radio, lowering it to the floor next to the bed. Curling up on my side, I thought of Dorothy’s eyes that night at the honky-tonk. For the briefest of moments, they’d looked right into me.

  The following Saturday morning I went to Stone Street to talk to Bill about his newest batch of 45s. There were boys walking up and down the aisles, play fighting with one another. They were dressed in blue jeans and T-shirts, all three of them sporting greaser-styled hair. Bill raised his voice so that I could hear him, but after a while he got tired of it. One of the boys knocked a stack of records from a pile, ignoring them when they dropped on the floor.

  A dark-haired boy glanced at me, trying to catch my eye. I focused on the small pile of records Bill had laid out for me.

  “You guys want to get a soda or something?” the dark-haired boy said.

  “Nah! I told you, I want to get some records.”

  “You ain’t even looking, you germ.”

  Bill stared at them, brushing his hand over his hair to smooth his palm over the neat part. “Say guys, do you think if you’re not real interested in buying you could take it outside?”

  The dark-haired boy had pulled a friend into a headlock, ruffling his hair, but he released him now. “It’s a free country, ain’t it? We’ll look at your music when we’re ready.”

  Bill shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned forward. “That’s right, sir, it’s a free country, but this is my store. I’m asking you to leave.”

  The boy glanced around at his friends. One of them shrugged, sleepy-eyed. “Well, that’s just fine by us. We don’t wanna be in a store run by a damn sissy anyway.”

  The sleepy-eyed boy spat on the ground, and they ran outside shouting and laughing. Bill shuffled through the pile of records, color spreading up to his face from the beet red at the back of his neck.

  “What a bunch of hoods. You handled them well, Bill.”

  “Thanks. I should go and clean that mess up, but first listen to this. I think you’ll like this one.”

  He dropped the needle, conjuring the bright sound of a fiddle.

  “You know my taste so well. This is really good.”

  “Thought you’d enjoy it. The fiddler played on some Stellar Sisters tracks. Oh, that reminds me. These were dropped off yesterday afternoon. I didn’t get the chance to put them out yet,” Bill said, leaning down to gather a stack of bright orange flyers from behind the counter, handing me one.

  “Oh. Dorothy Long’s playing soon?”

  “Uh-huh, your absolute favorite. I know you’ve been waiting to see her sing again.”

  It was at a hall over in Mobile. I’d have to either convince May to go with me or borrow her car for the night. I bit my lip and clutched the pamphlet between my fingers. What if I couldn’t get her to agree to it? She still wasn’t happy with me for giving Tommy the slip.

  “Thanks, Bill.”

  “You’re welcome. I was thinking I might go myself. Singers like her don’t come along too often. I want to be able to say I saw her when she gets really big.”

  “I don’t suppose we could go together, do you? I’m still saving for that car and I can’t think of how else I’d get there.”

  “Well, sure. I’d be happy to drive you. It’s only a couple of hours or so. We’ll take snacks, listen to music on the way. How about that?” he asked, smiling so that the gap between his teeth showed.

  “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

  We went back to listening to the player. It was a long time since I’d made a good friend, and I’d never had one who was a boy.

  On the night of the concert Bill showed up early
to pick me up, dressed in a light V-neck sweater with a collared shirt underneath.

  “Good evening, Mr. Johnson,” Bill said, shaking my father’s hand. “Mrs. Johnson, it’s lovely to meet you.”

  My parents each looked at Bill and then at one another. All I’d said to them was that I was going out with someone, and I realized now that they must have thought that it would be Tommy who would be coming to the house.

  “Well…Would you like to come and sit in the living room for a moment?” Mama asked.

  “So,” Bill said, relaxing onto the sofa. “Alice tells me that you both enjoy gospel music?”

  “That’s right. We have a few records of that kind,” Daddy replied.

  “Well, my father is a big fan of it. We have the best collection of religious music in the state, he’s made sure of it. We do a big mail order business. Send them all over the country,” Bill said, waving his hand expansively.

  “Is that so?” Daddy asked.

  “You’re welcome to come down to the store any time and take a look.”

  “We should be going,” I said.

  The interior of Bill’s green and brown wagon was immaculate, and a lemon-scented freshener hung from the rearview mirror. When I got my car, I was going to take care of it like this.

  “Thanks again for taking me tonight,” I said.

  “It’s no problem. Hey, I brought a thermos of coffee. You want a cup?”

  “Great idea!” I said, retrieving the thermos and tin cups from where Bill had stowed them on the floor. I poured us each a cup, handing him his so that he could drink it one-handed. “Do you go to Mobile very often?”

  “I do. I like driving over to go to the pictures and things like that.”

  “What kind do you see?”

  “All kinds! I love foreign movies if I can find them, old film noirs, anything really. I like Cary Grant, he’s always good. What do you like?”

  “I don’t know. I’d like to see more.”

  “Well, what do you like to do with your time, aside from listening to records all day long?” Bill said, handing me his cup so that he could make a turn. “I know you like playing the guitar. Did you always do that?”

  “No, I only got the guitar a few years ago. I did always like singing, though.”

  “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

  “Sure. Hey, Bill…” I said.

  His blue eyes darted away from the road for a moment. “Is there something wrong, Alice?”

  “No, not really. I just hope you didn’t think I was being forward or anything like that, when I asked you to take me to the show.”

  He tapped short square fingernails on the steering wheel. He looked toward me again, for as long as it was safe to, then he stared back out at the road. “I don’t really care about that stuff. I mean, I don’t care how girls are supposed to behave or about boys and girls and all that. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  I looked straight ahead too. I’d never heard anybody talk like that before. “That’s certainly okay with me. I don’t think I care about all that stuff either.”

  Bill’s toothy smile flashed again and he smacked the steering wheel. “Well, Alice, I do believe that you and I are going to get along just fine.”

  As we drove into Mobile, the bright lights all around us gave me a lift. I’d never gone there just for fun, though Mama and I took the bus at Christmas time every year to do our shopping. I gave a little whoop out of the window, Bill laughing as the wind blew through my hair.

  When we were inside the hall we dove into the sea of people, the crowd jostling us as we rushed to get good seats. We ended up toward the middle and halfway back. I sat on the edge of my red velvet seat, leaning forward and biting a nail. I tried to sit up taller to see over the man in front of me.

  “Can you see okay?” Bill asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “It’s all right.”

  “Here, switch,” he said, and when we swapped seats I could see much better.

  The support act, a pair of brothers who sang in perfect harmony, seemed to go on forever. The crowd’s applause was muted, as though they were as impatient to see Dorothy as I was.

  At last the curtain went up to reveal Dorothy standing in the middle of the stage in a red sequined evening gown. There were murmurs all around us about how lovely she looked, her dress sparkling under the lights.

  “Good evening, Mobile. Well, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see all of you. This is a lovely hall and you are one good-looking crowd. Hey, house, turn on the lights out there so I can see them better? Yep, just like I thought, a crowd of handsome guys and beauty queens.”

  The audience rippled with laughter.

  “Okay, that’s enough. Turn them off or I’m not going to be able to concentrate with all those lookers out there. I’m going to begin with a song called ‘Stay for Me,’ that’s out right now.”

  The hall lent a more relaxed tone, making this show different to the one that I’d seen at the honky-tonk. Because there was no dancing, I could sit and focus only on how lovely Dorothy sounded. When she hit the notes of the chorus, chills ran up my spine and I closed my eyes.

  The lights came up for intermission, waking me from my dream state.

  “Want to go out and stretch our legs?” Bill said.

  “Sure.”

  As we walked out to the lobby along with the rest of the crowd, a long line was building against the wall.

  “What do you think that line’s for?” Bill said.

  I searched the front of it. “It’s the guitar player! I guess he’s selling records or something?”

  “You’re such a fan, you should go over there,” Bill said, gently pushing my shoulder.

  “No, I couldn’t. I already have it, anyway,” I said, staring at the guitarist. His brown hair was slicked back, giving him a more rock’n’roll look than I would have expected.

  “Get another one, and ask him to sign it! If you want to talk to him you should just go and do it. What have you got to lose?”

  “What would I say to him?” I said.

  “Whatever you want! Tell him you appreciate their music or something. Look, if it makes you feel better I won’t watch. I’ll go and get us both a soda, how would you like that?”

  This might be my only chance to meet someone in the band, and I knew I had to do it. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  “I’ll meet you back in the hall. I’ll try to snag seats in the same area.”

  As I stood at the back of the line, my heart hammered. Maybe I should just lie and tell Bill they’d run out of records. I tried to think of what I was going to say when I reached the front, but I hadn’t figured anything out by the time I got there.

  I’d never been this close to a musician before. The guitarist’s strong jaw was clean shaven, and his black jacket was accented with red stripes so that it matched Dorothy’s dress. I stared at him until he grinned at me, pointing toward the stack of records in front of him. “You gonna buy one? I can sign it for you.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “So, are you from around here?” he said, uncapping his black marker.

  “Oh no, I live about a couple of hours away. Drove up for the show.”

  “That’s nice. What’s your name? I’ll make it out to you.”

  “Alice.”

  “Lovely name, Alice,” he said, scribbling across the cover of the record.

  “I’m such a fan of the band. I love your picking. It’s been wonderful to see it in person tonight.”

  “Well, that’s awfully kind of you, thanks,” he said, sliding the record across the table to me.

  “Will Dorothy be signing records tonight as well?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so,” he said, leaning an elbow on the back of his chair. Despite the line of people waiting behind me, he wasn’t in a hurry.

  “Oh,” I said. “I’d love to meet her sometime. You see, it’s just that I write music, and I wish there was some way for me to play my songs for he
r. It’s not that I think they’re that great, I’d just love to have a chance someday…”

  “You write songs, huh?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that. I’m just a really big fan, is all.”

  “Forget it. Don’t meet a lot of girl songwriters. It’s interesting,” he said, head inclined as he studied me.

  “Well, you have now,” I said.

  He cracked another smile. “You know what, Alice? I’d love to hear your songs. We’re going to be having a little party back at the hotel after the show. Why don’t you come by?”

  “I don’t know… My friend might want to head right back to town…”

  “Well, if you do want to, come on down to the Waldon. Dorothy splashed out on a big old suite down there. Seven thirty-three. Say Dirk said it was okay for you to be there.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said softly. Behind me, people grumbled at the way I was holding up the line. It wasn’t long before the show was due to start again. “Bye, Dirk.”

  I worked my way back to our seats, finding Bill sitting close to where we’d been before. How could I convince him to stick around after the show? Bill was open-minded, but still I could imagine what he might think of me wanting to hang out with a bunch of musicians.

  “Did you meet him? How was it?” Bill asked.

  “It was lovely. But you’re going to think this is real strange. He invited me to spend time with the band at their hotel.”

  “Well, that is strange,” he said, eyes narrowing. “What did he mean by that?”

  “I wouldn’t go or anything. I mean, I know we’ve got to drive back. But I don’t think he meant it like that. I told him about my songs, and he was interested in them. It would be a party, not just him there.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I don’t have anywhere to be back home, do you? It’s Friday night! In fact, there’s a bar I wanted to go to later, but I could only go by myself,” Bill said, not meeting my eye.

  “So, you think I could go to the party then?” I said. “Do you think it would be okay for me to go on my own?”

  Bill put his fingers under his chin. “Hmm. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I come with you to this party, check things out? If it all seems okay, I’ll take off and then come back to get you a couple of hours later.”