Diary of a Blues Goddess (34 page)

"I'm very proud of you."

"I love you, future-Mrs. Watson." I kissed her and went to my room.

I was wrapped in a towel and ready to jump in the shower when Jack knocked on the door and poked his head in.

"You ready for tonight?"

"No. Musically… yes. But I'm nervous and have a lot to do yet."

"Can I talk to you?"

"About Maggie?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Not many secrets between us all. This house is pretty much like living your life on the front page of the
Enquirer
."

"Which is why I told her. We can't have secrets between us. Not if we're going to make a go of it."

"Which is why she hates me and won't be at the Mudslide tonight."

"I'm going over to the salon. I'll talk her into it."

"Good luck. Underneath her purple hair she's a natural-born redhead. Good luck talking her into anything when she's mad."

He laughed.

"Can I ask you something, Jack?"

"Shoot."

"You've known her for years. Why are you seeing her now?"

"Ever look at somebody in one way for a long time, and then they do something, say something, touch you in a certain way, and suddenly, you can't believe you'd never noticed them before. Her eyes are pale blue, and she has this little scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. It reminds me of the Milky Way. And she has this spot right here." He pointed to the hollow of his clavicle. "It's so beautiful. And when she laughs, I just go crazy."

"You're making me gag."

"But you're not upset?"

"Not if you don't fuck this up. And not if she forgives me."

"She will… I'll let you shower." He turned to go.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, Gorgeous Georgia?"

"Are we okay? Me and you?"

"Yeah. We're A-OK. You know… I think I was looking for someone I could rely on after Sara. And that's a stupid reason to be with someone."

"Jack… you know I'm leaving, don't you?"

He nodded slowly. "When I heard you that night at the Sunday Saints Supper, I knew. You need to go. You takin' Tony with you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Look at him with a new set of eyes, Georgia . You just might be surprised at what you see. I've known him as long as you, but you know, sometimes when it's just the guys, we get to talking."

"And?"

"And he always kind of amazes me. He's a really deep person. And he's got a lot of integrity."

"Jack… promise me we'll always be friends."

He smiled. "Can't get rid of me, even if you go touring through Europe. Just promise
me
you'll invite me when you play Carnegie Hall."

"Sure." I rolled my eyes.

"I'll miss you, Georgie. But break a leg tonight."

"Thanks."

He shut the door quietly, and I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. As long as I was looking at Tony in new ways, maybe I had better start looking at myself in new ways, too.

The face that stared back at me had a broad nose, brown eyes that were shaped like a cat's, high cheekbones. Full lips. A tiny scar over my left eye where Joey Dunn stabbed me with a pencil in third grade. I'd managed to swing a textbook at him and gave him a shiner. My mother made me write him a note saying I was sorry. He never said he was sorry to me, and I had a scar to remind me of the incident. From my scar, my eyes shifted to my big hair. Inescapable big hair. But it was growing on me. Hell, that had taken long enough. But my hair was me.

The face in the mirror, I finally accepted, was pretty. She was sexy.

And she was a blues goddess.

Just before we were scheduled to go on, I felt as if I was going to throw up. Then two things happened that made me want to hurl right into the laps of those closest to the stage.

1) Tony told me he loved me. Thirty seconds before I was scheduled to go on. So there was no time to discuss, dissect or deny.

2) I spotted Casanova Jones at a table by the stage. Alone. With a single long-stemmed rose. And looking as fuckable as he always had. Was it right to go back to a man just because he introduced you to multiple orgasms?

I looked at Red. I looked at my dad. I looked at Mike.

"I can't do this."

My father came over to me and put his hand on my trembling one. "Georgia, I was the coward. I ran out on your mother and you. You stayed to nurse her through being sick. You stayed with your nan, and you've sung in this city all these years. You can do this."

"Dad… my ex-boyfriend is sitting in row one. You know… the one I told you about."

"Then you make him realize what he lost."

We were introduced. The spotlight shone on me, and I forgot about Casanova Jones. I became the Blues Goddess. I don't know whether I was channeling Honey Walker or just shining a candle on the dark places in my heart, but I found a voice that was between a growl and moan, a blues voice that rang true, and I sang from my soul.

Instead of Casanova Jones, I sang to myself. I imagined myself in the front row. Not me now, but the me at that high-school lunch table. And I sang to her. I sang about loss and love and grief. I sang for that girl who loved a boy from afar. I sang for how lonely she was. I sang for her the way death invaded her home. For her mother.

Out of the corner of my eyes, despite the spotlight, I glimpsed Jack holding Maggie's hand. I turned to face their section of the audience. I sang for a carrot-topped girl who never believed a man she loved would love her the same in return. I sang for her caught in the crossfire of her father's rages and her mother's tirades. I sang for the way her best friend had hurt her because she was too cowardly to tell her the truth.

I sang for Red and Nan. I sang for a woman who had never backed down from life. I sang for a man who found the place in his heart that was about the blues and played the piano for a daughter long gone.

I sang for my mother who had haunted our house. I sang for the way she had loved a willful young daughter and saw in her the potential to love. I sang for the way we hadn't been able to connect in life, but had somehow shared love in death.

I sang for Sadie, selling herself despite wanting to be with the woman she loved.

I sang for Honey Walker, who inspired me to understand the blues in a deeper way and to leave this city I called home for the call of somewhere else.

I sang for my father who was missing from my life, then found. I sang for the way he had discovered a peace he hadn't known was possible. I sang for the courage it took for him to come back to a daughter he barely knew.

I sang for the boy Damon, who became the woman Dominique. I sang for the pain he had, not being accepted in his own home. I sang for the love she found with her new family. I sang for the vulnerability that lies beneath the false eyelashes. I sang for her friendship, as it had buoyed me and made me believe in myself.

I sang for all of them, the rainbow in my life. I sang for a family that was anything but normal, yet loved more fiercely than the one I glimpsed on River Road in its fancy facade.

Finally, I sang for an Irishman who had seemed to be a quiet rock in my life, but turned out to be burning beneath, like lava. I sang for the space between the notes.

For finding someone to share the silences with. I sang for the way he moved me. I sang for going off to the unknown.

I sang "Good Rockin' Tonight,"

"Goin' to Chicago" and "If I Could Be with You." Finally, I sang for Casanova Jones. For the man who took me to the moon and back again, but showed me by hurting me, that perhaps the best love was in my own garden with a man from Ireland. I sang of forgiveness.

I sang from the place where I felt old grief and old wounds. And when I was done, and spent, when I'd looked at my father and Red on the keys and Mike at the drums and seen them become one with me, I looked out at the crowd, all on their feet. They understood that I sang from a special place. They had seen the birth of a new blues goddess.

The crowd gave me a standing ovation, and we performed three encores.

I took my bows and introduced my band. I took Mike's hand and we both stood with Red and my dad in a joint embrace.

Finally, we played one last song, "I Didn't Know About You." How true that was. I didn't know about Casanova.

My father.

And most of all… Tony.

I took a bow and left the stage. No, most of all, the one I didn't know was myself. But now I had laid bare my soul on the stage and in my song. I knew all about myself. And finally, I liked what I knew.