Broken Wings

  “I don’t doubt it. I know I’m savin‘ your life takin’ you with me, Robin. The least you could do is be a little grateful and very cooperative. And another thing, I don’t want you callin‘ me Mother darlin’ anymore. I know you’re just bein‘ sarcastic ’cause of that book Mommie Dearest. Besides,” she said, “I told you how I have to present myself as bein‘ younger. From the day we get to Nashville, until I say otherwise, you’re my younger sister. Always call me Kay.”

  “That won’t be hard,” I said. “It takes more than just calling someone Mother for her to be a mother.”

  “Oh, you’re so smart.” She thought a moment. “Actually, I like that. It’s a great first line for a new song: It takes more than calling someone Mother for her to be a mother,” she sang. She looked at me. “Thanks.”

  I shook my head and stared at the floor. She turned on one of her country music stations and began to sing along. The happier she was, the angrier and more depressed I became. This wasn’t my dream life; it was hers. I was like a piece of paper stuck to the bottom of her boots. She couldn’t shake me off, and I couldn’t pull away.

  The road streamed ahead. She saw only promise and glory. I just saw a strip of highway going to nowhere, which was where I had been.

  Why did she ever name me Robin? I thought. She should have called me Canary.

  I’m just like one: trapped in a cage.

  All I had to do was tell her and she would turn it into another song.

  2

  Getting to Glory

  I fell asleep again, despite Mother darling’s singing. When I woke this time, I had to go to the bathroom. She moaned about it.

  “We’re almost to I-65. Can’t you put a plug in it?” she whined.

  “I have to go now!” I screamed.

  Reluctantly, she turned into the first road stop, complaining about the time we were going to lose. I didn’t understand why she had to get to Nashville so fast.

  “Where are we going to live when we get there anyway?” I wanted to know.

  “We’re going to live with Cory. He has a two-bedroom apartment, and it’s not far from where you go to school,” she told me.

  Two bedrooms? I thought. She and I weren’t going to share one. That was for sure.

  “How do you just go and pick up again with someone you haven’t seen in years?” I asked her.

  She stared ahead, looking for a place to park. I thought she wasn’t going to answer.

  Then, when we stopped, she turned to me and with steely eyes said, “You do what you have to do to move ahead in the business, Robin. Cory knows people now and besides, what are you worrying about? I’m the one sleeping with him, not you.”

  “Who don’t you sleep with?” I mumbled. “That’s why you never could tell who my father was.”

  It was the only explanation I knew. From what I could put together, she had been at some wild party and actually had gone to bed with three different boys. She was either so drunk or hopped up on something, she didn’t know who was first and who was last. Some wild sperm had seized upon one of her eggs and brought me into this world. Like Grandpa paraphrased, “The sins of the mother rest on the head of the daughter.”

  “I heard what you mumbled, Robin. Don’t be so smart,” she said, turning off the engine.

  I got out, slammed the door behind me, and went into the restaurant and to the bathroom. I heard her follow me into the bathroom. I could never mistake the clip-clop of those boots on tile.

  “Thought you could wait until the precious exit,” I said to the closed stall on my way out. She didn’t reply.

  I went to the shop. As I stood there looking at newspapers, magazines, candy, and other things, I remember feeling like I was floating in space. I didn’t think I’d miss Grandpa and Grandma, but at least I had a home with them. Where were we really going? Did Mother darling really believe I would be better off in Nashville, or was I just like some old suit of clothes, stuffed in a bag and dragged along? She had made it crystal clear to me that she didn’t want me to call her Mother. How much easier would it be if she could just drop me off on her way to a new life.

  Back in the car, after we drove off and were on the highway again, I pulled the entertainment magazine out from between the sections of newspaper. She watched me do it and nearly turned off the highway again, jerking the car and hitting the brakes.

  “Did you steal that? Did you? Did you put that magazine in the newspaper first and then just pay for the newspaper? I know your tricks.”

  “No,” I said, but she fixed her eyes on me like two small spotlights and scrunched her nose.

  “You’re lyin‘, Robin. I can always tell when you do. Are you ever goin’ to stop stealin‘? Don’t you know you could have gotten me in trouble, too, back there? And me on the way to Nashville. How do you think I would be able to explain that? Sorry, I couldn’t make the audition because my daughter shoplifted a magazine and we were arrested on the way.”

  She continued to drive.

  “Why do you do these things?” she asked, but mostly of herself. “Maybe my father is right. Maybe people do inherit evil.”

  “Who did you inherit it from then?” I fired at her.

  She glared at me for a moment.

  “I don’t think of what I did as so evil, at least not as evil as my father does. I was young and into stupid things like drugs and alcohol and I was very frustrated livin‘ in that house and bein’ told that everythin‘ I liked and everythin’ I wanted to do was bein‘ inspired by Satan.”

  She turned back to me, glancing at the magazine again.

  “I’m warnin‘ you, Robin. If you get into trouble in Nashville the way you did back home, I’m not goin’ to come your rescue. I won’t want anyone, especially people in the business, to know I gave birth to a petty thief. Do you understand me?”

  “You already told me you’re going to pretend you’re my older sister, didn’t you? No one will blame you for giving birth to anything.”

  “Don’t be so smart. Oh damn,” she said, grimacing. “I was hopin‘ we would have a nice trip and you would be as excited about all this as I am. We’re startin’ a new life!”

  “You’re starting a new life,” I corrected.

  She sighed and shook her head again.

  After a moment I took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. She spun around even faster than before.

  “Where did you get those?”

  I shrugged.

  “You stole them, too, probably. My God, the trouble we just missed. Didn’t I tell you I don’t want you smokin‘ around me? Didn’t I tell you how bad it was for my throat, my voice? I can’t chance strainin’ it, not now. Stop makin‘ me shout!”

  “I’m not making you,” I said.

  “Throw that cigarette out the window!”

  I took one more defiant puff, rolled down the window, and flipped the cigarette out.

  “Throw out the whole pack,” she ordered.

  “The whole pack? But—”

  “Throw it out, Robin. Now,” she said, and I did.

  Then I sat back with my arms folded and pouted, until we both heard the police siren and she looked in the rearview mirror and exclaimed, “Oh no!”

  As she slowed down to pull over, my heart began to pound. Had I been seen back at the store?

  “Now you’ve gone and done it,” she wailed. “I’m ruined before I even begin.”

  The state trooper got out of his vehicle and sauntered over to my side, moving his hand in a circle to indicate I should roll the window all the way down.

  “Let me see your license and registration,” he ordered Mother darling. He looked ten feet tall to me and broader than Grandpa.

  Mother darling hurried to dig it all out of the glove compartment and her purse. It took a while, and all that time, he stood there glaring at me. I’m caught again, I thought sadly.

  He took the license and the registration.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as he read it.

&n
bsp; “To Nashville, Officer. I’m a singer and I have an opportunity to improve my career. My daughter and I are goin‘ to start a whole new life,” she continued. I thought she was pathetic, trying to sound so sweet and innocent.

  He didn’t smile.

  “Do you realize,” he began, looking more at me, “that you could start a serious fire tossing lit cigarettes out of the window and into the dry grass back there?”

  “Oh,” Mother darling said, obviously relieved I wasn’t being arrested for shoplifting. “Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t realize she had thrown a lit cigarette out the window. I thought she had snuffed it out. Didn’t I tell you to do that first, Robin?” she demanded with a face full of steam.

  I looked at her without answering. He would have to be a very stupid policeman to buy that, I thought.

  “We’ve had some serious fires here recently, and with the drought and all…”

  “Oh yes, Officer. You’re absolutely right. We weren’t thinkin‘. You know how two young women can git sometimes. We were listenin’ to music and talkin‘ because we’re so excited about startin’ a new life.”

  “Umm,” he said. “I really should cite you for this.”

  “We don’t have much money,” she wailed. “Just enough to get ourselves goin‘. I swear we won’t do anythin’ like that again. Will we, Robin?”

  “No,” I said dryly. “Never again.”

  He nodded.

  “All right. You watch it, and watch your speed. I notice your right rear tire is too worn. You had better get that changed soon.”

  “Oh. It’s so like me to neglect my car. But,” she said, flicking her eyelids, “I never neglect my men.”

  He finally laughed.

  “I’ll bet,” he said. “Have a good trip.”

  “Thank you kindly, Officer,” she told him.

  I could have puked, but I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips shut.

  “Okay. Good luck in your career. What’s your name in case I hear about you later?”

  “Kay Jackson,” she said. “And you will hear about me.”

  He broke a smile, tipped his hat, and returned to his car.

  Mother darling released a hot, trapped breath.

  “There,” she said, satisfied with herself. “Let that be a lesson to you. If you’re nice to people, they’ll be nice to you. Especially men,” she added, and started away.

  “If you’re so nice to them, how come you never had one ask you to marry him?” I asked.

  In my heart of hearts, I thought the reason was really me. Most men didn’t want to marry a woman who had a child to raise, and as I grew older, that became more and more a problem. I used to have nightmares in which Mother darling did decide to marry someone, but only if I remained with Grandpa and Grandma. She would come to me in the dark dream and say, “You can’t expect another man to take on the responsibilities of raisin‘ someone else’s child, now can you, Robin? I’m sure you understand.” I’d wake up as she was leaving the house, and for a long moment, I would wonder if it hadn’t happened. The dream was usually that vivid.

  “What makes you think no man has asked?”

  “You never talked about any,” I said.

  “Plenty have, but I can’t pursue a singin‘ career and keep house, can I? And what if he wanted more children, huh? What would I do, hold a baby in my arms and record songs? I don’t need a marriage. I need a break in the business,” she declared.

  She looked at me.

  “I’m not sayin‘ marriage is bad or nothin’, Robin. It’s right for almost all other women. Someday, I hope you find a good man. It’s just not for me,” she said. “Remember that song I wrote: ‘I’m not the marryin’ kind, so don’t go bendin‘ your knee for me,’ ” she sang.

  “I remember. I’m just trying to forget it,” I muttered.

  “You’re goin‘ to be sorry you said all those mean things to me, Robin. Someday, you’re goin’ to be lookin‘ at me up on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry and be sorry you ever made fun of me and country music. At least it’s honest; at least it’s from the heart and not like that rap talk or bangin’ and screamin‘ you think’s music.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again. She was quiet and then, as we drew closer to Nashville, she began to get very excited. She found some new radio stations and sang along whenever she could.

  I opened my eyes and looked at the beautiful day, one of those days when there are just a few scattered soft puffs of cloud against the aqua blue sky. An air force jet began to trail a line from one horizon toward the other. I imagined I was in it, just sailing toward something blue.

  “Oh, I can feel it,” Mother darling cried. “I can feel the changes comin‘, Robin. Can’t you?”

  “No,” I said, but I said it sadly. I really wished I could feel what she felt. She was glowing with expectation. Would I ever be that radiant with happiness?

  She ignored me because she was concentrating hard now on the directions Cory Lewis had given her to a section called Madison. Either he had left out something or she was confused and I wasn’t much help. Finally, she pulled into a gas station and got better directions. About a half hour or so later, we made a turn down a residential street and came upon Garden Apartments.

  “We’re here!” she declared, pulling into the parking area. Cars were parked under carports. She found Cory Lewis’s apartment number and pulled in behind what I imagined was his red pickup truck. For a moment she just sat there, smiling. “We made it,” she said. She took a deep breath and added, “The rest will be easy.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Maybe it wasn’t so good to have high hopes and dreams, I thought. Without them, there’s no disappointment, and if there was one thing that described my life, it was disappointment with a capital D.

  We got out of the Beetle. She said we should find Cory first and then bring along our things.

  “He’ll help,” she told me.

  The apartments looked seedy to me. The stucco was stained and discolored after years of rain. On some of the balconies, I saw old furniture, rusted exercise equipment, and sick-looking plants. The walkway through the complex was cracked and chipped and, at one point, gouged, with a chunk of the cement gone. There was a swimming pool, but it was empty and there wasn’t anyone around it. As we passed it, I looked down and saw all sorts of garbage at the bottom, including what looked like a little child’s tricycle.

  Cory Lewis’s apartment was on the second floor, number 202. Mother darling, still smiling from ear to ear with excitement and expectation, pushed the buzzer. I didn’t hear anything. She pushed it again.

  “Maybe it doesn’t work,” I suggested.

  “Oh.” She knocked, but there was still no sound from within. I knocked harder, practically pounding the door.

  “Robin!”

  “Well, maybe he has the radio on. Doesn’t everyone in Nashville have the radio on?”

  She scrunched her nose and then the door finally opened and we looked in at a tall, lean man with a thin nose and thin lips. He had what looked like a two- or three-day beard, stiff enough to sand off paint. His light brown hair hung listlessly down the sides of his head to his shoulders, where the split ends curled. Dressed in a black T-shirt with the faded words Bulls Are Always Horny and a pair of jeans, he stood barefoot and looked like he had just woken up. His blue eyes were glassy. I saw he had a small scar just under his right eye. It had tiny spots in it like it had been created with a dinner fork.

  “Cory, it’s us!” Mother darling was forced to declare because his face hadn’t recorded any recognition yet.

  “Whaa…” He ran his hands over his eyes and blinked. Then he smiled. “I’ll be damned. So it is. Kay Jackson herself,” he cried. “Never thought you’d do it, Kay. We was just thinkin‘ about lookin’ for another singer.”

  “You’d better not,” Mother darling said. “I told you I’d be here, and I’m here.”

  “Yeah, but you been tellin‘ me that for some time now.” He tu
rned to me. “And this is…”

  “Robin Lyn.”

  “I like to be called just Robin,” I said quickly.

  “Whatever you like, sweet thing. Well, I’m sorry to say the place ain’t exactly in prime condition, Kay. I had the boys here last night playin‘ cards until three in the mornin’. I didn’t get a chance to clean up or fix up the other bedroom yet.”

  He stepped back and we gazed in at the small living room. The coffee table was covered with empty beer cans and a pizza box in which two dried pieces remained. There was a bowl with cigarette butts in it and various articles of clothing scattered over the sofa and the two easy chairs, each with thick arms and what looked like holes burned into them by dropped ashes. Pieces of newspaper were scattered about, and I saw what looked like a racetrack form under the table.

  “What the place needs badly is a woman’s touch,” he said. Before Mother darling could say it, he flipped his forefinger at her like a pistol and added, “Make a good song.”

  She laughed.

  “Still the same old Cory. Well,” she said philosophically. “We didn’t expect it would be a picnic right from the start, now did we, Robin?”

  “Never that,” I said dryly.

  “Why don’t you go back to the car and start getting our things,” she told me. “I’ll help Cory get organized and then maybe he can come out and get the heavier pieces.”

  “That’s a good suggestion,” he said. “It’s been a while since I was organized.”

  I started away.

  “Oh,” he said, looking out the door after me. “I forgot. Welcome to Nashville.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and walked on.

  I wished I could just keep going and never stop.

  4

  Settling into Nowhere

  If ever I felt lost or out of place at Grandpa and Grandma’s in Granville, it was nothing compared to how I felt at Cory Lewis’s apartment. At least at my grandparents’ home, I could find space for myself, escape to my own music, into my own little world. Living in this apartment, I knew what bees must feel like in a hive, I thought. Nothing was mine. Nothing was truly private, and everyone’s conversation was buzzing in everyone’s ears whether he or she wanted it or not.