The Pages We Forget (12 page)

Trevor jumped up and led the audience in clapping.

“Give it up, Detroit!” June stirred the crowd. “Give it up!” She waved her arms to motion for Alex to stand.

Alex stood and waved at the cheering audience.

“As you probably already know, that handsome young man standing
beside Alex is our son, Trevor,” June continued. “And that's my beautiful mother, Mrs. Kathryn Thomas, sitting next to Trevor, and sitting next to Ma is a woman I've known and loved all my life, Mrs. Lucy Kaye Adams.” June smiled at Lucy Kaye. “Mrs. Adams was my first music teacher, but, believe it or not, she's never been to one of my concerts. Can you believe that? My first music teacher has never been to one of my concerts. But, that's water under the bridge because I have her here now. Thanks for coming, Mrs. Adams.”

Lucy Kaye nodded her head and smiled at June and then turned and winked at Trevor, who reached across his grandmother and shook Lucy Kaye's hand.

“Now where was I?” June asked as she walked across the stage. “Okay, as I was saying, my previous work was a collaborative effort between me, Alex and all the other songwriters and producers I've worked with during the past ten years. We recorded some really nice songs together, but this time I wanted you to hear Junie Ann Thomas. With the help of my boy, Torrence. Hold up a second. Torrence stand up.”

Torrence, sitting next to Alex, blushed. Alex nudged him up. He stood and bashfully waved to the cheering crowd.

“People, you are looking at a musical genius.” June blew a kiss at Torrence. “Give it up for him, Detroit! The boy is bad.” The crowd, including Alex and Trevor, came to its feet. “I couldn't have done it without you, Torrence. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

June walked to the center of the stage as the applause died down. The stairway had been replaced with the screened backdrop of a starry night. The orchestra began playing, “If You Were Here.”

“When I'm with you,” June's falsetto hummed, “there's no place I'd rather be. For you fulfill my every need, though you're only,
only in my dream.” She was at her best singing dreamy ballads. “You've made my life so happy, and I'll always want you near. But what would I say, if you were really here?”

This song was one of the album's standouts. It was also Alex's favorite, even though it cut deeper than the others.

“You let me touch the sun, hold the moon in my hands,” she sang.

Alex felt this song should have been about him. It was his love that lifted her and gave her the strength to stand on her own. He was the wind that helped her to soar high enough to touch the sun. To grasp the moon.

“And when I fail to be my best, you always understand.”

He didn't run away. He stayed and made excuse after excuse for her inability to love him and only him, which should have been proof enough that he understood.

“I've never felt this way, because you've never let me down.”

Never,
he thought.

“When you hold me in your arms, you turn my world around.”

Alex wished he could stand up and leave, at least until this song was over, but walking out would be admitting he was still unsure of his place in her life. There was no question about her place in his life. She was the axis that his world revolved around. But her world was one he shared with a man he'd never met. A man who was always present despite the fact that he lived nearly a thousand miles away in an old, but remodeled, gray-colored cracker farmhouse surrounded by a small orange grove in the small North Central Florida town, Micanopy.

June didn't know it. No one knew. But back in April, when he was in Florida for Easter, Alex hired an investigator from Tallahassee to locate Keith. While June was preparing for the concert, Alex lied about a family crisis involving someone named Aunt Patricia,
who lived in Kansas City. But, instead of going to Kansas City, he flew into Jacksonville, Florida and drove the ninety or so miles to Micanopy. As he drove through the small town of about 600 residents, he marveled at how much the town reminded him of Hampton Springs. The quaint village of antique and curio shops, bed and breakfast inns, wooden sidewalks, and moss-covered oaks could easily be mistaken for Hampton Springs, which was about 120 miles northwest of Micanopy.

Alex stopped at Vera's Coffee Shop on the corner of Cholokka Boulevard and Ocala Street. He went inside and asked the counter waitress, a wiry, young redhead, for directions.

“What do you want with Keith?” she asked as she poured Alex a cup of coffee.

“I'm an old friend.”

“Well, why don't you just call him and ask him for directions? There's a phone at the end of the counter.”

“Well, actually, I'm a friend of a friend.”

“So, he doesn't know you?”

“No, he doesn't.”

“Well, what do you want with him?”

“I just want to talk to him.”

“Listen, Mister, I don't know what you want with Keith, but he doesn't really like being bothered. He doesn't come around that much anyway, but ever since June Thomas' new CD came out with his photo on the cover, he's been a real hermit. Last week, two reporters came through trying to find him, but no one would tell them where he lived.”

“Why were they looking for him?”

“They wanted to talk to him about going to the prom with June Thomas.”

“Why?”

“Do you know who June Thomas is?”

“Yes, but I still don't understand why it's such a big deal about who she went to the prom with.”

“Well, first of all, the CD's full of nothing but romantic songs about her first love. That's enough to make anybody curious about who he is. And then she put their prom picture in a shattered picture frame on the cover. What do you think that says? To me, that says she's still in love with him.”

“Who cares?” Alex asked and took a sip of coffee.

“Evidently you do. You came this far to see him.” She paused and walked to the other end of the counter. She poured an elderly gentleman, the only other customer in the cafe, another cup of coffee.

“I heard he was a writer.” Alex inquired, trying to get the waitress to open up a little more.

“He writes,” she answered and walked back to where Alex sat. “I want you to be honest with me. What brought you all this way looking for him if the June Thomas connection isn't that big a deal with you?”

Alex was hesitant about telling the waitress the real reason he was in Micanopy looking for a man that he'd never seen or spoken to, but he'd come a long way to see this man and he wasn't going back until he saw him.

“What's your name?” Alex asked the young lady.

“Angeline,” she answered. “And yours?”

“Alex.”

“Well, Alex, are you going to tell me why you're really here?”

“Keith's an old friend of the woman I love.”

Angeline sat down and stared at Alex. She cocked her head to
the side, trying to measure her next question. “And who's this lucky lady?”

“Her name's June.”

“June? June Thomas? Oh, wait a minute. You're Alex, what's his name?”

“That's me.”

“Now that I know you're June Thomas' boyfriend, I'm really curious about why you're looking for Keith.”

Alex insisted on changing the subject. “How well do you know Keith?”

“I've known him for years. My folks have run this cafe for nearly twenty years, and I can remember him stopping in on occasions when I was a little girl. Everybody in town thought he was kind of strange at first. I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't see too many black folks living off to themselves like that. He still drops in for a bite every now and again. That's about the only time I see him.”

“Has he ever mentioned her to you?”

“I can't say that he has.”

“Are you sure?”

“If he had told me that he used to date June Thomas, I would remember it. That's the reason no one would tell those reporters where he lived. If after all this time he's been living here, and he's never mentioned her to anyone, he must not want to be bothered about it. I don't think he even knows about the CD. I don't know how true it is, but they say he lives out there without a TV or anything. If you really want to know what I think, I think you should get in your car and go on back where you're from. Leave well enough alone, if you get my drift. There's no need to go out there bothering him.”

“I'm not here to bother him. I only want to see him.”

“Why?”

“Listen, Angeline, will you please tell me where I can find him?”

“I've already told you more than I should have.” Her demeanor changed in an instant as she walked in the kitchen. “Leave him alone.”

Now, Alex wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to see Keith. He had lived with and loved June for ten years knowing all the time that her heart belonged to another man. A man he had only seen in pictures. Alex was conflicted because to finally see Keith in the flesh would humanize him and make him more than a haunting memory that he wished June could forget.

Out of nowhere, the answer to the question that Angeline refused to give came from the unlikeliest of sources.

“Go east on Cholokka about a mile and a half until you come to a dirt road called Philco Road,” the man at the other end of the counter stated. “You should see an old wooden sign with Philco Road carved out on it.”

“Thank you,” Alex said. He didn't ask why the man decided to give the directions, nor did he want to waste time trying to find out. He placed a five-dollar bill on the counter and headed to the door. “Thank you so much.”

“Can I ask you a question?” the old man asked as Alex pushed the door open to leave.

“What's that?”

“Does she still love him?”

Alex stared at the old man, who had turned completely around on the stool to face him, and then at Angeline, who walked out of the kitchen and stood in the doorway. They both anxiously awaited his response.

“She hasn't seen him in seven years,” Alex hesitated before answering.

“That's not what I asked you,” the old man said and put on his Florida Gators baseball cap. “I answered your question when you asked for directions, so I feel you owe me an answer.”

“That's right,” Angeline said. “It's not like we know you or June personally.”

“Yes,” Alex lowered his head, “she does.”

The old man walked up to Alex and patted him on the shoulder. “I'm sorry to hear that. But listen, you don't have anything to worry about. Keith's what old-timers like me call a drop-out, somebody who doesn't want nothing or nobody in their world but them. For some reason, Micanopy attracts those types.” He paid for his coffee and walked out the door.

Alex started out the door behind him.

“Good luck!” Angeline yelled.

“Thanks,” he responded.

Alex got into the rented BMW, backed out and drove east along Cholokka Street. He read every road sign along the mile-and-a-half drive to the outskirts of downtown. “You're looking for Philco Road,” he told himself as he slowed down to read the wooden sign nailed to a cypress tree. “Philco Road,” he read. Alex stopped in the intersection of the two roads and stared down the narrow, unpaved, oak-shaded canopy road. The road ended at a fenced-in yard about a hundred yards away.

Alex turned onto Philco Road and drove slowly up the dirt road until it ended at the yard. He pulled up next to the picket fence and stared at the large wooden house with a screened-in porch that spanned the entire width of the house. It was painted the same bland gray as the mid-morning sky and the uneven picket fence.
Three wooden steps led to the screen door swinging back and forth in the gusting wind. His heart raced.

“Why am I nervous?” he asked himself. “I only want to see what he looks like. I don't want to talk to him or anything. Just see him.”

Someone was coming toward the door. Alex saw the front door of the house open and then the silhouette of a man walk out on the porch. He leaned forward to get a better view as the man's hand reached for the screen door. Suddenly, without any conscious thought, Alex put the car in reverse and backed away right before Keith emerged from the house. As he drove away, he convinced himself that it was better to let Keith remain an unseen presence in their lives. He could deal with Keith being a memory but not a man.

Now, he couldn't keep his eyes off of Keith's mother as she watched Trevor. Now, he wished he had stayed another minute or so and saw the father of his son.

Trevor noticed his dad's vacuous stare. “Dad, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Alex forced a smile. He turned his attention to the stage.

“And I'd whisper in your ear,” June sang softly. “I love you. If you were here. If you were here. If you were here.”

The music faded and the light dimmed around June until darkness and silence enveloped the stage. A few scattered whistles pierced the silence.

“If you hear the words I'm saying and listen to my heart as I speak them, you will know that I really do love you,” June spoke from the darkness. “And you will know that I am thankful for all the love and support you've given me through the years. You've been so good to me.”

Alex felt it coming.

Bernard and Leatrice were watching from backstage. “What is she talking about?” Bernard looked at Leatrice, who was solemn and reserved. “That's not in the script.”

“Just listen,” Leatrice calmly answered.

“That's why it's so hard to say this,” June said as a faint, circular spotlight slowly brightened and widened around her. “My mother always told me to follow my heart. And that's what I'm about to do. I'm following my heart.”

Alex felt a lump in his throat. He turned to Kathryn for an explanation. She shrugged her shoulders. Although she and Lucy Kaye had spent the afternoon lounging around the house with June, she had no idea what her daughter was about to say.