Jazz Funeral

a nineties kind of song, and anyway, they’d never learn it by tomorrow.
    The real question was what to begin with. Melody wanted to do another of Janis’s songs—“Turtle Blues.” To which Tyrone and Terence and Joel, of all people, objected violently, the band having settled yesterday on “Iko Iko.” But at least three other Boucrees said that was the most overdone song since “Jambalaya,” and that was good for twenty minutes. In the end they agreed on the tried-and-true “Something’s Got a Hold on Me,” with “Turtle Blues” to follow.
    After a couple of hours they took her home for dinner, and she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. It was so different from her house—so many people, so little furniture, the television on with everybody talking. There was a picture of Martin Luther King— she’d never seen that in anyone’s house—and lots of family pictures. And there was a strange altar with colored bottles on it. Joel said his family were members of the Spiritual Church, but when Melody asked what that was, he got vague. His mama had made greens and fried chicken, and fried okra and rice. Patty would have fainted at the fat content.
    They went back and worked five hours, and Melody wasn’t even tired when it was over. It was the most exciting time of her life. They wanted her. They loved her. They changed their whole act for her and loved doing it. Despite the constant arguing, the jabs and digs, the rivalry and meanness (none of which was directed at her), they were taking care of business like a team of Clydesdales. Heavy lifting was getting done.
    She hadn’t worked with pros before, except for Joel, and she couldn’t believe how exhilarating it was. She wished—almost wished—she was going to live to do it again.
    Joel drove her to the Holiday Inn near the River gate, only to find it filled. Melody was glad, in a way. There was something too comfortable about a hotel like that—it would remind her of things she’d put behind her.
    “It’s okay,” she said. “I never checked out of the Oriole. My room’s still there, and anyway, I think I forgot something.”
    “What were you doing there anyway? I thought you were staying with us?”
    “Well, I wanted a shower. Look, could we walk by the river awhile? I’ve got to come down.”
    Joel nodded. “Me too. The Boucrees’ll do it to you. High maintenance, huh?”
    “High voltage.”
    Melody was so far gone on adrenaline she knew she wouldn’t sleep for hours. She wanted a beer, but didn’t dare—wanted to be perfectly tuned for her biggest and last public performance, the pinnacle of her short life, and her second-to-last act. (The last would be finding the right building to take the walk from.)
    “I’m sorry I said that thing about your being white.”
    She was surprised. “That’s okay. You explained it.”
    “Yeah, but that’s only what I thought. I mean, I guess I thought that. It seemed logical. But it wasn’t what I was feeling. I felt mean when I said it, mean, Mel, like I knew deep down I wasn’t doin’ right.”
    She couldn’t think of anything to say.
    “I guess I really had to face how jealous I am of you.”
    “Jealous? But you’ve always been so supportive.”
    He smiled. “Well, I guess it was just a cover-up. When it comes right down to it …”
    She waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to finish. “Yes? When it comes right down to it … ?”
    “I guess I’d kill to have your talent. I mean, I never thought so before, I thought I’d be happy being a doctor, and I guess I will, but maybe …”
    “What?” He was driving her crazy, stopping in the middle.
    “Maybe what we all want is to be a star. I mean at least a star in your own family. When I saw everybody fussin’ over you, arranging everything just for you, making you the big cheese, I thought ‘I wish that was me. I wish my daddy thought as much of me as he does of Melody.’”
    She was embarrassed. “I’m no star.”
    “Mel, listen to me—something’s wrong with you. You’ve got no confidence, and I don’t know why. You are a star. A star’s exactly what you are. You’re not going to want to sing with the Boucrees very long. You’re going to cast us aside like a snake shedding its skin, and you’re going on to the big-time. You’re gonna leave Ti-Belle Thiebaud in the dust, did you know that?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “No, you didn’t. ‘Cause you got no confidence. You gotta wake up,