Jazz Funeral

baby! I don’t believe what I’ve done. I’ve sacrificed my womanhood because I’m afraid of my daddy yelling.
    She hadn’t put it to herself quite that way before. She was ripe, she was ready, she felt as sexual as anybody else, she was pretty damn sure of that, and yet she was a virgin. All because she was intimidated by a geriatric parent. It shamed her to think of it.
    Tonight could be the night. It would be a rite of passage. She’d become a woman in more ways than one.
    The band stopped playing. What were they doing? Gathering up their money, it looked like. Going.
    Suddenly, reality intruded in a big way. Now was the time to talk to them, before they got away. But what was the use? They were going to hate her. He was, especially. What had she been thinking of? Did she imagine she could get anybody she wanted, any strange boy on the street? Was she crazy—what on earth would he want with her? She was just a kid with a biggish nose and fuzzy-looking hair. Anyway, he was probably involved with the bass player, the redhead.
    Okay, she had to do it. Had to or go home, and she had no home. She spoke to the woman because she felt shy and it was easier that way. “I really liked your music.”
    The woman had on a white tank top that made her look washed-out. Her hair was a peachy color, like Sissy Spacek’s, and she wore no makeup. She looked friendly, though, and she had a nice smile. “Thanks.”
    “Are you leaving?”
    The drummer, who was overweight and whom she’d hardly noticed, gave her a look that made her cringe. He’d noticed her. He had little pig eyes that looked hostile. “We think we’ve got enough to go eat. What’s it look like, Chris?”
    The blond had been counting the money. He said, “Eight bucks, give or take.”
    “Shit!”
    “Okay. Let’s crank up again.”
    The drummer player said, “What do you want to hear, Jailbait?”
    Realizing he meant her, Melody felt embarrassed. “My name’s Mel—” She stopped just in time, head spinning at what she’d almost done. “Janis!” she said, shouting to cover her mistake.
    “This one goes out to Janis,” he said, and smiled, his eyes crinkling. He looked almost appealing. “What’ll it be?”
    “How about ‘Breakaway’?”
    “Not without Irma Thomas,” he sneered.
    “I can sing it,” Melody said. She was surprised they even knew it.
    He rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. An audition.”
    The woman said, “Oh, hell. Let’s just do ‘Jambalaya.’”
    Melody thought the blond—Chris, his name was—winked at her. She looked him full in the eyes, tilted her head slightly. “I can sing that too.”
    He shrugged, lifted an eyebrow. He was interested, Melody thought with amazement. Not in the song, but in her. Her palms started up again. “Go to it,” said Chris.
    She turned around to face the audience. No one was there, really. Just a couple of strollers in the square, and a few more down Chartres Street. That made it easy. Melody took a deep breath and started belting: “Jambalaya, crawfish pie, file gumbo …”
    The familiar words bounced off the concrete louder than she’d expected, raised the energy in the street like a parade coming through. Melody felt the shock of it, saw the strollers in the square point and start to walk toward her. She’d only sung in controlled situations before, had no idea how she’d sound out here.
    Someone behind her said, “Holy shit.” One of the guys, she couldn’t tell which one. And that was all she needed.
    After that, it was fun. Her feet started to move and magic happened. The music flowed through her like a gift from another dimension. She was a musician, she was an artist, this was who she was. She knew now, just as she’d known it the first day she’d sung the same song, and danced in front of her mother’s full-length mirror, just fooling around but feeling the magic. She’d been about eight.
    Part of what was happening, the sudden party feel of it all, was the song. She realized it even as a crowd started to gather. People responded to songs they already knew. But, hell, it wasn’t just that, she was singing well. Really well. They were loving her. They were tossing money.
    Melody finished the song, and before the applause had stopped, before she had time to catch her breath, Chris started “Breakaway.” The others joined in, but Melody got there first:
    “I made my reservations
    I’m leavin’ town tomorrow
    I’ll find somebody new and
    There’ll be no more