The List (20 page)

T
he next couple of weeks were grueling. I worked nonstop, trying to get as much done as I could on
Destiny's Child
before Rayshawn came back. We put tapings for the
Indie Artist
on hold to conduct some auditions. I contacted our sister church in the inner city after hearing about the awesome youth program they had there. One of the youth pastors, Shara Mercer, was excited to recommend to me more than enough kids to tape two seasons worth of shows. I met with a lot of kids and their parents and started writing scripts.

After three weeks, Rayshawn still hadn't returned to work. Ms. Carter approved everything I had done, and we got
Destiny's Child
to the place where we were ready to start taping. Much as I wanted to go ahead and get some shows taped, Ms. Carter recommended I get back to
Indie Artist
and wait for Rayshawn to come back.

The first taping we rescheduled was Isaiah's. Even though he had crossed my mind a lot over the past weeks, enough time had passed that I thought I was free of my momentary infatuation with him. I was ready to get his show taped and in the can, so he could be completely out of my mind.

I smelled him before I saw him. When I entered the studio, that African musk scent assaulted me, and I felt butterflies dancing in my belly. I tried to tell myself it was nervousness about my first real taping, but when I finally laid eyes on him, I knew it was more than that.

As he sat answering the interview questions, on camera this time, I was drawn in—again. Worse than before. He had a magic about him that was irresistible.

After he finished answering questions, he pulled out his guitar and did one of my favorite songs from his CD.

When he finished singing, he came off the stage to where I was standing. “How'd I do?”

“You did great. It's gonna come out good for the show.” I had to keep myself focused on the professional, to keep from melting under that smile. “Did you think about where we can shoot you writing and singing?”

He nodded. “You guys can come out to the house. There's a lot of light, great windows and a lake in the backyard. We could get some cool shots there.”

I raised an eyebrow. Where did he live? “Okay. I'll have Erika get with you, and we'll set up a shoot. We'll be doing a big show with everybody at Apache for the live performances. She'll get you those details as well.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He lingered there for a few minutes, looking at me. “It's good to see you again. When Erika first called me to reschedule, I thought I was getting cut for crossing the line with you. I wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable while you were interviewing me. I shouldn't have done that, but I guess . . .” his voice trailed off, and he smiled a little. “I guess you had an effect on me. Made me . . . I don't know. Anyway, I wanted to apologize.”

I smiled. “That's sweet. I appreciate it. And we had to reschedule everything to get some things done on another show.”

“Good to know. Anyway, see you around.”

I nodded.

Jason walked up as Isaiah was giving me another one of those intense looks of his. “All set, man. Great interview. Gotta keep it moving with the next artist. I'll walk you out.” Jason extended an arm toward the door to lead Isaiah away.

Isaiah frowned at him for a second, said a quick goodbye to me, and left.

 

When me and the production crew got to Isaiah's house for the taping, he answered the door in a wife-beater and pajama bottoms. I turned to avoid looking at his thick arms and broad, muscular chest.

“Ummm, did you forget we were coming?”

He laughed. “No. You said you wanted it to look natural—how I always write and practice. This is how I do. Pajamas, by the fireplace, looking out at the lake. You want it to be authentic, don't you?”

I winced and nodded. I could feel Erika smirking at my discomfort.

The house was spectacular. Two-story foyer and living room with a huge fireplace and large clear windows with a perfect view of a peaceful lake. It was a great house to be creative in. I would have expected his décor to be more artsy and eclectic than traditional modern, but it was classy. His music career must have been paying off more than I imagined. It was cool how he maintained that starving artist persona. He'd certainly fooled me.

When we started taping, Isaiah was a pleasure to watch. Not only because of his great body—although that was certainly nice on the eye. He was a natural in front of the camera. He made it look like we weren't there. Lost in his own world of music. We got shots of him sitting Indian style, with his guitar in front of the fireplace, singing while looking out the window at the lake. Shots of him lying on his stomach in front of the fireplace with a pencil and paper, writing lyrics.

I put on my director's hat—seeing how my budget didn't allow for one—and orchestrated a few more scenes and we were done. “Okay, Isaiah. I think we have everything we need. You did great.”

He gently laid his guitar on the couch and pulled on a T-shirt. He walked us all to the door. The cameraman lingered behind, packing his lights and other stuff.

I held out a hand to Isaiah. “Thanks so much.”

He held my hand a little longer than necessary for a handshake. I wasn't quick to let his go either.

I heard Erika's voice behind me. “I'll wait for you in the car.”

It was enough to snap me back into reality. I didn't need to be behaving so unprofessionally. I let go of his hand. “See you at Apache on the thirteenth?”

He nodded. “Yeah. See you then.”

I followed Erika to the car, feeling his eyes on me the whole way. It was a long walk too, because the front yard was huge—full of beautiful trees and elaborate landscaping. I had to wonder how Isaiah made so much money as an independent artist.

 

After a long evening of taping artists' performances at Apache, I was exhausted. Tired in a happy way, though. Everyone had done great. We had a wonderful enthusiastic crowd that gave the artists a lot of energy. There were only a few minor glitches with the sound system and one of the cameras, but for the most part, everything went smoothly.

I stayed around until everything was packed up and my whole crew was gone. I sat talking to the manager for a while, but my body felt like a truck had run over it. I knew it was time to lay it down.

As I headed toward the door, I heard a voice behind me. “G'night, Michelle.”

It was Isaiah. I tried not to look too happy to see him.

“I thought you were long gone with everyone else.” He shook his head. He didn't seem to know what to say.

I didn't either. So we stood there for a few seconds, looking at each other. We both started to speak at the same time. He gestured for me to go first.

“I . . . I really enjoyed working with you. Thanks so much for doing the show.”

“Thanks for the opportunity. I appreciate it.”

We both nodded.

I turned to leave, and he stepped closer to me. “Can I walk you to your car? It's almost two in the morning.”

I nodded, and we headed out the door together.

When we were halfway to the parking lot, he said, “So, maybe next season, after the show has been long forgotten, we can hang out?”

I took a deep breath and shrugged my shoulders.

“I guess that's better than a no. Gives a brother something to hope for.”

I smiled.

“Like I said, this might be your divine hook-up. God answering your prayer. How do you know He didn't send me?”

Thankfully, we arrived at my car. I put my key in the lock and opened the door. I turned to Isaiah and gave one last smile. “I don't.” I got into my car and started it up. “You take care, Isaiah. I wish you the best.”

He stepped aside and let me drive off.

T
oo early the next morning, the phone rang. I didn't know who could be calling me at daybreak on a Saturday. I picked up the phone and recognized my mom's number on the caller ID. A feeling of shame swept over me as I realized I didn't want to answer. I had been avoiding her calls lately. Very unlike me. Me and my mother were the absolute best of friends. She was the coolest mother in the world.

Except that lately, her conversation always ended up at when I was gonna get married. How I needed to stop focusing on my career so much and think about a family. I couldn't make her understand that focusing on my career wasn't keeping me from being married. It was keeping me from being depressed that I wasn't married. It filled in the gaps, passed the time, and made me feel like I was, at least, accomplishing
something
with my life.

“Hey, Mom. What's up?” I hoped she would hear the sleepiness in my voice and feel bad and offer to call back later.

“Hey, baby girl. I miss you. I haven't heard from you lately. You sound like you were sleep. Hot date last night?”

There was too much hope in her voice.

“No date. Just a television shoot that ended late.”

“Working too hard again, huh? I guess that's why there was no hot date. Say hi to your sisters.”

“Hey, 'Chelle.”

“What's up, Michelle.”

The voices of my baby sister, Sheree, and my older sister, Valerie, made me sit up in the bed. This had to be serious. “Hey, guys. To what do I owe the honor of this conference call?”

“Great news, 'Chelle. We wanted to share it all together. We wish you were here with the rest of the family, but I guess a conference call will have to do. I still don't know why you wanted to move all the way over there—”

“Mom, don't start. I know Michelle isn't in the mood for that speech early on a Saturday morning.”

Good old Valerie. Always taking up for me. My mom, dad, three sisters, and three brothers all still lived in Houston. All within a thirty-mile radius of one another. I was the one that had to be different and move out here to Atlanta.

“What's the news?” A weird tickly feeling rose up in my belly.

“I'm getting married!” Sheree blurted out.

“Oh, wow! Babydoll, congratulations. I can't believe it. When?”

I tried not to feel sick as my baby sister—twenty-six years old—chattered on and on about her proposal from her long-time boyfriend. What kind of sister was I? I was supposed to be happy for her.
God, deliver me from the spirit of jealousy. Or, at the very least, help me fake it through the rest of this conversation.

“And we're gonna get married in July, the weekend of the family reunion. That way, everybody will already be in town.”

Thanks, God. Really. Thanks.
I hadn't planned on going to the family reunion. I was an emotional wreck the year before. Everybody, and I mean
everybody
in my family, was married with children. And my family was huge. Not only were all my sibs, except Sheree, married with at least two kids apiece—all my cousins were married with children. Cousins much younger than me were bringing their husbands and young kids. Younger cousins I used to babysit. Whose diapers I had changed.

And my old uncles had no sensitivity whatsoever. I cringed remembering the conversation at the family barbeque in my grandmother's huge backyard out in the suburbs of Houston.

 

“Well now, gal, whatcha waitin' on? Seems to me like you oughta be tryin' to find some nice fella to settle down and start a family with. Had a perfectly good one, but you got rid of him. Although I guess he wasn't perfectly good if he didn't give you no babies.” Uncle Charlie chewed on his signature toothpick. Ironic, seeing he had very few teeth left.

“Charlie, you may not can blame that fella for that. Mighta been her. She probably told him she wanted to wait.” Uncle Billy sat across from me at the large picnic table. His wide frame took up almost the whole bench.

Uncle Charlie waved away mosquitoes in the hot July air. “I know it don't make no sense for her to be gettin' up in years and she ain't got no man and no chilluns. Ain't natural. What you gon' do, gal? You gon' find you a man soon and have some babies?”

Uncle Billy used a washrag to wipe off the ever-present sweat beads on his forehead. “Leave that girl alone, Charlie. Maybe she jus' different from the rest of the family.”

“Different?” Uncle Charlie's mouth fell open, revealing too much of his toothless gums. “What you mean? Funny? You ain't funny, is you, girl? Is that why you moved to Atlanta?”

“Charlie, I told you to leave that girl alone. If she is funny, she ain't gon' tell you. Leave her be.” Uncle Billy leaned in and peered at me over the top of his glasses. “Is you funny? You can tell me.” He whispered like it would be our little secret. Cut his eyes at Uncle Charlie to let me know I didn't need to worry about him.

“No, sir, Uncle Billy. I ain't funny.” I tried to work up a real smile. What I really wanted to do was cuss them both out and tell them to mind their business.

I looked down the table at my grandmother. She didn't play that. Adults were to be respected and revered. No matter how ignorant they were or what came out their mouths. “I'm sure when God sends the right man, I'll settle down, get married and have some kids.”

I looked around for my father. He would save me from the evil uncles. My eyes finally rested on him at a table across the yard with a card slapped on his forehead, talking trash at a spades game.

I excused myself, ran to the house, and up to my grandmother's bedroom. After crying my eyes out on her huge antique bed for a while, I looked around the room at all her family pictures from over the years. My family prided itself on its rich heritage. We could trace ourselves back to slavery.

The highlight of the family reunion would come later when we would all gather around my grandmother for her to tell stories about where we came from. About where our great-great-great grandfather came from in Africa. She would look at each of us, from every generation and stress to us the importance of keeping the family going. That long after she was gone, we should continue to gather every year. To love and support one another. To tell our children and children's children about the importance of love and family.

I would sit close to my daddy while the rest of my brothers and sisters were spread out across the yard with their children sitting close to them. Making sure they took in the stories. Took in my grandmother and her strength.

 

“So, 'Chelle, you'll do it?” Sheree's breathless excitement pulled me back into the conversation.

“Huh?” Oh, dear. What did she just ask me to do?
Please, God, not another bridesmaid's dress . . .

“Be in the wedding? Have you heard a word I've said?”

“Of course, babydoll. You shouldn't even have to ask that. You know I'll be right there.” My heart was bleeding. I had to get off the phone. “I am so happy for you, babydoll. I'm glad you guys called me. Tomorrow, I'll call and we'll talk more about it and make plans and all. Right now, I have a shoot to get ready—”

“Wait,” my mother interrupted me. “Don't you want to hear the rest of the news?”

“There's more?” I tried to sound as excited as possible. I looked up at the ceiling to let God know I couldn't take one more thing.

“I'm pregnant.” This time it was Valerie's turn to bubble over with excitement.

“Oh, my goodness. This is too much.” Really. It was too much. “Wow. When did you find out? How far along are you?”

I tried to remember all the questions I was supposed to ask. Luckily, Valerie was so excited that I didn't have to ask much more. She babbled on about morning sickness and being about seven weeks and praying that this one was a girl so she could close up shop. She and her husband already had three boys, and he seemed determined to keep trying until he had a daughter.

“That is so wonderful, Val. I'm sure it's gonna be a girl this time. If not, just dress him in pink and ponytails and tell Terrence you ain't having no more.”

Everybody laughed at my joke long enough to give me a chance to think of a few more loving sisterly things to say to the both of them before I made another attempt to get off the phone. Mom had been quiet, but I knew all this news was the perfect opportunity for her to launch into me.

“Well, now, Michelle. It's your turn next, huh? Pretty soon, we'll be hearing from you about getting married and then not long after that, you'll be telling us about a baby. Right?”

My mother was almost begging. You would think with all the sons- and daughters-in-law and grandchildren she had, she would be satisfied and leave me alone. I knew it was just her wanting the best for me. That's what I told myself to keep from getting upset whenever this conversation came up.

“Hopefully, Mom. Long as you keep praying for me, right?”

“Oh, I'm praying, but you gotta do your part. Get out of the house. Stop working so much. Go out to where you can meet people. And don't be so picky.”

“Momma, please.”

I didn't even have to say it. Both Valerie and Sheree came to my rescue.

“Leave her alone. In God's time. Okay?”

Sheree was considered an old maid for waiting until she was twenty-six to get married. I was sure she had started to endure some of the same badgering I got all the time.

“I'm sorry, baby. I want the best for you. Babydoll is right. In God's time. Well, I guess we better let you get to your shoot. We'll talk to you more tomorrow? I know you been busy, but we miss you so much.”

“Yeah, Momma. I'll call tomorrow.”

After saying goodbye, I sat on the side of the bed, staring at the wall for a while. Babydoll was getting married. Valerie was pregnant with her fourth child. There was no escaping the family reunion this year. And the crazy uncles.

As seemed to be my custom lately, I burst into tears and rolled onto the floor next to my bed. I wasn't even hormonal. What kind of sister was I? To cry at such awesome news. To be jealous and wish it was me.

I pulled myself up and went over to my closet. After plowing through stacks of dirty laundry, I got to the back and pulled out my hope chest. Once inside, I retrieved the family album Aunt Ladybird had provided for every member of the family. It was filled with pictures of my grandmother, all the aunts and uncles, all their children and everyone's children's children. I turned to the back and pulled out the family tree her daughter, Bunny, had tirelessly worked on.

I looked at each family. A branch between every husband and wife and then a branch downward for their children. I looked at my parents' names joined together, with me and my brothers' and sisters' names branching out of it. I looked at each of my brothers and sisters with their branches joining them to their spouse and branching downward to their children. Me and Sheree's names were the only ones with no branches. And, come July, Sheree would have her own branch.

I would be the last one. Branchless . . .

I got up off the floor and marched, with determination, into my office. I plundered through a large stack of papers, unopened mail, and file folders from work on my desk until I found it.

Isaiah's press kit. I turned it over in my hands a couple of times. Should I do it? One thought of the crazy uncles taking potshots at me during Sheree's wedding was all I needed. That and the possibility of remaining forever branchless.

I took out my cell phone and dialed his number. He sounded sleepy when he answered the phone. I didn't care. I had to do it while I had the nerve.

“Isaiah, it's Michelle. I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight.”