Solo






Parting


Happy Birthday, Blade, Joy says, handing me a red-black-and-gold hand-stitched bangle with my name on it.

Thank you, Joy. This is so cool! One of your many talents?

I suppose.

I will never take it off.

Remember me by it.

It’s not like I’m leaving forever. I’ve got to come back this way.

I know. I guess we’re just used to you. Are you packed?

Just a backpack.

You will not admit it, but you’re happy he’s here, she says.

I’m happy,

when he’s sober and clean

when he’s kind and generous

with the children when he’s a father and puts us before the addiction

of fame

when he shreds the guitar

like a madman and gives everything to the music.

When he belts out songs

in my mother’s honor and shows me

that quitting this life is not an option.

Yeah, that’s when I’m happy, I reply.





Words


Most of the children here speak better English than us,

and Sia really seems to be interested in learning as many words as she can consume.

I teach her

brave

and smart, then hug her goodbye

without saying it.

Rutherford teaches her reverb and rock and Fender.

She teaches us to count to ten in native tongue.

But what does your name mean, Sia? Rutherford asks, as she runs off with one of his bawdy gold chains.

And he chases her wildly, both of them

going nowhere in particular, and everywhere

at the same time.

What does her name mean, Joy?

It means “to help.”





They return


moments later with Birdie

cradling Rutherford in one arm

and holding Sia in the other.

He’s sweating, which is not unusual given that it’s 95 degrees,

but he’s shaking too, which is unusual given that it’s 95 degrees.

Let’s get him inside the bus, Birdie says.

Why? What’s happening?





Withdrawal


I’ve seen this before.

Many times.

Once the alcohol

and drugs

start leaving

the system,

the sweats

the sleeplessness

and dry heaves

kick in.

Rutherford craves,

rocks

back and forth,

fighting off

a demon

that lives

in his body

that whispers

temptation

in his mind.





Conversation


I’ve done this a million times. He just has to want it. But I’m working with him, Birdie says.

. . . .

He called me five days ago. He was really in a bad way.

. . . .

You’re not saying much.

Not much to say, is there . . . Looks like I’m still stuck here.





Detox


Only after Sia

falls asleep

is Joy able

to take her

off the bus

so Rutherford

can rest.

How long do you think it will be, Birdie?

He’ll hallucinate, he’ll vomit, he’ll have fitful sleep, if any at all. This could take several days. Hard to tell. He’s been through this a lot, I bet.

That’s an understatement.

I’ll make sure it sticks.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

We got his back, says Uncle Stevie.

How about we turn off the camera?

He told me to keep filming, no matter what.

Yeah, but, this is different— He’s right, Birdie says. Rutherford told him, keep shooting, or he won’t get paid.

Fine.

I’m catching some zzz’s, Uncle Stevie says, climbing into the bunk.

I watch Rutherford toss and turn,

restless as rain and wonder

if I’ll

ever get out of this squall that owns my life and if I’ll ever get to her.





Cursed


Each time

I get closer

to meeting

the woman who

brought me

into this world,

something stops me

dead in my tracks.

“Pick up a guitar

and you’ll be cursed,”

is the old joke

told in my house.

But, there’s nothing funny

about this truth.

I am.





I pluck


a few strings

at a time,

like a beginner

beginning again,

strumming

a few chords

here and there,

my fingers crawling

up and down

my new guitar

like I’m trying

to remember.





Diving Back In


After warming up a few long minutes, the pain creeps in.

It settles inside like an old friend, but so does the glory of knowing I’m good at something

that can’t die on me if I don’t let it.

So I dive in,

really dive into the strings like a skydiver freefalling into the music,

and it kinda feels like a new life could be beginning.

But I’m not sure.





A day later


he’s finally

asleep.

My fingers

start to cramp,

but it feels

like the right

kind of pain.

I’ve missed this.

Feeling

every fiber

in my body

vibrate

to the rhythm.

I miss this.

Freedom.





Over the next


three days Birdie comforts and feeds Rutherford.

I haven’t been this close to him

this long since . . .

never.

Storm calls and speaks to him,

which makes him smile through watery eyes in between the delirium tremens.

Joy checks on us periodically, brings us stews and soups and joy.

She gives me a message that sounds nice coming from her lips, even though it’s Sia’s words: Ma wifo. It means “I miss you.”





On the fourth day


I wake

to the laughter of Rutherford, Sia, and a dozen kids standing over me.

Sia holds

a mirror

to my face, which is painted like Gene Simmons from KISS.

Rutherford shouts out, Rock and Roll All Nite, BABY!

Very funny. Very funny, I shout, chasing them off the bus, relieved that things are back to normal.

Whatever normal is.





The Duo


Before Rutherford arrived

it was all about me.

Now Sia and Rutherford

are a band.

They play together.

They eat together.

They laugh together.

They crash together.

They prank together.

They are happy together.





Texts from Storm


5:19 am

Dad sounds better.

Please take care of him, Blade. He’s our only

5:19 am

father. Well, mine at

least. Just kidding! Seriously, though, when are you going 5:20 am

to meet your mother? Can you hurry up and do that, so y’all can come home?

5:20 am

I miss you two. Mick

and Jagger miss you

too. Chapel called me

5:20 am

yesterday. I told her

you met someone new.

A model from Africa. She 5:21 am

was JEALOUS! LOL!

Hey, you like the new guitar?

I helped him find it.

5:21 am

And, can you please tell me about Ghana, besides it’s beautiful and you’re 5:22 am in love. Like, try using an adjective or two.

And, send pics. Hugs!





Texts to Storm


1:21 pm

He’s doing better.

Back to his old antics.

Birdie definitely has him 1:21 pm

on a leash. She’s like a hawk. Uncle Stevie pretty much sleeps 1:21 pm

all the time. Stomach issues. He can’t handle the food. Haven’t seen 1:22 pm

the camera guy very much, which is really good or really bad. Not sure.

1:22 pm

She’s not a model, stupid.

But, we’re just friends.

Don’t mention C@#!? again.

1:22 pm

You want me to

describe Ghana, huh?

Fine, how’s this . . .





Konko

Kwame Alexander, Mary Rand Hess's books