Adelaide's chilled ears picked up a cheery song as she approached the corner. To her surprise, she found a tall black man, dressed in dark clothes, blowing into his saxophone, the case open at his feet and a gray dog sleeping with him in a pool of streetlight. The man seemed to be waiting for something, perhaps her.
When he saw her, he started into a Christmas song -- she couldn't place it -- and played through as she stood at the edge of the light and listened. It wasn't very cold in New Orleans, but it was Christmas in a week still. A few drops of rain plinked down to the pavement from the dark, pressing sky. Adelaide held her bag of shopping with both hands in front of her legs, letting herself relax, just for a moment. She wore a knee-length red coat with her hair piled inside the collar. Her black skin gleamed in the streetlight's glow.
When he finished, she dug in a pocket for change, but came up empty. She'd given it all to the Salvation Army bucket outside the store. She gave him a sorry smile instead. To her surprise, he waved her down, and began playing White Christmas on his long horn. The desire to get home eased away, and she stood with the tall man and his dog on the quiet corner in its circle of streetlight, feeling rain hit her a few times a minute.
He ended, and removed the sax from his lips, breathing heavily. He was an older man, Adelaide saw, with loose lips and cheeks from playing. Bushy, graying eyebrows smoothed up and down as he checked the sky; he looked down at her. "What's your name, girl?"
"Adelaide," she told him, aware they were more or less alone on the street.
"Nice name." His voice was smooth. "My mother's name. How about one more?" He asked, and she nodded. "Go on, request something?"
"Could you do Silent Night?"
He played the song; Adelaide's favorite. She heard the song and was thought about a childhood of hearing it on the radio in her father's kitchen. Eventually the music stopped, and she was brought back to the now.
When she didn't move on, the man raised one of his heavy brows. "Looks to me something's on your mind," he eased. He bent and gave the sleeping dog a pat. "You shouldn't be standin' here, listening to an old man play; go on home."
She didn't move, and didn't know what to say; he seemed to know what was happening. "You're in the mood for a few sad songs this Christmastime," he said. "Well, what else is a sax-man to do then?" And he started playing Away in a Manger, slow and low and sweet, and all the things Adelaide wanted right then. She put a gloved hand up to wipe away a few errant drops of rain, somehow coming from her eyes. They continued after he finished, and when she was finally dry she looked up to find him and his dog watching her with sorrowful faces.
"If you wanted," he began, "you could lay a trouble into my case." He toed it. "There's plenty of space; been a quiet night. But you gotta talk 'em in. No charge."
Adelaide stayed still, watching him fiddle with something on his instrument. He glanced at her, asking her what she would do with just a lifted eyebrow, and she took a deep breath. He started playing.
"Come away from that window, Adelaide!" Her mother yelled as she pressed her nose against the glass. "You smearin' it up won't make him get here any faster. Help me set the table."
Adelaide stepped off the couch and walked into the lit dining room, turned into a glowing room by lights and candles and gold decorations. Eleven places were at the table. "Pour a glass of wine for your daddy. You know he likes a drink after flyin'." Her mother told her. "When's that friend of yours coming by?"
"I told him at six."
"He nervous? He better be nervous; that's how a boy's supposed to be meeting his girl's parents. If he ain't nervous you better watch out. Your daddy was shakin' and sweatin' when he met my folks, and Nana told me that's a good thing. Means he wants to do right."
"He's nervous. He told me that it took him an hour to figure out what to wear."
"I'm sure he'll look fine," her mother said, bringing a stack of plates out from the kitchen. "He's datin' my daughter, means he's got good taste." She smiled and pinched Adelaide's cheek. "Go on get those silverware out. I gotta check the gumbo; I feel like something's missing. You remember?"
"I remember."
It was just the two of them in the house at the moment, but in a few hours Cherie and her husband and little girl would show up, and Eddie and his girlfriend, and Timothy and Aaron, and Daryl would arrive, and Adelaide's father would get home from Los Angeles after a month away, a week before Christmas to avoid the crowds.
An hour later the phone rang, and Adelaide was closest. When she picked it up she heard her father's deep voice.
"Adelaide, can I speak to your mother?" He asked.
"I sounds like she's dealing with the gumbo, daddy," Adelaide said. "What is it?"
"It looks like I'm not going to be able to make it tonight," he said. "Technical trouble on the plane; we touched down in Arizona. There aren't any flights out until the morning because of a storm. I'm sorry honey, I didn't want to miss it, but there's nothing I can do."
Adelaide cupped the phone's receiver "Momma! Daddy can't make it!"
"What?!" Her mother stomped up and took the phone from her. "Earl!" She listened. "No flights?" Adelaide could hear her father's voice squeezing through the air. "What about driving?" Another pause. "You're gonna miss meeting Adelaide's sweetheart!" Adelaide blushed. "Yeah, she's blushing. Why didn't you call my cell? Ya damn fool, how could you do that? All right, goodbye, we'll miss you." She turned to Adelaide after hanging up the phone. "Left his cell phone in LA and only remembered the home number."
Adelaide looked at the floor. "It'll just be a day, hun," her mother told her. "You know your father can't stand to be away from you for too long. Besides, there're gonna be enough men in here to make up for him."
"Missing a father ain't an easy thing," the saxophone player said. "I been missing my daddy thirty years and I miss him more every moment. Chin up now, it's like your mother said; just a day."
It had gotten a bit colder and the rain had stopped. Adelaide stayed still on the edge of the circle of streetlight. "Hmm," he continued, a deep rumbling sound. "That's not all."
Adelaide waited for him to start playing again, a sorrowful song she didn't recognize, but it had the notes of Christmas and fear in it.
An hour after her father had called, the table was set and waiting. Adelaide's brothers Timothy and Aaron had arrived and were laughing in the den with their feet up, having gone months without seeing each other.
"Adelaide!" Her mother hollered. "Cherie's comin' up the drive! Give her a hand with the packages!"
She ran to the door and flung it open, finding her only sister and closest sibling standing holding a wide-eyed baby girl. "Cherie!"
"How's my baby sister? Could you take her? Louis can't hold all the boxes on his own." She handed her Valerie, only a year old, and went back to the car. Adelaide went farther in the house, away from the chill, holding the baby on her hip.
"Here's my little one!" Her mother said happily when she saw the baby. "Come here now, there we are." She took Valerie from Adelaide and held her in her practiced arms. "Look at you, growing like a weed! Why so grouchy? Let's get you some of grandma's mashed carrots."
"Adelaide!" She heard from the entry, and found Cherie with her husband. "What's wrong? I could tell something'd happened."
"Daddy's stuck in Arizona; his plane had some trouble. He won't be able to make it."
"That's too bad. Oh!" Cherie looked at her husband. "Maybe he can pick up those tests from Mr. Hamilton."
"He says he left his cell in Los Angeles," Adelaide said. "He had to call the house because he couldn't remember momma's number."
"Oh. Well, he'll be checking his messages anyway, I'll call and leave a note." She went into the kitchen to her mother and daughter, leaving Adelaide with Louis.
"How've you been, Adelaide?" He asked, arms full with wrapped presents. "College going?"
"It's going. I'm a tutor for a history class and one of my professors wants me to be his student assistant next year."
"Good, good. And, Cherie said you had a special friend coming to meet everybody?"
Adelaide blushed and smiled. "His name's Daryl. I met him a few months ago, and I guess he'd been working up the courage to ask me out for three weeks before he finally did. We gone out a bunch of times now. He's a lot like daddy."
"Cherie says that about me, too."
Adelaide laughed. "You? No offense, but you and daddy are different men."
"Oh, I know it, and I think she knows it too, but she likes her daddy and she likes me, so she just lumps us together. Even though your daddy and I can't find a thing in common on a plate of food." He bent and put the presents down. "We-" He stopped and listened; Adelaide heard her sister's raised voice cutting through the silence.
"Give him the phone! I said give him the phone! Listen to me, you-"
"Valerie, honey!" Their mother said, sweetness and concern in her voice. Valerie could be heard whining behind them.
"Cherie?" Louis said, running into the kitchen with Adelaide behind. "What happened? Calm down, it's all right."
"Some tramp answered daddy's phone when I tried to leave a message! She says daddy's there but won't give him the phone, says he's indisposed! Louis, take Valerie out of here, I don't want her hearin' my words!"
Louis escaped carrying his daughter into the den, where Aaron and Timothy pounced their questions on him. Cherie held the phone to her ear. "Give him the phone, hussy! I know he's there! Found it on the bus she says; my daddy never rides the bus! He's got a car better than you!"
Their mother took the cell phone away from her in a smooth move, leaving Cherie holding her empty hand up to her ear. "Now listen here. This is Earl's wife, and I-" She changed colors. "Never told you he had a wife, did he?" She asked quietly. "Yes, I think you better."
If Adelaide hadn't known better, she would have assumed her mother was calm. Such assumptions can be deadly.
"Earl. Yes, I see you have. Yes, I suppose you do. Yes, I suppose you better." She hung up and returned the phone to Cherie. She put a hand over her eyes and started crying. Adelaide led her to a dining room chair. Tears of her own turned the brightly-lit room a swimming haze of gold and red. Valerie started whimpering, and Cherie left to tend to her, leaving Adelaide and her mother. Her mother simply sat and sniffed, pressing her hands into her eyes, trying to be strong as she always had.
"We men, we're a sorry bunch," the saxophone player stated. He nodded to himself. "Things ruled by our desires, even in times of...higher thought such as these."
Adelaide finished wiping away a tear. "I can't believe him." She sniffed quietly in the gloom. It had gotten colder still; the man's dog had curled itself into a tight ball as Adelaide had talked. Her bag of purchases rested on the ground, and his music had suffused the night sky with calm. "I never thought he would do such a thing. He's always loved my mother."
"Perhaps he still does," the man said. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised to hear him say such a thing. But that's not the important question right now." A little burst of smokey air gave from his lips as he talked. "The proper question to ask is: can you still love him?"
Adelaide stood as cold air rolled off the lake and wondered how she would answer. "I suppose I do. I'm furious-" she may have said so, but the saxophone player only saw sadness, and he had much practice in seeing it "-but I know the next time I see him I'll just be happy he's home and give him a big hug."
"Just like you might have done when you was little," the saxophone player added. "You know where you feel comfortable; but I advise you to understand that turning your back on either of your parents will change your life for the worse." He shook his head and brought the saxophone nearly up to his lips. "You've told me what's on your mind; how about one more for the road?"
"There's more."
The player looked only mildly surprised "Go on then," he said, and started playing Holly and Ivy.
"How is she?" Timothy asked Adelaide. Their mother sat at the dining room table, drinking steadily from the glass of wine intended for her husband. She'd barely uttered a word since hanging up the phone. The house was quiet. Adelaide glanced at the clock every few minutes.
"She's still working on it. Processing it, in her way." Adelaide checked the gumbo. It didn't seem to be missing anything to her. "I'd tell Aaron and Louis to prepare for an earful about commitment, accountability, and other things like that." She checked the clock again. "Of all the days for Daryl to visit. Oh! I better call and warn him before-hand."
"I'll say," Timothy said. "All we need is a comic relief character and we have ourselves a sitcom. Hey Aaron!" He yelled out the doorway. "You wanna be the comic relief character?"
"Sure!" Aaron yelled back from the den, free of context.
"Daryl?" Adelaide said into her phone. "Are you heading over soon?"
"Uh, yeah, in a few minutes. I-"
"Wait, there's something pretty important I need to tell you." Adelaide took a breath and moved away from the dining room a little more. "I really wish this wasn't your first real introduction to my family, but...my mother, and the rest of us, just found out that my father is cheating on her, or cheated on her, or something. My mother's quite upset. She said that she still wants to meet you, though, just...be prepared for anything. I'm not sure what will happen."
There was a long, unsure silence on the other side of the call. "Thanks for telling me, I guess." Another pause. "Should I still come over?"
"Yeah. My mom was just talking about how a boyfriend meeting his girl's parents is a good thing. I think it's pretty easy to predict she'll look down on you if you don't show up."
There was yet another pause. "All right. I'm gonna go now. I'll be there in a little bit."
Adelaide hung up and went to her mother, smoothing a hand across her shoulders and placing a glass of water in between her and the wine bottle. Her mother took her in with glassy eyes and relaxed a tiny bit, taking a big gulp. Aaron and Timothy tried desperately to keep their spirits up; Cherie and her family talked quietly in another room as Valerie fussed.
About twenty-five minutes after the call, Aaron said there was a car stopping on the street, and Adelaide saw Daryl exit, dressed in a white button-down shirt, gray slacks, and gray vest. He walked up to the door as if he had a hot stone in his stomach and a yard stick down the back of his shirt. Adelaide let him knock before answering the door, and saw his face freeze in its smile as he realized nearly her entire family was arrayed behind her.
"Hi," she said, smiling, twirling slightly on her tiptoes with her hands behind her back.
"Uh, hi. H-hi everybody," Daryl responded, looking past her.
Aaron waved, smiling, Timothy said hi back, Louis said "hello there," and Cherie waved, holding the whimpering Valerie on her hip.
"Uh, Adelaide, could we talk a bit before..." he made a "go inside" motion, and Adelaide stepped out, shutting the door behind her. They stood on the front step together as Adelaide checked in the front window to make sure the rest of her family had left the entryway. After a moment, she hugged him.
"I'm glad you made it, even though I wish we could do this another time. Try to be cheerful, okay? Show that nice smile."
"Adelaide...we need to talk."
The mild chill in the air became constricting cold in a heartbeat. She sat on the step, looking out at the yard. Daryl sat next to her with his arms crossed. They sat there for a minute before Daryl continued.
"I like you, I just..." He took a breath. "I guess for some reason it just doesn't feel right." He shook his head gently. "And I don't want to keep it going just because it's an okay thing. I want to respect you, and your time." He looked at her. "I'm sorry."
"An okay thing?" was all Adelaide said.
"We have a lot of fun together," Daryl said. "And I think you're very beautiful." He looked at his feet. "Maybe I'm just being stupid right now, but..." He sighed, and sniffed. "I don't feel like our relationship will turn into that real special thing, and it'll just...be okay." He stood up. "I wish it wasn't like this."
Adelaide stood up as he took a step away. For a moment he seemed conflicted; his face creased painfully. Then, his shoulders slouched and his hands in his pockets, he walked off the step, got back in his car, and left. Adelaide sat on the step with a hand over her mouth, weeping motionless.
She would have been crying as the saxophone player finished Greensleeves, but she was all dried up. The chill had deepened.
"I'm sure you heard it all from your family," he said after refilling his lungs. "'Other fish in the sea,' 'He doesn't deserve you,' such platitudes that do nothing to heal a broken heart."
She shook her head. "I just wish it was different. I liked him...but I guess it just wasn't possible."
"What can an old man say to make a girl feel better?" He seemed to ask himself. "That you could turn the corner and find another boy, a better one? That won't help. You want to turn back time and change things so he doesn't say those painful words." She nodded as he spoke. "Young lady, I am sixty-four, and I can tell you it will not be the first time you think such things. After a fight with your family, or smashing up your car on the road, or drinking yourself into a stupor to try to forget a day of pain." He brought his sax up to his lips, then let it drop again. "It can't be done, but the pain will subside. Fade away, like a long, cool note from a horn." He brought his sax up again, the looked her in the eye.
"As I said, I am sixty-four. I know misfortunes come in threes. Go on."
He started playing again as Adelaide continued.
Aaron set a glass of red wine in front of her. "Go on, forget 'im. We're all you need, isn't that right Timothy?"
"That's right."
Adelaide looked deep into the red liquid without touching it. She didn't even think she had the energy to reach out and grab the glass.
"Boys, why don't you give us a little bit of time alone," their mother asked. As Timothy and Aaron left the dining room, she took Adelaide's hand. Adelaide had to put her other hand over her eyes. "Let it out, Addie. 'S alright, 's alright." Adelaide pulled her hand out of her mother's grasp and used a napkin to dab her eyes. "Hun, if he saw you right now, he'd be kickin' himself, I know."
Still pressing on her eyes, Adelaide shook her head. "He's probably right," she managed to say. "I just wish he wasn't."
"I know dear, I know." Her mother paused. "There are a few things I wish were different, too." Then, to Adelaide's shock, she laughed. It wasn't a real laugh--the kind her whole body shakes with--but the kind meaning what a harsh humor. "Look at us, a couple of wet hens trying to forget our troubles. Here, hand that over." She took the glass of wine from in front of Adelaide and downed it. "To keep you from doing anything foolish." She winked. "I wouldn't have been good company anyway." She took another big gulp. "Oh, go on," she said, handing the glass back to Adelaide. "Just to take the edge off. You ain't driving nowhere."
Adelaide watched the liquid bounce back and forth in the glass and took a sip, feeling it sear its way down her throat. She grimaced. "There. Feel better?" Her mother asked.
From the other room, they heard Valerie begin to squall. Adelaide's mother looked around, and then rose to tend to her, leaving Adelaide alone in the room, with only her brothers' low talk from the den and Valerie's crying to fill the air. "Adelaide?" Her mother called. "Can you fetch Cherie? Little one's fussy about something and I can't figure it out."
She got up from the table and searched the house, eventually finding her sister in one of the upstairs bedrooms on the phone. Cherie blocked the receiver with her hand. "Valerie's crying about something," Adelaide told her, "and momma can't get her to stop."
"Okay," Cherie said, before going back to the phone. "Sorry Dr. Hamilton, I have to go tend to her. Yes, thank you for getting back to me so quickly." She hung up and found Adelaide still in the room, mouth open. "It's nothing, just an ear ache."
Cherie left the room, but Adelaide had known her sister for over twenty years, and knew when she was lying. She walked down the stairs and went into the living room with Cherie, their mother, and Valerie. Cherie was whispering something to the crying Valerie, bouncing her on a knee. Louis was sitting next to them, pain and worry clouding his features. Adelaide's mother took her shoulders and guided her out of the room; Adelaide could tell she was as knowledgeable, if not more, about what was happening.
"Momma," Timothy called from down the hall. "Eddie and Marilyn are here."
"Thank the Lord they're still together," Adelaide's mother said, just loud enough for her to catch it. She went down the hall, swaying a bit. "Lookit you!" She said, catching sight of her oldest son. "You look just- You look so handsome! And don't you look fine, Marilyn. I never seen you look so pretty. Please, come in, get those shoes off and have yourselves a sit." She came back toward the dining room, and into Adelaide's view. She was sweating. "Everybody else is already here. We're just waiting for you."
She stopped abruptly, level with Adelaide in the hall, and reached out wildly for her, slumping against the wall and going down to one knee. "Momma!" Adelaide yelled. Instead of pushing herself back up, the matriarch slipped farther down, ending up on her butt, sobbing. Adelaide felt her own tears build up again.
"What happened?!" Marilyn said, coming into view. "Are you all right?" She asked the two of them. She and Eddie helped Adelaide's mother stand, and Eddie quickly found himself wrapped in a crushing embrace. "What's going on?"
"Your daddy ain't coming home," their mother squeezed out. "He was spending the night with some strange woman in Los Angeles. And he was lyin' about it and..." She sniffed. "Adelaide's boyfriend decided she wasn't worth it and didn't even come inside to say hello, and...and Valerie's got something wrong with her and Cherie won't tell us what it is!"
Eddie looked at Cherie, at the back of the crowd of people inside the hall. "Is that true?"
Cherie bit down on her lip. "We just found out what it was. It's called an intussusception; something with the intestines."
"Is she gonna be okay?" Timothy asked.
"She's..." There was a pause, during which Cherie and Louis seemed to communicate without speaking, simply by looking at each other. Louis held the fussy Valerie tightly. "She'll need surgery."
The hall was quiet for a few seconds as everyone began to understand this information. Valerie herself started wailing to punctuate the silence, forcing them all to realize they were still surrounded by each other.
"And we don't have any rice for the gumbo!" Adelaide's mother shouted suddenly. "That's what I've been forgetting!" She started wailing, pressing her face into Eddie's shirt.
"Momma, we don't have to have rice; it's good enough without it," Aaron said.
"NO!" She yelled. "We gotta have rice for the gumbo, that's how it is! I ain't gonna let us sit down to eat until I get us rice!"
"I'll get it," Adelaide said. "I could use the walk."
"Let me come with you," Eddie said.
"No...I think I want to be alone for a little bit." She went to the front door and slipped on her shoes, trying not to catch sight of her broken-down mother. "I'll be back in half an hour."
"At least take your coat. It's supposed to be getting colder," Louis told her. She took her knee-length red coat from its hook and stepped outside.
"How long's it been?" The saxophone player asked. Adelaide was holding a bag of uncooked rice in one hand
"Nearly thirty minutes. My house is just a few blocks away. I kind of just wish I could be on my own tonight."
"No, no. Not that. You're lonely, but just because you're lonely doesn't mean you should be alone. It sounds like most of the people in that house need to be around friends tonight; you as well. You get home, bearing that rice, and let them know you still love them all, even with all the things that have come along today. What else can I say to you but go on. Get yourself home. I'll play a song to get you on your way-" he cast his eyes up "-and it looks like it's the perfect time." He smiled at her. "Go on."
Adelaide looked up and smiled--a tired, drained smile just barely breaking through the crust of her sadness. She dropped the rice back in its bag, hugged the saxophone player quickly, and walked home, feeling tiny, slow pieces of snow rest on her shoulders and hearing the sound of a saxophone playing Let it Snow.
When he saw her, he started into a Christmas song -- she couldn't place it -- and played through as she stood at the edge of the light and listened. It wasn't very cold in New Orleans, but it was Christmas in a week still. A few drops of rain plinked down to the pavement from the dark, pressing sky. Adelaide held her bag of shopping with both hands in front of her legs, letting herself relax, just for a moment. She wore a knee-length red coat with her hair piled inside the collar. Her black skin gleamed in the streetlight's glow.
When he finished, she dug in a pocket for change, but came up empty. She'd given it all to the Salvation Army bucket outside the store. She gave him a sorry smile instead. To her surprise, he waved her down, and began playing White Christmas on his long horn. The desire to get home eased away, and she stood with the tall man and his dog on the quiet corner in its circle of streetlight, feeling rain hit her a few times a minute.
He ended, and removed the sax from his lips, breathing heavily. He was an older man, Adelaide saw, with loose lips and cheeks from playing. Bushy, graying eyebrows smoothed up and down as he checked the sky; he looked down at her. "What's your name, girl?"
"Adelaide," she told him, aware they were more or less alone on the street.
"Nice name." His voice was smooth. "My mother's name. How about one more?" He asked, and she nodded. "Go on, request something?"
"Could you do Silent Night?"
He played the song; Adelaide's favorite. She heard the song and was thought about a childhood of hearing it on the radio in her father's kitchen. Eventually the music stopped, and she was brought back to the now.
When she didn't move on, the man raised one of his heavy brows. "Looks to me something's on your mind," he eased. He bent and gave the sleeping dog a pat. "You shouldn't be standin' here, listening to an old man play; go on home."
She didn't move, and didn't know what to say; he seemed to know what was happening. "You're in the mood for a few sad songs this Christmastime," he said. "Well, what else is a sax-man to do then?" And he started playing Away in a Manger, slow and low and sweet, and all the things Adelaide wanted right then. She put a gloved hand up to wipe away a few errant drops of rain, somehow coming from her eyes. They continued after he finished, and when she was finally dry she looked up to find him and his dog watching her with sorrowful faces.
"If you wanted," he began, "you could lay a trouble into my case." He toed it. "There's plenty of space; been a quiet night. But you gotta talk 'em in. No charge."
Adelaide stayed still, watching him fiddle with something on his instrument. He glanced at her, asking her what she would do with just a lifted eyebrow, and she took a deep breath. He started playing.
"Come away from that window, Adelaide!" Her mother yelled as she pressed her nose against the glass. "You smearin' it up won't make him get here any faster. Help me set the table."
Adelaide stepped off the couch and walked into the lit dining room, turned into a glowing room by lights and candles and gold decorations. Eleven places were at the table. "Pour a glass of wine for your daddy. You know he likes a drink after flyin'." Her mother told her. "When's that friend of yours coming by?"
"I told him at six."
"He nervous? He better be nervous; that's how a boy's supposed to be meeting his girl's parents. If he ain't nervous you better watch out. Your daddy was shakin' and sweatin' when he met my folks, and Nana told me that's a good thing. Means he wants to do right."
"He's nervous. He told me that it took him an hour to figure out what to wear."
"I'm sure he'll look fine," her mother said, bringing a stack of plates out from the kitchen. "He's datin' my daughter, means he's got good taste." She smiled and pinched Adelaide's cheek. "Go on get those silverware out. I gotta check the gumbo; I feel like something's missing. You remember?"
"I remember."
It was just the two of them in the house at the moment, but in a few hours Cherie and her husband and little girl would show up, and Eddie and his girlfriend, and Timothy and Aaron, and Daryl would arrive, and Adelaide's father would get home from Los Angeles after a month away, a week before Christmas to avoid the crowds.
An hour later the phone rang, and Adelaide was closest. When she picked it up she heard her father's deep voice.
"Adelaide, can I speak to your mother?" He asked.
"I sounds like she's dealing with the gumbo, daddy," Adelaide said. "What is it?"
"It looks like I'm not going to be able to make it tonight," he said. "Technical trouble on the plane; we touched down in Arizona. There aren't any flights out until the morning because of a storm. I'm sorry honey, I didn't want to miss it, but there's nothing I can do."
Adelaide cupped the phone's receiver "Momma! Daddy can't make it!"
"What?!" Her mother stomped up and took the phone from her. "Earl!" She listened. "No flights?" Adelaide could hear her father's voice squeezing through the air. "What about driving?" Another pause. "You're gonna miss meeting Adelaide's sweetheart!" Adelaide blushed. "Yeah, she's blushing. Why didn't you call my cell? Ya damn fool, how could you do that? All right, goodbye, we'll miss you." She turned to Adelaide after hanging up the phone. "Left his cell phone in LA and only remembered the home number."
Adelaide looked at the floor. "It'll just be a day, hun," her mother told her. "You know your father can't stand to be away from you for too long. Besides, there're gonna be enough men in here to make up for him."
"Missing a father ain't an easy thing," the saxophone player said. "I been missing my daddy thirty years and I miss him more every moment. Chin up now, it's like your mother said; just a day."
It had gotten a bit colder and the rain had stopped. Adelaide stayed still on the edge of the circle of streetlight. "Hmm," he continued, a deep rumbling sound. "That's not all."
Adelaide waited for him to start playing again, a sorrowful song she didn't recognize, but it had the notes of Christmas and fear in it.
An hour after her father had called, the table was set and waiting. Adelaide's brothers Timothy and Aaron had arrived and were laughing in the den with their feet up, having gone months without seeing each other.
"Adelaide!" Her mother hollered. "Cherie's comin' up the drive! Give her a hand with the packages!"
She ran to the door and flung it open, finding her only sister and closest sibling standing holding a wide-eyed baby girl. "Cherie!"
"How's my baby sister? Could you take her? Louis can't hold all the boxes on his own." She handed her Valerie, only a year old, and went back to the car. Adelaide went farther in the house, away from the chill, holding the baby on her hip.
"Here's my little one!" Her mother said happily when she saw the baby. "Come here now, there we are." She took Valerie from Adelaide and held her in her practiced arms. "Look at you, growing like a weed! Why so grouchy? Let's get you some of grandma's mashed carrots."
"Adelaide!" She heard from the entry, and found Cherie with her husband. "What's wrong? I could tell something'd happened."
"Daddy's stuck in Arizona; his plane had some trouble. He won't be able to make it."
"That's too bad. Oh!" Cherie looked at her husband. "Maybe he can pick up those tests from Mr. Hamilton."
"He says he left his cell in Los Angeles," Adelaide said. "He had to call the house because he couldn't remember momma's number."
"Oh. Well, he'll be checking his messages anyway, I'll call and leave a note." She went into the kitchen to her mother and daughter, leaving Adelaide with Louis.
"How've you been, Adelaide?" He asked, arms full with wrapped presents. "College going?"
"It's going. I'm a tutor for a history class and one of my professors wants me to be his student assistant next year."
"Good, good. And, Cherie said you had a special friend coming to meet everybody?"
Adelaide blushed and smiled. "His name's Daryl. I met him a few months ago, and I guess he'd been working up the courage to ask me out for three weeks before he finally did. We gone out a bunch of times now. He's a lot like daddy."
"Cherie says that about me, too."
Adelaide laughed. "You? No offense, but you and daddy are different men."
"Oh, I know it, and I think she knows it too, but she likes her daddy and she likes me, so she just lumps us together. Even though your daddy and I can't find a thing in common on a plate of food." He bent and put the presents down. "We-" He stopped and listened; Adelaide heard her sister's raised voice cutting through the silence.
"Give him the phone! I said give him the phone! Listen to me, you-"
"Valerie, honey!" Their mother said, sweetness and concern in her voice. Valerie could be heard whining behind them.
"Cherie?" Louis said, running into the kitchen with Adelaide behind. "What happened? Calm down, it's all right."
"Some tramp answered daddy's phone when I tried to leave a message! She says daddy's there but won't give him the phone, says he's indisposed! Louis, take Valerie out of here, I don't want her hearin' my words!"
Louis escaped carrying his daughter into the den, where Aaron and Timothy pounced their questions on him. Cherie held the phone to her ear. "Give him the phone, hussy! I know he's there! Found it on the bus she says; my daddy never rides the bus! He's got a car better than you!"
Their mother took the cell phone away from her in a smooth move, leaving Cherie holding her empty hand up to her ear. "Now listen here. This is Earl's wife, and I-" She changed colors. "Never told you he had a wife, did he?" She asked quietly. "Yes, I think you better."
If Adelaide hadn't known better, she would have assumed her mother was calm. Such assumptions can be deadly.
"Earl. Yes, I see you have. Yes, I suppose you do. Yes, I suppose you better." She hung up and returned the phone to Cherie. She put a hand over her eyes and started crying. Adelaide led her to a dining room chair. Tears of her own turned the brightly-lit room a swimming haze of gold and red. Valerie started whimpering, and Cherie left to tend to her, leaving Adelaide and her mother. Her mother simply sat and sniffed, pressing her hands into her eyes, trying to be strong as she always had.
"We men, we're a sorry bunch," the saxophone player stated. He nodded to himself. "Things ruled by our desires, even in times of...higher thought such as these."
Adelaide finished wiping away a tear. "I can't believe him." She sniffed quietly in the gloom. It had gotten colder still; the man's dog had curled itself into a tight ball as Adelaide had talked. Her bag of purchases rested on the ground, and his music had suffused the night sky with calm. "I never thought he would do such a thing. He's always loved my mother."
"Perhaps he still does," the man said. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised to hear him say such a thing. But that's not the important question right now." A little burst of smokey air gave from his lips as he talked. "The proper question to ask is: can you still love him?"
Adelaide stood as cold air rolled off the lake and wondered how she would answer. "I suppose I do. I'm furious-" she may have said so, but the saxophone player only saw sadness, and he had much practice in seeing it "-but I know the next time I see him I'll just be happy he's home and give him a big hug."
"Just like you might have done when you was little," the saxophone player added. "You know where you feel comfortable; but I advise you to understand that turning your back on either of your parents will change your life for the worse." He shook his head and brought the saxophone nearly up to his lips. "You've told me what's on your mind; how about one more for the road?"
"There's more."
The player looked only mildly surprised "Go on then," he said, and started playing Holly and Ivy.
"How is she?" Timothy asked Adelaide. Their mother sat at the dining room table, drinking steadily from the glass of wine intended for her husband. She'd barely uttered a word since hanging up the phone. The house was quiet. Adelaide glanced at the clock every few minutes.
"She's still working on it. Processing it, in her way." Adelaide checked the gumbo. It didn't seem to be missing anything to her. "I'd tell Aaron and Louis to prepare for an earful about commitment, accountability, and other things like that." She checked the clock again. "Of all the days for Daryl to visit. Oh! I better call and warn him before-hand."
"I'll say," Timothy said. "All we need is a comic relief character and we have ourselves a sitcom. Hey Aaron!" He yelled out the doorway. "You wanna be the comic relief character?"
"Sure!" Aaron yelled back from the den, free of context.
"Daryl?" Adelaide said into her phone. "Are you heading over soon?"
"Uh, yeah, in a few minutes. I-"
"Wait, there's something pretty important I need to tell you." Adelaide took a breath and moved away from the dining room a little more. "I really wish this wasn't your first real introduction to my family, but...my mother, and the rest of us, just found out that my father is cheating on her, or cheated on her, or something. My mother's quite upset. She said that she still wants to meet you, though, just...be prepared for anything. I'm not sure what will happen."
There was a long, unsure silence on the other side of the call. "Thanks for telling me, I guess." Another pause. "Should I still come over?"
"Yeah. My mom was just talking about how a boyfriend meeting his girl's parents is a good thing. I think it's pretty easy to predict she'll look down on you if you don't show up."
There was yet another pause. "All right. I'm gonna go now. I'll be there in a little bit."
Adelaide hung up and went to her mother, smoothing a hand across her shoulders and placing a glass of water in between her and the wine bottle. Her mother took her in with glassy eyes and relaxed a tiny bit, taking a big gulp. Aaron and Timothy tried desperately to keep their spirits up; Cherie and her family talked quietly in another room as Valerie fussed.
About twenty-five minutes after the call, Aaron said there was a car stopping on the street, and Adelaide saw Daryl exit, dressed in a white button-down shirt, gray slacks, and gray vest. He walked up to the door as if he had a hot stone in his stomach and a yard stick down the back of his shirt. Adelaide let him knock before answering the door, and saw his face freeze in its smile as he realized nearly her entire family was arrayed behind her.
"Hi," she said, smiling, twirling slightly on her tiptoes with her hands behind her back.
"Uh, hi. H-hi everybody," Daryl responded, looking past her.
Aaron waved, smiling, Timothy said hi back, Louis said "hello there," and Cherie waved, holding the whimpering Valerie on her hip.
"Uh, Adelaide, could we talk a bit before..." he made a "go inside" motion, and Adelaide stepped out, shutting the door behind her. They stood on the front step together as Adelaide checked in the front window to make sure the rest of her family had left the entryway. After a moment, she hugged him.
"I'm glad you made it, even though I wish we could do this another time. Try to be cheerful, okay? Show that nice smile."
"Adelaide...we need to talk."
The mild chill in the air became constricting cold in a heartbeat. She sat on the step, looking out at the yard. Daryl sat next to her with his arms crossed. They sat there for a minute before Daryl continued.
"I like you, I just..." He took a breath. "I guess for some reason it just doesn't feel right." He shook his head gently. "And I don't want to keep it going just because it's an okay thing. I want to respect you, and your time." He looked at her. "I'm sorry."
"An okay thing?" was all Adelaide said.
"We have a lot of fun together," Daryl said. "And I think you're very beautiful." He looked at his feet. "Maybe I'm just being stupid right now, but..." He sighed, and sniffed. "I don't feel like our relationship will turn into that real special thing, and it'll just...be okay." He stood up. "I wish it wasn't like this."
Adelaide stood up as he took a step away. For a moment he seemed conflicted; his face creased painfully. Then, his shoulders slouched and his hands in his pockets, he walked off the step, got back in his car, and left. Adelaide sat on the step with a hand over her mouth, weeping motionless.
She would have been crying as the saxophone player finished Greensleeves, but she was all dried up. The chill had deepened.
"I'm sure you heard it all from your family," he said after refilling his lungs. "'Other fish in the sea,' 'He doesn't deserve you,' such platitudes that do nothing to heal a broken heart."
She shook her head. "I just wish it was different. I liked him...but I guess it just wasn't possible."
"What can an old man say to make a girl feel better?" He seemed to ask himself. "That you could turn the corner and find another boy, a better one? That won't help. You want to turn back time and change things so he doesn't say those painful words." She nodded as he spoke. "Young lady, I am sixty-four, and I can tell you it will not be the first time you think such things. After a fight with your family, or smashing up your car on the road, or drinking yourself into a stupor to try to forget a day of pain." He brought his sax up to his lips, then let it drop again. "It can't be done, but the pain will subside. Fade away, like a long, cool note from a horn." He brought his sax up again, the looked her in the eye.
"As I said, I am sixty-four. I know misfortunes come in threes. Go on."
He started playing again as Adelaide continued.
Aaron set a glass of red wine in front of her. "Go on, forget 'im. We're all you need, isn't that right Timothy?"
"That's right."
Adelaide looked deep into the red liquid without touching it. She didn't even think she had the energy to reach out and grab the glass.
"Boys, why don't you give us a little bit of time alone," their mother asked. As Timothy and Aaron left the dining room, she took Adelaide's hand. Adelaide had to put her other hand over her eyes. "Let it out, Addie. 'S alright, 's alright." Adelaide pulled her hand out of her mother's grasp and used a napkin to dab her eyes. "Hun, if he saw you right now, he'd be kickin' himself, I know."
Still pressing on her eyes, Adelaide shook her head. "He's probably right," she managed to say. "I just wish he wasn't."
"I know dear, I know." Her mother paused. "There are a few things I wish were different, too." Then, to Adelaide's shock, she laughed. It wasn't a real laugh--the kind her whole body shakes with--but the kind meaning what a harsh humor. "Look at us, a couple of wet hens trying to forget our troubles. Here, hand that over." She took the glass of wine from in front of Adelaide and downed it. "To keep you from doing anything foolish." She winked. "I wouldn't have been good company anyway." She took another big gulp. "Oh, go on," she said, handing the glass back to Adelaide. "Just to take the edge off. You ain't driving nowhere."
Adelaide watched the liquid bounce back and forth in the glass and took a sip, feeling it sear its way down her throat. She grimaced. "There. Feel better?" Her mother asked.
From the other room, they heard Valerie begin to squall. Adelaide's mother looked around, and then rose to tend to her, leaving Adelaide alone in the room, with only her brothers' low talk from the den and Valerie's crying to fill the air. "Adelaide?" Her mother called. "Can you fetch Cherie? Little one's fussy about something and I can't figure it out."
She got up from the table and searched the house, eventually finding her sister in one of the upstairs bedrooms on the phone. Cherie blocked the receiver with her hand. "Valerie's crying about something," Adelaide told her, "and momma can't get her to stop."
"Okay," Cherie said, before going back to the phone. "Sorry Dr. Hamilton, I have to go tend to her. Yes, thank you for getting back to me so quickly." She hung up and found Adelaide still in the room, mouth open. "It's nothing, just an ear ache."
Cherie left the room, but Adelaide had known her sister for over twenty years, and knew when she was lying. She walked down the stairs and went into the living room with Cherie, their mother, and Valerie. Cherie was whispering something to the crying Valerie, bouncing her on a knee. Louis was sitting next to them, pain and worry clouding his features. Adelaide's mother took her shoulders and guided her out of the room; Adelaide could tell she was as knowledgeable, if not more, about what was happening.
"Momma," Timothy called from down the hall. "Eddie and Marilyn are here."
"Thank the Lord they're still together," Adelaide's mother said, just loud enough for her to catch it. She went down the hall, swaying a bit. "Lookit you!" She said, catching sight of her oldest son. "You look just- You look so handsome! And don't you look fine, Marilyn. I never seen you look so pretty. Please, come in, get those shoes off and have yourselves a sit." She came back toward the dining room, and into Adelaide's view. She was sweating. "Everybody else is already here. We're just waiting for you."
She stopped abruptly, level with Adelaide in the hall, and reached out wildly for her, slumping against the wall and going down to one knee. "Momma!" Adelaide yelled. Instead of pushing herself back up, the matriarch slipped farther down, ending up on her butt, sobbing. Adelaide felt her own tears build up again.
"What happened?!" Marilyn said, coming into view. "Are you all right?" She asked the two of them. She and Eddie helped Adelaide's mother stand, and Eddie quickly found himself wrapped in a crushing embrace. "What's going on?"
"Your daddy ain't coming home," their mother squeezed out. "He was spending the night with some strange woman in Los Angeles. And he was lyin' about it and..." She sniffed. "Adelaide's boyfriend decided she wasn't worth it and didn't even come inside to say hello, and...and Valerie's got something wrong with her and Cherie won't tell us what it is!"
Eddie looked at Cherie, at the back of the crowd of people inside the hall. "Is that true?"
Cherie bit down on her lip. "We just found out what it was. It's called an intussusception; something with the intestines."
"Is she gonna be okay?" Timothy asked.
"She's..." There was a pause, during which Cherie and Louis seemed to communicate without speaking, simply by looking at each other. Louis held the fussy Valerie tightly. "She'll need surgery."
The hall was quiet for a few seconds as everyone began to understand this information. Valerie herself started wailing to punctuate the silence, forcing them all to realize they were still surrounded by each other.
"And we don't have any rice for the gumbo!" Adelaide's mother shouted suddenly. "That's what I've been forgetting!" She started wailing, pressing her face into Eddie's shirt.
"Momma, we don't have to have rice; it's good enough without it," Aaron said.
"NO!" She yelled. "We gotta have rice for the gumbo, that's how it is! I ain't gonna let us sit down to eat until I get us rice!"
"I'll get it," Adelaide said. "I could use the walk."
"Let me come with you," Eddie said.
"No...I think I want to be alone for a little bit." She went to the front door and slipped on her shoes, trying not to catch sight of her broken-down mother. "I'll be back in half an hour."
"At least take your coat. It's supposed to be getting colder," Louis told her. She took her knee-length red coat from its hook and stepped outside.
"How long's it been?" The saxophone player asked. Adelaide was holding a bag of uncooked rice in one hand
"Nearly thirty minutes. My house is just a few blocks away. I kind of just wish I could be on my own tonight."
"No, no. Not that. You're lonely, but just because you're lonely doesn't mean you should be alone. It sounds like most of the people in that house need to be around friends tonight; you as well. You get home, bearing that rice, and let them know you still love them all, even with all the things that have come along today. What else can I say to you but go on. Get yourself home. I'll play a song to get you on your way-" he cast his eyes up "-and it looks like it's the perfect time." He smiled at her. "Go on."
Adelaide looked up and smiled--a tired, drained smile just barely breaking through the crust of her sadness. She dropped the rice back in its bag, hugged the saxophone player quickly, and walked home, feeling tiny, slow pieces of snow rest on her shoulders and hearing the sound of a saxophone playing Let it Snow.