I Left My Back Door Open (16 page)

eleven

Several days later, I was on the radio, closing out the set. “I'm going home this evening,” I declared into the microphone. “I said, I'm going back to the South Side, do you hear me? Naw, I'm going all the way back to the West Side. Naw, I'm pulling out all the stops tonight. I'm goin' clear back to Crackville, Alabama. But we ain't praying for Sheetrock, y'all. We praying for good lovin'. And I got me a witness outta Memphis, Tennessee.

“I'm talking 'bout a sista who left her back door open all night long. Hoping her man would come on back home. But instead, jus' 'fo day, here come the blues to shut her do'.” I paused and sucked my bottom lip. “I know some of y'all can relate,” I said, shaking my head. “Not to leaving your back door open, 'cause it's too dangerous for that now. But you can relate to wanting somebody to feel the need in you.” I lowered my voice, causing it to sound husky. “This sista is talking 'bout her nature tonight. She's talkin' 'bout the sho' 'nuff blues. And I'm talking 'bout the Hoo Doo Lady herself, Memphis Minnie McCoy, doing the ‘Moanin' Blues.' Give it up, y'all!”

A light was blinking. I had a caller. It was Reverend Johnson, a regular.

“Dee Dee, I know you're not running a religious program. But, speaking of back doors, I wanna see if I can sneak God in through the back door tonight after all that moanin' that we just heard.”

“Go 'head, Reverend Johnson, I left my back door open.”

“You know, I'm so thankful now that when we were growing up we were so poor, we didn't have nothin' but God.”

“You've got a big prosperous church today, Reverend Johnson.”

“Yeah, but when I started, I only had a handful of folk and half of them were talking about leaving. 'Cause they couldn't deal with me. But I kept right on glorifying God. Dee Dee, tell your listeners to let go and let God.”

“You just told 'em. Now what can I play for you?”

“‘God Bless the Child.'”

“Okay, Lady Day is coming right up.”

“God bless you, Dee Dee. God is using you through me.”

My first thought when I saw Phil waiting for me outside the control room was that something bad had happened.

“Is everything all right?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“Everything's fine,” Phil assured me. He looked professional in his sport coat and slacks. I wondered where he was coming from. “I just came from a focus group at your company,” he said, as if he were reading my mind. “I finally got called.”

“Oh, good, what was the product?” I asked.

“Ice cream,” he said, clearing his throat. “I make most of the ice-cream-buying decisions in our household.”

“Oh, yeah, they're trying to market a new brand to people who don't usually buy gourmet,” I said.

“I figured as much.” Phil balled up his fists and stretched his arms out like he had sat too long. “We chose ice-cream names, logos and designs. We did everything but eat it. I don't think I'll ever look at ice cream again in the same way. Anyway, thanks for hooking me up.”

“Thank you. Marketing is a two-way street, you know.”

“Well, it was an easy fifty bucks. Jason needs shoes,” Phil informed me. “The boy's feet are almost on the ground.”

“So, what made you stop by?” I asked as we walked through the reception area.

“I'm so seldom downtown,” Phil explained. “I said to myself, ‘Dee Dee is live, why not holler at her?' I caught the tail end of your show in the car.”

“Oh, it was a little racy tonight,” I said, feeling a little vulnerable.

“The sho' 'nuff blues always have been.” Phil winked. “I've never even seen the studio before. Ain't nothing funky about this place.”

“No,” I agreed. “It's state of the art.”

“You know, when you think of the blues, you think of a hole in the wall.”

“Well, we do a variety of music here, but the set never changes. Imagination is a wonderful thing,” I added.

“So, you got any big plans tonight?” Phil asked, making eye contact.

“Not really,” I answered, looking away. “Langston is waiting for his snack, but that's about it.”

“Cool. It's a nice night, let's just say we chill for a bit.”

“What did you have in mind?” I asked cautiously. I felt a little awkward because Phil and I didn't hang out alone. Not that there was anything technically wrong with it. I mean, I did consider Phil a friend.

“I just thought we could grab a couple of beers down here, have a little conversation, you know,” Phil answered casually.

“How are Sarita and Jason doing?” I asked as we rode alone in the elevator.

“They're fine,” Phil answered matter-of-factly, but his terse tone made me wonder if things were really okay between him and Sarita.

“Hi, Freddy, this is Phil, a friend of mine,” I said entering the lobby. “Freddy is my ace here at work.” Phil extended his hand and Freddy shook it enthusiastically. I could tell that Freddy liked that I'd referred to him as my ace. But I also figured that he was disappointed that I wouldn't be able to linger tonight, especially since he was about to go on his vacation and we wouldn't see each other for a while. Freddy shot me a look that asked, “Who is this dude? I want the dirt.”

“Freddy and his wife are about to go on a Caribbean cruise,” I said. “Isn't that nice?”

“Yeah, my wife and I are talking about doing that,” Phil said. That was news to me. Sarita hadn't mentioned anything to me about any cruise. She'd gotten seasick on a boat ride on Lake Michigan.

Freddy gave me a can't-believe-you-messing-with-a-married-man look.

I cleared my throat. “Phil is the husband of one of my best friends.”

Now Freddy's eyes seemed to say, “Stabbing a friend in the back makes it worse.”

“Bon voyage,” I said, giving Freddy a quick hug. “Have fun.”

“You take care.”

“Nice meeting you, brotha.”

“Same here,” Freddy said, graciously accepting the brotherly acknowledgment, even though he insisted that he wasn't one of us.

“Tell me if this sounds crazy,” Phil said, as we walked into the warm night air, out onto the pier.

“Okay,” I agreed, wondering what Phil was going to say.

“Let's say we ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggested, pointing to the neon-lighted ride. “I haven't ridden one since I was a kid.”

The Ferris wheel looked so innocent and yet so enticing.

“It doesn't sound crazy …”

“Well then, let's do it!” Phil said, gazing up at the colorful ride.

“But …”

“But what?”

“But, but I don't know if would be a good idea,” I stammered.

“Why not? Look, there's even a full moon,” he pointed out.

“It's a paper moon.” I swallowed. I couldn't help but drop my jaw in appreciation. But now I was even more hesitant about climbing up on the Ferris wheel with somebody else's husband. It was just too damn romantic.

“Dee Dee, I almost never get down here,” Phil whined. “You have the opportunity to ride the Ferris wheel all the time. You work right here.”

“Yeah, but I've never ridden it. I've thought about it, but I've never actually ridden it,” I said, watching the colorful wheel turn slowly against the darkening sky.

“Well then, stop putting it off. Tonight can be the night.”

“Phil, it just seems like you should want to ride the Ferris wheel with Sarita or Jason. You can't go home saying that you did it with me,” I said, regretting my choice of words. “They might feel cheated.”

“I don't have to tell them everything,” Phil said quietly.

“Then it would be like a secret,” I protested. “It would be like we had something to hide. And we don't. We have no reason to keep a secret.”

“Okay, forget it,” Phil said tersely. “Look at the line, anyway. I'll ride the Ferris wheel some other time. Maybe I'll go on it with Jason or even by myself. I doubt that Sarita has a desire to ride a Ferris wheel. I really doubt that very seriously.”

Phil and I sat down at the far end of the pier, facing the dark water. I could've used a beer, but I sipped a ginger ale instead. I wanted to have command of all of my faculties. Alcohol loosens your inhibitions, and I couldn't have that happening.

“I know I give you a hard time, sometimes,” Phil said, smiling shyly in the moonlight as his long legs dangled above the water.

“About what?” I asked.

“You know, about living on the North Side and stuff.”

“Oh, that. I don't take that personally,” I assured him. “I realize that people on the South Side don't have many recreational options and therefore some fall back on signifying,” I teased.

“Dee Dee, that's cold, especially coming from a former Southsider,” Phil said after a swallow of beer. “I called myself trying to declare a truce.”

I sipped my ginger ale. “Okay, I accept your apology for giving me a hard time. It shows growth that you can admit that your dogging me about living on the North Side has been wrong.”

“All kidding aside, there's a part of me that wants something different,” Phil admitted, staring at the dark body of water.

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously. I hoped that Phil wasn't referring to his marriage. “Are you trying to say that you want to move to the North Side?”

Phil took another swallow of beer. “No, it's too hard to find a parking space on the North Side. I've just been contemplating some things lately, that's all.”

“Contemplating? You're sounding a bit avant-garde for your 'hood, wouldn't you say?”

“Dee Dee, you're not on the air anymore. Stop performing and let's get real!”

I was taken aback by Phil's intensity. “Let's get real about what?” I asked defensively. “I thought we were just chillin'.”

“Let's just come out of our boxes for a minute,” Phil said. “Pretend we're on the Internet. There's no North Side or South Side. We're just human beings.”

“Phil what is up with you tonight? Are you going through a midlife crisis?”

“Maybe so. I'm looking at my life in a way I never have before,” he answered quietly. “I can't talk to Sarita about certain things. I don't feel that I can really get that deep with her, you know what I'm saying?”

“She's your wife. You've been married for over twenty years,” I reminded him. I hoped that Phil wasn't trying to dust off that lame-ass, classic, my-wife-just-doesn't-understand-me bullshit.

“So, that doesn't mean I can get deep with her,” Phil protested. “Don't get me wrong, I love Sarita and I would do anything for her. And she would do anything for me.”

“But?”

“But, she and I have a certain
kind
of relationship.”

“What kind is that?”

“Sarita's not the kind of woman I would choose to marry now,” Phil said bluntly.

I gulped. Phil was talking about my friend. They were like family to me. I didn't know what to say. I felt shaky inside.

“I'm not the same person at forty-two that I was at twenty-two or even thirty-two,” Phil continued.

“I'm sure Sarita's not the same person she was back then, either.”

“Sarita's still basically the same,” Phil insisted. “She still has her good points. She still goes out of her way for other people.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I remembered Sarita spending a whole weekend teaching me how to do the splits. If it hadn't been for her, I never would've made the pep squad. I have to give credit where credit is due.

“Sarita is just not the type of woman who wants her man to get weepy on her.”

“I never saw you as the crybaby type.”

“What I'm trying to say is, Sarita can only go so deep.” Phil paused as a warm breeze blew in off the Lake. “For a lot of years, that was okay. But sometimes, after awhile, you want more, you want to go deeper. And there's nowhere deeper to go.” He threw up his hands. “I don't know why I'm telling you all this.”

“Maybe you should be talking to Sarita instead.”

“I just told you, I can't talk to Sarita on this level.”

“Have you tried?”

“When you've been married for over twenty years, you've tried everything. You know what works and what doesn't.”

“What attracted you to each other in the first place?” I asked. “You need to get back in touch with that,” I said, hoping this marriage could be saved.

Phil let his lip curl into a cross between a smile and a smirk. “I was the best slam-dunker on the basketball team and Sarita was head of the pep squad. We both looked cute in our uniforms. That's probably what attracted us to each other in the first place. Neither of us can fit into our uniforms anymore.” He sighed.

“Have you considered couples' counseling?”

“Sarita wouldn't go for that.” Phil frowned. “We don't have any problems, so far as she's concerned. So long as our marriage functions.”

“Maybe that
is
the problem,” I said. “Your marriage just functions. Is that what you're trying to say?” I felt uncomfortable getting so involved in Sarita and Phil's private business. I didn't want him to go back and say, “Dee Dee said this” or “Dee Dee said that.” Then I'd probably end up falling out with both of them.

“You hit it!” Phil exclaimed. “Sometimes, I just wanna come into a different house or see different furniture or eat different food or something. Just something different,” he added glumly.

“Sounds like you think you're in a rut.”

“I know I'm in a rut,” he admitted. “At times, I envy somebody like you. You've got independence. You don't have to consider anybody but yourself.”

“Sometimes,
I
envy people like
you
, who have somebody they can always count on,” I said, as a laughing couple strolled by. I was nobody to envy, I thought sadly. I envied people like
them
. Life was sweet for people in love. If they rode the merry-go-round or the Ferris wheel, they wouldn't be able to tell the difference when they got off. I knew the feeling. I just wondered if I would ever feel it again.