The Pages We Forget (16 page)

“And you shouldn't,” Liz replied, “especially not to strangers.”

June was aware that Trevor was angry with her for making him go on a trip to a place he'd never heard of while his grandmother
was in Grosse Pointe. And on top of that, she wouldn't let him say good-bye to his dad, his grandmother or Lucy Kaye. She might not have thought her plan to its fruition, compensating for the x-factor in the form of her son's irritation at the sudden change of schedule without an explanation.

“Excuse me, Miss Thomas.” The ticket agent tried to find an opportunity to interrupt and get June's attention. “To avoid a five-hour layover in Atlanta, you may want to fly into Jacksonville instead of Gainesville. Gainesville is only an hour's drive from Jacksonville. But if you fly directly into Gainesville from Atlanta, you're going to have that long layover.”

“I'll fly into Jacksonville.”

“Are you from Florida?” the woman behind her asked.

“I grew up in North Florida.”

“Where?”

“A small town called Hampton Springs.”

“Is that near Tallahassee?”

“Yes, it's about forty miles from Tallahassee.”

“Here are your tickets.” The young man handed June two tickets. “Your flight departs at five forty-five. You'll be boarding at Gate A-12. Thank you for flying American Airlines.”

“Thank you for all your help,” June told the young man. She turned to the woman behind her and said, “It's been nice talking to you.”

“Same here,” she replied. “Have a safe trip.”

June smiled and started toward Gate A-12, with Trevor lagging behind her. She was glad it was early and the few passengers arriving and departing were stumbling about, half-asleep. If it was the middle of the day, her presence after last night's concert would cause pure chaos at the airport. That's what happened when she
came home following the attempt on her life in St. Louis seven years ago. A legion of local fans turned out at the airport to show their love and support for her. Things turned nasty when the paparazzi showed up. Her fans blamed the shooting on the paparazzi's exploitive fascination with her personal life. “June Suffering from Anorexia,” “Man Leaves Wife and Children for June,” and “June Cancels Shows, Too Wasted To Go On,” were all front-page headlines in the tabloids when she burst on the scene. There was nothing to substantiate any of the stories because June and Alex had built a fortress around their personal lives in the beginning.

However, the obsessed fan who tried to shoot her in St. Louis, a 32-year-old mechanic from a small town in Indiana, believed what he read in the tabloids. He saw the beautiful woman he loved and whose pictures were plastered all over his bedroom wall, turning into a tramp. When he was captured he said he tried to kill her because she was living the life of a sinner. He said the industry's trappings had taken control of her life, and she needed to be stopped before it was too late. He almost succeeded with a 38-caliber revolver. A 29-year-old security guard died from a shot to the chest after he ran onstage and tried to shield June.

After the St. Louis shooting, Bernard showed her how to use the paparazzi to her advantage. She soon became a media darling, which helped boost her celebrity.

Trevor sat next to June and glanced at her. He turned sideways in the chair, with his back to her, and stared out at the runway. He wanted to pout. But what was the point? She was still daydreaming and wouldn't notice.

Am I doing the right thing? Maybe Leatrice was right. Is finding him going to cure me? It won't. But I can't live any longer without knowing. I have to know. And after I know, I can take care of the cancer. If he knew
about it beforehand, he might feel sorry for me. Then I may never know the real truth.

“American Airlines Flight 842 to Atlanta is now boarding at Gate A-12,” a voice announced over the airport intercom. It was time to go, but June didn't gather her things and hurry toward the plane. Instead, she sat staring at the other passengers as they boarded.

“Are we going or not?” Trevor asked.

Trevor's saying something.

“Ma! Are we going or not?”

“Yes,” she answered. “We better get going.”

Trevor wanted the seat by the window. June didn't mind, even though she knew he asked for the window seat to be spiteful. She always sat next to the window and he was aware of it. But since she'd forced him to go on this trip, she felt the least she could do was go along with his rebellious antics.

“Buckle up,” she told him.

“I already did,” he said and looked out the window.

“Sun's about to come up,” June said.

“So?”

“It should be a beautiful sunrise.”

“And…?”

Trevor did not share his mother's enthusiasm for sunrises. In fact, he hated mornings. He never understood why every morning she went out to the dock and waited for the sun to rise. She tried to explain to him why she did it, but her explanation made no sense.

“You get to watch the world wake up,” she told him on one of the mornings she dragged him out of bed to join her.

“And?”

“If you listen closely you can hear God.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Well, I've been doing this since I was a little girl,” she continued.

“Why?”

“I just told you why,” she answered. “To watch the world wake up and to listen to God.”

“I don't wanna watch the world wake up. I wanna go back to sleep,” he said and started back toward the house.

“No,” she yelled in a whispered voice to keep from disturbing the silence. “Look at this.”

“I don't see anything.”

“Then listen! Listen closely, and I swear you'll be able to hear God speak. Don't you want to hear God?”

“Not really,” he said and continued toward the house.

She forced Trevor to get up with her the next three mornings, but he never saw or heard the phenomenon that made her crave sunrises.

“Miss Thomas.” One of the flight attendants started up a conversation after the plane was in flight. “I was at your concert last night and I just want to say good luck in whatever it is you choose to do next.”

“Thank you.”

“If you or Trevor need anything, let me know. My name's Tammy.”

“We will.”

Trevor did his best to ignore June. Every time she looked his way, he looked the other way. When she tried to say something to him, he sang to himself.

“Trevor.”

“How many ways can a man get rich?” he rapped a verse of the hit song by Southern Spice. “How many ways can you lay in a ditch? I wanna know.”

“Trevor, I wish you wouldn't,” June shook her head and said.

“How many ways can I rock your world?” he rapped. “How many ways?”

“Trevor!”

He had succeeded in making her angry.

“When I'm talking, Trevor, you better listen.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so!”

Trevor was satisfied now that she was feeling like he was feeling. He pushed her and she fell for it.

“I don't know what's gotten into you…” A sharp pain ripped through her abdomen. “Aaagh,” she moaned and grabbed her stomach.

Trevor pretended not to notice by staring out the window.

“Aaagghh.”

He turned to her slowly, now noticing her screams were genuine. Her face was clenched tight. “Ma?”

“Trevor, there's a bottle of pills in my bag. Get them for me.”

Trevor unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his mother's pocketbook. “Hold on, Ma.” He searched the bag, which June had filled with the few things she needed for the trip: a purse for the $793 she scraped up before leaving, the bottle of pain medicine Dr. Wylie prescribed, and the letters from Keith. “Is this it?”

“Yes.” She bent over in agony. “Open it and give me two.” The pain was becoming unbearable.

“Are you all right, Miss Thomas?” Tammy asked.

“She needs some water,” Trevor answered.

Tammy's haste in getting the water made several of the other passengers seated near June and Trevor stand to see what was going on.

“Is she all right?” asked a middle-aged man with silver hair seated behind Trevor.

“Yes,” Trevor answered. He opened the bottle and poured two of the pills in his hand. “She just forgot to take her medicine.” He handed the pills to June.

“Something's going on up there,” another passenger in the rear of the plane yelled, alarming the others in that section.

“It's June Thomas! She's sick,” a passenger seated closer to June yelled back.

“Will everyone please return to your seats,” one of the flight attendants announced over the intercom. “I need for everyone to return to their seats.”

The passengers settled back into their seats but that didn't stop them from hanging over the sides and staring down the aisle to see the comings and goings of the flight attendants. They began to relay second-by-second accounts to the passengers who couldn't see.

“Here you are,” Tammy said and handed Trevor a cup of water.

June put the pills in her mouth and Trevor held the cup while she sipped the water.

“Thank you,” she told Tammy and closed her eyes. She frowned as another pain tore through her abdomen.

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” Tammy asked.

“I'll be fine in a minute,” she answered. “It's something I ate.”

Trevor didn't buy her something-I-ate explanation this time.

“Ma, I think we should go back home since you're sick,” he told June. “We can go wherever it is another day.”

“We have to go today.”

“But you're sick.”

“I'm not sick, Trevor,” she said. Her eyes misted over. “I'm not.”

Trevor sensed that something was seriously wrong, and promise or no promise he was calling his dad and his grandmother as soon as the plane landed. Until then, he had to find a way to help her.

“Look, Ma,” he exclaimed. “Look out the window at the sunrise.” Trevor knew that if anything could help her deal with the pain, it was watching the sun's ascension in the distant horizon.

June opened her eyes slowly and peered out the window as the first rays of sunlight shimmered like pearls on the billowy clouds below.

“It's beautiful,” she said. “So beautiful.”

Trevor agreed. “Listen, Ma. Can you hear God?”

June listened closely to hear the familiar silence of the morning. Surely, this close to Heaven, she could hear God's soothing voice. But instead of hearing God's voice, she heard Dr. Wylie's advice three days ago.

“We can't wait any longer, June,” he said. “You need to start chemotherapy today.”

“I understand your concern, Dr. Wylie, but there's something I have to take care of first.”

“I don't think you heard me clearly.” Dr. Wylie stood and walked around the desk. He leaned against the desk facing June and Leatrice. “June, I don't mean to sound harsh, but there seems to be no other way to get through to you. If we don't start treating this now, you could die.”

“I just need a few more days.”

“You don't have a few more days. If you don't start today, you might not be here much longer to take care of anything.”

“Dr. Wylie,” Leatrice intervened, “would it help if we went ahead and set a date to begin the chemotherapy?”

“If it's within the next day or so,” he answered.

“Today's Thursday. She has a concert Saturday, so let's say Monday.” Leatrice looked at June. “Is Monday okay?”

“Monday's fine if she promises to start then.”

June nodded.

The clock was ticking faster now, and June knew that if she was ever going to find out the truth about that night ten years ago, she had to find Keith while she was still able.

“Is she okay?” the man seated behind Trevor asked.

“She's feeling better,” Trevor answered.

“I'm glad to hear that. She had me pretty scared for a minute. Excuse my manners, I'm Will Phillips.”

“My name's Trevor.”

Will leaned further over the seat. He saw that June's eyes were closed. She appeared to be sleeping.

“Trevor, are you sure your mom's all right? I mean, she said she was retiring last night.”

“She's okay. It's just something she ate.”

“Did she tell you why she was retiring?”

“No.”

“Well, she looks like she's feeling better.”

“I hope so.”

“If you don't mind me asking, Trevor,” he leaned even closer and whispered. “Where are you and your mother going?”

“To Florida,” he answered.

“Where in Florida?”

“I done forgot the name of the place.”

“It wouldn't be Hampton Springs because you would remember that since that's where your grandmother lives, right?”

“How do you know where my grandmother lives?” Trevor turned around and asked.

“I've been a big fan of your mother's for years, and I read a lot.”

“Oh.” Trevor sat back down.

“Trevor, you don't look too enthused about this trip. Why's that?”

“Because Ma's not feeling well.”

“I thought it was just something she ate.”

“It was.”

“Does she get sick like this a lot?”

“I shouldn't be talking with you,” Trevor said after realizing the personal nature of Will's questions.

“Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get personal. I'm not trying to get in your mother's business. It's just that I really love her music, and I'm a little concerned about why she's giving it up.”

“I think she'll start back singing when she's feeling better.”

“I hope so,” Will said. “Those pills you just gave her, are they helping any?”

“I think so.”