How High the Moon by Karyn Parsons

Author:Karyn Parsons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2019-03-05T05:00:00+00:00

ella

After New Year’s Mama went by the school and picked up the necessary forms for my enrollment. “You’ve been real patient, but you’re just gonna have to hang in there a little longer, okay, baby?”

I was excited by that news, but was still having a hard time finding the right moment to ask Mama about my daddy. It seemed like she was always running off to the Naval Yard or needing to catch a nap or going to the club. The times that she was around and not complaining about being tired, Helen was there, too. I didn’t wanna ask around Helen.

Then one morning Mama woke up in a good mood. Helen was headed to the Yard, but Mama didn’t have to go.

“Mama? Do I seem different to you?” We were in the kitchen, and I was sitting on the counter next to the sink while she was making my breakfast. “More grown-like?” I stopped swinging my legs and sat up tall, hoping she’d quit cooking for a minute and look at me.

“Can’t believe how much you’ve grown. And you’re prettier than ever. Gonna be a lady before I know it.”

“You said my dad was in California, right?”

She took a deep breath but didn’t look up from the eggs she was cracking into a hot pan.

“Yes.” She nodded. “He was in California, but it’s been a long time. I’m not sure where he is now.” She opened the icebox. “We still have apple juice. Want some?”

“Yes, please.”

She took the can to the counter and removed two small glasses from the cupboard.

“You and I need to do a little grocery shopping today before Helen comes home. Maybe we can even surprise her with dinner when she gets in. What do you say?” She was moving about as she spoke, quick, jerky motions, with a furrowed brow. In between talking to me, she’d talk to herself under her breath.

I was having a hard time finding the right way to ask my questions.

“Did my daddy like you singing? Was he okay with you playing at clubs and stuff?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I used to just like to sing when I knew him. Wasn’t performing anywhere or nothing.”

“What about your recording?” I asked.

“What about it?” She flipped the eggs, orange yolk oozed.

“Did he like it?”

“I think I told you, Ella. He’d already gone.”

“Oh.” Then I asked, “Was it fun making the recording? Were the folks nice? The musicians and the recorder, I mean.”

Mama laughed. “The engineer, you mean. Yes, it was fun. I’d like to do more recording. I must say, though, I do like being in a room performing for a crowd. Love all that good energy.”

Mama walked to me and lifted me from the counter onto the floor. “Set the table for us,” she said. “This is almost done.” Back at the stove, she stirred and seasoned, humming a tune.

Between breakfast, walking to the river and back, grocery shopping, curling Mama’s hair, helping her do her nails (and my toes), and starting on dinner before Helen came home, I tried again and again to turn the conversation to my daddy.

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