Wild Women and the Blues by Denny S. Bryce

Author:Denny S. Bryce [Bryce, Denny S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-12-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 26

SAWYER

Saturday, June 27, 2015

This is bull. My father had met Honoree, visited her the year my mother died, and again after Azizi died—but hadn’t mentioned these visits when I told him I was in Chicago, interviewing a 110-year-old-woman for my film project. Here, he’d met her two goddamned times, a decade apart—each time when death had knocked at our family’s door—but somehow forgot to tell me?

There has to be an explanation—something that will make sense and answer the question: Why?

In my room at the hostel, I’m staring at nothing and seeing everything. I have to call him and ask him, no, demand the truth about his visits to Honoree. But I don’t want to hear his voice telling me lies. I open the app on my cell and text him.

Me: We need to talk.

Dad: What happened? Are you okay? What did you do?

Wow. Right off the freaking bat, he jumps to conclusions.

Me: No, I haven’t harmed myself, or done some other wrong thing.

Why can’t a son reach out to his father about something other than a car crash? Or to apologize—sorry, I swallowed too many pills?

Dad: What’s going on?

Me: Tell me about Honoree Dalcour and why you visited her. Two times. Once when Mom died and again after Azizi.

Dad: Let me call you.

Me: I don’t want to talk now. Text.

The dots play across the cell phone’s screen.

Dad: I should’ve said something.

You damn Skippy.

Me: Like what?

Dot. Dot. Dot.

Dad: Before she got sick, your mother and I were helping curate a museum project on the Jazz Age. One afternoon she wanted to check the box in your grandmother’s attic. There were some things we could use inside that box, she said.

Lorraine didn’t want to ask Maggie straight out. They didn’t get along, either. So, she “borrowed” what she wanted. Lol.

That gave me a chuckle, too. Mom and I had used the same technique with Maggie.

Dad: We had intended to return the papers during our next visit, but then your mother was diagnosed.

A few months after she passed, I decided to finish the last project we started together. I couldn’t locate the papers Lorraine had borrowed. Still, I remembered the name Honoree Dalcour and the Bronzeville facility, and while on a trip to Chicago, I called the facility and ended up on the phone with Honoree.

I couldn’t believe she was still alive. I told her about Maggie’s documents and Lorraine, and she insisted I stop by and visit her.

She told me Maggie had stolen those things from her when she put Honoree in the facility in 1985.

Then she gave me some bullshit about a curse.

Until this last text, I am starting to believe Dad had a heart-driven reason for visiting Honoree, at least the first time. Then he talks about a curse, and I’ve had enough.

I switch screens, key in his number, and he picks up before the first ring ends.

“Sawyer. Yeah. I’m sorry, I should’ve said something when you called.”

“A fucking curse?”

A pause. Perhaps he’s alarmed by my language, but damn, what does he expect?

“Dad!”

A sigh.

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