Chapter 36
THREE DAYS LEFT
Hess drove us out of the countryside, and I stared out the window, avoiding conversation. She turned on the radio, and Elvis Presley’s ecstatic, mournful rendition of “Unchained Melody” filled the car.
We hit town and rode past Broadway in its roil of families on vacation and bachelorette parties ducking in and out of honky-tonks in plastic cowboy hats, the street littered with bottles.
Musicians in Old West costumes played in every window, the sound blaring from the doorways.
I remembered the lyrics of the first track on Night Songs:
I roll down my beloved Broadway
Seedy clubs where music used to play
I saw a man in a spandex bodysuit singing half-heartedly in the street for the wasted tourists, some of them barely able to stay on their feet.
Shadows in the corner booth
Nashville is rottin’ at the tooth
I wondered if Nashville had ever felt real, or if it had always felt like a parody of itself. When Belle arrived in the sixties with a dream, had it felt real then? And now, every night, did they pantomime that time in the past, that one real time?
I could feel Belle’s story and mine converging, becoming two tracks running side by side. Hurtling toward the same cliff.
At Hess’s house, she eyed me in the front hall. “Your room’s ready for you. Why don’t you freshen up? There are towels in the closet.”
I went to protest, but then I saw her face. I needed to take a shower.
After I washed, I found clean clothes laid out on the bed. It was a relief to go without the wig for a while. I crept to the kitchen for water and heard people talking on the back porch.
I froze, wondering if they were there to take me away.
Then I recognized the voices, and I relaxed slightly. I needed so desperately to be alone. I felt like my body was slowly evaporating from exhaustion. But I forced myself to open the door and step outside.
The screened porch was awash in candlelight where Hess, Tima, and Phoebe sat around a low table laden with glazed ham and sides. Tima beckoned me to a spot next to her, saying, “Hey, lady,” and Phoebe cried out, “Rhea! You’re here!”
Tima fixed a plate of everything and put it in front of me with a smile. I took a small bite of a biscuit and murmured with enjoyment as they watched.
Tima smiled wider. “Y’all remember how much Lou could put away? Good lord.” This was something she’d said before, but it felt forced this time. The other women smiled in agreement, as if they were putting on a play.
“I don’t know where she put it, though. Skinnier than sin no matter what she did.” Tima clucked her tongue.
I studied my own wrists, now thin and translucent as they never were before, even when I was vegan. I had always thought being skinny would feel powerful, but I felt weak and fragile. My smaller body was always curving in on itself, trying to get warm.
Phoebe poured wine for herself and Tima, and sparkling water for Hess. “Wine, darlin’?” She held the bottle up to me.
“No, thank you.”
Phoebe poured me the sparkling, then held up her glass. “To Mom, to Lou, and to Martha.”
We echoed her and clinked our glasses.
Hess set down her glass after a small sip. “Ladies, we’re here tonight because Rhea needs our help. Is there anything we can remember about where Lou grew up? Anything she told us over the years?”
“I’ve been thinking on it,” Phoebe started, “and I remember her granddaddy was a preacher. So there must have been a church in her town.”
Tima raised an eyebrow. “You throw a rock in this state, you’re gonna hit a church. I don’t think that exactly narrows it down.”
Phoebe scoffed. “I thought this was a brainstorm.”
I jumped in, “I’m actually glad you brought that up. Have any of you ever heard of a cave church in Tennessee?”
They all contemplated this, then shook their heads.
Tima looked at the other girls, then, fingertips grazing her lips, she said, “I have something that might help, but I hesitate to say it because I don’t know for certain, but…
” She paused, then continued, “when your mama first came to Nashville, it seemed like she was running away from something. Like the law.”
Hess narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? You found her squattin’ in a damn shed.”
Hess glared, unwilling to concede.
Phoebe chimed in, “I wondered the same thing.” Hess turned the glare on her, and she shrugged.
“When she came to me wanting a new look for the stage, she kept saying she didn’t want anyone to recognize her, like she was trying to hide her real identity or something.
” She exhaled. “And now we find out Lulabelle Powers wasn’t her real name? You have to admit it’s suspicious.”
I had suspected this myself, given the name change and how carefully she had guarded the secret.
I had searched arrest warrants for someone who might have matched her description, but none of them had stood out either way.
A few drugstore robberies, some prostitution hits, and a handful of arrests for nonviolent protests.
They’d contained no pictures and very few identifying details.
“I think you might be onto something,” I said, and described the research I’d already done. “Did she say anything specific that might have given you a clue?”
“She said it was trouble back home that made her run away, and that she could never go back,” Tima offered in a low, dry voice, as if it hurt to break her friend’s confidence after all this time.
“She told you that?” Hess asked, almost as an accusation.
Tima nodded. “The first night I met her.”
I could use it to narrow my parameters, but I wasn’t optimistic. I’d noticed there weren’t many domestic disputes reported in these towns, and I assumed people kept such matters to themselves.
I leaned back against the couch, a wave of exhaustion rolling over me. Another day gone.
“Why don’t we play a little music? Maybe that’ll shake something loose,” Hess suggested. She picked up her guitar and started to tune it as she discussed song choice with Tima.
I stared out into the dark beyond the candlelight of the porch, waiting for my eyes to adjust. As the shapes of the backyard emerged, I saw a streak of white dash across the blackness, disappearing into a thicket of trees. I waited, unbreathing, to see if it would reappear.
But the darkness remained still.
Another wave rolled over me, and I couldn’t pretend any longer. I needed to be alone. I stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry, I have to go to bed.”
Phoebe went to protest, but Hess cut her off. “Of course. We’ll see you in the morning.”
In the guest room, I allowed myself to unravel, huddling under the covers and clenching my teeth as I watched the shadows in the corners and listened for strange noises.
I felt the deep vibrations of a guitar coming through the walls from the porch, followed by a rich vocal melody like butter melting in my eardrums. I let the warmth of the music wrap around me, and I was grateful that I could take its comfort on my own terms, without being watched.
I imagined it was like being in the womb—protected in my chrysalis, while life went on around me at a safe distance.
I could feel myself drifting off, and I suddenly clung to consciousness, afraid of what might happen if I fell asleep. I needed to stay awake. Alert. Ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
But the force of the music was too strong, and I found my body curling up of its own will like a wild creature in a hollow, and then I was floating away on the sensation, no longer strong enough to fight it.
And for the first time in many nights, I slept.