The Pages We Forget (4 page)

By dawn, the gray clouds had drifted northward and the scathing wind had subsided. Stars crowded the night's dusky canvas. The waning moon hung low, illuminating the area in a translucent glow. The air was light and crisp. The faint wheezing of her breathing and the squishing of stepped-on snow punctuated the quietude. A very visible flicker of light began to burn on the horizon. That's when she closed her eyes and tried to hear the silence.

She remembered her father telling her she could hear God in the silence. “If you close your eyes and listen closely, you'll sense His presence in the playful chatter of the redbirds, in the rustling leaves, and in the splendor of the wind's soaring aria. But, to really hear Him you have to find a way to shut the rest of the world out
and hear only the silence,” her dad, Henry, told her one morning twenty-three years ago. She had only missed a handful of sunrises since. Eight thousand, five hundred and thirty-four mornings of watching, waiting and listening. It wasn't always easy to shut out the rest of the world, but somehow she managed to find a way. Whenever she was away from home or in the city for a concert, recording session, interview or premiere, she specifically requested an eastward-facing room with a balcony high above the city streets. And she always had a window seat in case day broke while she was traveling.

Alex never understood her craving for sunrises, but he'd come to learn over the past ten years that they were as essential as oxygen for June. It was her fascination with sunrises that brought them together two weeks after she arrived at the University of Florida. They met in the hallway of the music building. Alex, a junior majoring in music, had gotten up before class to post an audition notice on the student bulletin board. She was taking a shortcut through the building on her way to the football stadium.

Music Producer/Songwriter looking for

talented singer for demo recordings.

“What kind of songs do you write?” she walked up behind him and asked.

The box of tacks flew one way and the handful of notices he had left went the other way. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I'm sorry.” She laughed. “I thought you heard me when I came in the door.”

Alex stared suspiciously at her as he bent over and picked up the tacks and collected the notices.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because,” he mused, “I'm wondering what you're doing walking around campus by yourself this time of morning?”

“I'm going over to the stadium,” she replied. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

“I would be if I was a woman. You have all kinds of nuts hanging around campuses like this.”

“Are you one of them?”

“You tried me with that question, but that's okay.” Alex stood and looked at June. “So what's up with the stadium? Are you going to exercise?”

“Walking there is the exercise. I'm going to watch the sunrise.”

Alex grinned. “To watch the sun rise?”

She nodded her head, puzzled at his amusement to her ritual. “So tell me, what kind of songs do you write?”

“All kinds, but mainly ballads. Some dance grooves.”

“Are you any good?”

“Am I any good? Actually, I'm better than good. You're looking at the next Babyface. How come you ask? You sing?”

“Some.”

“Some? What's some? I mean, are you any good?”

“I do okay,” she answered. “Actually, I'm pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

“Can I hear for myself?”

“Right here?”

“Why not here? This is the music building.”

June was nervous and it wasn't because she was afraid of singing in front of people. She'd been singing in Mt. Nebo's adult choir since she was nine. It was something about the way he looked at her that unnerved her. “What do you want me to sing?”

“It doesn't matter,” he answered.

He writes ballads, so I'll sing something slow, something sweet and Whitney sounding,
she thought. She looked up at Alex, grinned and half-covered her face with her hand. “I'm embarrassed.”

“Don't be,” he said. “I can't sing a lick.”

“You better not laugh.” She closed her eyes to find her comfort zone, but she felt his penetrating stare. His stare had her wondering. In her mind, she didn't think he was imagining what she looked like in a pair of tight-fitting jeans instead of the two-sizes-too-big jogging suit she wore. Her eyes were a little puffy after a late night of studying, but she was sure he wasn't staring at her for that reason, either. Her hair was braided back in one big plait that was starting to unravel, but the way she felt him staring at her, he was looking for something else. Something inside of her. And she felt him prying, searching deep.

“I've been searching…” she sang in a delicate falsetto. “Waiting. Hoping.” She paused for a second before she belted out, “Boy, I've been praying.”

She had him. Her voice was the perfect instrument. Passionate. Big. Colorful. Unique. He was mesmerized.

“For the Heavens to lead you back to me,” she sang. “So I'm still wishing. Still waiting. Still needing you here with me.”

“You're beautiful,” Alex blurted out. “I mean you have a beautiful voice, and we really need to hook up!”

Two days later, in his cramped studio, a bedroom he transformed in his apartment in the university's student ghetto, she laid the vocal tracks to “Something Special.” He wrote the mid-tempo dance groove the day he met her. The song secured her a label deal. Its original release date was postponed for three months until after Trevor's birth. But, eight months after recording the song, it skyrocketed
up the R&B and pop charts and became her first number one hit.

Together they made each other's dreams come true. She became an international singing sensation and he became one of the top music producers and songwriters in the business. It wasn't long before Hollywood called. June signed an exclusive two-picture deal with a major studio, which included a provision that allowed her to choose the director of her first film. Naturally, she chose Alex, who'd directed several of her music videos. They became Hollywood's new royal couple after the success of
If At First,
a romantic comedy about a young couple who bitterly file for divorce after twenty-six days of marriage and then fall madly in love again after meeting on a blind date a year later.

It wasn't long before June wanted to dim the media spotlight that focused on her every move. She cut back on her work schedule and made fewer personal appearances in order to spend more time being Trevor's mother and Alex's lover.

June opened her eyes and basked in the tranquil beauty of the wintry scene as daylight chased away the impervious darkness. The intoxicating serenity was exactly what she needed to help her relax. She was confident the lab results would confirm that the persistent abdominal pains she'd been having for the past two months were nothing more than ill-timed menstrual cramps. She felt the tension and anxiety mounting. In a few minutes she was going to have to go back inside, pretend to be interested in Alex's small talk as they got dressed before sitting down to have breakfast with him and Trevor. She imagined how the conversation would take shape. He would spend breakfast briefing her about the morning's staff meeting and an afternoon luncheon with the studio executives who were financing
For His Love.
She hadn't come up
with a good enough excuse to miss the meeting and luncheon, but she had to keep her appointment with Dr. Wylie. She was hoping that after the appointment she would be done with the secrecy and lies and things could get back to normal between them.

She was still trying to concoct a reason, any reason, to steal away from him for a couple of hours when he asked, “Are you ready?” Alex drank his last swallow of orange juice. He filled the eight-ounce glass with water and emptied it again. “We've got a busy day ahead of us.”

“I know, but you go on ahead.” June nudged Trevor's knee underneath the table. “I'll drive because I have a conference with Trevor's teacher this morning.”

“When did this come up?” Alex turned to Trevor, who was eating the last slice of cinnamon toast. “I don't recall hearing anything about a parent-teacher conference.”

Trevor shrugged his shoulders as he turned and stared questionably at his mother.

“I answered the phone when she called,” she tried to explain, “and I guess it just slipped my mind. I'm sorry that—”

“Sorry again?”

Annoyed by Alex's mocking, June got up from the table and marched out of the morning room, a small glass enclosed patio off from the kitchen. “Trevor, I'll be right back. Be ready!”

Trevor turned immediately to Alex and jokingly asked, “Dad, what's wrong? Did she wake up in diva mode?”

Alex laughed. “For the past few weeks she hasn't been able to turn it off.” He got up from the table, put his suit jacket on, then walked over and stood behind Trevor. “So why did your teacher need to schedule a parent-teacher conference? And how come I'm the last one to find out about it?”

Trevor turned completely around in the chair before answering, “I don't know. This is my first time hearing anything about it. For real.”

“I believe you,” Alex said. “I've got a meeting this morning that I can't reschedule, so I'm going to have to miss the conference. But I'll pick you up after school and we'll come on home and do a little ice fishing. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good to me.” Trevor got up and followed Alex through the kitchen and down the long hallway that led to the garage entrance.

“Trevor, I want you to do something for me today,” Alex said.

“What, Dad?”

“I want you to keep an eye on your mother.”

“Is she sick?”

“I don't think so, but she's not her usual self.”

“Is she ever?”

“Watch it,” Alex scolded Trevor. “You know, you're really getting to be a little smart ass.”

“I was just teasing, Dad. Chill.”

“Trevor, are you ready?” June yelled as she came down the stairway.

“Yes, ma'am!”

“Do you have on your coat and gloves?”

“I'm putting them on now,” he replied and took his Minnesota Vikings coat off the rack next to the door.

Alex pressed the intercom button next to the door and told Mrs. Freda, their housekeeper, to let Willie and Joe know they didn't have to drive Trevor to school or pick him up. He turned to Trevor and reminded him of his favor. “Don't forget what I told you.” Alex took his black leather, three-quarter-length jacket off the rack
and put it on over the charcoal Teres McClen suit tailor-made for his long, slender, yet muscular, frame. He ran his finger inside the snap-collar of the gray cotton shirt to loosen it a bit. “Keep an eye on her.” He opened the door to the garage.

Trevor picked up his backpack and followed Alex into the garage. “Dad.” Trevor walked over to Alex, who was unlocking the door of his black Cadillac Escalade. “What time are you going—?”

“Get in the car, Trevor!” June walked into the garage. She put on a black leather coat over her royal blue knit tube dress. She pressed a button on her keychain to unlock the doors of the silver Mercedes S500 sedan. “Alex, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Alex acknowledged her with an insipid nod. He turned to Trevor and answered, “I'll pick you up around three.” He reached inside the Escalade and activated the garage door opener.

June had already started the car and was looking in the rearview mirror when Trevor got in and buckled his seatbelt. As soon as the garage door cleared, she backed out. Mr. Jake, one of the estate and house's five caretakers, had already plowed the snow out of the half-mile long, winding driveway. Two of the caretakers, Willie and Joe, handled security at the estate and doubled as June and Trevor's personal bodyguards. Freda and Carla took care of the house.

Neither Trevor nor June said much as they pulled out of the gated driveway onto icy Jenkins Boulevard and headed south. June stared ahead at the slush-covered road, while Trevor stared in the side-view mirror at his father, who drove a short distance behind them.

“You can turn the radio on,” June said and glanced over at Trevor.

“That's okay,” he declined. The Escalade's right blinker came on as they neared the intersection of Jenkins Boulevard and Woodard
Street. Trevor turned completely around in the seat and waved at Alex, who blew the horn and waved. Alex turned onto the four-lane highway that led to East Jefferson Street and downtown Detroit.

As soon as Alex turned off, Trevor asked, “What does Mrs. Langford want to see you about?”

June, pretending not to hear him, leaned closer to the steering wheel and gazed cautiously out the lightly tinted windows at the road, narrowed by the piles of plowed snow.

Trevor knew she was pretending not to hear him, so he asked again, “Ma, what does Mrs. Langford want to talk to you about?”

Her face stiffened, her lips drew tight, and her eyes scatted back and forth searching for something, anything, to divert her attention from the question he was asking. “I hate driving in this kind of weather,” she mumbled to herself.

“Ma!”

Acting like she'd been daydreaming, June turned to Trevor and asked, “What did you say?”

“What does Mrs. Langford want to talk to you about?”

June turned on her right blinker and slowed as they neared Beal Academy, a prestigious private school populated by the children of Detroit's most affluent celebrities, business and industry leaders, and political players. She glanced over at Trevor, who was getting somewhat impatient waiting for her response. “She didn't call,” June admitted. She immediately turned her attention to the school's two security officers who were visually scanning cars as they turned into the cobblestone driveway.