I lie on the couch, listening to the words and music. It’s slow and soothing. I look over at Jamie. He has his eyes closed, his lips moving softly.
I smile as I watch him mouth the words. He doesn’t open his eyes until the singer lets out the final long note. When he does, he turns red and smiles, looking quickly away from me. The next song opens with bass and harmonica and is a little faster.
“Sorry, she was my mom’s favorite so I grew up listening to her.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Nina Simone. I love her voice. She was supposed to go to this music school in Philly in the fifties but they wouldn’t let her in because she was Black. She kicked ass in the audition but they didn’t want ajazzsinger to be the first Black student they accepted.” He saysjazzlike it’s a filthy word.
“Racist pricks.”
“She showed them, though. She got a job performing in a bar and eventually became one of the biggest names in music. You’ve heard her songs. Even if this is the first time you’ve heard her voice.”
We stop talking and listen. Every once in a while, he slips into the music and nods along or moves his lips during a favorite part. He tells me about her songs and her performances. As he speaks, I know this must have been how his mother spoke of her as well. Sharing this knowledge with her son.
“If I was a girl, my mom said my name was gonna be Nina after her.”
“So can I call you Nina?”
“If you feel you have to.”
The music cuts to scratches and vinyl pops and he gets up to flip the record. When he sits back down, I ask him, “So, Nina, what were you like before you had to go all off-the-grid survivalist?”
He smiles. “A C-plus, maybe B student with a part-time job at an ice cream shop. You?”
“An artsy-fartsy student with a rebellious streak and a significant lack of parental supervision.”
“Sounds fun.”
I pause, then say, “At the time, I guess it was. My mom died first. It was still pretty early on. They knew of the bug, but by the time they knew how bad it was, she was practically dead.” Nina Simone continues singing as I speak. “After that we were pretty good. We did everything we were supposed to, wiped down our groceries, stayed away from people. But then, after a while, my dad got sick and he left. We aren’t sure where he went. I heard him coughing in the middle of the night. You know that cough?”
He nods. Of course he does. It’s a stupid question.
“Anyway, at one point the cough stopped and I figured he fell asleep. When I woke up the house smelled like bleach and there was a note on the kitchen table. It said he was sick and coughing up blood. He told us not to come looking for him and to stay in the house. That was... August, maybe September? I don’t know, time was kind of nebulous at that point. My little sister got sick in November.” I remember that because it was after the internet went down.
Looking back, it may not have been a great idea to leave my only shelter in the middle of winter. I’ll own that. I stayed as long as I could, but being alone in that house... I couldn’t bury her because the ground was frozen solid, and I couldn’t leave her outside to the elements and animals.
So when I couldn’t take it anymore, I left her in her bedroom,under her covers. I said my goodbyes, and I left.
“So... you haven’t seen anyone since November?” he asks. There’s a hesitation in his voice I can’t quite figure out.
“Yep.” It feels rude to lie—and so poorly!—but we want to stick with happy thoughts.
“What was her name?”
His question catches me off guard.
“My sister?” He nods. Most people would leave it, afraid they’d drag out an awkward, uncomfortable conversation. Not him—he asks me point-blank.
I’m happy to say her name. “Elizabeth.”
“What was she like?”
I smile. This is even better. “Really smart. Andfunny. My parents...” I’m talking too much and bite my tongue. Tears add swimmy vision to match my pill-popped mind. “Lizzie got me. She wasn’t like them.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It happened. We can’t do anything about it now. I was next to her the entire time she was sick. I cleaned up her blood, shit, and vomit, and I’m still here. If I’m not immune... I don’t know what else it could be.”
