Like Dizzy Gillespie's Cheeks

Seventeen

Ben and Clara moved to Chicago and married right after Ben's mother died. Not too much later, they had their first and only child, Lisa. Ben tried to play bandleader as well as family man. It didn't work. A couple years after Lisa was born, he felt stuck. He saw his career passing him by. Like all men in denial, Ben began staying out later and later after his gigs. He'd come home full of liquor, and self-destruct.

Clara, reasonable by nature, finally had it. As Ben was sleeping one afternoon, she made two piles at the foot of the bed. In one pile, she placed all his sheet music and job keepsakes, and in the other pile she put framed and unframed family pictures—she and Ben, Lisa as a baby, all three of them together.

"Clara!" Ben yelled to the other room as he woke to the two piles on the floor. "What the hell is this?"

"Ben, these two piles represent your life. They need to be balanced if our life together is going to work. They're not," Clara said softly.

"Oh, come on, Clara. What the hell you talking about? I'm working my ass off trying to make it so our family can have a decent life."

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, Ben, but the only thing decent about our life is our little girl. But, then again, you wouldn't know that, because you're never here." Clara was getting more worked up and animated.

"That's not fair, God damn it. You of all people should understand the life of a musician. You grew up with one. Shit, look at my man Miles. He's taking Europe by storm and playing with every Cat who's part of the scene."

"And he's been married twice, and thinks if all he does is play music, he'll find happiness."

"Most musicians do, babe." By now Ben was heavy into a Camel cigarette.

"Your aspirations are too high, Ben. I'm not saying you're not good enough or don't have the passion or desire, and I'm certainly not trying to keep you down, but you—we—can't keep living like this. If you wanted to follow in Miles's footsteps, you should have thought twice about marrying me and, certainly, having Lisa."

"Fuck Miles. I can make my own name."

"I'm just saying Miles and Duke and all those guys have given up families and relationships for their music. I know you love your music, but you can't have it both ways." Clara sat on the edge of the bed with Ben. "Even when you're here, you're not here, Ben. I don't want to argue. I'm just asking that you think about it."

"God damn it, Clara. I don't want to lose you."

Clara picked up a framed picture of the two of them with Lisa. "You mean lose us."