A work in progress...

Mama sang jazz at a club on second street beneath the freeway. Mr. Ed the bar keep always said that nobody walking through the North End could stay away when Mama sang. So I knew that my father had to be there at least one night, so I would peak out at the audience from backstage to look for him. Mr. Ed also said that my mother was bad for business because no one got up and came to the bar to buy drinks during her show, but then he would wink and I knew he didn't really mean it.

I looked at the men that came in to see if I could pick out my father. I knew if he did come, he'd sit way in the back out of Mama's view, and then probably slip out before her set was over. And he'd have blue eyes. He had to have because I had to get them from someone. Mama's eyes were brown like Hershey's syrup. And sad too. She always said brown eyes were meant for sadness, and that I was lucky to have blue ones because I didn't have to face a care in the world. Except for my missing father.

I only asked Mama about him once. She said, "Your father was never good for nothing except that he shot out his seed to bring you into the world. But other than that--nothing. So don't worry your pretty blue eyes over him because he's no good for that either."

Mama had good reason for feeling that way, and for raising me on her own. Grandpa Mackinley drank himself into being a terrible father for her, and then I guess my father split so she figured she was better off raising me without the inconvenience of bad fathering. But even Mama would be the first to admit she didn't go it all alone. There was Grandma June, Mr. Ed at the bar, and Ms. Louise who watched me backstage when Mama sang. When no one was on stage, Ms. Louise waited the tables. I got to help Mama with her wardrobe and makeup so long as I got my schoolwork finished early...