Searching for Tina Turner - By Jacqueline E. Luckett Page 0,60
the same.
“We will begin the division of assets in our next session,” the mediator says.
There is a clue, Lena thinks, an intimation in his tone that suggests that Mr. Meyers is no more looking forward to it than she is.
f f f
Angela Bassett spins and lip-synchs on TV. Pink Slippers is right: the violence is hard to take. Lena concentrates on Angela Bassett’s biceps, her forceful performance—her angst, the slow trust in self, a Buddhist chant: nam myo ho renge kyo. Bottom line, the movie is depressing. Every time Larry Fishburne fake-pops Angela, Lena cringes. But thankfully, with one click of the remote she can skip those scenes and focus on the message, not the violence.
Tina’s message is about getting away. Anywhere. Far. Fast.
Lena picks up the autobiography, leaves where it opens to fate:… that trip changed my whole life. I felt like I had come home—like I had never known my real home… I loved France—loved the ambience of it… on that first trip to France, that’s when I began to feel, deep down inside, that maybe I was French, too.
France!
Lena skips to the computer. Connects to the official Tina Turner website. Tina lives in the south of France. It was one of those places that Randall and Lena planned to visit when they talked about the world and seeing as much of it as they could. They promised to lie nude on the beach, to learn French, to extend their trip westward and sip Bordeaux in Bordeaux.
A performance schedule for this year and the next is imposed over pictures of Tina and international celebrities. Lena selects “concerts” from the top left margin. One, two, three clicks. Lena scrolls through dates and places and stops on the final entry: October 8th. Nice, France.
Moving to the computer once again, she selects a travel website and dials Bobbie.
“I have to meet Tina!” Lena shouts, happy that her sister can pick up a conversation in the middle of her slumber. One day she will thank Bobbie with more than words for talking to her, listening to her any time of the day or night.
“Go for it.”
“Tina loves France. She lives in the south of France. We…” Lena swallows hard. “I mean I always wanted to go to the south of France.”
“As long as you’re going for the right reasons. Seeking, not running away.”
“I want to meet Tina. I want her to sign my book.” Yes, that’s what she wants. She thumbs the pages of Tina’s story like a deck of cards. “And I’m going to take pictures, hundreds of pictures.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Randall demanded, and the mediator acceded, that I find work. Which I’ll do, with Cheryl’s help. But, he has approval over any large expenditures I make until the final division of property.” Lena accepted the condition with an exception to the furniture she needs for her apartment. “… And what about Lulu?”
“Why does he get to call the shots?”
Lesson number four: let Randall think he has the upper hand.
Bobbie puffs on her cigarette. “As for Lulu…”
Lena holds her breath and waits for Bobbie to say she’ll take care of Lulu, to say she’ll come home and change light bulbs, lift the heavy packages from Lulu’s car to the house, balance her checkbook, drag the trash to the curb, say she’ll listen to Lulu’s endless parables.
“You’ve got to live your life… that’s what I’m doing. Lulu and I are fine on the phone,” Bobbie says. “In person, that’s a different story. She can’t cope with my life… and I’m not going to keep trying to explain it away. Anyway this is about you, not Lulu.”
Lena gets out of the bed and heads for the window. An airplane, well on its route to a faraway destination, blinks the only illumination in the dark sky. She presses her ear to the glass, straining to hear the engine’s distant rumble. “I listened to Tina all evening long. I forgot how much I used to like her.”
“It’s like you’re obsessed with an assignment: write an essay on why you like Tina Turner,” Bobbie says.
“We have intersecting emotional points. Her birthday is November twenty-sixth, too.”
“Is this why you woke me up?”
Lena knows that it doesn’t matter what time it is or what day, her sister will always stop, listen, and love.
“When you were eleven you thought you had something in common with aliens. You spent hours at the library researching life on Venus.” Bobbie chuckles.