Music in My Heart: My Journey with Melody

My legs want to follow Dwayne right out the door. I can still feel the tingle from the jam session, and I want to know more about this Motown music. Mrs. Porter puts her hand on her hip and she knows that look. There’s a girl who’s feeling like a trip to Motown. I grin. I’m relieved she’s not upset.

Melody says that’s great. She turns to Dwayne and says that we’ll come with him. She seems happy about the decision, too. Dwayne nods and says that he’ll be back to pick us up after dinner. He gives an exaggerated bow, and then trots down the steps toward his car, a long brown sedan with more than a few dents and scratches on it. As he starts the car and drives away, it clatters and clunks. It must be an old car.

Melody turns back to me and checks the clock. She says that her TV show is on. She races across the living room. The TV is big and brown, with buttons running down one side of the screen like a microwave. It has two long metal rods coming out of the top, like the antenna on my dad’s old radio. Melody turns a knob in front of the TV. It takes a while for the picture to appear on the screen, and when it does, it’s black-and-white. Melody flips past a few channels before she stops, and then flops on the floor and pats the rug for me to sit beside her.

A man is playing the piano and singing. The show is spotty and hard to see, as if I were watching it through a snowstorm. But the music sounds good. The show reminds me of ones I used to watch at home, where singers the musicians compete to be the next big star. Anika and I watch them and dream of the day when we’ll both make it big. She has a better chance than I do. I wish I had an Anika’s voice.

And then, three glamorous black women file on stage. Melody says it’s The Supremes. She hopes they play her song. She claps her hands as if she’s begging. One of the women stands in front of the other two and starts to sing. The other women join in, and Melody squeals and jumps to her feet. She says she loves this song. She asks if I do, too.

The song sounds familiar, but I don’t know what it is. But Melody does. She sings with her hand by her chin as if she’s holding a microphone. She tells me to sing with her, and when I say I don’t know the words, she says to just ooh and dance. She points to the TV. Two of the singers are swaying from side to side as they sing. They circle their arms overhead. Even if I just ooh, I don’t want Melody to hear my voice. What if she thinks it’s terrible?

But I take a deep breath and stand up, and sway to the music quietly. Luckily, the TV is loud. And Melody’s voice drowns mine out. Suddenly, she darts across the dining room, and when she comes back, she’s holding two bananas from a fruit bowl. She holds out one to me, and the other like a microphone. Every time I sign into the banana, it cracks me up. By the time the song ends, we’re both out of breath and laughing.

Melody laughs and says that she loves The Supremes. She asks me if I know that Dwayne actually knows Diana Ross, the lead singer. I’ve heard that name before, which means Diana Ross must be a big star. She does seem really elegant. She has an amazing voice. Then Melody corrects herself and says they’re not best friends or anything. But they saw Miss Ross at Hudson’s department store in February, and she waved at Dwayne.

I’m amazed. I’ve imagined meeting Zoey Gatz a lot of times, but it probably won’t ever happen. Melody asks who Zoey Gatz is. Oops. Of course Melody doesn’t know who Zoey Gatz is. But if she lived in my time, she would. Zoey Gatz is on the cover of magazines all the time. I slowly tell Melody that she’s pretty new. My mom doesn’t really like her, but I do.

Melody asks why my mom doesn’t like Zoey Gatz, and I say that she is rude to reporters. And she sometimes gets into trouble. Mom says she “makes bad choices.” Melody laughs, and I wonder if Zoey Gatz will be famous for a long time, just like Diana Ross. I’m not so sure.