Family Affair

Jordan was the only one without the family talent.

His father had said that he saw that it wasn’t really going to be a natural skill for Jordan early on, but Jordan’s mother kept trying to find the right instrument for him. He could play the piano, the guitar, the bass, and even the saxophone, but only a little. Jordan was sure he wasn’t even average. He had trouble reading sheet music and had to look at his hands while he played. He would feel embarrassed whenever anyone watched him.

Jordan’s father had let it go long ago and was happy that Jordan had starred on the high school varsity basketball team since his freshman year. He was only fifteen, but college scouts were keeping an eye on him. His mother was proud, but her disappointment showed through sometimes when she was getting the rest of the family ready to go perform. She always denied being disappointed and it made him feel worse. 

When Jordan was younger, his older brother and sister would go with their parents to do musical gigs in their coordinated outfits, and he would have to spend the day with his grandparents. No one could watch him if they were all on stage.

Even at the family barbecue they had gone to, he was separated from them. He stood listening to his parents and siblings playing a few songs in the backyard, while he talked to different family members he hadn’t seen in months or even years. Some he hadn’t remembered ever seeing.

They asked him how he was doing, but the closer ones never asked him about music, and even those who were not as close were fine talking about basketball and classes. The older relatives would always tell him to make sure he was getting good grades, so he could succeed.

Of course, they would ask how his siblings were doing and he would tell them a little, but he usually let his siblings tell their own stories. His sister was working with a production company part-time, helping to compose music for shows. The company wanted her to come on full-time when she graduated with her Bachelor of Arts in music.

Their older brother was working a nine to five job, but he still performed at music clubs, from singing R&B to playing in a jazz band, and people loved to see him. Even though his brother lived on his own and his sister was usually at her dorm, they never missed a chance to play together.

Jordan’s siblings always reminded him that he was a high school student and he shouldn’t try to compare their lives, and he didn’t. He was happy for them, but when they were actually playing as a family, he sometimes felt a little env watching them all together.

He stood with a soda in his hands, listening to people laugh and clap when his brother started playing a song that had no business being played on the saxophone. Their mother gave him an annoyed look, as she was trading out her violin for the guitar she needed for the next song. Jordan could see his brother trying not to laugh. The song slowly transitioned into what they had actually planned, and his father started drumming to keep the rhythm, while his sister started on the bass.

The relatives around him made noises of appreciation as they realized what the song was. Jordan was enjoying the music, until he caught sight of a man he wasn’t quite familiar with, coming toward him with an unpleasant stare. Jordan didn’t know what he could possibly want.

“Why aren’t you up there?” The man—who he thought might be a distant cousin of his mother—asked, with an almost accusing tone. Jordan had to keep his shock from showing. He didn’t even know how the man knew who he was. They hadn’t been introduced. Jordan didn't want to tell the man his business. Something seemed off about him.

“It’s not really my thing,” Jordan said, shoulders tensed. He didn’t need to draw attention away from his family’s performance by saying anything that would cause the man to go on a rant. He looked like the kind.

“You should be there with them. These are important moments.” The man’s tone was starting to make Jordan angry. Jordan tried not to let his indignation show, and took another sip of his soda.

“Okay,” he said, and turned, looking to see who he could try to scrape the man off on.

“This is a family affair, and you're not up there with your family.”

Jordan turned around, wondering why the man was still talking. Jordan asked, “Who are you again?”

“What?” The man asked, irritated.

Jordan’s uncle came walking up, seeming to have seen him searching for a way out.

“Come on, leave the kid alone, and enjoy the music,” his uncle said, clapping the man on the shoulder. “I can hear more of you, than the song.”

To his relief, the man took enough offense to the comment to refocus his attention completely on his uncle. The man seemed annoyed, but his uncle kept a good-natured expression on his face. Jordan took the chance to leave.

He wasn’t going to hide. He would just sit where it wasn’t convenient for his distant relative to get to him. His older female relatives were likely to fuss at the man if he tried to bother him, and he would use it to his advantage.

Jordan sat hunched over, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his new can of soda by his foot. His uncle came over, seeming to have driven the man away, after fifteen minutes of passive-aggressive sports banter.

His uncle asked, “You okay? I saw your face when he came up to you, and I saw you looking for help.”

“He asked me why I wasn’t up there, like he was asking why the trash wasn’t taken out after he told me three times,” Jordan said.

“He's lucky your mama didn’t hear him. And he's lucky I didn't know he was talking to you like that. I wouldn't have been so nice.” His uncle took a sip of beer, then said, “The family on this side of the state is something else. If he comes up to you, don't feel pressured to talk to him because he's older. Walk away.”

“I plan to,” Jordan said, and went about the next hour, trying to forget that that distant relative was even at the event. He talked with his cousins, making plans to slip away and play videogames after they ate. He gave into his little cousins' insistences that he shoot hoops with them, and all was going well.

Jordan had been feeling much better and was excited when he finally got the food he’d been keeping an eye on all day. He sat in the first seat he found, and immediately started to eat.

He stopped mid-bite as the familiar and unwelcome face of his rude distant relative came into view. The relative sat down next to him and Jordan focused on his plate, stabbing at the macaroni, as if it required all of his attention.

“So, what do you play?” his distant relative asked, and Jordan wondered why he had come back. 

“Basketball,” he said, knowing full well what was actually being asked.

“No, what instrument?” the relative asked, mouth set in a way that said he thought Jordan’s answer was stupid. Jordan didn't understand why they were on the same topic. Another cousin of his mother's and her husband were looking at the distant relative skeptically, seeming to pick up on the fact that his presence wasn’t appreciated.

“Can we talk about this when I'm not eating?” Jordan asked, even though he had no intention of continuing the conversation.

“Why not now?”

“Let the boy eat. I know he's hungry,” one of his great aunt's said, exasperated. “There are plenty of men around ready to talk to you about music or sports, or whatever.”

“He's just trying not to have to say that he's not as good as the others,” he said, and all three nearby family members got quiet. Jordan had been blindsided by the statement. He saw the look on his mother's cousin's face. He heard a noise come out of her mouth, that would surely have been the start of a long string of curses, had she not been chewing. “You could play the triangle. That’s easy.”

“I think you need to leave,” his mother's cousin's husband said, standing up.

“It was a joke,” the distant relative said, ill-temperedly.

His uncle, seeming to have noticed the tension, was coming in their direction. He heard the other man tell his rude relative to leave, and his expression darkened as he approached. His uncle asked, “Is there a problem?”

“He needs to go,” the husband said. He turned back to the rude relative and said, “We're not going to let you put that spite on a kid. Please, take yourself out, before we put you out.”

The relative got up with enough force to knock his chair over, but he saw that there were more men nearby than he realized. They may not have known what was happening, but they knew what side they were supporting.

The rude relative gritted his teeth, and made a jerking turn toward the gate on the side of the house.

“Hey, put that plate down,” his uncle said. It would have made Jordan laugh, if he hadn’t been hit in such a sore spot.

“I'm going to make sure he doesn't break anything,” one of the nearby men said, going after him.

“I knew something wasn't right with that man. We should have kicked him out sooner,” Jordan’s uncle said.

Jordan’s mother came over and grabbed him by the arm. She dragged him away from the others.

“What is going on?” she asked, putting her plate down.

“You saw that man who left, right?” Jordan asked.

“I saw him talking to you during the song. What happened?”

“He was getting on my nerves, but-”

“You were trying not to draw attention?”

“I was trying not to make you stop playing mid-song and come over.”

“I almost did. You had this look on your face like you couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say what he was saying,” his mother said. “What was he saying? I thought your uncle dealt with him.”

“He was asking a more aggressive version of ‘why wasn't I playing too’. He said I should be up there with you.” His mother's eyebrows slowly drew downward. “Everyone made him leave because of what he said.”

“What else did he say?” she asked, and Jordan wondered whether he should continue. She took his face in her hands. “I will ask your uncle if you don't tell me.”

“He said that he heard I wasn't good enough to play with you, then he made a joke about me playing the triangle because it's easy.” Her hands dropped from his face and she started walking toward the gate on the side of the house.

Jordan grabbed her shoulders, “Mama, no. Don’t be that person. I don’t need people asking me fifteen years from now, if I remember that time you chased a car for five blocks on foot, yelling. It’s not that serious.”

“It is that serious. Who does he think he is? What makes him think he can insult my baby like that. He tried to break your confidence,” she said. “He saw you minding your own business and he saw you were a good kid, so he was being that asshole family member.”

“Why?”

“Because you are still young. You are tall. You are good at sports and your granddad talks about you all the time.”

“Sometimes older people envy young people for what they regret never doing or what they couldn't do in their youth.”

“I hope I don't end up like that,” Jordan said.

“Why would you end up like that? You're good at basketball. You'll get scholarships.”

“I mean with music.”

“What do you mean? What about music?”

“What if I regret not being good at it? You tell me it’s okay, but I know it’s not. I see how disappointed you look sometimes.”

“How long have you thought this?!” His mother looked horrified. “You always tried your best and I saw that.”

“But it wasn't good enough to perform with you.”

“It can be, it's just that you have to practice. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like your best was disappointing to me,” his mother said. “I didn’t ask you to join us early on because you were too young. I asked when you were old enough, but you got uncomfortable. I wanted to play together with you, but you were always shy, and I didn’t want to force you.”

“You would have been okay with me performing with you?” Jordan asked.

 “Of course. Just because you’re not performance ready at a moment's notice, doesn’t mean you can’t play with us here,” she said. “You’re good. It’s okay not to be a prodigy, and there are plenty of people who play without having ever learned to read sheet music.”

“I have to look at my hands.”

“You can practice not doing that. It’s not a hopeless situation,” she said. “You can play next time.”

“I haven’t been practicing.”

“Well, start,” his mother said. “Next time we play, I want you up there with us.”

“We might not have another family thing like this for a year.”

“I meant next performance. You will have a month and a half to get your skills together, and it will be on a day where you don’t have basketball. Piano or guitar. Pick one.” Jordan stood stunned, so his mother said, “When we get home, look at the song list and see what you want to do. We can even switch you between instruments, if you like.”

“Trading instruments is going to make it hard on everyone else.”

“We want you to play with us. They won’t care.”

Jordan noticed his father coming over with his brother in tow. He looked angry.

“Where is he?” his father asked.

“Who?” his mother asked.

“You know who. The man who thought he could talk to my son like that.”

“He already got kicked out, and if I don’t get to do anything, neither do you,” his mother said. “There is some good news, though.”

“He’s banned from ever coming back here?” he asked, as Jordan’s sister came walking up to see what she'd missed.

“Well, that goes without saying,” his mother said. “But Jordan is going to play in our performance at the end of July.”

His father’s expression turned to surprise, and then a big smile came to his face. He grabbed Jordan’s shoulder and shook him, “You’re finally going to let us hear you?”

Jordan saw how excited his family looked and said, “It’s not that serious.”

“What do you mean it’s not that serious? We’ve been wanting you to play with us forever, but when we hint at it, you act like it’ll end the world.”

“We can practice now,” his brother said, and his sister started pushing him toward the house. Jordan’s brother picked up a guitar and shoved it into his hands, before picking up his saxophone and their sister’s base.

“Is Jordan going to play?” one of his cousins asked.

“We’re just going to talk about music. Nothing special,” his brother said.

“Why do you have to go in a room to talk about it? And why do you need to bring the instruments?” his cousin asked, suspiciously.

“It’s secret family stuff,” his sister said.

After they had gone in the room and closed the door, his brother asked, “Do you know how to play any of what we played out there?”

“Yeah,” Jordan said.

“Okay, pick something and we’ll match you,” his brother said. “We can practice it at a slower pace, then work our way up.”

Jordan thought of a song that could be played on the three instruments, and still sound alright without drums. He started to play. When neither of his siblings joined him, Jordan looked up and found them looking at him like he was crazy. He asked, “Uh, did you not want to play that song?”

“That’s not that much slower than the regular pace. I don’t know why you act like you pluck one string at a time like a beginner,” his brother said. “If this is not playing in a while, then you need to shut up. You must be crazy saying you’re not good.”

“What?” Jordan asked.

“I know we talk about everyone wanting to see you play, but you have to be ready. If you feel forced to do this, we can tell mom and dad that you don’t want to,” his sister said.

“No!” he said, quickly. “It’s the first time they actually said they wanted me to play at a real event. I didn’t know anyone thought I was good enough to do the real thing.”

“We always did. You were the one dodging it,” his sister said.

“Well, let’s get some practicing out of the way before someone actually comes in here,” his brother said.

“Well, when I start to play, maybe you can actually join in this time,” Jordan said.

“Who are you talking to?” his sister said.

At the same time, his brother said. “We should be the ones saying that.”

“Just play something!” someone shouted outside the door, and even though Jordan didn’t open the door, he didn’t feel quite as nervous about being heard anymore.