2000-05-17 | 2000-05-17

when i was about eight years old, our family became friends with the shah family. our dads worked together as x-ray technicians in a local hospital. my dad called mr. shah "shah," like that was his first name. "hey, shah baby," my dad would greet him when we'd walk up to their doorstep for dinner.

the shahs were from trinidad. they lived in one of those "other side of the tracks" houses. it smelled of cooking spices and had dark brown, shag carpeting. the mom was always hiking up her skirt to scratch her leg. their family had smooth, dark skin and a programmable organ. i used to hop up on the organ bench and look at the labeled keys...bossa nova, rumba, salsa. i imagined all the beautiful music i could make--ah, so effortlessly--if only my mom would let me play that organ, but i wasn't allowed. "you might break it. get down from there."

the shahs had a beautiful teenage daughter named shira. she had shiny, long, black hair, wore white jeans and had her own room. it was wallpapered in a lilac print. outside her bedroom window, a real lilac bush peered in. too perfect! shira's room had candles and an impressive collection of elton john LPs. damn, she was the coolest.

we'd hover over her album covers looking at elton in his giant sunglasses and scarves, as he crooned to us on her little record player. i would stare at her as she slipped the black discs into their paper pockets, in awe that this pretty high school girl was hanging out with me!

once, she leaned too close to one of the candles and a strand of her hair sizzled up. sssttt! i was so scared! that distinct hair-burning smell wafted up. wow. it all seemed so daring! the "rock" albums, the lilacs bent under the weight of their blossoms, the riskiness of candles near long hair! it was heady, heady stuff.

the last time i saw shira, the family was moving away. as our parents talked, she sat in the car listening to the radio in her rust-colored leather coat...too cool, too bored, to get out of the station wagon. by the time the family got in their car to leave, the battery was dead. her music had drained it--and her dad's patience--dry.

from then on, i just heard secondhand stories about her from my mom. she had gained a lot of weight which marred her pretty face, married the wrong guy, became a lawyer, divorced the guy. she's in her '40s now. i wonder if she still listens to elton john...or realizes how cool she was at fifteen, with her candle-singed hair and room full of lilacs.

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