As soon as the words came out of my mouth, it hit me that Will hadn’t told his parents yet.
“What do you mean, when he’s gone?”
Will chimed in. “I’m going to California on New Year ‘s Day; I’ll be there for a month. I’ll be opening up for a band called Second Chance Charlie.”
“Never heard of ‘em.’” Ray Sr. finally decided to join the conversation.
Will continued, “It’s just for three concerts. I’ll be back in New York the first week of February.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, honey,” Rita said with a smile. Will didn’t elaborate and I knew why, there was really no point. His parents were not into music and probably never would be; it was like speaking foreign language to them.
I jumped up and handed Will my present for him. He pulled the leather-bound black notebook out of the gift bag and slowly ran his hand over the cover.
“Open it,” I said. On the inside cover I had taped a black-and-white picture that Jenny had taken of me, Will, and Jackson sitting on a blanket in Tompkins Square Park on the Fourth of July. I was leaning back on my hands with my legs out. Will was lying perpendicular to me with his head on my lap and one arm reaching behind him around my waist and his other hand petting Jackson’s head. The three of us looked like a little family, completely relaxed and at ease with one another. On the first lined page of the notebook I had written a message:
Will,
Here is little something to write your thoughts in or perhaps lyrics or your inspiring poetry. All of it is amazing and beautiful and I’ve felt so lucky to have been privy to it.
I wanted to include the picture as a reminder that you will always have us to come home to if ever you need a break from being super famous and swooned over… you know me and how well I can bring you back to earth… wink. But seriously, the whole group from Kell’s loves you and we’re so proud of you. I know I’m going to miss you like crazy.
You’ve been the biggest comfort to me since I moved to New York; you’ve been a great friend; you’ve been the best and I won’t forget it.
Don’t forget about me, okay?
Love, Mia
Will narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head slightly. “What?” I said.
He glanced over at his parents and then back at me, swallowing before he spoke. “Thank you, Mia.” As he reached in to kiss my cheek he whispered, “We need to talk.”
I nodded and then sat back on the couch. He reached down and grabbed a box from under the tree and handed it to me. I opened it to find a framed black-and-white picture of Will and me onstage at the string festival. It’s a timeless picture that could have been taken in the sixties and I loved that about it. We are both smiling and looking out to the crowd with magic in our eyes. The plain black frame matched so many of my father’s from the apartment; I knew Will intended it to be an addition to the collection. On the cardboard back, Will had written:
“MYSTICAL ALCHEMY”
“There’s something else in the box,” he said. I looked down to find a necklace with a lotus-flower design carved into a round, silver pendant.
I looked up at him and smiled. “I love this.”
“It’s a lotus flower.”
“I know.”
“It symbolizes purity of the heart and mind.”
I reached in and gave him a long hug. “Thank you. You know me so well.”
“Do I?” he whispered.
I leaned back to gauge his expression. His lips were bent into a small, tight smile and there was sadness in his eyes. I immediately put the necklace on. I haven’t taken it off since…
We spent the next day acting like everything was fine. I knew on the drive to Ann Arbor we would have chance to talk, so we made the best out of our time with his parents. While speeding out of Detroit in our rented car, Will blared The Adolescents, singing along to the music at the top of his lungs. I finally turned it down during the song “I Hate Children,” when it occurred to me that Will was working out some of his frustrations; some that were clearly brought on by me and my harmless gift.
“What’s up, buddy?”
“Yeah, what’s up, buddy?”
Ahhh! It was neurotic Will. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I don’t understand you. There, I said it. How many times do I have to tell you? What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere? I’m leaving for a month; I’m coming back. I live with you, for God’s sake. You’re my best fucking friend, Mia. I wish it were more and I think you know that. You are the most guarded person I have ever met, yet everything you feel is right there on your face and you don’t even know it. Whatever you need me to be, I’ll be! Friends? Fine! Best friends? Great! I’ll do it, because I want you in my life more than anything I have ever wanted. So please stop with the don’t-forget-me shit!”
“Okay.” I meant to say it softly, but it came out as more of a whine.
He glanced over at me and his expression softened. “Okay? I’m sorry, baby, I just… I don’t want to leave, either, and I don’t want you to put up your defenses because you think I’m going to run off and forget about you.”
Will knew I had always been worried about the rock star life and all the faceless, foregone conclusions that would come into his life. He was reassuring me that I wasn’t that, no matter what label we gave to each other. Really, Will wasn’t the rock star, at least not the stereotypical image I’d had in my mind when I first met him. He was nothing like that. Sure, he could flirt with women, but he was never smarmy and he didn’t sleep around… per se. He liked people, he liked women, he was a lover, but he was honest with everyone he came in contact with and he was especially honest with himself; a quality I needed to work on.
I reached over and squeezed his hand; he pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed it, never taking his eyes off the road. He changed the CD, turning up Nina Simone’s “Sinnerman.” He accelerated and we flew toward Ann Arbor without another word. He bobbed his head and tapped his hand on the steering wheel to the fast, jazzy beat. The music set my mind into spiraling motion, thinking about what he had said. I never considered myself guarded, I thought of myself as strong, but I was wrong. Life had thrown me for a loop when my father died. I’d gone to New York thinking I would straighten things out with the café, then go to grad school, further my education, meet some strapping doctor or business man and let my life follow the square rules I set forth, but the moment I stepped onto that plane back in March, I’d started to feel a different pull. There was a magnetism I felt toward Will, the music, my new friends, the café, and the city itself. It felt right and it felt good. How could I have been so wrong about myself before? If I was guarded it was because I was realizing how little control I had over my feelings and it scared me.
When we got to my mother and stepdad’s in Ann Arbor, I gave Will a brief tour and introduced him to David, whom I called Dad. It was a Sunday and the Detroit Lions were playing, so my stepdad was wearing his normal NFL garb. Will struck up a conversation about the team and the two hit it off right away. I didn’t even know Will followed football, but there were so many things I didn’t give him credit for. He may not have been a sports fan, but Will read the newspaper every single day. He knew a little about everything and his own curiosity and desire to better himself and grow as a person had given him a far more valuable education than I had gotten from a fancy, Ivy League college. My mother and I caught up in the kitchen while we prepared dinner.
“Mom… I want you know that I don’t blame you for what happened between you and Pops. I’m getting things now… I guess I’m realizing we’re all just people… trying to figure it all out.”
She walked over and wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you for telling me that. You’ll figure it out, Mia; I think maybe you already have.” She glanced over at Will. Somehow letting my mom know how I felt gave me a sense of closure regarding my father.
After dinner Will sang and played his acoustic guitar. My mom and stepdad seemed
really impressed by his ability to figure out a song in a matter of minutes. It wasn’t always perfect, but he would usually get the melody pretty close. My mom requested “The Girl from North Country” by Bob Dylan. He knew the song but he needed a little help with the lyrics, which my mom new word for word. I was surprised since I had never known her to listen to Bob Dylan. I knew the lyrics as well; Pops had sung that song a thousand times and then I realized why my mom requested it; there was no question that Will had a spirit like my father’s. He sang the song passionately with his eyes closed. His soulful voice belted out the lines like they were his own. I’m wondering if she remembers me at all… many times I’ve often prayed. I looked up at my mom, who immediately looked away. I wondered if my father thought about her when he sang those lines.
I made an ill attempt at the harmonica solo, but it didn’t sound that great; Will chuckled at me and winked. He finished the song carrying the last line out, soft and slow; She once was a true love of mine. I looked at my mom again, this time she didn’t look away and she didn’t hide the tears streaming down her face. She was mourning my father, too, and Will being there was healing for us all. The old music wasn’t Will’s style but he didn’t care, he just wanted to play for the people he cared about. He never asked if we wanted to hear an original song even though I knew he had plenty of great ones, he just wanted to provide everyone with something that was personal. He played for hours; we laughed and cried and talked a little about Pops.
When it was time to go to bed, Will offered to sleep on the couch. “No way,” I said, “I want to cuddle.” He smiled and laughed.
Will looked at my mom, who shrugged and said, “She wants to cuddle.” I curled into Will under the covers of my childhood bed. I was asleep in minutes and I got the most restful sleep I’d had in months.
Opening my eyes, I realized I was using Will’s chest as a pillow. I peeked up and found him wide awake, staring at the ceiling. “You talkin’ to God?”
“Something like that,” he murmured.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I have a lot on my mind. We need to get home. I want to put another dead bolt on the door and make the sure the smoke detectors have batteries and the furnace is working before I leave. Plus, I need to get all my equipment together. I’m just stressed about the next couple of days.”
“Will Ryan, are you worried about me?”
“I’m always worried about you.”
“We’ll get it done. I’ll help, and don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine. Do you want to spend New Year’s Eve at the apartment? We can have Jenny and Tyler over to give you a proper sending off?”
“Okay… I’d love that,” he said with a conflicted look on his face. He smiled bleakly and then kissed the top of my head before rolling out of bed.
Track 15: Hallelujah
We flew home that day and got right to work on preparing for Will to leave. Over the next couple of days we were completely consumed with chores. Will did a whole crazy safety check on the apartment while I was at the Laundromat doing his laundry. I stole two T-shirts out of the pile; I figured I would need them to cuddle up with in the weeks to come.
On New Year’s Eve while Will was out with Frank, I made a cake and got ready for our little party. I told Jenny it was going to be a California theme, whatever that means. I cranked up the heater in the apartment and put on a sundress and flip-flops while the snow was falling heavily outside. I drew a palm tree and wrote “Surf’s Up, Wilbur” on the cake. Jenny and Tyler showed up before Will got back.
After they both stripped off three layers, Jenny revealed her Hawaiian-print dress and Tyler had a matching print shirt. “It was the closest thing we had,” she said, pointing to her dress and laughing. She pulled a joint out of her little purse. “Look what we brought. Let’s get stoned—it’s totally California.”
“Oh my god, Jenny, you guys kill me. Will could definitely use that, he’s been a loon the last couple of days. He really hates flying.”
“No… he’s worried about leaving you,” she said, smiling at me.
“Oh, well, it will be fun at any rate.”
Will came through the door looking beat. He patted Jackson on the head before looking up at us with a huge smile. “You guys look ridiculous—it’s twenty-four degrees outside.”
“We got pot,” Jenny said in a singsong voice as she waved the joint around.
Will wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground in a bear hug. “Oh, sweet, sweet Jenny.”
Tyler came over and high-fived Will. “Congratulations, man! You better make us proud.”
“It’s not that big of a deal you guys, seriously. I haven’t’ signed a deal, I’m just doing three shows.”
“But it’s a start. Quit being so freakin’ humble, Will. You deserve to celebrate, you’ve worked hard for this,” I said as I reached up to give him a peck on the cheek. “Now go strip down, you must be boiling in that.”
He came back out dressed in a white T-shirt, long black shorts that hung low on his hips, and the silver-studded belt. With his natural olive skin and disheveled hair, I thought he would fit in perfectly in California.
The four of us ate and had cake and champagne. None of us had any desire to fight the crowds in Times Square, but we thought we should at least watch the ball drop on the Dick Clark special. Our small little TV that we never used was on low as we sat talking at the kitchen table. When we heard the name Second Chance Charlie, we all jumped up and ran over to watch the performance. I knew the music and recognized the lead singer, Sonja, from the many magazine covers she graced. The band reminded me of a cross between the groups No Doubt and Paramour. Sonja jumped around a lot but had a really strong, sensual voice. She was beautiful, small, and graceful, and clearly the fantasy of many a teenage boy, which was the core of her audience. The band appealed mostly to the high school emo crowd. It didn’t really make sense for Will, with his white-boy rock and roll, to open up for them, but I figured his music wasn’t that simple to define and maybe he would capture a younger audience if he were marketed that way. After all, he was not only extremely talented, he was also good-looking and he had that whole sexy, broody thing going for him. After the performance during Sonja’s interview, she mentioned that she was flying to California first thing in the morning and that it would be long night.
“Are you guys on the same flight?” I asked.
“Yeah, we’re flying private. The record label chartered a plane.”
“Oh,” I said, wondering why he hadn’t shared that little tidbit with me.
“Hey, Will, why is the label having you open for them? It seems like kind of a different crowd.” Tyler said.
“I guess it is. I don’t know, the girl saw me play at the string festival and asked the label if they could get me to open for her. I kind of agreed to it just to buy more time before I have to make a decision.”
“I didn’t know she requested you—why didn’t you tell me?” I narrowed my eyes but tried to hide my jealousy.
“It seemed irrelevant,” he said, straight-faced.
Tyler tried to intervene. “So do you have a band you’re going to play with?”
“Yeah, basically pickup musicians and Nate. I got him, so I’m happy about that, but the other guys I barely know except from the few practices we’ve had.”
“Good for you, man. It sounds like a great opportunity; you have to keep us posted.”
“Definitely,” he said, but he was looking at me, trying to decipher the look on my face when he said it. I went into the kitchen and Will followed. “She’s a child, Mia; she’s eighteen years old, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Eighteen is an adult, not a child, and you can do whatever you want. We’re not together; I don’t even know why you’re saying this to me.”
“I’m saying it because it seemed like it bothered you.”
I looked into his eyes for a long second. He seemed troubled and concerned. “It doesn’t bother me
, I promise.” I smiled and walked past him, grabbing the joint off the counter. “Let’s do this, people, it’s eleven o’clock. We have one hour until 2009!”
We sat on the couches and passed the joint around while Will dropped the needle on Patti Smith’s Horses from my father’s collection. He sat down on the couch next to me, taking the joint and inhaling. He blew a lungful of smoke out while simultaneously tapping his foot and singing the line Jesus died for somebody’s sins but not mine. We all burst into laughter.
“God, this is like fucking high school!” Tyler said.
“Except that this album was made before any of us were born.” Jenny giggled.
“All I would need is a Mickey’s forty and an empty football field and I’d be right back in my high school days,” Will said.
“Boone’s Farm, Strawberry Hill for me. What about you, Jenny?” I said, laughing.
“Wine coolers and nacho cheese Doritos… yuck. Tyler, your turn.”
“Mad Dog 20/20 and Taco Bell.”
“Why were we so gross back then?” I asked.
“No money,” Tyler said.
“We still have no money, but at least we have some dignity.”
“What are you talking about, Mia? Will has money.” Tyler looked at me, stupefied.
“Well he will, if he’d ever sign that deal.”
Will jumped up. “Let’s dance!”
We danced around like fools for a while and then I noticed that the countdown to the ball drop had started. “It’s time!” I yelled.
We all chanted, “Five… four… three… two… one.” I watched Jenny jump up and wrap her arms around Tyler, kissing him.
I glanced over to Will, who was watching me with the listening-to-God expression in his eyes. Looking down, I grabbed his hands in mine and then with a small smile and no words, I looked up and asked him for a kiss. His lips met mine gently; he lingered there, but didn’t ask for more. He tugged ever so slightly at my lower lip before pulling away. “Happy New Year, sweet thing,” he whispered.
Sweet Thing Page 18
