On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep

by Michelle Kemper Brownlow

  Buzz told us drinks were on the house so the trainees could practice mixing them. I asked for a beer because that’s really all I liked. Becki was over the top with her drink of choice. I don’t know if she was trying to turn Calon on or make the poor guy she ordered it from panic.

  “Becki, is that even a real drink?” It sounded like something she would make up.

  “Of course it is. You’ve never had one?”

  “A Comfortable Screw Against the Wall?” I looked over my shoulder to see if Jake was listening. When I realized he was focused on the lesson of how to make the awkward drink Becki had ordered, I answered her, “Oh, I’ve had one, but it wasn’t a drink.”

  “Jake Rockwell, you are the stud of all studs!” Becki’s voice bounced off the concrete walls, and I rolled my eyes.

  Calon raised his frosty mug and called out from the stage, “To Jake Rockwell, stud of all studs!”

  The band repeated it and they all slammed their beers. Calon walked over to the bar and nodded and winked at Becki. She made a chirping noise I’d never heard come out of her before. I couldn’t even turn around to look at her. I knew she was gawking.

  “Gracie, slam that. We need to loosen you up a bit. I want this session to be easier for you.” Calon clinked his empty mug against my bottle neck and smiled that sly smile of his.

  He really was gorgeous. I would have to see what I could do about getting him and Becki together. I wasn’t shy about how much I could drink. It took a lot to get me drunk. I slammed my beer and took Josephine up onto the stage. Jake brought me another cold bottle.

  “Whoa, rock star. It’s my turn. Watch and learn.” Calon had room to be cocky, but he wasn’t, so it was funny when he pretended to be.

  I hopped down from the stage and sat in the chair he’d been sitting in. I waved my hand as though they needed my permission to begin. The music started. It wasn’t a song I knew. I watched Calon ready himself for his entrance. His intensity resonated in the room. When he sang, there was no doubt he felt every word. I’d seen Alternate Tragedy play tons of times, and he was intense and sensual, and that was when they only played cover music. The songs they’d sung since returning to town were songs Calon had written himself, which lead me to believe the words poured out of him like my poems, “No Comparison” and “Whisper,” had poured out of me. Maybe they were lyrics to songs I would write someday.

  His eyes were closed, and he rested his top lip against the mic. The song was slow, and all the tones in the music were deep, almost hollow sounding. Manny plucked a few strings that sounded like a muffled sob. It was beautifully composed, but haunting at the same time.

  Calon’s arms reached out to the side, and his open hands clenched into tight fists. He pulled his fists up to his chest and held them there while his hips moved from left to right. His head tilted a little, and the lines between his eyebrows grew deeper when he sang about “the angel in his dreams and a pain so deep, he was silenced.” His left leg bent and straightened to the beat of the sad song oozing from his soul. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The kind of connection he had with his music was resplendent. It was the most stunning example of letting go I’d ever seen in person. Sure, I’d seen tons of videos and had been to concerts where the bands were intense in transposing and communicating the message of their music, but I sat close enough to feel that vibe emanate from his body. The raw emotion in his performance was suffocating. I was speechless and frozen in my chair.

  “All right, take ten, guys.” Calon grabbed his frosty refill from one of the female students, winked, then walked over to me. She chirped just like Becki had. Calon smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve, and flopped down in the chair next to me. He slid down so his ass was almost hanging off the seat, closed his eyes, then downed half the mug in a few gulps.

  “So, what did you think? You like the new song?”

  “What’s it called?” I was so curious about Calon’s beautiful translation of the pain in the words he’d sung, I hadn’t even let his question register.

  “‘Silenced.’ You like it?”

  “What is it about?” I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was exhausted, like he had just run a race, and that was just the first song they practiced.

  “A girl.” He pushed back into the chair and tilted the front legs off the floor. He rocked a couple times and seemed a bit cautious.

  “What girl?”

  “Gracie. Did you like it?” He nodded with his head toward the stage like he needed to remind me what he was referring to.

  “Calon. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. I felt the pain as though I was experiencing it with the person in the story. That was an experience I don’t want to let go of.” When I realized I hadn’t run that response through my filter, I started to backpedal, but then it hit me, Calon is the way he is because he’s not guarded; he held nothing back. I had just started to realize what freedom like that felt like. I knew he wouldn’t judge my off-the-cuff reaction to his song.

  “Well, good!” A smile stretched across his chiseled face, and he nodded like he was thrilled by what I’d just said. “That’s a perfect review, Gracie. Thanks.”

  “Calon, can you tell me about the song. Who is she and what is the story?”

  “She’s someone dear to me and let’s just say it’s an experience I don’t want to let go of.”

  He “gets” me.

  “I wish I could pull that much of my soul out of me when I perform. I only pull from the surface. I imagine it being scary to dig down deeper with an audience watching every move I made. What if something I do looks ridiculous and I lose the crowd?”

  “Did I look ridiculous?”

  “Of course not.”

  It’s a good thing he didn’t ask Becki that question. She was half done with her Comfortable Screw and would have blurted out exactly what was on her mind while he sang. Instead, she used her tongue to play with her straw, which I assumed was an attempt to get Calon’s attention.

  “And what did you experience as I poured out my soul in that performance?”

  “You brought me into you. I could feel both your pain and your passion for the story you were telling.”

  “How did that affect you?”

  “It made me think of my own story and made me feel emotions I haven’t let myself touch in a while.”

  “That’s a gift I can’t give to my audience if I play from the emotions I keep on the surface. I had to dig deep to get you there. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, it does, but I would never have the nerve to close my eyes and not watch for people’s reactions while I was performing. What if I opened my eyes and they were all laughing at me? I would die. Right there on that stage. And it would be on your shoulders.”

  He chuckled. “Have you seen our audiences laugh?”

  “Well, no. But you’re you.” I giggled a little because, when he said it, it sounded ridiculous. When Alternate Tragedy was on the stage, people were fully engaged with the beat, the lyrics, the guitar riffs, and Calon’s voice.

  “Let’s see if we can get you to experience a little of what I just did on stage.”

  “You’re crazy. I’m quite happy just sitting on a stool and singing cover music. There’s no need to change what’s already working for me.”

  “Guys!” His voice came out so sharp, I jumped. “Break’s over. Gracie’s gonna show us something.”

  “Calon, I—”

  “Gracie, follow me.” He took my hand, and, leaving Josephine behind, I followed him up onto the stage and behind the mic.

  “Wrap your fingers around the mic stand. It’s your connection to the audience. Just like your blood goes through your veins to get to your heart, your voice and your soul go through this mic to get to your audience. You never want it to just be your voice. Your audience wants your soul, too. Holding the mic stand has always reminded me to send my soul out through my fingers. It will mix with the sound your voice makes and bring something truly
amazing to your audience.”

  “Calon. I totally get what you’re saying. I really do. But I can’t let go like that. I just can’t.”

  He shook his head like he wasn’t going to accept my cop-out. He was going to insist he walk me through it. He thought he would pull something out of me I didn’t know was there. Not happening. I was terrified of letting go.

  “Gracie, what song makes you emotional? A song where something about the lyrics draws you in and squeezes your heart.”

  “‘Why Go’ by Pearl Jam.” I didn’t even have to think about it.

  “Why that song?” Calon turned around and pointed at the band. He nodded a couple times then turned back and waited for the answer.

  “The song’s about a little girl who was institutionalized but probably shouldn’t have been. She’s being turned into a clone of all the other patients. Some quack of a doctor has diagnosed her, and her mother signs off on it. So she’s thinking, ‘Why go home?’ Who wouldn’t? The image of that little girl is so vivid, it moves me deep inside.” I brushed my hands across my forearms trying to warm the goosebumps away.

  “Tell me more.” Calon, who was supposed to be practicing for this week’s show, looked into my soul as he asked questions and waited for answers.

  By then, it was like I was in a daze, because I didn’t even hesitate to answer him. “She is cold and a little dirty. Her long dark hair is a tangled mess, and she’s wearing an ankle-length, used-to-be-white nightgown. She is huddled in a corner. Her eyes are empty, because she has no hope of ever leaving the place she hates the most. That little girl’s sadness breaks my heart every time I hear Eddie Vedder growl out the lyrics.”

  “Why does this song touch you like that?”

  I took a deep breath and spoke words I hadn’t expected to say aloud, “Because, last year, I was empty and felt I had no hope of leaving the place I hated the most.”

  I looked back to the bar and Jake mouthed the words, “I love you.” The sadness and betrayal in the pit of my stomach was still there, but it was like the tears had all dried up.

  “You can bring that intense emotion to your audience. It’s how you connect with them. Like your poetry. Your words can mean one thing to you personally, but can also be translated to fit many different people’s scenarios. So your words speak so loud to their souls, they can’t ignore it.”

  I nodded and remembered Daniel, the poetry TA, had said something very similar. I was entranced by Calon’s passion. What I’d witnessed in his performance of “Silenced,” and now with the passion as he explained it all, was gut-wrenchingly beautiful.

  “The band is going to play ‘Why Go’ and I want you to perform it. Don’t worry about your guitar or what your voice sounds like. You don’t even have to use the mic if you don’t want to. I just want you to feel what it’s like to have the music run through you as it forces your soul out onto the stage. You with me?”

  I wasn’t. I was mortified. I wouldn’t be able to do it. But I was too embarrassed to look like an idiot if I didn’t at least try. “Sure. Ready.”

  I looked down at Becki, on her second drink. She wobbled in her seat a little but gave me a big smile and thumbs up.

  “Ahhhh-one-two-three-four...” and with that, Spider started hammering out the unmistakable beat of a song that held me in knots every time I heard it. Calon turned my body toward the empty basement dance floor and gripped my shoulders gently in his strong hands. I felt his body against my back. He moved as though Spider was hitting him with the drum sticks. His body reacted to every beat. I felt his curls brush against my face when he leaned in toward my ear, “Let go, Gracie. It’s just you and the music.” He shook out my arms a little, and I decided to push the world out and just sing for the little girl in the corner of that dingy cell. For me.

  My knees bent and straightened in sharp beats. Then Bones played Devil’s advocate with Spider’s beat by plucking out some deep notes on his bass guitar. Manny, on lead guitar, wouldn’t be outdone and came in the third time through the repeated progression with a shrieking high tune that made my heart beat faster. It was almost like the music mimicked the little girl’s anxiety as she ran from wall to wall, trying to find a way out. I could see her. I could feel her panic. I knew that feeling all too well.

  Calon’s voice guided me, his lips pressed against my ear. Every hair on my entire body stood straight up, because being that close to the instruments and the speakers felt like the little girl’s panic was running through me. It was like the band was playing the music through my body. The thought of these men putting that beat into me was creatively sexy and very titillating. Calon’s voice was raspy, and his teeth were clenched as he sang. His voice dipped deep down at the end of the verse and ramped up in emotion into the next one. He skipped a couple words and whispered, “Get ‘em, Gracie.”

  By that time, my emotions had evolved from panic to an overwhelming need for release. I started to sing the next verse quietly and still a bit stiff. I forced myself to forget that Calon was still behind me, and I reached for the mic stand and squeezed, imagining it as the lifeline to my audience. My legs trembled but still kept the beat, and my heart was breaking for the little girl. I tried to open my eyes, but the emotions running through me worked against my efforts, and although my lids sprang open, my eyes rolled back and my lids fluttered closed again. The physiological reaction was similar to what I experienced when Jake brought me to the edge of orgasm then pulled away just a little and waited for my body to come down so he could ramp it up again.

  Before I knew it, I was pounding my right foot into the stage along with the beat of Bones’ drums. A tear escaped the corner of my eye, and I shook my head to get myself through the end of that verse. It wasn’t something I tried to do, but it seemed to help me work through the intensity of the emotions that made their way out of me. I could feel the tension leave my body, bit by bit. But it was also the most gut wrenching experience of my life, because it left me bare, with no wall to hide behind. It was so sensual and painful at the same time. It was cathartic. And it was then I realized why Calon seemed exhausted after only one song. It was like long, grueling therapy.

  I sucked in a huge staggered breath, and the next lyrics burst from my lips. I began to sweat, and a warm wave tumbled over my whole body. The lyrics started to repeat and the guitar riff picked up. I lost myself in the lyrics, in my own pain and the pain of the little girl. There was a short drum interlude then the tempo picked up and raced toward the end.

  When the last drum beat sounded, I bent over to catch my breath. My throat was raw, and I felt so light headed, I was afraid I would pass out. I gasped, but barely moved on stage. My feet remained in the same place they were when I started. But the intensity of the emotion that had just possessed my soul was unbelievable. I sat down, right there in the middle of the stage.

  Calon leaned his body over mine and gently touched my back as if he was afraid to startle me. “You did it.”

  He left with the band, and there was dead silence. I held my head in my hands and tried to make sense of the overwhelming feeling in my chest. My heart pounded and tears formed behind my eyelids. Without warning, a deluge of emotion I didn’t expect surged through my heart. I struggled to catch my breath. I flattened my hands on the stage to steady myself.

  Everything I had endured in my relationship with Noah, and the beauty of my indescribable love for Jake, were, at that moment, palpable entities. The emotions were no longer captive in my heart; at that moment, they co-existed with me in the room.

  I felt a hand on my back. When I lifted my head, a set of clear blue eyes stared back at me. Jake moved his mouth, but no sound came out. I was so thrilled that he was there at that very moment, that he’d witnessed what I’d just experienced, because I could never have explained it to him.

  “Jake, that was...”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  I folded myself up in his arms. I hadn’t realized, prior to my performance, the overwhelming level of emoti
on that begged to be set free. No wonder it had crushed me. There was a lot of weight to that despair.

  “Gracie, I am so sorry I was jealous of the connection you and Calon share. He just gave you something I can’t. Freedom. It was amazing to watch. The only thing I can compare it to is a butterfly coming out of its cocoon. You unfolded, shook out the wrinkles, and you flew. I think your soul sensed that Calon could give you that, and your soul knew that’s what you needed. I’m so sorry I misinterpreted what was happening. I love you, Gracie.”

  “I love you, too. Thank you. Thank you for seeing it for what it is. Just a creative connection. He will never get the part of me you have. That part runs way deeper than music.”

  Jake returned back behind the bar, and Becki had a drink waiting for me. I didn’t know what it was, but it was yummy, and I sucked it down in no time.

  The band called it a night after that break, but we all hung out and had a couple beers. Becki sat almost on top of Calon, but he didn’t seem to mind. I swore I actually saw a few sparks between them. Maybe I didn’t need to do any matchmaking.

  “So, Gracie, have I convinced you yet?”

  “Convinced me of what?”

  “To be our opening act.”

  I shook my head, but the words, “Hell, yeah,” shot from my lips. Talk about confused. I rolled my eyes and decided we could talk about the details of that later.

  Calon asked Becki if he could walk her home again. Jake and I said our goodbyes, turned, and headed toward our apartment building.

  “You think it’s Calon’s MO to kiss the hot girl he walks home?” Jake winked, proving he could now refer to my kiss with Calon without losing his mind.

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t kissed her yet. But if he crosses that line, I’m pretty certain Becki won’t be satisfied with just a kiss. And I may have to hear all the gory details tomorrow.”

  I laughed and snuggled into Jake’s side. He put his arm around me and squeezed me into him until he couldn’t get my body any closer.

  “Jake, I think I know why rock stars entertain groupies after every show.”