On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep

by Michelle Kemper Brownlow

  “You do? Why?”

  “Because only a portion of that level of intensity can make it out onto the stage; the rest is still inside when they leave.”

  “Huh?” He looked so confused, it made me giggle.

  “Let’s just say there’s some pent up passion left over. I really wish I could show you.”

  “Not as much as I do, Gracie. Hold onto it, baby girl. We’ll use it...just not tonight.”

  Oh, the parts of me that were throbbing didn’t want to wait. I wasn’t sure how I was going to sleep thinking about letting go of all of that sexual energy with Jake. There was no doubt we would shake the ground.

  Thirty-six

  Calon

  I sat on my couch and threw another cold beer down my throat. My head was a mess. I wish I would have just come out and told Gracie the song was about her. But I had picked up on some unsteady vibes from Jake where Gracie was concerned, so I was afraid of how he would feel about me getting so personal with her. I wasn’t sure what was up with the two of them, and, as much as I wanted to open up to her and tell her everything, I didn’t want to come between them. But I did know there was something so big about her soul and who she was, that she still held a part of me captive. I thought back to the one night that would be etched into my brain forever.

  ****

  I walked away from her in some kind of messed up daze. The taste of her lingered on my lips, and I could still feel her hands tangled in my hair. I knew I’d catch hell from the guys when I got back to Phi Tau for not helping them pack everything up. But they’d probably cut me some slack, considering I wasn’t the kind of guy who fell into the whole groupie thing. Leaving with a girl wasn’t my style.

  I reached into my pocket for my phone. It would be ridiculous to call her so soon; she probably wasn’t even to the door of her apartment yet. I stared at her face on my screen. God, this girl...I didn’t know what I was feeling, but she wrecked me. It was like a force I had no control over drew us to each other.

  The whole way back to the fraternity house, I punched in what felt like a hundred texts to her then erased each one.

  “Dude, where the hell did you go?” Spider was lifting the last of his drum kit into the van when I strolled up.

  “I walked somebody home.” I knew they wouldn’t let it go.

  “A girl somebody?” Bones always tried to reap what he called “the female rewards” of being in band.

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t anything—”

  “Get the fuck out! Guys, our man did it! He bagged a groupie!” Bones reached out to high-five me, and I grabbed him by the wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and spoke very slowly with my teeth clenched.

  “She wasn’t a groupie, and I didn’t bag her.” I pushed him away when I let go of his arm.

  “Whoa, man, calm down. You all right? You seem out of it.” Manny walked up and stood between me and Bones as though we needed to be separated.

  I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat of our old, decrepit ride. Manny and Bones hopped in the back, and I heard the pop and hiss of a beer can being opened. Spider always drove. Manny tapped me on the shoulder with a beer can and opened another one for himself. I took a long swig and tried to shake the feeling Gracie had left me with.

  The guys talked about random things, but I had no idea what they were saying. I was still stuck on Gracie. I pulled my phone from my pocket again and typed, then erased, then typed again.

  Why am I so drawn to her?

  “Dude, are you texting? Guys, Cal’s texting! Whatcha textin’ Cal? You textin’ your new girlie friend?”

  “Shut up, Bones!!” If I could have reached him, I would have hit him. Manny howled with laughter, and I heard more beer cans open. He and Bones sat back and started a conversation about new songs they wanted us to try out and decided to leave me alone.

  “What’s up, man?” Spider kept his eyes on the road and spoke in a quieter, more serious tone, which was always his vibe.

  “This girl, man. She...I...” I shook my head and finished my beer.

  “The one you walked off the stage toward after the Cheap Trick song?”

  “Yeah, Gracie. Spider, I can’t even put words to the connection I felt with her even before we spoke. You know me, man. I haven’t been ready to even think about girls or dating someone since Chloe died.”

  The night my high school sweetheart took her last breath, a part of me had died. Chloe was amazing and beautiful and carefree. She was the other half of my soul. But cystic fibrosis had stolen her away, and it was a long and painful way to die. My heart broke in two when her casket was lowered into the ground. I couldn’t imagine her lying in the ground, cold and stiff. I walked away from the service crammed tight with the hundreds of people her beautiful spirit had touched. I needed to shake the visual of her in a box. The sound of the first shovelful of earth hit the place she rested with a deafening thud, and I was certain that was the same moment my heart had locked itself tight. Chloe was it for me. Hence, the no interest in being the typical sleep-with-anything-that-breathes kind of rocker.

  Gracie rocked me with her soul in a similar way Chloe had, yet I couldn’t begin to describe it.

  “I know man, but it’s been two years.”

  “I didn’t think I could even entertain the thought of being into another girl.”

  “Until tonight?”

  “Yeah. Dude, I kissed her.”

  “That’s big, Cal. You okay? I mean, you ready to think about movin’ on?”

  “I might be.” The back of the van was quiet. I knew Manny and Bones had been listening. They razzed me about not hooking up, but they knew the story, and every time I talked about Chloe, all the joking stopped. They were good guys. They were the only family I had.

  “You get her digits?” Bones’ question took on a more chill, acceptable tone.

  “Yeah.” I unlocked my screen and looked down at her face again.

  “Text her.” Bones and Manny spoke in unison and we all got a big kick out of that.

  I knew if I didn’t, I’d lose my nerve.

  Something about you rocked my world tonight. I need to see you again.

  And that’s the last thing I remember.

  Thirty-seven

  Gracie

  You know summer is moving too fast when you’re already four days into July and it feels like your vacation has just begun. On the other hand, you know a lot has happened in a short amount of time when you think of last semester and it seems like it was years ago.

  Daniel insisted on having the second part of the Poetry Seminar on the Fourth of July. He sent out an email to the whole class stating that, since we couldn’t see fireworks until night time, there was no reason we couldn’t make it to the seminar. And then he dangled the three Liberal Arts credits in front of us to get us to attend. I was curious what the Poetry Challenge referred to. I didn’t need three Lib Arts credits but would take them if the Challenge intrigued me.

  When Daniel walked in, there was a different air about him. His voice was loud, he spoke in run-on sentences, and he seemed to be hyped up on something other than just excitement for our class.

  I pulled my sketchbook and my favorite pen from my bag. When I fanned through the pages to get to a clean sheet, the pages fell open to a torn page. I ran my fingers along its feathered edge. It was the page that had started the chaos almost a month ago. I wondered what Jake did with the alternate lyrics I had written for “Behind Blue Eyes.” I pictured him crumpling the paper in his hands and sitting down at the kitchen table with his fingers clasped around it. I could see his head resting on his fists as he tried to calm his breathing. I shook my head. That was the past; we were headed in a brand new direction.

  “So, if you haven’t already, open your notebooks to your next available blank canvas. I want you to do something, and it needs to be instantaneous. As soon as I give you the instructions, you have the next five seconds to complete the task.” Hands went up all around the room. “No questio
ns. Just do it. Got it?” Heads bobbed.

  Every time a teacher did something like this in class, I got butterflies. I’ve never been good at making spur of the moment decisions. I prefer to sit and process things, but sometimes, that leads to self-doubt. Maybe a couple firmly placed knee-jerks, both literally and figuratively, would have helped with my Noah situation. I smiled at the thought of shoving my knee so far into his groin he could taste the contents of his stomach. I quickly flipped past all the pages of inspiration for new lyrics and parts of new poems.

  “Take the next five seconds to jot down three words that describe your state of mind at this very moment. Go!”

  Daniel’s loud burst of a directive at the end of his announcement made me jump, and the butterflies seemed to go even crazier in my stomach. I twirled my pen between my fingers, squeezed my eyes, and jotted the words: on solid ground.

  “This is the title of your performance project.” He held his ears in an animated fashion as though he expected complaints, and he got them. In his original explanation, he’d called it a Poetry Challenge; now he referred to it as a performance project. After what I experienced the night before with Calon and my performance of “Why Go,” I wasn’t as intimidated by this change of plans as the rest of the class. Daniel let go of his ears as the quarrelsome comments died down.

  “This is the last piece of the trifecta that will snag you an extra three credits. You will be creating some sort of performance that will be titled...see the three words you just wrote down. This assignment must be performed the week of August fourth. The ninth is the last day for the culmination of this seminar.”

  More complaints flew to the front of the room and Daniel smiled. I didn’t really have any complaints. I wasn’t scared by this expectation, but my mind spun with all my options, so I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t overwhelmed. I loved that Daniel banged out the parameters for us. His eyes met mine, and I nodded. He must’ve gotten a few more silent positive responses, because his smile got wider.

  “All right, all right. Calm down. Are you finished complaining? Because I could consider this negative class participation and leave a comment about your intolerance on your transcript.” The room went silent. “I’m kidding; I can’t do that.” He chuckled and rubbed his chin as he walked behind the desk he’d been leaning on.

  “For the whole month of July, I will be here on Fridays from nine to noon, and if you need help or want to discuss some ideas, great! If you just want to surprise us during your performance then that’s fine, too. Just remember, you need to contact me and give me the whereabouts of your performance, date and time. You can text me the details.” He wrote his cell phone number on the board. “It is not mandatory for you to be in attendance at anyone else’s performance, but it is highly recommended from an inspirational standpoint.”

  “Wait! We get to pick our performance, plus where and when, too?” The guy next to me spoke up so quickly, it made me jump.

  “Yes. I wanted you all to have the same starting point. Most of you probably have some options and ideas for your performance already. Your choice of venue is very important. It will put you in a frame of mind that could inspire the rest of your project.”

  There was a loud groan. All the talk of the performance was making me more nervous. Maybe I didn’t really want those extra three credits. But then I thought, Daniel had put a lot of thought into the preparation of this project, and it was awesome to see so much passion and creativity at UTK. Out of respect for him, and as just one more way to stretch my confidence, I would complete his challenge. Regardless of all the shit I’d been through, I was thrilled to be part of the artistic side of Knoxville. Not to mention, three extra liberal arts credits on my transcript would be like a trophy, a way for me to always remember pushing myself just a little further.

  “So, you said it’s not mandatory that we go to any of our classmates’ performances. That means, if none of these guys come, it’s a performance just for you?” The girl in the row behind me had a hopeful sound in her voice. I held my breath because, if he said yes, I was going to jump from my seat and run to the front to hug him. If I could sing in front of Calon, the band, Becki, Jake, and his bartender friends then I could definitely perform for Daniel. Easy peasy.

  “No. That’s not what it means.”

  I blew out the breath I’d been holding a little louder than I planned. There was more grumbling because everyone was as lost as I was. How could it be a performance for more than just Daniel if no one from class showed up?

  “So, who’s going to come if the rest of the class doesn’t?” The guy behind me was as curious as I was. If he hadn’t asked, I would have.

  “You’ve all seen the flash mobs, sidewalk performers, impromptu concerts all around campus, right?”

  We all nodded and the butterflies started to multiply in my stomach again. The rush of singing with Calon on the sidewalk not too long ago was still running through my veins. I was pretty sure I knew where Daniel was going with this.

  “Well, most of those performances you have enjoyed on your way to class, in Circle Park or along the Pedestrian Mall, in the dining halls or on the steps of Hodges Library, have been a requirement for this seminar. I will be posting all your locations, dates, and times on my website, and people from all over the city will make the trek to campus to find that day’s superstars.”

  Deer in the headlights reaction from every student in the room.

  “July thirty-first is your deadline for giving me the location, date, and time of your performance. If I don’t hear from you by midnight on that date, you cheat yourself out of, not only a couple credits, but an experience that has the capacity to rock your world. Your performance dates must fall between August fourth and the ninth. If there are any of you who happen to plan your performance for the exact time as someone else, the person who claimed the date and time first will get it. I will be in touch if I need to help you reschedule. Questions?”

  His eyes swept across the room. He had a satisfied look on his face. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull it off, but I had to believe, with Calon’s creative help and Yaz’s teaching skills, I was going to be okay. August ninth was the last day of the semester, so that sounded like a good plan. It would give me the most time to prepare. And if I texted Daniel immediately, it would probably secure my choice in place and time. Place? Time? I typed in the number from the board and saved it as Daniel’s.

  Me: Gracie Jordan, August 9th, corner of College and Allen, 10pm.

  I heard his phone ding. I knew my performance was set. He reached into his pocket and silenced his phone, “Now, you’ve got the rest of the class period to hash out your ideas. May I suggest you just brain storm. Make a huge list of everything that comes to mind. Spend this class time just doing that. You might be surprised where your right brain takes you. I’m here if you have any questions.” He sat down at his desk sat and punched something into his phone.

  I turned to a clear page in my sketchbook and stared at what would soon be filled with a stream of consciousness list. My phone buzzed.

  Daniel: Looking forward to it, Gracie :)

  I looked up and locked eyes with him. I smiled.

  I had never let my guard down enough while I was with Noah to truly connect with other people. He’d gotten in a lot of jabs that he passed off as harmless teasing. But most of what he said hurt, and all of it had stuck with me. The Janis Joplin comment from the one party last year haunted me every time I looked in the mirror before I went out. Somehow, the music, my guitar, Daniel’s class, Jake’s reassurance, all worked to open me up to experiencing other people on a deeper level without the fear of judgment. It was a vulnerable place to be, but it was so beautiful. I wondered if that shift I was making was what had Jake so uneasy about Calon. He never saw me that open and transparent with anyone but him.

  I looked back down at the blank paper and filled it with all my thoughts and emotions. I added the titles of the poems I wrote and ones I hoped to writ
e. I scribbled down a few words that would remind me of certain things Sylvia had said. I wasn’t sure how I was going to compile all of it yet, but it was a good start.

  In one of my counseling sessions, Sylvia had said, thanks to the post-traumatic stress disorder, I would always have triggers that take me back to the things Noah had said and done to me. I could learn how to handle them, and they would eventually not feel real-time, but it would take a lot of work. I was certain, opening for AT and completing this performance qualified as “a lot of work.” Good grief.

  ****

  I walked home from class thinking about my brainstorming list. It wasn’t as extensive as I’d hoped, but it was a start. My phone buzzed and I instantly knew someone had already chosen my date and time for the poetry performance. But what I saw on my screen made me smile.

  Sam: Hey gorgeous.

  Me: Hey handsome!

  Sam: What’s shakin’ bacon?

  Me: You’re a dork. LOL

  Sam: The feeling is oh so mutual.

  Me: Nice. How are you? I miss you.

  Sam: Miss you, too. But I’ll see you soon!!

  Me: WHAT? WHEN?

  Sam: Tonight, so put some fun shit on the social calendar

  Me: AbsoFREAKINlutely!

  Sam: :)

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Could you giggle and text on the side of the pathway instead of in the middle?” I turned to what I knew would be my favorite set of blue eyes.

  “Jake! Sam is coming tonight!”

  “I know!” He laughed. “It was supposed to be a surprise. He can’t keep anything quiet. Remind me never to tell him a secret.”

  Me: Jake said you suck at keeping secrets

  Sam: Jake’s a pussy

  Me: SAM!

  Sam: Sorry, that was offensive. He’s a vagina.

  Me: SAM!!

  Sam: You know, I kiss better than he does.

  Me: Nope.

  I grabbed Jake’s face with one hand, planted a big sloppy kiss on his puckered lips and stretched my arm out for a candid kiss shot and hit send.