Rock My World

by Coulter, Sharisse

  Thunk! Thunk! “Five minutes!” the stage manager shouted through the door.

  He made his way out of his dressing room, winding through the backstage labyrinth to the stage. He transformed onstage as the spotlight warmed him and the crowd’s thundering cheers spread across the stadium, feeding his soul, bearing his burden. “Hello Portland!” They cheered to his pandering, tingling in anticipation. He lingered for a suspenseful beat before counting in. “Two, three, four.” He thrashed his head, signaling the band as the crowd whooped and whistled, feeling the kick of the drum, and the first few chords of the song they all recognized—their first big hit. On a great night, it was the better than sex (almost).

  Chapter 26

  Felicity flicked through a pile of index cards in front of her, spooning giant mounds of cereal in her mouth. She loved studying in the morning. In the quiet breakfast nook the chill of morning dew evaporated with the rising sun. The salty smell of the ocean wafted up carrying with it faint hints of citrus and freshly cut grass. It smelled like home.

  The warm fuzzy feelings did not, however, extend to the homework assignment she’d been procrastinating working on. The vignette. “Ugh.”

  Eventually she knew she’d suck it up and ask for her grandmother’s help, unwilling to ruin her 4.0 GPA. She just hated the idea of asking questions she might not want the answers to.

  Since the beach party, she’d been stewing over what Sadie said about her parents. Sadie, Queen of the Rumors, wasn’t big on petty things like fact checking to stop the spread of juicy gossip. Even so, Felicity couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be truth in what she said.

  “Morning,” Anya said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She set a grapefruit on a plate and joined Felicity at the table.

  “Morning,” Felicity smiled and watched her deftly cut the juicy pink fruit in half, exposing its pulpy flesh momentarily before covering it in a thin layer of sugar. Vaguely, Felicity wondered how many days of her life Anya had done that. Would it amount to years if they were all added up?

  Routine was a funny thing. It could be comfortable and reassuring—a sign that the world was exactly as it should be. Or it could be banal and mundane and make you feel like the walls were inching closer and closer until they would eventually flatten you into nothingness.

  “What are you studying?” Anya asked.

  “Organic chemistry. We have a test today. And this teacher makes it impossible to get all the answers right. There’s always some obscure question thrown in, just to spite us.” Felicity said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Do you have to get a perfect grade?” Anya asked.

  Felicity tensed. Her grandmother had a way of making things look like the obviously correct answer was absurd. She sighed in resignation, aware that they’d already had the you-have-to-do-a-hell-of-a-lot-more-than-get-straight-A’s-to-get-into-Ivy-League-colleges talk. No one understood. And now, apart from wanting to get into an Ivy League school, her more pressing desire was to beat Sadie for valedictorian.

  “Oh, I meant to ask you, I have to write a vignette about someone in my family and I was wondering if I could write it about you?”

  “Of course. That sounds like a fascinating assignment.” Anya’s eyes twinkled, a broad smile stretching across her face.

  ***

  The sun lingered above the horizon that afternoon as Anya and Felicity sat on the large wrap around deck, their faces golden in the afternoon light. Felicity pressed record on her iPhone, nodding to Anya to begin.

  “When and where were you born?”

  “I was born in 1944, in a small town in Arizona, that’s now part of Phoenix. My parents were from Kansas, where they were farmers. The Arizona land was too dry for crops, so my dad did odd jobs to support us. My mom ran a preschool out of the house.”

  “You have a brother and a sister, how much older are they?” These were heinously boring questions, she admitted, but Felicity comforted herself in the safety of questions she already knew answers to.

  “Actually, I have a brother, Colin, who’s three years older, and two sisters.”

  “Two?” Felicity tilted her head in confusion. Anya nodded.

  “You know Lory, she’s two years older than me. My other sister, Jennifer, died when she was two months old. SIDS, I believe. She died nine months before I was born. My mother never recovered.” Anya stared off, a faraway look in her eye. “I always felt she was half-ghost, flitting between the present and the after-life, checking on all four of us. She went through the motions but her eyes always gave her away. They’d glass over when she went to see Jennifer.” She shook her head, bringing her attention to the present.

  Stunned, Felicity’s mouth hung open. This was the first she’d ever heard of Jennifer. Anya, never the typical milk-and-cookies grandmother, surprised her in lots of ways, but this was truly shocking. Anya’s spiritual beliefs lay somewhere within a Pagan, Christian, Buddhist sandwich with a side of Atheism—not exactly mainstream. Felicity, spiritually undecided, wondered if she believed in ghosts.

  “So is that why you named Mom, Jenna?”

  “Yes. It was the nickname I used when I talked to my sister. Usually I spoke to her when Lory or Colin took my toys or told on me and got me in trouble.”

  “When did you meet Grandpa?”

  “We met when we were seventeen. His father got a contract to work with an American company for a year and dragged the whole family with him. Shawn was a breath of fresh air. He was funny, sweet, and talented. Not at all like the boys I grew up with. I knew I wanted to marry him by the end of our first conversation.” Anya’s eyes drifted upwards, remembering herself as young girl.

  “When did you get married?” Felicity asked.

  “As soon as we graduated. We were eighteen. We eloped in Vegas against our parents’ wishes. Mine disowned me, his were just disappointed.”

  “Your parents disowned you?” Felicity asked, stunned.

  “My father said I was a ‘silly stupid girl’, hanging my hopes on a man who would end up a street performer, begging for money. My mother never crossed my father so she didn’t say anything. I think she was proud of me getting out of there, though. She gave me this as a wedding present.” Anya said, fingering the jade and gold pendant Felicity had never seen her without. She’d had no idea there was such a story behind it.

  “So off we went to Hollywood. Two kids with one big dream. I’ve never known anyone so single-minded as your grandfather. He knew what he wanted and went for it, whole-heartedly. You have a lot of that same quality, I think.” Felicity blushed, and let her grandmother continue.

  “Within the year he got a record deal and signed me on as his manager so that I could tour with him. He put together the band, rehearsed till his fingers bled, and recorded their first album. The rest, as they say, is history.” Anya took a sip of her lemonade, lost in nostalgia.

  “We toured for two years straight, taking every gig, sleeping anywhere from motels to couches and floors and, even once, under a blanket in Golden Gate Park. At the time I thought it was so romantic. Now, of course, I know it was just plain stupid.” She looked at Felicity as if daring her to try it. Then her face softened. “And completely unsustainable. After that, the band did another world tour—year and a half of sold-out performances—with hardly any days off. By the end they were exhausted. Everyone went their separate ways, and we went back to Australia. We had your mom and made the decision not to tour anymore.”

  “Do you have any regrets?” Felicity asked.

  “No. No regrets. But it’s funny how sometimes the things you wish for most are the ones that turn out to be furthest from what you want.”

  “Hmm,” Felicity crinkled her brows. Why would you wish for something you didn’t want? She wondered.

  Chapter 27

  In a hurry to protect her daughter from the prying eyes of the paparazzi, Jenna didn’t bother to think about logistics. The gossip hounds were out for blood, circling the truth without actual
ly seeing it. Jenna couldn’t bear the thought of Felicity figuring it out on her own, or worse, reading about it once the reporters closed in. The time had come for a mother/daughter chat.

  She stuffed a few things in a carry-on and took the first flight out, heading home. Her parents’ home, that is. Her own home was still off limits. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

  She tossed the cab driver a hundred dollar bill as she stepped onto the familiar gravel drive. The cab took off, leaving her alone in front of the quiet house. The What If’s knocked around in her head, upsetting her sure-footedness. What if Felicity already knows? Alex would have told me before he said something to Felicity, right? And what if she’s blissfully unaware and I pierce that bubble of innocence unnecessarily? Would she want to live with Alex if we split for good? She shook her head to quell the deluge, feeling that familiar anger bubble to the surface mixed with a chest-gripping fear, and reeling at the unfairness of it all.

  “Mom?” Felicity asked, staring at her like she’d grown two heads. Jenna stood in the driveway, arms inert at her sides. An overwhelming feeling of love and affection rushed over her, bringing to mind the image of holding her daughter for the first time. She squeezed her, smothering her in a giant bear hug.

  When Felicity finally extricated herself, coughing, she opened and closed her mouth in confusion. Her brows furrowed as she inspected her mother.

  “Where are you going?” Jenna asked realizing Felicity hadn’t come outside to greet her. She watched Felicity’s forehead wrinkle again, as she swiped her golden coppery hair off her face. She looked just like her father. The anger she felt toward Alex lessened slightly, seeing him in their beautiful daughter.

  “School.”

  “Oh, right. What time is it? I can take you.” Jenna said in a casual tone, as though it were perfectly normal to appear unannounced waiting alone in her parents’ driveway.

  “It’s okay, Trey’s picking me up.” Felicity said, gauging her reaction.

  As if on cue, Trey’s bike grumbled up the drive, crunching gravel beneath the tires. He flicked the kickstand down with his foot as he dismounted.

  “Hello Mrs. Anders,” he said, holding a spare helmet in the crook of his arm.

  “Hi Trey. That’s nice of you to take Felicity to school.”

  “Um, yeah, not a problem,” he said, then turning to Felicity, “You ready?”

  Felicity gawked at her mother for another moment, then nodded and took the helmet.

  “Bye, Mom.”

  “Bye, sweetheart. Have a good day! Drive safe!” Jenna called after them, elated to see her daughter safe and normal. Maybe she could stave off the inevitable a while longer. Her mom would know what to do.

  Anya sat in the breakfast nook, sipping coffee, reading the paper. It was a painfully nostalgic sight, reverting her to childhood. No matter how old she got, she always felt like a little girl in her parents’ house.

  “Mom?”

  Anya looked up over her coffee, nearly spilling it when she saw Jenna.

  “I didn’t know you were coming back today.” Anya said, looking her over, worry written all over her softly wrinkled face. Checking for what, Jenna wondered, boo boos?

  She smiled inwardly at the thought. A warm wave of affection washed over her again as she plopped down onto the chair opposite her mom. She took an orange out of the centerpiece, tossing it from one hand to the other like a hot potato. Her nerves dissipated and she nearly forgot why she’d come in the first place. Nearly.

  Anya demonized tabloids the way most mothers do strangers offering a ride. It was forbidden to bring one into the house. What was it she said? Something about words having power and not reading them protecting you from malevolence. Jenna never remembered the exact wording, though she’d heard it often enough. The nerves reappeared as Jenna tried to formulate an excuse for having read one and now coming home to attempt damage control. Seeing it through her mom’s eyes, it seemed silly. Maybe she was overreacting this time.

  Anya waited, not touching the partially eaten grapefruit in front of her. Jenna looked up at her mother, noticing the gray roots of her hair, the slight stoop to her once perfect posture, and wondered how long she had until she saw that image reflected in the mirror. Sighing, she decided to start at the beginning. There were enough problems in her life because of omissions and she didn’t have the energy to add to that list.

  When she finished, she glanced up, making eye contact for the first time. Anya looked away and Jenna couldn’t be sure, but she thought her mom’s eyes looked watery. Anya never cried.

  “So what is it you’d like to do?” Anya asked.

  Good question, Jenna thought. “I want the facts. I want to know all the information and get to make up my mind, without anyone telling me how I feel or omitting details for my protection.” It escaped her lips before she’d thought it, but hearing herself say it aloud, realized it was exactly what she wanted. Her worst fears had come true. But she was still here. She hadn’t collapsed or spiraled down the drain of despair. She was taking things as they came—one thing at a time.

  “What can I do?” Anya asked. Jenna was taken aback by Anya’s uncharacteristic response. She’d expected resistance or challenge and not having to explain herself, she felt relieved. Her mom on her side felt like an army.

  ***

  It was already dark outside when Felicity returned after school and soccer practice. Shawn, Anya and Jenna moved about the kitchen, chopping, cooking, and laughing. Felicity was sure she’d stepped into the twilight zone. The earthy, mouth-watering smell of garlic in olive oil wafting through the house summoned her to this alternate universe and she clutched her stomach in hunger.

  She spent all day trying to convince herself nothing was wrong, that her mom letting her on Trey’s motorcycle was a fluke. She knew something was off, but the happy sounds of her family cooking together put a smile on her face. If this was an invasion of body snatchers, it seemed a good trade. She could go along with happy.

  “Cici, can you help me set the table?” Jenna asked, grabbing cutlery and napkins.

  “Sure, Mom.” Felicity said. Jenna smiled, handed her a stack of plates, and kissed her daughter on the head.

  After dinner, everyone sated and sleepy, Jenna and Felicity sat alone in the cozy comfort of the living room. They looked at each other from opposite ends of the couch, feet up.

  Jenna shifted in her chair, an indecipherable emotion flitting across her face. Felicity sensed a change in the air, and straightened up slightly. The jovial mood pierced by tension. Jenna knew it would be hard, but her maternal strength drew upon a well of faith she never knew she had. She could do this, for her daughter and herself.

  “Sweetheart, you know your dad and I had a fight … right?” Jenna started.

  Felicity’s heart sank. She didn’t want to hear this.

  “Well, I needed to take some time to think about things. Decide what the next step was.”

  Felicity remained quiet, staring at her feet.

  “An article came out.” Jenna said, her voice shaky. “I’m afraid that kids may ask you questions about it and I don’t want this to affect you … or your schoolwork.”

  Since when is she concerned with my schoolwork? Felicity thought, not appreciating the condescension.

  “What’s the ‘it’?” Felicity asked.

  “It’s … about your dad and me … and rumors of him with someone else.” Jenna looked down at her hands as she spoke. Felicity gulped.

  “You and I can spend the rest of the semester up in Tahoe. You’ll be able to stay under the radar. You can start school next week. It’s all set.” Jenna looked up, gauging Felicity’s reaction with great interest.

  Felicity shifted in her seat, staring at the floor.

  “Do you want to ask me anything?” Jenna said, trying to decipher the twisted expression on Felicity’s face. Felicity looked as though she’d seen a ghost. The color drained from her face as she glared into her mother’s eyes.

>   “You have no idea what’s best for me.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m just trying to protect you,” Jenna said. Her calm demeanor created the opposite effect on Felicity. Her pale face turned red.

  “You actually believe this is better for me? This is all about you! It’s always been about you!”

  Jenna recoiled as though slapped. Felicity never shouted at her. She hadn’t expected her to take this change lightly, but she thought she could at least be rational. Felicity continued, unperturbed.

  “You’re the one afraid of being embarrassed. Not me! I‘m not going with you. I’m staying here. At my school with my friends. I know you don’t get it. You don’t know how to think about anyone but yourself. I’m not going to let my teammates down. I’m going to keep my commitments. I’m going to get into an Ivy League college and I’m not going to repeat your mistakes!”

  “I-“ Jenna stuttered. Is this how my own daughter sees me? She couldn’t muster a retort. She studied the face of the little girl who used to love having her back tickled to sleep, who couldn’t go to bed until she’d said, “I love you.” The face looking back at her now wasn’t a toddler throwing a tantrum. She was a young woman. Jenna alternated feeling hurt by Felicity’s words and proud she’d raised a confident daughter unafraid to stand up for herself.

  Felicity pulled her legs into herself, arms crossed protectively in front of her. Jenna tried to put herself in Felicity’s position. Was it fair to ask a sixteen year-old to give up her life, her friends, and her sports in order to spare her humiliation she couldn’t yet comprehend? No, probably not.

  Jenna was acquainted with humiliation and the last thing she wanted was for her daughter to be isolated the way she’d been. Her job was to protect her child. She couldn’t always be a friend.

  “I know you’re angry. It’s unfair. But it’s not up to you. It’s up to me. I already spoke to your school. And we can stay until this weekend, after your last game.”