by Becky Wicks
‘Everything OK?’ Mel asks, raising an eyebrow.
‘All good,’ I say, avoiding her eyes. ‘I’ll be right back.’
I walk through the studio, nod to Michael who’s mixing our vocals, and out in the corridor before picking up. ‘Mom,’ I answer and right away I hear her sniffing.
‘He wants to talk to you,’ she says.
My skin bristles. ‘He’s said enough.’
‘Conor, I want to talk to you,’ she says now and I hear her voice crumble into sobs.
‘You never want to talk to me,’ I answer coolly, even as my heart pangs and my throat burns even drier. ‘You let dad do all the talking, every time. What’s going on?’
‘I can’t lose you, too, Conor, please. Can I see you tonight?’
I chew on my cheek as she sniffs again into the void. I know she’s hurting too and I know I’m hard on her but the fact that she’s never had a voice has always made me furious; possibly because she reminds me of myself. I never had a voice either. But as a kid I wished she would defend me and herself against my father. I always suspected his suffocating views and the systematic destruction of our individualities bothered her more than she let on, but she said nothing. She let him control us all; let him stand there on his fucking pedestal and destroy us with his so-called-Christian preaching.
‘Please Conor, tonight,’ she says when I’m silent. ‘I’ll come by your place. Your father won’t know.’
‘No, mom,’ I say resolutely. ‘That’s how this all started. We had to pretend our whole lives to be something we weren’t! Nothing anybody says is making me come back to Hearts, OK? I’m happy…’
‘I just want to talk. I heard from Grace.’
My stomach clenches. No words come out.
‘She called me after your father spoke to the Pastor. She hadn’t told him yet.’
I close my eyes. Shit. Grace must have been just as terrified to tell her father about the break up as I was. Then mine went and did it for her.
‘She wanted to know if you were OK. She said you made a promise not to talk to each other. Why would you do that?’
I turn to the wall, lower my voice. ‘We’re moving on, mom,’ I say as the thought of Grace sitting in some Jamaican hotel room, facing her own father sends a wave of sympathy from the old me to the old her through the abyss.
‘Don’t you miss her?’
I sigh into the phone, close my eyes. ‘We made this decision together, mom.’
‘How can you just leave each other? How can you not tell us?’
‘We’ve been leaving each other since the baby died,’ I say, struggling to keep my voice low and walking to the end of the corridor. I can hear my father coughing in the background. He’s listening to her. They’ve probably got me on loudspeaker. ‘If you and dad cared about me as much as you cared about the community you would have known that, and so would the Pastor,’ I say.
‘That’s not fair, Conor. Let’s talk about all this in person… what are you going to do for money?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ I say. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Micah wasn’t fine,’ she says and blood fizzes in my ear with her voice.
‘I’m not Micah. I have the advance from the publishing deal, look, don’t call me, mom. Just… give me space, OK?’
I feel like the biggest asshole alive as I hang up on her and grip my phone to my chest, lean against the wall next to a photo of Patsy Cline in an elf costume, but even hearing her voice, so damn dejected brings Micah’s face to the forefront of my mind and with that comes the resentment. I still remember the crying coming from her bedroom after he left; the way she wouldn’t talk to me when I begged to know where he’d gone or when he was coming back. Even as I slept on his fucking bed with my head on a pile of his laundered, forgotten sweaters she went into silent mode, a sheep behind my father. She could have said something. She could have brought him home.
‘Are you alright?’ Stephanie’s walking down the hallway towards me. I turn to her in her tight blue jeans and ankle boots, her button up shirt with the roses all over it. I loop my arm around her back and bring her hard to my chest, just needing to feel her against me. She grins as I bunch my hand under her ponytail and kiss her, kissing me back hungrily for a moment before we both remember where we are. ‘Woah,’ she says, pulling away, putting her hands to my shoulders and looking around her sheepishly. The corridor’s empty.
‘Sorry,’ I say, but she smiles, looping a finger through my belt loop and kissing me again. My breathing calms instantly.
‘Don’t ever apologize for that. What’s going on?’ she asks. ‘What happened with your mom?’
‘She wants to see me. I told her she couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s as bad as my father.’
Stephanie cocks her head, looks at me contemplatively. ‘You’re not going to shut them out forever, are you?’ She kind of winces when she says it, like she doesn’t want to, but has to. ‘I know they’re messing up a lot right now but they’re your family, Conor.’
I bite my cheeks, lean my head back against the wall. I know she lost her parents. She doesn’t want me to lose mine, but my mother threw a wall up between us when I was twelve. She can’t just knock it down because I’ve finally seen the goddam light; or because the Pastor of her precious community is probably furious with me too. Mom needs to understand that she’s part of the problem.
‘I need to be away from all that for a while. Anyway, I don’t want to drag you into all this bullshit,’ I say, meaning it. Stephanie has been beyond great about all this – way more understanding than I’m sure a lot of people would’ve been. ‘Let’s go make good music.’
She raises an eyebrow, looping her arms around my neck next to Patsy Cline. ‘I thought you didn’t really want to make good music,’ she says and I can’t help laughing. Making good music has become our code phrase for making something just as good, if not better, behind closed doors.
‘You’re right, I’d rather take you back to the dwarf bed right now, Snow White,’ I say, ‘but I have another song idea.’
‘Me too!,’ she says and her eyes light up in that adorable way.
A door opens near us and we spring apart, but an intern looks at us, smiles knowingly as he walks out with a tray of coffee cups. Stephanie pulls a face. ‘Mel just asked if we were together yet,’ she whispers as we follow him down the corridor towards the elevator. I grin.
‘Really?’
‘She says she saw it coming. She also says she can tell by the blush of my cheeks.’
‘Well, they’re pretty blushable,’ I say, pressing the elevator button over her shoulder as the intern disappears into another studio. I lean in, put my lips right by her ear and brush her hair back softly. ‘Especially when you’re lying on your back with your legs around me, making that oh, oh, oh, sound…’
‘Stop it!’ she laughs, shoving my shoulder playfully, but when she looks at me bashfully her cheeks are bright red. I adore this girl.
‘Ready for Singin’ In The Rain?’ Lou asks me several hours later, coming up behind me with two glasses of something green in her hands. She hands one to Stephanie, kisses her cheek and winks at me at the same time. She’s wearing her killer schmooze outfit for the night – a green wrap-around dress that highlights her eyes and high cheekbones.
‘What the hell is this? Looks like Shrek had an accident with a blender,’ I say and she rolls her eyes, sweeping her hand through her shiny cropped hair.
‘It’s healthy. Not that you’d know, eating your fuckin’ fried pickles and whatever else it is that makes up this body… what is this? Cookie dough?’ She grins, pretending to grab a fistful of flesh from my stomach. She gets nothing and nudges my shoulder instead.
‘Very funny,’ I say, sipping the cocktail as Stephanie laughs beside me. She knows I run three times a week, as well as go to the gym; not that I’ll be able to afford that for much longer now that I’m unemployed. Once the money from the a
dvance runs out I’ll have nothing. I push the thought from my head.
The wellness company function Lou got invited to is ‘green cocktails and a movie’ in the Belcourt parking lot. The movie starts at sundown. After avoiding all her questions since I pretty much moved out and into Stephanie’s place, Lou made me promise to come along. She gave us both guest passes, as well as one each for Pete and Tal. They’ve been ‘hanging out’ for a couple of weeks now. Stephanie hooked them up and I’m kind of glad because they haven’t been at the house much, preferring to jam all night at his place with the others, her harp and his guitars.
They’re sitting on two of the green beanbags scattered in front of the building. The projector on the wall is about to start showing the movie. It’s a pretty neat set up and all around us Nashville’s twenty-somethings are mingling in a sea of colorful shirts and dresses, drinking green things. I played an open mic out here one summer.
‘Not bad,’ Stephanie says next to me, licking her pink glossed lips and studying the cocktail she’s just tasted.
‘Spirulina, moringa and coconut,’ Lou replies, reaching into her purse and pulling out a menu card, which doubles as an ad for the new product line. ‘It’s the best of the bunch, supposed to cleanse away your impurities. I’m guessing you must have a few.’ She shoots me a look that I know means she’s messing with me, but I can’t help it irritating me anyway, all things considered. Tal waves Stephanie over, but Lou reaches for her arm.
‘Thanks for coming, babe, seriously,’ she says to her. ‘Pizza, wine and Yazoo beer is over there if it’s all too holistic for you.’ She gestures towards the stand that’s already attracting a bigger line than the sponsor, unfortunately. ‘Don’t feel obliged to drink Shrek.’
‘He tastes pretty good,’ Stephanie smiles. ‘Just don’t bring me the donkey.’
I reach for her hand, pull her close and kiss the side of her head. She leans into my shoulder, takes another sip.
‘I’ll come find you in a minute,’ I tell her before she walks over to the others. I watch her go; the yellow and white patterned sundress she changed into after our session at Ace, the long braid down her back, the brown leather sandals. When I turn to Lou, she’s still watching Stephanie in just as much appreciation.
‘Talk to me,’ she says, motioning me to follow her to where three other girls are wearing silk green dresses and satin green heels, handing out the free samples in small martini glasses. She picks up another one. ‘You’re so in lurrrrve, it’s written all over your damn face! When did the song writing step up to screwing?’
‘Don’t be vulgar,’ I say and she laughs and pouts, handing me the drink and taking Shrek away.
‘You’re too cute. Come on, I’m happy for you, this is awesome,’ she says, ‘Finally, you’re moving on! But seriously, are you OK? I take it this is all having consequences?’
‘He’s cutting me off from Fret,’ I say.
Her eyes grow wide. ‘Are you serious? Judge, that place is your second home! It’s supposed to be yours…’
‘Don’t let him in, or my mom either if they call round,’ I say. ‘I’ll figure it out without them. We’re working on the songs, we’re about to get a cut. So Mel says, anyway.’
Lou grimaces.
‘What?’
‘I don’t want to rain on your parade, but please don’t tell me you’re pinning all your hopes on a cut on a superstar’s album, Judge. You know everyone in town is doing that exact same thing!’ She gestures around her. ‘And yet here we all are, broke and drinking free bits of swamp ogre.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ I say as my stomach churns and only partly because of the healthy cocktails. She’s right. We’ve been given a shot, a deal and a sacred slot at the best spot in town, but Nashville’s full of people like us. Trying. Scraping by.
‘Sorry,’ she says, scrunching up her face and holding her drink to her chest. ‘Just trying to be realistic. You’ll get there!’
‘I hope so.’
She play punches my arm. ‘Just have fun being in love for now. You deserve it. I’m proud of you, for everything, seriously,’ she says, flashing me a sincere smile now. ‘Just don’t forget where you live, OK?’
‘I’ll be back tonight. You don’t mind if Stephanie comes over sometimes, do you?’ I ask her.
Her black eyebrows rise comically. ‘So this is serious, huh?’
I nod. ‘She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘I look forward to hearing some songs that aren’t about Grace at least. Just don’t rock that headboard too hard OK, you’ll make me jealous.’
‘Vulgar,’ I repeat. ‘How’s your love life anyway?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ she replies surreptitiously before she’s waved over by a short, pretty girl holding a tray of cocktails.
Smiling in spite of myself I make my way over to Stephanie, Tal and Pete. Stephanie moves aside on her beanbag and I sink beside her just as the screen lights up and some arty short featuring clay penguins starts playing. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, kiss the top of her head and she snuggles close against my chest.
I can feel Tal looking at me. When I meet her eyes, expecting disdain for some reason, she’s smiling and nodding, like she’s forgiven me for something I’m still not sure I even did. I can’t be bothered to care anymore. There’s too much else going on. She looks happy with Pete at least. His tall lanky frame is all squished up on the beanbag. When he sees me gives me a thumbs-up over her head, looks from Tal to me with a smug, comedic look on his face as if confirming that yes, he won the prize. I can’t help laughing and he pretends to look shocked and confused as Tal looks up at him, frowning.
Halfway through the movie I realize I’m not even really hearing a word of what Gene Kelly is saying, but that’s mostly because Stephanie’s lips are pressed to mine as we lie face to face against the beanbag. It’s dark now and the parking lot is lit only by the light of the big screen. It’s like being at a drive-in without a car and I’m a teenager all over again. Stephanie’s kisses are addictive and we’re not even touching, except for our mouths. It’s the most turned-on I’ve been in a long time in public and I sigh against her, willing myself not to pick her up and carry her all the way home.
Most nights we make love for hours and I’m exhausted, as she is, but we can’t help it. I meant what I said to Lou and I don’t give a shit if I’m a cheese-ball because of it. For years I was yelled at, made to feel like sex was wrong and evil and punishable from all corners. The real me was a secret, a world inside my head. I could never really see how something that feels so right with someone you care about so deeply could ever be wrong, but I couldn't say it - there would've been hell to pay. Stephanie and I worship each other, our souls are free and alive and it shows on our faces, in our footsteps, in our songs… in the way we can’t ever stop making out, wherever we are.
‘Get a room,’ comes a voice behind us suddenly. It’s so loud that Stephanie and I aren’t the only ones who spring up to see who’s speaking. I should have known.
‘Travis,’ we say at the same time. He’s sitting down on a beanbag behind us, handing a beer to the brunette he’s clearly on a date with. I’ve never seen her before.
‘If that’s what those green drinks do to you, shame they ran out,’ he grins, and he tilts his hat at us, at Tal and Pete too, as the girl next to him looks at him in confusion. He doesn’t bother to introduce her. Instead he leans closer so his shaven face is literally between ours. ‘So, you’re a couple now, I take it?’
‘What gave you that idea?’ Stephanie asks, beaming. Her lips are swollen and pink, her eyes glazed. I wonder if mine are the same and I grin at him – something I don’t think I’ve ever done.
‘Well, I was hoping you kiss all the guys who sit down next to you for long enough but somehow I’m starting to doubt that’s how you operate,’ he says.
I put an arm around her, blocking his Cheshire cat face before either of
us can say anything else, but Stephanie’s pulling away, twisting back to him. ‘What are you doing here anyway? I haven’t seen you in a while. You haven’t been into The Nice Rack to annoy me, and you didn’t come to the last Bluebird slot.’
‘You’re right,’ he replies. He narrows his eyes, smiling. ‘Have you been tracking my moves, Miss Deserted?’
‘Get over yourself,’ I say now, turning round and rolling my eyes. He ignores me, focuses on Stephanie.
‘Aww, you missed me didn’t you? I knew you would. I’ve been busy writing, if you must know.’
‘Writing about what? Is it mustard this time?’ I ask. I can’t help it.
He ignores me. ‘Thought any more about writing with me?’ he asks, swigging on his beer. ‘Because I really think you should. There’s still time for teamwork.’
Stephanie tuts and turns away from him, lowering herself back down on the beanbag so he can’t see her and then pulling me down, too. I smile as she grips the front of my shirt and carries on kissing me out of his eye line. As she grins against my lips I can tell she feels like a teenager too and I lose myself in her momentarily again as the movie flickers on. But the soft, purposeful kick of Travis Flynn’s boots on the back of our beanbag lets me know his presence won’t be forgotten completely, as usual.
15.
Stephanie
‘Thanks for offering to drive me,’ I say to Conor, putting my hand on his knee as he stares out at the road. Bright sunshine is streaming through the windows and I can’t fight the smile from my face. We’ve been singing loudly with the windows down, making everyone at the lights stop and stare, but I think they were mostly staring at the way we cracked up like kids when we noticed them.
‘I couldn’t run the risk of the Toyota dying on you again,’ he says. ‘Selfish reasons really, if it did you’d be stuck in Homewood again and we’ve only just gotten you to Nashville.’
‘I have no plans to leave Nashville,’ I tell him with absolute certainty. ‘Most days I don’t even want to leave my bed.’
