by Kim Holden
She shakes her head. “My parents were never married. My dad was a musician. He played small bars around Brooklyn and busked to scrape by, still does as far as I know. He’s actually not bad, but he has issues living in the real world. You know, where you’re required to be sober more than drunk.” She raises her eyebrows to drive her point home. “Anyway, I guess my mom was kind of a groupie. They hooked up a few times. She got pregnant. They stayed together until I was born and then my mom split.”
My first thought goes to Ma. She’s a rabid protector of me and anyone else she sees as her child. I know all moms aren’t like her, but I can’t fathom a mom abandoning her kid. “She left? Like left, left?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’ve always thought of her as a gypsy. I don’t think she’s ever had a job. I know she’s never had a place of her own. She just drifts through the world. She makes friends and has lovers. They take her in until she gets the itch to move on to the next. I hear from her every couple of years. I’ve never met her in person, only seen her in a photo my dad has.”
“Shit. That’s fucked up, Scout.”
She shrugs like she agrees and disagrees with me. “It is what it is. I’d rather not have her in my life, than have her and feel like a burden. My dad raised me. It worked out.”
“What’s your dad like?” I’m almost afraid to ask because I know she said she didn’t live with him after the accident.
She blinks a few times like she’s trying to remember him. “He loves alcohol. He loves music. And he loves me. In that order.”
I know this isn’t easy for her to talk about, so I ask her a question to keep her talking. “You grew up in Brooklyn?”
“For the most part, yeah. My dad never had his own place, so we moved around a lot. Stayed with friends of his, girlfriends, sometimes a bar owner would set us up in a room above the bar for a month or two as payment for him playing at night. I never knew any different, so to me it was normal. I was alone a lot, but it forced me to be independent.”
“And what about after the accident?”
The look in her eyes is far away. “The accident.” She pauses. “My dad got a gig in upstate New York. He borrowed a car and we drove there. I sat backstage while he played … I remember reading Little House on the Prairie while I waited.” She smiles faintly at the memory. “He drank for a few hours after he finished playing. I read some more. When he came for me and told me it was time to go home I knew he was drunk.” She shrugs. “He was always drunk, so I didn’t know I should be scared. We got in the car. It was snowing outside and I remember how cold the backseat was when I lay down on the vinyl. I didn’t put my seatbelt on. I didn’t even think about it. I’d only ever ridden in a car a few times before. We always rode the subway at home. Anyway, I fell asleep, and woke up in the middle of wreckage and fire.” She’s staring off into space and her eyes are glassy. Her voice is quiet, but so intense it holds me fast; I have no choice but to listen. “It was so hot. That’s the thing I remember the most … even more than the pain ... the heat.” She licks her lips before she continues. “I was trapped in the car. My dad was outside. I could see him walking around. I screamed and screamed for him, and then I passed out.”
“Did he come back for you?”
She nods. “He did. I would’ve died otherwise. I guess the ambulance and fire truck showed up shortly after and took us both to the hospital. He was unharmed except for a few cuts. I was in intensive care for a few days, due to internal injuries, before I was transferred to the burn unit. I spent weeks there. Lots of surgeries, skin grafts. My dad went to jail: DUI and child endangerment. Social services stepped in and my aunt and uncle stepped up. The rest is history. I went home with them and they were my new family after that.”
She’s strong. She’s so damn strong. I can’t imagine the pain and suffering she went through. “Do you ever see your dad?”
“I see him or hear from him about once a year, but it’s never planned, always out of the blue. He feels guilty, I know he does. I think it’s hard for him to look at me,” she points to the scars on her face and neck, and raises her eyebrows. The self-loathing and embarrassment is trying to take hold of her.
I cup her cheek in my hand and turn her head to face me, to look me in the eye. “You’re fucking beautiful. Don’t let anyone ever make you feel otherwise. And if they do, you tell me and I’ll kick their ass.”
She smiles and the embarrassment fades. “Thanks, tough guy.”
I kiss her forehead before I drop my hand from her cheek. “Anytime, badass. So you and Pax grew up together then?”
Her smile grows when she talks about Pax. “We did. He was one of the only people who never made me feel like a freak. He never mentioned my scars and he always looked me in the eye when he talked to me. I changed schools when I went to live with my aunt and uncle and I never really made any friends. We lived in Manhattan. Most of the kids came from money. They could be cruel. They teased. Called me names. And as we got older, they just ignored me, which was kind of a relief. I’d much rather be ignored than made fun of. By the time I went to college, I was really good at blending into the background and not being seen. I kept to myself and took as many online classes as I could.” She shrugs again, but it’s almost like an apology. “It worked for me.”
I smile at her because I can’t dwell on her past, not when she’s finally growing into the person she’s supposed to be. “You work for me.”
She smiles back and raises her eyebrows in question. She’s flirting with me now. “Is that so?”
I nod and remove the bag of cookies from the bed between us and set it on the dresser next to the bed. She’s half sitting, half lying against a couple of pillows. I pull the pillows out from under her so she’s lying flat on the bed. “We’re not going to need those.” I help her slip her dress off. “Or that.” I remove my shorts and underwear. “Or those.”
“Gus, I need to go soon. I have to work today.” It’s just after midnight.
“I know. Just let me make you feel good, one more time before you go.”
I settle in between her legs and taste her. And goddamn she tastes amazing.
She trembles once from the pressure of my tongue, and again minutes later when I fill her. Everyone’s thoroughly satisfied. Again.
I don’t want her to leave, but I know she needs to. I slide into my boxer-briefs as I watch her pull her dress over her head and slip on the panties that were in her purse. I know different things are turn-ons for different people, but watching her take panties out of her purse and put them on? Yeah, that’s sexy. “Scout?”
“Yeah?” She answers as she fixes the waist of her lace panties in place and drops the skirt portion of her dress to cover her.
“Can you just start carrying your panties around in your purse?”
She laughs. “Why?”
“I don’t think watching you take them out and put them on would ever get old for me. It’s fucking hot.”
She winks. “I’ll remember that.”
“You better. Fantasies fulfilled are the best kind of fantasies.”
“You’re so right. That’s what tonight was all about.” Her smile is full of mischief.
We’re walking to the front door now. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a naughty side? I like it.”
“I never did until I met you. You’re a bad influence.” She’s walking in front of me and doesn’t turn around when she says it, but I can hear her smirking.
I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her on the back of the head. “I’m the best kind of bad.”
She turns when we reach the door and agrees. “The best.” And then she kisses me. There’s heat behind it, but it’s short lived, and too quickly she’s turning away and opening the door.
“You sure you’re awake enough to drive home?”
When she smiles, I get two answers in one. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more awake. Thank you for tonight.” She’s talking about more than the sex.
I nod. “Thank you for tr
usting me with all of you.”
She smiles and hugs me one more time.
“Call or text me when you get home so I know you made it.”
“I will. Kick ass tomorrow in the studio.”
I smile. “That’s the plan. Kick ass tomorrow at work.”
She laughs as she walks away. “That’s the plan. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I stand at the door and watch her get in her car and drive away before I close it. I decide I need another glass of milk and some more cookies before I go to bed. As I’m walking out of the kitchen the guys walk through the front door. They’re laughing. I like seeing them all happy.
Franco’s taking off his jacket when he says, “You should’ve come with us tonight, scrote. I met a wild little strawberry blond from Northern England named Gemma. She’s got a penchant for leopard print, You Me At Six, and gin. She’s perfect. Got her number. A good time was had by all.”
A good time was had by all. Me included.
I smile at the thought and before I can say anything he’s sniffing at the air like a fucking bloodhound. “It smells like homemade cookies in here. Why does it smell like homemade cookies in here?” He looks suspicious. And at the same time he says, “Was Scout here? Where’re the cookies?” Jamie says, “Holy shit, what happened to the table? And the wall?”
I cringe when I see that the corner of the table has driven into a hole in the drywall. But I can’t hide my smile either. I take a drink of my milk before I answer, “Girl Scout may have stopped by tonight to deliver some cookies.”
Franco smiles slyly. “That doesn’t explain the property damage.”
I raise my glass of milk to all of them and shrug as I leave and walk toward my room. “Let’s just say they were really good cookies. Excellent even. Probably the best cookies I’ve ever had.”
Saturday, January 20
(Gus)
When I woke up this morning, I can’t say that I felt sad. It was more like something was missing. I could feel it in my chest, a heaviness. Bright Side died a year ago today. I laid there for several minutes thinking about her. Thinking about growing up with her. I replayed twenty years’ worth of memories into a condensed slide show in my mind, accompanied by a violin soundtrack. And by the time I was done I was staring at the tattoo on my arm and smiling. I swear I could hear her saying, “Don’t cry for me. When you think of me, be happy.”
So I didn’t cry. I find myself reaching for my phone and calling Keller instead.
When he answers I hear an out-of-tune piano playing in the background. “Hey Gus.” He sounds good. I’m glad, because I didn’t know what to expect.
“What up, Papa Banks? It sounds like a piano’s being tortured to give up all its secrets.”
He laughs and the piano disappears as I hear a door shut. “I’m at Stella’s ballet practice. I don’t think it’s the piano that’s being tortured, so much as the audience. Guess that’s why earbuds were invented. How are you doing today, man? I was going to call you when we got home. I know it’s still early in California.”
“It is early. We’re in L.A. and I have to be at the studio in an hour. Working on the second album, it’s almost done.” I’m relieved. It’s been a long couple of weeks, but we’ve worked hard, I’ve learned a lot, and I’m so damn proud of what we’ve created. I’ve grown up a lot over this past year and half since we did this last. And it shows. Everything’s matured, from the music, to the lyrics, to us as a band.
“That’s great, Gus. Congratulations. I can’t wait to hear it. When will it be out?” He sounds genuinely happy for me. It’s strange how we’ve bonded. It grew out of our mutual love for Bright Side, which should have made us jealous enemies, but like everything else about Bright Side, the impossible just worked and worked out for the best. His friendship means a lot to me.
“They’re talking late March and setting up a tour to start in early April.” And as soon as I say it out loud it becomes real. I’m actually excited. Excited to get out on the road and play in front of an audience again. Excited to do it right this time. Excited to make the most of it and live it instead of just enduring it like I did the last go around.
“Right on. Are you coming to Minnesota again? I’d love to see another show.” He would. I can tell.
“Haven’t seen the schedule yet, but I’ll put a bug in someone’s ear. I know people who know people.” I’d love to play Grant again, kind of as a memorial to Bright Side.
He laughs again. “I bet you do.”
“What have you been up to, dude?” I need to know he’s all right.
“Busy. I graduate in June, assuming I don’t crash and burn with the teaching internship I start this week.” He sounds a little stressed, but stoked, too.
“Internship? That’s awesome. High school, right?”
“Yeah. Teaching English here at Grant High School. I lucked out; it actually couldn’t be more perfect. The school’s about a mile from our place, and Stella’s preschool is on the way. It should be ideal.”
“The kids will love you.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m ready. I’m so ready.” He sounds tired.
Bright Side told me all about Keller. I know his mom wanted him to be a lawyer and she was pretty pissed when he changed his major and followed his heart down the teaching road. I still don’t think they talk. Good thing he and his dad are close now. “I bet you are. You’ll be done with school soon and this will all be behind you. You should bring Stella to San Diego next fall and get a teaching gig here.”
“Oh man. Can you imagine Stella living in San Diego with full-time access to the beach? I’d never get her to come inside. We’d probably just pitch a tent on the beach in front of your house and live there. She’d be perfectly content to be homeless as long as she was surrounded by miles of sand and water for building sandcastles.”
“Fine by me. I know Ma wouldn’t mind either.”
“Damn, with the way things are going with our parents lately, we might be stepbrothers by then.”
I laugh because he’s right. Ma’s been spending a lot of weekends with Doc Banks. She’s happy. Hell, I’ve never really seen her date before, so her relationship with him is monumental. “Did we just become best friends?” I yell at him in my best Will Ferrell voice. I’m quoting the movie, Step Brothers. I don’t know if he’ll get the reference.
But when he enthusiastically answers, “Yup,” I continue on quoting the movie, “Do you wanna go do karate in the garage?”
“Yup,” he answers, and we both start laughing.
I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time and it feels good. “Thanks for that, dude. I needed it.”
He’s still laughing. “Me too.” The laughter settles into a chuckle, but he still sounds happy. “Well, man, I just heard the piano give up the ghost; that means practice is over. I’d better go get Stella. Thanks again for calling today. I miss Katie, Gus. And I’ll always love her. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. But it’s different now than it was a few months ago. It’s not pain now; it’s joy. I’m living my life for her, too. I’m living with purpose, but Stella and I are still having fun along the way. None of this would’ve been possible if it weren’t for her. She taught me how to live. And how to love. I have no intention of wasting it.”
I’m nodding my head like he can see. “I’m glad. And ditto. Have a fantastic Saturday, dude. And tell Miss Stella hi for me.”
“Will do. Take care, Gus.”
“You too. Later.”
“Bye.”
As soon as I hang up I immediately call Ma. She’s on her way to the cemetery with tulips and a Twix bar. And just like Keller, she sounds good. She’s handling this anniversary with grace and remembering Bright Side with happiness, which is really the only way Bright Side should be honored. I tell her I just talked to Keller and even share the stepbrother portion of the discussion, to which she laughs but does nothing to discourage rumors. Maybe they are serious; str
anger things have happened.
By the time I wrap up my phone calls, there’s just enough time to shower and text Scout. Good morning Girl Scout.
Three sets of concerned eyes are on me when I walk into the living room to leave for the day. Franco speaks up first. “Morning. You okay, big man?” He looks worried about me.
I nod. “I’m okay, dude.” I know they're wondering if I'm torn up about Bright Side. “I’m always gonna miss her, but she’s right here.” I pat my chest. “Which has me thinking, I know we’re supposed to finish up ‘Judgment Day’ today, but I think in Bright Side’s memory we should just jam. We should just play. See what we come up with. You know that she’s been watching us in the studio.” I feel her in there with us every day. “So today, let’s do something she loved.” Bright Side loved to just play. She was so creative. It was like she had all this music bound up within her and every time she wrote something new, she only let a fraction of it out. She was bursting at the seams with new songs.
They’re all smiling and nodding their heads. Franco’s already at the door. “Let’s do this. I’m officially declaring it Kate Day.” He’s holding the door open as we all walk through it to the parking lot. “It’s funny that you mention being able to feel Kate in the studio with us. I thought I was the only one. Sometimes when I’m in a groove and everything’s just flowing, I swear I hear her whispering in my ear, telling me what a sexy beast I am when I play and how I was always her favorite.”
I shake my head and smile because he threw all that out there to make me laugh. “Shut the fuck up, dude. You are a sexy beast when you play, but you were never her favorite.”
There’s a look of mock hurt on his face as he unlocks his truck and we all pile in. He turns and looks at me in the backseat. “That hurts, fuck nugget. That really fucking hurts.” He’s grinning by the time he’s done trying to make me feel bad. “Who wants coffee?” he says as he backs out of the space. “I say we start Kate Day off right with some coffee for Kate.”
After we go through the Starbucks drive-thru and spend approximately two hundred dollars on four cups of coffee, we head to the studio. And when we tell MFDM our plans for the day I can tell it’s against his better judgment to let us take the day off, but he agrees. He had a place in his heart for Bright Side, too.
