by Izzy Matias
"The world needs more positivity," I say. "I am glad I stumbled into your world when I did. What you do is inspiring."
She gives me a shy smile and thanks me. As she reaches for her drink, I get a glimpse of a golden tattoo on the inside of her arm. "My curiosity is getting the best of me. What happened between you and Elliot? Eric told me you were in a punk band?" She states the last line as if it were a question.
"It would have been better if he said he wanted to disband," I explain. "He told me he wanted to settle down with his wife and get a new job…"
And I quit the band after he told me that.
My fists tighten at the recollection of Elliot’s speech, and then discovering him this afternoon. "Apparently, his new job still involves music."
"What a liar! I don't want someone like that in any of our upcoming gigs if he has that kind of attitude." Cassie puts down her drink with force and the table gets splashed.
"I don’t want you to ban him because of what he’s done to me," I tell her. Even if it would be sweet karma. "He’s a stellar musician."
I grab a bunch of tissue from the paper holder between us and wipe the spilled alcohol. She flushes and grabs a few pieces of tissue, cleaning the rest of the liquid nearest her. "You’re not the only one clashing with him. His diva attitude drove me to the edge earlier. I have to talk to Ella and Dan about it, but I’ve made up my mind."
"Okay, as long as it’s not about me." I give myself a mental high-five because the taste of justice is sweet.
"Aren’t you in a band now?" Cassie asks, and leans in.
"Not since Lewis kicked me out."
"Who’s Lewis?" Cassie’s brow furrows. "I thought Elliot—?"
"I was in a folk duo with Lewis, but he kicked me out a week after Elliot and I called it quits." Why do I keep telling people I want to impress about my failures? I reach for my drink.
"That shouldn’t stop you from being a musician!" she says. "I saw that fire in you when you were up on stage."
My hand stops with the bottle mid-air.
"Like I said…Benji, Eric and I were just messing around." I press the bottle to my lips and take another swig.
"Maybe then you were, but what about right after the gig?" she says playing with her golden bracelets. "That didn’t sound like you were messing about."
"You heard that?" Before I got up on stage, I was sure I saw her pushing the door to the back alley as The Hush Society crew hauled their equipment out The Verve.
Cassie rolls her eyes and sighs. "Don’t tell me you’re giving up just because you’ve hit a couple of rejections."
"I’m a frustrated musician," I joke and take another sip of my drink.
"That’s too bad, because I would have invited you to play at The Hush Society."
I give her a bewildered look, like she’s offering me a million pounds up-front.
"You want the lad who’s been kicked out of five bands to play at The Hush Society?"
"Do you want to be a musician or not?"
My heart beats fast, like adrenalin pumping from the concert high. "More than anything."
"Then be a musician." As if it’s as simple as that.
It seems like a challenge the way she’s looking me. Suddenly, the booth we’re in seems too small for us, and the cracks on the wall deeper.
"The Hush Society’s got hubs in a couple of cities," Cassie continues. "Ella, Dan, and I are visiting them over the summer. We split up, bring one or two rising acts with us, and at the end of the tour we meet in Manchester for The Hush Society’s first music festival. Amber Sky—she was one of the performers at the gig where we first met—has also confirmed to go on tour with us this summer."
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, afraid to hope.
"Because I have one more slot left." She smiles. "The Psychedelic Glitch were supposed to come along too, but since their drummer’s injured, that’s one slot I need to fill. It’s perfect timing I found you when I did."
How can she think I have what it takes to go on tour?
I have no band.
No songs.
Nothing.
It hasn’t even been a day since I’ve decided that I wasn’t going to Uni, so that I can pursue a full-time career in music; she can’t be serious about bringing me on tour.
"You haven’t heard a proper set… I mean, it’s just, I don’t even have a band." I stumble over my words. "Why me?"
"Who says you need a band?" Cassie throws her hands in the air. "Amber Skye is a solo project! As for the why… it’s what The Hush Society stands for. We take a chance on musicians. I love doing this sort of thing. Challenging musicians to own up to their potential. It’s up to you if you want to develop that." When her hands stop moving, she rests them on the table. Close to mine. I feel their warmth.
"What if I’m complete shite? You’d be risking your name and your organisation’s credibility." I move my hands closer to hers.
"Don’t be so dramatic!" Cassie laughs, and cups her drink. "I do this all the time. Besides, I heard you play up there twice, didn’t I?"
"And Dan and Ella are okay with this?"
"Of course."
Blimey, she is serious.
Here I am being offered an opportunity that I’ve been wanting since I was nine, so why am I not diving for it?
"A lot can happen in a few months," she says. "This tour is perfect to jump start your career, whether with a new band or a solo project. Think about it."
When I made the decision to become a full-time musician earlier, I thought I’d have loads of time to figure out what my next steps were and how I should debut my next band.
A few hours later, here is an opportunity to make that happen.
Am I ready to take it?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mum and Dad sit across from me at the dining table. Mum looks like she’s expecting good news, but Dad’s wearing a poker face. Under the table, my fists curl and uncurl. My left leg shakes up and down.
A time bomb ticks in my head. It’s been almost a week since The Verve. Every day since then has been sleepless, tossing and turning—even if I made my decision the night Cassie asked.
I close my eyes and prepare to face the eye of the kraken. "I don’t know how else to say this… I’m not going to Uni."
More than two people gasp; I’m certain Tamara’s eavesdropping. I open my eyes. For once, my parents are on a united front—at least in their initial expressions.
Mum is the first to speak. "Darling, what brought this about?"
"Do you know how much money you’ve wasted if you’re serious about this?" Dad grumbles.
Of course, that is the first thing Dad thinks about: money.
"Jim, let the boy speak."
Dad’s bloodshot eyes are sharp. His veins protrude from his neck and forehead. I glance at Mum—bless her for taking the calmer road. It comes as no surprise, though. Dad’s lips tighten as he waits for me to speak.
"I want to pursue music full time," I say looking straight at Dad. "You know I’ve always loved music and have been obsessed with the guitar since I was nine—"
"You’re being irrational! Don’t you know the statistics and facts about how many people actually make it in that industry?"
"Jim," Mum chastises. "Let him finish."
Dad glares at me, but stays quiet.
"I appreciate your hard work to let me get a degree. I do. Thank you for wanting to send me to Uni, but I don’t want to waste money. I’d rather you save it for Timmy. He wants to go to Oxford. I want to play music."
I know it’s not the best argument, but I need to give this a go. If I don’t, I’ll regret it.
"Are you bloody joking? I will not have my money wasted on your whimsical fantasies about a career out of music. Do you want to live from paycheck to paycheck?"
"He’s eighteen," says Mum. "We’ve always encouraged our children to make their own decisions and stick by them. This is his. We need to respect that."
"I will not h
ave our child risking his future for an unstable career path. I will not have it." The veins in Dad’s neck threaten to burst.
"You’d rather see him miserable, then? What kind of life is that?"
"This is your fault, Jill. You encourage him!"
"What do you want me to do? Push him to be someone he’s not?"
I clear my throat to remind them I’m still in the room. The last thing they need is another massive fight. "I sorted it out with my Uni and cancelled my enrollment. I’ve been working on loads of material for the tour this summer." I shake my head. "I know how it sounds, but I have a chance to debut my music…not a lot of aspiring musicians have this sort of opportunity. Please don’t fight over my future. I’m going to work my ass off to make it work. I am going to make things happen for me."
Mum half smiles and Dad’s expression softens before he sighs.
"I love you and we have supported your music, but you are going to Uni," he says in his nonnegotiable tone. "You are going to earn that business degree and get a proper job, ya hear?"
I fold my arms across my chest. "Why can Tamara follow her dream, and I can’t? Is it because the path she chose fits well with you?"
"Go to Uni or don't come home at all. That is final." The veins in his neck are about to explode.
"Jim!" Mum shouts.
I can't believe he is giving me an ultimatum. As if my choice wasn't hard enough to make. First Elliot and Lewis kick me out, and now Dad…
"Can’t you do anything right?" The minute the sentence leaves his mouth, Dad’s hard expression transforms into shock.
Mum’s eyes tear.
I snap back as if dodging a punch to my chest, but it tightens nonetheless. My chair falls back when I stand up.
"I—I didn’t mean that," he says. His eyes are full of regret.
"I stand by my decision. I’m sorry for being a disappointment. You can kick me out, you can disown me, but I am not going to Uni."
"Cameron—" Dad pleads.
"That was a nasty thing to say," Mum answers him back and they go off on a row. "Kicking him out? Are you serious?"
I walk into the living room, where my sister is waiting.
Tamara’s eyes are wild. "Are you really?" In her eyes, it’s a mortal sin to quit school.
I nod because I don’t have the words. My hands are shaking; the adrenalin from the fight courses through my veins. I want to turn it off, but all I can think is I've been kicked out of the one place I thought I'd always be welcome in.
"I hope your dream is worth all this trouble."
She’s normally on my side, but I understand what she’s implying: my decision to drop out has dented our parents’ relationship further. It was a good week for them, too; the fighting had somehow fizzled out and Dad was even in a better mood.
Mum stomps into the living room.
"I’m going up to revise." Tamara excuses herself. She glares at me before she disappears.
Mum enters the living room, sits on the couch, and pats on the empty space beside her, and I take a seat. "Your Dad overreacts. You must understand he is that way because at one point in his life, he…" she pats my hand, and in a softer tone, she continues, "he was begging for spare change on the streets. He doesn’t want any of his children to feel the way he did."
My mouth drops open a bit. Dad out on the streets, begging? I can’t even imagine it.
"It was the lowest point in his life," she continues. "He doesn’t want you to know, but I think you should.
"He thinks that having a Uni degree will help you find a proper job that will allow you to earn well, so you’ll never have to end up on the streets."
We sit in silence. Mum lets her words sink in. If only she’d told me this earlier, it would have saved us loads of fights.
"I don’t want you and Dad to fight anymore," I begin.
She shrugs. "Fighting is part of any marriage. I’d be worried the day we stop talking to each other."
"Not the way you two have been fighting. That’s not normal."
She smiles, but I can tell how exhausted she is. She takes my hand and looks me in the eye. "There are things in this world worth fighting for. Your happiness is one of them."
My heart wants to explode from Mum’s selflessness. "What about your happiness?" I ask.
"I am happy if my children are."
"You still love Dad, don’t you?"
"Of course, darling. I’ll always love him. We just don’t get on the way we used to… That’s all. And I won't let him kick you out of your own home."
I pull her into a hug and my shoulder dampens as Mum’s body crumples against me. I can’t even remember the last time I hugged her like this.
#
In the end, Dad stood his ground. There were times that Mum was able to convince his stubborn brain to change, but not this time.
It was the final word: go to Uni or don't come home.
I didn’t know what else to do, but to come here. There was too much anger in my system to face Dad again—maybe because he voiced out my inner demons. To hear Dad say those things aloud validates my insecurity.
Can’t you do anything right?
The whipping wind slaps my face. I look down at my guitar and my callused fingertips brush the metallic strings. It smells like blood and the trees are dark silhouettes against a sinister sky.
Even though the Westwood country park in Beverley is a tourist attraction, I can always find a quiet place to let my thoughts overflow. I shuffle minor key chords to fit the mood and close my eyes. I let my emotions fuel the music…let them dictate where my fingers go.
Anger.
Rejection.
Sadness.
Regret.
I let my tank explode until it runs dry. As a state of relief and normalcy begins to creep back, I know the music has done its job. I let my fingers continue their rapture and ad-lib.
"Oi!" Eric’s loud voice echoes throughout the field as he bounces toward me. "Mr. Stroppy!"
I crack a smile.
"Take it you told your parents?" Benji inquires as he sits on the bench.
I nod. "It’ll be my fault if they bust up. Not exactly good news."
"It’s been a long time coming if they do and you know it." Eric points at me. But what he says doesn’t lighten the guilt.
"I didn’t ease their situation either," I say. "I’m not I allowed to go home, according to my father."
"What?" Eric shouts. "Your own Dad kicked you out of the house?"
I nod. Is it ironic how Dad doesn’t want me to end up on the streets, but kicks me out of the house anyway? I don’t understand him.
"I'm sorry to hear to hear that, mate." Benji says and sits beside me on the ground.
"It’s just like your Dad to do something like this," Eric says. "You can stay with me. I've more than enough room."
"Thank you," I say and give Eric a weak smile.
"And if Eric gets too much to handle, you can stay with me too," Benji adds.
"Oi!" Eric shouts, shoving Benji to the side.
"So why did you decide not to go to Uni anyway?" Benji asks. "You could have shifted to Music Studies."
"I owe it to myself to try out a career in music and really immerse myself. The Hush Society’s made me realize that and, well, Cassie invited me to join them this summer. I want you two to come with me."
"No shit." Benji laughs in disbelief.
"Hold up," Eric says. "Join, how?"
"As performers," I clarify. "When we were tuning the instruments at The Verve, didn’t you feel like we fit? Like we were meant to play together? Let’s form a band."
A spark goes off in Eric’s eyes.
Benji speaks up first. "That’s great you want to start a new band, but how exactly does not going to Uni coincide with joining The Hush Society? It's not exactly the best option to not have a degree. You’ll always be able to pursue music on the side." Ah, Benji, always trying to reason with me.
"That’s just it, innit?" I begin.
"I don’t want it to be something I do in my spare time or on weekends anymore. I need to commit to this fully if I’m ever going to succeed. I have to try. Don’t you lads wanna play again?"
"’Course," Eric says. The way he says it confirms he’s in. "I support you."
Benji hesitates. "I still don’t think it’s a good idea to not go to Uni if your Dad kicked you out. Can't you defer to a later semester or take a gap year like Eric?"
"The day I made my decision about Uni was also the very same day that Cassie offered to join The Hush Society. I can’t explain it; it just feels right. Eric’s on gap year, and you’ve just finished Uni. There’s no better time than now. Plus, Cassie invited me to go on tour with them. We’d get to tour England for the summer!"
"Let’s go," Eric whines giving him puppy dog eyes and tugs his arm.
"You’re bluffing," Benji says ignoring Eric.
Why is Benji contradicting me? "It’s true," I say. "The Hush Society has hubs all over the UK. Cassie and her team are visiting each hub and bringing two artists with them. Amber Skye and The Rioteers are just some of the artists who have signed up." My voice is an octave higher, but I’m not mad at Benji. There’s a deeper reason for his reluctance and I need to weed it out.
"Without hearing you play a proper set?" he says.
"That’s what I told Cassie," I admit.
"We’ve been practising together for years," Eric says. "We’ve never been on a proper tour before. This is golden! Come on, Benj, let’s go."
"What’s holding you back, mate?" I ask Benji. "Thought you’d be on board with this."
"You lads are my best mates. If we make a right mess of this, will we still say the same?"
Is this why we’ve never been in a band before? He’s scared that playing together would ruin our friendship?
"We’ll be okay," Eric assures him.
I understand, now, where Benji’s coming from. Going on tour is a commitment. The three of us have hung out every day before, but we’ve never lived together. And we’ve each had our share of band fall-outs that have ended in tainted friendships.
"If we’re going to make this work, you have to let go of your skeletons and stop comparing yourself to other musicians," Benji says and looks at me. "You have to learn how to believe in yourself again."
