35. Avery
Avery
Epilogue - Two Years Later
T oday marks the one-year anniversary of the five-part documentary series , Out of Tune: The Truth According to Wesley Hart and Avery Sloane, directed by Kendal Hoffman.
Following the rise, and eventual end, of the careers of Avery Sloane and Wesley Hart.
It’s been two years since their final performance where they were joined by the members of Fool’s Gambit and Evelyn Mariano.
Over this time, fans were certain that the couple were only taking a break and would eventually return to music.
But as time drags on, this possibility becomes increasingly doubtful as they have all but disappeared, leading to much speculation about where they are now as their many New York homes have remained empty during this time.
Some say they have returned to their roots in Tennessee.
More farfetched theories speculate they bought an island and removed themselves from society entirely.
No matter where they are, they have left their mark on a generation and will not be forgotten.
“An island does sound nice,” Wes says as he rests his chin on my shoulder to read the magazine splayed open on my lap.
We sway lazily on our new porch swing, one of many projects he’s been busying himself with these days, though mostly he has been helping George fix up her stables. We eat dinner with her most nights.
I’ve continued to read Dad’s books, borrowing them from George’s shelves one by one.
Whenever I finish one, we sit and talk about the stories and the man who created them.
I’d be finished with all of them by now if it weren’t for the unfinished manuscript we found on his computer.
Plot lines mapped out and characters detailed vividly.
I spend my days trying to do it justice.
It’s vastly different from writing music, and I doubt my attempts will ever make it into the world, but it doesn’t have to.
For now, it’s just a way to feel close to him.
“It would be warmer than this.” I nuzzle closer to Wes. We’re bundled up against the cold as we wait for the others to arrive. Unlike how we used to climb on top of his roof with just a blanket, we’re in thick layers.
In the years since our retirement, we rarely leave Caper, but everyone has no problem coming to us.
Wes leans down and talks to my stomach the same way he has for the last three weeks. “What do you think, Hudson? Should we get an island? You can track sand everywhere and we can build castles.”
“Maybe we just go on vacation as much as we want.” I smile, and my eyes sting. I can’t wait to see Wes be a father. For him to show up for our baby the way he has for me. To be a formidable protector. “I want our family to grow right here.”
Two cars rattle down the road through the slushy lingering February snow. As they come into view, Evelyn lowers the passenger side window and waves wildly.
She and Garrett are married now and have music careers of their own, while the rest of us have found our own new paths. Behind her in the backseat of the car, I think I can see Drew and his fiancée Lacey. They park in the driveway, followed by the car carrying Jared’s family.
“Are you ready?” Wes asks. We’ve only told George—and really, we didn’t tell her, she just knew. She cried when we told her the name, the only name we could choose.
“Yes.”
I’m ready for all of it.
For tonight when Evelyn will lean close to my stomach like Wes but instead promise Hudson she’ll be a fun aunt and teach him how to break out of his room to go to parties.
Alyssa will promise to send all her baby books that have good advice.
Jared will inevitably pick up the guitar resting on the stand in the living room and say, “Come on, we have to.” And we’ll sing and play through the night.
Just for us, filling the house with music and light.
For the day we will meet our son as he comes screaming into the world.
For the mistakes we’ll make and the joys we’ll share in this little life we’re building that somehow feels grander than anything we’ve experienced before.
And for the day when Hudson pulls out an old CD, asking why we have these when no one uses them anymore.
On that day we’ll put it in the player we have hooked up to speakers in our living room and we’ll listen to a band he says he only hears on throwback playlists.
We’ll tell him our story, but only the good parts.
The rest he can learn later, if he eventually finds a documentary on his parents from when they were younger and didn’t wear work boots and denim every day.
It was award-winning, after all, regarded as Kendal’s breakout moment into filmmaking and would set the tone for the rest of her career.
He’ll watch the series and pick up a guitar, staying up late with his father to learn. But eventually, he’ll grow out of it and apologize for having a different dream than ours.
Wes and I will share a look because we know the truth.
This life together? That was always the dream.