19. Leo
The past few days had been more stressful than when The Burnouts opened for Sunshine Capone and played sold-out arenas. Way too much peopling. I wanted to hide in my garden, but even I began to feel the pressure of Cath’s upcoming deadline. Mari cared so much, and I wanted to help her. I couldn’t help how much her cares were becoming my cares. Every day that passed, the closer Cath was to her audition, and there was no more avoiding it. I didn’t get to talk to Cath much at the clusterfuck that had been the Fall Festival except for when I briefly made plans to meet her for the drum lesson today. She had been guarded and short but at least willing to meet. Thankfully, Janice agreed to come, and we swung to get Cath on the way up to Devlin’s house. The ride was awkward except for the stilted questions my mom threw her way.
I’d brought the drums up during my break in caring for Mari yesterday, and good thing because all of us would not have fit in the car.
I was constantly battling myself. I, equal parts, wanted to check on Mari and find excuses to be away from her. I couldn’t be trusted around her.
It wasn’t enough that I couldn’t stop worrying about her, but at the festival something had taken over when she got so sick. It hadn’t been me. It had been the spirit of Mari operating me like an avatar. But I was paying for that burst of energy, and my social batteries were almost all out.
Cath had perked up as Devlin gave us a tour of his renovated studio. She asked loads of questions and chatted more than I’d ever seen her. At least she was getting more comfortable. I, on the other hand, could not stop glancing over my shoulder. My ears were pricked, waiting to hear the voices of my former bandmates.
I was exhausted and on edge. I itched to get back to the house. And not just to see Mari, who thankfully had been sleeping when I left. Her fever broke in the middle of the night, and I was able to get a fitful few hours of sleep. People got sick all the time, but seeing such a force of a woman knocked down to that level was harrowing.
“Here’s the studio restroom.” Devlin gestured to a small bathroom off the main recording room with a toilet and a shower. “This is a new door. With a lock. Here is how the lock works.”
“I think we would probably figure it out,” I said.
“I’m showing you anyway. If you use the bathroom, lock the door.” Devlin scowled.
Janice and I exchanged a look. “Somebody likes their potty privacy,” she whispered to me as Devlin and Cath moved on.
“That was super weird,” I agreed, wondering what the story was there.
Devlin finished the tour and led us to the padded drum room. “I’ll be working on some mixes in here, but call if you need anything.” He pointed at the mixing area behind glass.
“And there is the drum set.” I gestured to the kit.
Cath didn’t move for several seconds after Devlin left. She glanced up to Janice, who sat just on the other side of the glass, playing on her phone. She gave Cath a thumbs-up when she looked up to see her looking her way.
I didn’t rush Cath. I’d been there before.
The first time I saw this set, I had a similar reaction. Complete awe. We’d both come from the same humble drum beginnings. She was probably not sure where to even start.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” I asked.
She looked at me and then back at the set. “I don’t want to.”
I swallowed and blinked. Okay, maybe I’d built up the scene in my head a little bit too much. I would grandly reveal the drums, she’d gasp, and maybe an unshed tear would sparkle in her wide eyes.
I hadn’t expected her not to want to play them.
“Why?” I asked, tentatively.
“They aren’t mine. It’s like using someone else’s toothbrush.” She tucked her hands into her sleeves. Another barrier to protect her from me and my apparently gross used drums.
“That’s not true. It’s more like using a perfectly good instrument that someone is offering you because the shitty ones you used broke. There. That’s a better analogy.”
Her gaze looked up and away; her lips sucked in. She didn’t roll her eyes, but I got the impression she was trying not to. She mumbled something.
The longer my set sat there, unloved and unplayed, the more agitation grew. I wasn’t exactly in a super patient mood to begin with. I hadn’t expected an award for my idea, but I had thought a little enthusiasm—not teenage angst.
“Say what?” I asked.
“I’m not a charity case,” she said louder.
I stilled. “Is that what you think this is?” Was it charity? It didn’t feel like charity; it felt more like Mari held me at emotional gunpoint. But had Cath misinterpreted my self-consciousness as not wanting to help her?
“You don’t even want to be doing this. Miss Mitchell basically forced you.”
“I—” I started. I wanted to be a rational adult, and that was never my strong suit.
What did I remember from being a teenager? Let me dig back in the long, dusty vaults of my brain. I remember being hated by this town and feeling like the whole place couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I remembered hating how every freaking adult talked down to me like I had no clue how the world worked. And okay, maybe I didn’t know how the world worked, but nobody wanted to be treated like a dumb kid.
“I’ll level with you,” I started again. “I didn’t think this arrangement was a good idea,” I said. Cath stiffened, her body retreating even farther into the hoodie. “But that has everything to do with me and my shit and not you.”
She ground her jaw but looked at me. I took it as a sign to go on.
“I don’t know if you know this, but I used to live in Green Valley. I left the second I turned eighteen and was in a band for a while. The Burnouts? Ever hear of them?”
Cath blinked at me like I was clueless. Obviously, I sounded like an ancient, out-of-touch grown-up speaking about the music of years gone by.
“Well, anyway. The Burnouts are moderately big. And I toured and everything for a while. Until I came back here.” I scratched the back of my neck. “I don’t know the first thing about college auditions or sheet music. Shit, I don’t even know if I hold my stick the right way. If anything, you’ll probably teach me more than I could show you.”
I’m just going to fail.
My mouth snapped shut before any more fears could dump out.
“Sorry for the overshare,” I added. “And for swearing. I know you don’t care, but as an adult, I feel like swearing is something I should be more aware of.”
This time, Cath bit back a smile.
“Do you even know what Mari—er, Miss Mitchell—wants me to work on with you?”
Cath shrugged. This was off to an inspiring start.
“Listen. If the drum thing really grosses you out or whatever, I could ask Devlin if he has an extra kit we could use. But you aren’t charity. If anybody here is a loser, it’s me. Not the virtuoso percussionist.”
“I never said I was a loser,” Cath said and took a tentative step toward the kit.
“Okay, good. Then we’re clear that I’m the only loser here.” I shook my head with a sly grin.
“Crystal.” She dropped her bookbag behind her, sat on the stool, and bounced a little on it, staring at the set, one piece at a time. Then she stood to twist the stool a little higher before sitting back down.
“Need sticks?” I asked at the same time as she twisted to pull some out of her bag.
“It probably needs a good tune. I think I have—” Again, I was cut off when she held up her finger. She did a run of the drums, hitting each one in turn, eyes closed, and then did it again. The hairs on my arms stood on end. I hadn’t heard these beauties for a while, and all the memories came rushing back. Even after all this time sitting alone in the dark, they still sounded pretty good. The tension might need to be brought up on the snares, but otherwise, I was shocked at how good they sounded.
I had been just about to suggest I tune them when Cath leaned to the side again and dug in her bag. A second later, she whipped out a small silver drum key and began to tune by turning a few screws on the snare, then the toms, ever so slightly. Without missing another beat, she ran the drums through again, and they sounded perfect. She even managed to catch what I hadn’t been able to.
She looked up at me expectantly as I picked my jaw off the ground. It took me years to ear tune, and she just did it in seconds.
“These are nice,” she said, and it felt like a boon.
“Okay. Good. Uh, where should we start?” I asked.
“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to tell me?”
My hands still had the forever calluses that would shape my fingers, but the skin on top would blister the first time I played again. If I played again.
“Have you ever seen the movie Whiplash?” I asked.
Her eyes widened. “No. I tried and turned it off. It gave me stress dreams for a month.”
“Yeah. Same.” I scratched the back of my neck and sighed. “I guess, just start at the beginning. Do you know what you’ll be asked to do?”
She nodded.
“All right. Let’s hear it.”
Cath played through four different rock and classical songs and then improvised a jazz bit. The whole thing was awe-inspiring. She was incredibly impressive. But as the songs went on, especially during the jazz set, I could start to see areas for improvement. Maybe that wasn’t the right term. She was technically perfect, but she held back a piece of herself. But it was only her first time playing for me.
We wrapped up and made plans to meet again. I’d finally relaxed and realized I wouldn’t be running into Vander or any of the other guys by the time we got ready to leave.
I found Devlin in the hall as Janice and Cath went upstairs to say hi to Devlin’s wife, Kim, and the kids.
“You’re sure that it’s cool I keep my kit here?” I asked him.
“Beatrice and the kids are always welcome. You won’t miss them? In case you want to practice?”
“Hasn’t been an issue yet.”
I flinched at the sound of a door opening and closing at the top of the stairs. My heart raced, wondering who would come around the corner, but nobody did. I’d rehearsed a thousand different things to say to Vander if I saw him again, but my mind blanked out with the burst of fear.
“They won’t be here today. I made sure of it,” Devlin said, following my gaze.
I felt my cheeks burn and nodded at the floor. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“It all worked out. How do you feel now about Cath?” he asked.
“Good. She’s a real talent. Still not really sure what I’m doing here,” I confessed.
“Just keep up with it. Maybe you’ll find an area where you can help.”
“Hmm. Maybe. I’m just tired.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “It’s been a weird few days.”
“I heard you were something of a celebrity on Saturday.”
“How do you always know the gossip?” I asked.
He shrugged an eyebrow. I didn’t even know a shrug could be conveyed through that small motion but here he was. “Small town.”
And all these “friends” he supposedly had.
“The whole thing made no sense. One second, I was just trying to get away, and the next, I was on stage helping students and talking to people. It was an out-of-body experience.”
“You didn’t like it?” he asked.
I thought about it. “It wasn’t awful, so long as I kept my focus on the kids. A few people in town stopped to talk to me and were clearly trying to sniff out some sort of gossip about my past, but I was actually so busy it was easy to make excuses to break away.” I paused to finally analyze how I felt. “It was okay. I was so worried about what Mari would think when she got better. I didn’t want her to hear that I’d messed everything up.”
“It’s okay to care,” Devlin offered.
I realized if anybody could relate, it was Devlin. He’d had a one-hit wonder as a teen and spent years running from his past. “Being in town was weird. Everybody here hated me when I left, but now they couldn’t wait to talk to me.”
Devlin nodded in understanding. “A couple of things going on there, if I had to guess.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You’re the big fish, right? There will always be those who are impressed by success. Or whatever they deem success to be. Just like there will always be the people who resent you for it.”
It confirmed a hidden fear; I only had value to people if I was a somebody.
“But also, and probably more likely, we project more onto people than is actually there. Most people only care about themselves and what’s going on in their world. Chances are people were just excited that Mari was getting some of the help she desperately needs.”
When I first met Mari, I thought she didn’t need anybody, but the past few days had shown how fragile her system of self-sufficiency was. Everybody needed help. No woman was an island.
I nodded and saw my mother’s head pop in the doorway, her eyes asking if I was ready to go. “You’ve gotten wise in your old age, Devlin,” I said.
“It’s fatherhood.”
“Is that right?
“Yes. I’m too exhausted to have any sort of filter or deal with any bullshit.”
I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to your family. Thanks again for helping us out.”
“See you next week.”
After we dropped Cath off, Janice and I came home to a quiet house. There were signs that Mari had been up and about; the guest room had been straightened, the kitchen had dishes drying on the rack. We found Mari asleep in the living room. She had a book on her blanketed lap and her head tucked into her arms. She wore the clean clothes that had been waiting for her and her damp hair was braided over her shoulder. I was relieved to find her color returned to normal and her breathing soft and regular.
“You’re staring,” Janice said with a grin.
My shoulders lifted and settled with a deep breath. “Yeah.” My whisper came out louder than intended in the silent room.
Mari blinked and sat up. “Hey.” Her eyes were warming, finding me first. It caused a burst of protective longing.
“Sorry.” I winced as she blinked herself fully awake. She noticed Janice and gave a sleepy wave.
“It’s okay. I was waiting for you.” She set the book down and stretched her neck, head tilting side to side. To Janice, she said, “Thank you for helping out and letting me stay here. I can’t believe how many days I was out of it.”
“Not a problem, dear. We’re glad you’re okay. Leo was happy to look after something other than his garden.”
I looked at my traitorous mother. “The garden needs less attention this time of year,” I muttered.
“How did it go with Cath?” Mari asked.
“It was good. Devlin’s studio is incredible.”
“Even with his weird fixation on locking doors,” Janice added.
Mari looked confused but smiled. “Good. And she sounded good?”
“Yeah, it was great,” I said.
Good. Great. What were we even talking about? I could feel the presence of my mother like a sentry in my periphery. I’d spent so much time around Mari lately, but this was the first actual opportunity since our kiss to have a conversation that wasn’t in a fevered haze, and I was back to not knowing how to articulate any thoughts.
“I should probably get back home. You just got back and I hate to ask you to go out again?—”
“Oh no, you’re staying for dinner. Leo is cooking,” Janice said, interrupting Mari.
I didn’t show how happy I was at the demand. Instead, I shrugged sheepishly.
Mari tried to protest, but Janice held up a finger. “Pishposh. You can stay one more night. Just in case this bug hasn’t quit you yet.”
Mari smiled at the ground. “Thank you.”
“Why don’t we relax while he gets started,” Janice said. “I can fill you in on the drama you missed Saturday.”
I walked toward the kitchen, even though I was exhausted. I didn’t mind throwing a quick dinner together. I glanced back to where Janice and Mari sat on the couch in the lamplight. Mari threw her head back and cackled.
“I bet the PTA moms loved that,” Mari said as Janice grinned.
A warmth spread through me at the sight of Mari here, comfortable and laughing. It would be so easy to wish for a life like this.