32. Leo
With no news from Cath or Mari, I assumed the plan remained the same for the day.
I triple-checked the back of the van Ford Rutledge had dropped off at Devlin’s place last night. Beatrice and the kids were loaded and ready. Unbeknownst to Cath, I would surprise her with the drums after the audition. Regardless of what she ended up doing, she deserved to have these. And there was a full circle beauty to think they might be on stage playing with The Burnouts again.
I had picked up my phone to call Mari a hundred times since she left last night but felt myself being too clingy and needy. I never knew where I stood with her. I was so sure of my deep feelings for her, but she kept parts of herself at bay. Every hour that ticked by, I felt her grow further away from me, but I would show up today. Just like every day and she would see.
I heard a sniffle behind me and spun on my heel.
“Cath?” I asked.
I stupidly moved to block the view of the drums, like she couldn’t still see them. It made sense for me to be packing them up. One, they were my drums as far as Cath was concerned, and two, they weren’t needed at the studio anymore. But I had been so surprised to see her, and it was so damn early, I hadn’t been thinking.
It was barely sunrise, and we weren’t planning to be at the college until nine, a solid two hours before her audition.
“What are you—how’d you get here?” I asked. Looking for a car I hadn’t heard pull up.
She thumbed over to a bike leaning against a tree. I imagined her pedaling up to Devlin’s house before the sun even started to rise. Winding, blind corners. No light. A fear gripped my chest. It was reckless, and thank God, she’d made it in one piece. Her arms wrapped tight around her middle, shoulders hunched, head facing the ground.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
I stepped forward, shaking palms facing her as I approached.
“I can’t do this.” Her voice was choked, and when her head lifted to me, her face was red and streaked with tears.
“What?”
“I don’t know what to do.” Her voice broke as she started sobbing silently into her hoodie sleeves.
I wrapped her up in a hug, and she shook in my arms. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
She looked up and sniffed in. “It’s not,” she said. “No matter what I choose, I’m going to upset people who have worked so hard for me.”
“This is your life, Cath.”
Her chin trembled as she nodded.
My phone rang loudly between us. She shrugged out of my hug as I pulled the phone out of my back pocket. Mari must have sensed a disturbance.
Cath saw the screen and scrubbed at her cheek. “Please don’t get it.”
“Okay. I won’t.” I nodded calmly, but I felt like I had negotiated a hostage situation. Mari was probably losing her mind, wondering where Cath was. “Do your parents know you’re here, though?”
She nodded. “I told them everything this morning.”
“Good,” I said, eyebrows lifted in hope.
“Not good.” Her voice broke.
And my eyebrows pinched. “Not good?”
“They said they support whatever I decide and they love me. Ugh.” She groaned loudly, dropping her face in her hands again.
“Can we sit? And talk?” I gestured to the back of the van.
She sucked in her lips, her face still wet, as she pulled herself onto the open bed. I handed her a stack of tissues from the front seat when I came to sit with her.
“Thanks,” she said. After she blew her nose and wiped her face, she sat and took a deep breath in and out. “They’re going to hate me.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Everybody. Miss Mitchell. My parents. The school. My friends. Everybody.”
“That’s not true.”
Her shoulders started to shake again. I looked around, confused at where I had misspoken. I wasn’t great with kids, but I thought I had learned Cath pretty well.
“Hey, hey. What is it?” I asked her.
“I’m a terrible person.”
“You are not. Why would you think that?”
She looked at me, her little chin trembling again. “When I got the offer...the first thing I felt was relief,” she admitted.
“Because you want to tour? Nobody would blame you.”
“No, it’s not even that. I love the band and love playing with them, even if they are a bunch of old guys. No offense.”
“Ouch.”
“I thought at least now I had an excuse not to do this audition. I wouldn’t disappoint anybody if I didn’t go for a real reason.”
“You don’t want to go to Berklee?” I asked.
“I-I don’t know.” She tossed out her arms. “I just—I just feel like...” She squeezed her eyes tight.
“It’s too much?”
“Yes.” Her shoulders fell.
“I get that.”
She made a sound like she didn’t believe me.
“No. Trust me, I do. Listen.” I waited until she looked at me, rubbing the last remnant of tear from her cheek. “I was fired from The Burnouts.”
Cath glared. “But you were cool with Vander and the guys. You were friends. How could they do that?”
“Because I acted like a total shit.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I saw some videos, but I thought it was taken out of context,” Cath admitted.
“Thank you for having faith in me. But no, it was me. Turned out, I didn’t really like being in a band.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I loved the guys and playing, but I hated touring.”
“Are you saying this so I don’t go?” she asked. “Because you’re dating Miss Mitchell?”
“No. No. Miss Mitchell and I...we don’t have anything to do with this. Except in that we both care about you. I’m telling you because when I was young, I played the drums because it made me happy. But then came all this pressure. I felt like it was either my happiness or everybody else’s,” I said honestly.
Her mouth slowly opened, and she nodded. “Yes. Exactly.” She sat up straighter. “Between Miss Mitchell and the band and my parents, I feel like the drums have become this chore for me. I used to play them to escape and feel something bigger than myself. But now it feels like all I’m good for.”
“I understand that. But you are many awesome things. Plus, you are a drummer.” I mirrored the words Mari had said to me.
Cath sighed deeply.
“What is it that you want? If there were no people to disappoint or let down. Close your eyes and really think about it,” I said.
She did and sat quietly for a minute before tentatively saying, “I just want to feel free when I play again and not this weight of expectations on my shoulders.”
It was like she spoke the words I had thought a thousand times.
“People who really love and care about you are only disappointed when you aren’t true to yourself,” I said.
“I know. In theory.” She glared at her fisted hands. “My whole life, I’ve been loved and supported. Miss Mitchell and my parents have done everything for me. My friends and the other staff. I’m like weirdly supported.”
I snorted. “Damn loving community,” I said.
She grinned but pushed her arms out. “I’m serious. My parents have worked so hard and sacrificed so much. There’s no way I could ever pay them back.”
“Pay them back for what?”
“Even if I go to college, how will they afford it? By working and sacrificing more. If I ever get a good job, nothing will be enough to pay them back. At least if I toured, I would be able to help them, but then I’d never see them. It’s like...I’m too loved. I almost wish I was just a weird little freak so then I would only have myself to let down.”
Cath’s worries were wise beyond her years. Sometimes, loving someone felt like pressure to be who they needed you to be. Did I do that with Mari? Did I try to be exactly what she needed all the time so I wouldn’t worry about her realizing that I was the burnout everybody thought I was? Just as I had for Vander and my mother? I felt this same pressure Cath did in my own way. My thoughts tumbled, but I stayed focused on Cath.
“I think,” I ventured, “that they didn’t do these things because they want to be repaid. I think they did it because all parents want is for their kids to have what they didn’t.”
“That makes it so much worse,” she whined.
“But hey, hey.” I squeezed her shoulders. “Whether or not you go today, they will still love you. If you buy them a big fancy house with your future royalties or only ever play for people on the streets as a busker. The ultimate goal is that you’re happy playing.”
She shook her head. “That’s bull. Adults are always saying shit they don’t mean.”
I laughed. “I mean it.”
“Is that how you feel?” she asked me, finally meeting my gaze and holding it.
More thoughts of Mari twisted in me. Why hadn’t I pushed to clarify what our relationship was? Why did I feel like, at any second, she was going to look up and notice who I really was and decide to end things?
“This isn’t about me,” I said, voice tight.
“Convenient.”
“I have something to tell you,” I said, shifting gears.
“Okay?”
“I was going to give you Beatrice and the kids today. After your audition.”
Her mouth fell open. She looked behind her and back at me. Her mouth snapped shut, and she shook her head, fists at her temples. “This isn’t helping my feelings of pressure.”
I gently nudged her with a laugh. “Just wait, there’s a stipulation. I’ll only give them to you if you promise to take some time and think about what you want. Because they need, nay, deserve to be played out of love. I’ve neglected them too long, and after all they’ve been through, they need you to save them. But if you force it, then you can’t have them.
“Whether it’s in a band or in class, I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s only every once in a while as you work at Pizza Hut because you don’t want to build your whole life around drumming. I get that too. No choice is good or bad; it’s just what feels right at the moment. You can always change your mind. There isn’t a choice you could make that would ever make the people who love you stop caring about you. Not the real ones. That real love is precious, and you have it in droves because of you, not your talent.”
Her eyes filled again, but she nodded with determination.
She bit her lip. “You’re seriously giving me these?” she asked with a growing smile as she turned to look in the van behind us.
“Dead serious. But you have to think about what makes you happiest. What makes you feel most in your body. And remember that feeling anytime in the future when you have to make a choice. Everybody here, except maybe Pin Dick, wants what’s best for you and not for them. That’s literally the whole point of all of this. Somewhere along the way, the pressure got to us all. But it’s always about giving you the life that you want, Cath.” I finished my speech and stood. “You talk to them. Take your time. I can wait for whatever you decide.”
It took all my willpower to step away and wait patiently. I was desperate to tell Mari about the situation but still wasn’t sure what the news would be. For several minutes, I thought about the advice I’d just given Cath and why it made the back of my neck burn with anxiety. Why had Mari shut down last night? Was she going to end things? Was this stuff with Cath really enough for us to break?
“Leo?” I spun on my heel.
Cath stood with her drumsticks in her hands. “I made my decision.”
“Want a drumroll?” I asked. I already started drumming the pattern in the air, making the sound.
She rolled her eyes.
“No, that’s an eye roll, silly goose,” I said.
“Oh my God, just stop. You’re an embarrassment to drummers everywhere.”