3. What A Wonderful World – Brad
“But Jude said I could,” my eight-year-old daughter, Charlie says, opening the fridge in my apartment, looking for a soda. Something I purposely don’t have for a very good reason. Charlotte on concentrated sugar isn’t something anyone wants to deal with.
“Well, that’s awesome for him,” I say, not sure if I don’t believe Jude would say that just to get at me. He’s married to my ex, and Charlotte’s mother, Ren, and we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye on things. We play it cool for Charlie’s sake, though.
They’re both off to London for six weeks with their youngest child – son August, since Indigo King are judges for some TV rock band talent show that I’ve never heard of, and Charlie didn’t want to go. So, I get to spend some quality time with my girl. I was over the moon when she said she wanted to hang with me instead of taking the trip overseas.
But now I need to entertain an eight-year-old little girl.
We have gigs still on the schedule in a few weeks, but they’re up in the air without us having a permanent bass player in place. The upcoming auditions are even more pressing now than before Eliza’s lecture, with those dates looming.
“You don’t have any soda,” Charlie announces, obviously disappointed, crossing her arms over her chest, her long red curls just like her mother’s bounce as she huffs.
“I never said I did.”
“But Jude said I could have some,” She repeats. Her lower lip is now making a bold appearance in her growing pout.
“Well, then Jude should have given it to you and not assumed I had any,” I shrug, keeping my face impassive. “There’s always water. Or beer.”
Charlie’s a smart girl. She’s not usually difficult, and her sense of humor is sharper than most. At my suggestion of beer her pout twitches briefly before she breaks out in laughter.
“You’re silly,” she says between giggles. “I can’t drink beer until next year when I’m twenty-one.”
I smack my forehead. “Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting you’re not middle-aged yet.”
Still giggling, she throws herself onto the couch. “And you’re out of beer too.”
“Well, damn,” I groan, pretending to be upset. “I guess we’re both out of luck, huh?”
She turns serious again. “So, are we going to do anything fun while I’m here?”
I’m not sure how to take her question. I think we have fun every time we get together. Not that I try to be the ‘fun’ dad who entertains her every second, but I try to make the most of our time. However, when this stay was planned months ago, I didn’t realize I’d have to spend any of it looking for a new bass player. That’s not something I’d categorize as ‘fun.’
“Well, you’re going to help Chaos Fuel pick out a new bass player. That’ll be cool, right?”
Her eyes go wide. “Really? I can pick?”
“No, you can help us pick.”
She seems to be transported into a dream world. “What if they’re all like, really cute? I won’t be able to pick.”
A chuckle bubbles up, and I shake my head. “Yeah, that’s always the hard part. What if they’re all really cute?”
The size of the eyeroll that remark gets me has to hurt. How does she do that? “Dad, they have to be cute to be in your band. It’s important.”
This surprises me. “Oh? And why is that?” Here I thought it was our music that mattered. Silly me. Maybe Charlie could be our new PR rep instead of this Tess person.
“Because,” she sighs dramatically, “if you want girls to like your music, you have to be cute.”
I arch a brow at her. “And who told you that?”
“Well, it’s just my opinion. But everyone thinks that way.” She shrugs matter-of-factly, but I see a hint of doubt flash in her eyes.
I love that doubt. She should doubt that opinion.
“And do you always do what everybody else does?”
She scrunches her nose at the idea.
There’s my girl.
“No.” Her forehead creases as she clearly starts to examine her position on the matter.
I don’t continue and let her figure out how she wants to deal with this personal revelation. Some things just need to be figured out on their own without intervention.
I’m not a candidate for ‘Dad of the year.’ Never have been. In fact, in the very beginning, I was downright awful. I was scared shitless to become a dad; thinking it would ruin my life, and crush my music dreams, hold me back somehow.
The exact opposite is true.
Having Charlie in my life has changed me so completely, it’s mind blowing to look at how we started, to where we are now. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could do both – and succeed at either of them. Not that I’m perfect. I’m not. I still have moments of my old mindset creep in on occasion and go off the rails a bit on some quest for ‘freedom.’ But overall, I think I’m doing okay with everything.
That’s today’s feeling. It can change in a heartbeat.
“Okay, he can be ugly,” Charlie says ruefully, snapping me out of my reminiscence.
“Wow, Charlie. Really?” I say, not sure I like this opinion either.
“What?” Her bright eyes turn up to me questioningly. So innocent.
How do I approach this now? I throw my figurative dreams of being ‘Dad of the Year’ out the window, and sit next to her on the couch, trying to gather my thoughts.
“What’s your favorite food?” I ask as she sits up straight and gives me her full attention. I love that we can talk like this, and that she’s open to it all the time.
“Meatloaf,” she says without thinking.
Again, there’s my girl. Forsaking the norms of pizza or burgers.
“Okay,” I say, nodding, trying to conjure the right lesson in my head. I don’t know if I can work with meatloaf. “Can you imagine that there are people who hate meatloaf?”
Her serious face is confused for a moment, and she shrugs. “Well, they’re wrong. Meatloaf is the best.”
I stifle a laugh.
Okay, maybe meatloaf isn’t the ticket to salvation here.
“What about Pepsi, you like that, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, I like Dr. Pepper. Some people prefer Coca-Cola. Or root beer. Or orange soda. Or none of them at all.”
“Okay…” she shrugs again, and I don’t think my point is coming across at all.
“Those sodas have been around for years. Even way before your great-grandfather, Pops, was born. Do you think they’d still be around now if people didn’t like them?”
She shakes her head thoughtfully but stays quiet.
“It’s the same thing with people, kiddo. Someone you think is ‘cute’ may not be cute to someone else. Everyone likes different things. Do you get what I’m saying?” God, I hope this is making fucking sense. I’m losing my way in my own head now.
“I get it.” Her voice is soft as she leans onto my shoulder, sliding her arm through mine to hug tightly. “But does that mean that I’m wrong?”
Great. Now I’ve gone and made her feel like shit about herself and her opinions. Way to go Dad.
“No, no,” I soothe, ruffling her hair. “It just means that everyone has opinions and feelings. There are lots of people that would agree with you, but there are also lots of people that wouldn’t. Everybody is different. And everyone has a right to their own opinions and feelings. It’s how you share them with the world that matters.”
“So, if your new bass player is ugly, I shouldn’t say anything.”
That makes me laugh, and I can’t help it. If that’s what she got out of my stupid example, I guess it’s good enough for now. I didn’t mean for this to be a lecture, or ‘teaching moment.’
“No. Please don’t tell the bass player they’re ugly.”
“Can we watch Frozen now?”
Her question throws me way off since my brain is still stuck on the soda metaphor, but I should be used to her sudden shifts in attention. Not that Charlie is flighty, but the focus of her intensity moves targets frequently.
“Sure…” I say, unravelling from her grip and grabbing the TV remote. Movies have become our love language. Especially Disney movies. We do our own version of Mystery Science Theater 2000 as we watch; critiquing everything from the dialogue to the animation. It’s become a favorite pastime of ours, and somehow, we still find new things to comment on.
“Some people are worth melting for,” Charlie says wistfully, quoting the snowman Olaf from the movie as she curls up next to me.
As I start the movie, I suddenly get the feeling we’re heading into dangerous waters of her girlhood, and a fear starts to press its way down my spine. Cute bass players? Someone worth melting for?
Oh no…
My thoughts get interrupted by my phone blowing up with calls. It”s my stressed manager Ian, no doubt freaking about our bassist problem again.
If we can”t get a solid player locked in soon, our upcoming gigs are screwed. These days bands live and die by their streaming numbers. Tanking some shows means our fan loyalty takes a hit. I can”t let everything we’ve built go down the drain.
”Dad, no,” Charlie whines, bummed our movie night keeps getting messed with. I hate shutting off her protests, but this band crisis isn’t going to solve itself.
I should answer.
I squeeze Charlie”s shoulder, feeling guilty. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t. I know I need to fight this battle with the label not just for my creative pride, but to protect the career that will support her dreams someday too. As she smiles and snuggles in closer, I reluctantly turn my phone off, making a silent promise to myself that we”ll get through this storm.
Somehow
Just not right this second.