20. Opal
TWENTY
Opal
I ’ve changed my outfit five times now. Nothing feels right.
I collapse onto my bed with a huff, my hair spread out around me on my comforter. My phone lights up with a text message beside me, and I see that it’s almost three o’clock now. I have twenty minutes to get ready and I still haven’t even started my makeup.
Anxiety churns in my stomach and part of my brain keeps begging me to tell Alex I’m sick. I don’t know why I’m so nervous when he’s the one performing for a crowd of strangers, but it’s like my gut knows something I don’t. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ll be all alone while he’s on stage. I’ve never liked crowds, but they’re even worse when I’m alone in the middle of one. I should have invited Maisie to come with me.
My phone buzzes repeatedly, I swipe the green call button and hold it up to my ear. “Hello?”
“You ready, babe?” Alex sounds so excited, breathless and happy and alive. That’s how his music makes him feel. So why the hell do I feel like crawling under this blanket and going to sleep? I’m a terrible girlfriend, I don’t deserve him.
“Yep, almost. Just trying to find an outfit to wear.” I’m lying, I’m nowhere near ready.
“Okay, can I head to your house then?”
More anxiety grips at my throat. This is happening, I have to get up and do this. “Give me another ten minutes then you can head this way.”
He’s quiet on the other end of the line for a minute. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you soon.” I end the call and force myself to stand up and look into my closet again. I grab my favorite romper, it’s plain white with thin straps and it flares out at the waist. I pair it with my brown Birkenstocks and a denim jacket.
I swipe some mascara onto my lashes and add a little bronzer to my cheeks. I don’t feel satisfied with my appearance today. For the most part, I’ve grown to accept the way I look, but sometimes insecurities still rear their ugly head. I know there will be other girls there, probably older girls that are in college. It’s silly, but for some reason that makes me extra insecure.
During the three hour drive, Alex talks animatedly about the songs he’s going to play. I can tell he’s so excited, and I’m excited for him. I love seeing him happy. My brain is just broken, I’m convinced.
We’re getting closer to Austin now, the GPS shows that we only have thirty minutes left of our drive. The countryside is gorgeous, different from what I’m used to seeing in north Texas. There are grassy hills and big oak trees. As we enter the city, we pass by tall skyscrapers and beautiful historical buildings.
“Are you nervous at all?” I ask.
“Not really.”
“That’s pretty amazing, I know I would be.”
He shrugs. “I mean, I want to do well. But if I fuck up, it’s not the end of the world. All I can do is try my best. He hired me, so he must be confident that I’m good enough.”
I’ve always admired the way he views things. I’m a bit of a perfectionist, sometimes I feel like there’s no point in doing something if it isn’t flawless, but I know that mentality holds me back. I want to pursue my writing for real, but I’m terrified of rejection. Of being laughed at. So I continue to keep it locked away in a journal that no one will ever see.
Maybe that’s why I feel so weird today. Maybe part of me wishes that I could have something the way that Alex has his music. Something that’s mine, but that I can also share with the world.
This bar is nothing like what I had pictured. The stage is outside in a courtyard alley, and instead of a smoky old bar with neon lights, the interior is light and minimalistic. It’s packed full of college kids, and I immediately realize we’re the two youngest people here. Of course, that makes sense, people don’t come to a bar if they’re not old enough to drink.
I was slightly worried they might throw me out for being underage, but the owner was super nice. He even offered us both free sodas and snacks. I watch as Alex tunes his guitar and double checks that it’s plugged into the amp. Another guy is up there with him, helping him prepare for his set.
He plays a few test notes and soundchecks the mic, then a combination of red and blue lights appear, shining down on him. He greets the crowd and they’re receptive, with scattered claps and nodding heads.
I’m sitting at an empty table at the edge of the courtyard towards the back, I have a perfect view of the crowd’s reaction. He starts playing a cover of Trailer Trash by Modest Mouse, and more people turn their attention toward him.
He’s obviously a natural. He doesn’t look fazed at all by the fact that people are watching him. As always, he loses himself in the song and almost seems to be oblivious to his surroundings. He looks handsome with his long hair hanging over his eyes.
When the song ends the crowd applauds, some people even whistle in appreciation. My chest swells with pride when I see him smile. I love that he’s getting the recognition he deserves.
It’s dark now, and the bar is totally packed. After his last set, Alex thanks the crowd and packs up his belongings. I weave through the crowd towards the stage to meet up with him, but I notice he’s speaking to a man now. He looks a bit older than most people here, who is probably in his late thirties, and he looks somewhat familiar but I’m not sure why.
I don’t want to interrupt them so I stand a few yards behind Alex, waiting for him to join me. His face lights up with a smile, and his eyes go wide. He and the man shake hands and I see him hand Alex a piece of paper before he walks away.