22. Avery
Avery
T hunder pounds and the wind rattles in a way that sounds like someone talking.
I shift and groan on my bed, Wes’s body draped over mine. His heartbeat is steady under where I’m using his chest like a pillow.
Another crack of thunder. Close. Right outside the house.
“Avery! I will pick this lock if you don’t let me in!” That was definitely not the wind and absolutely my friend who has flown out for the first show. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Wes,” I hiss as I shake his shoulder. “You need to get up.”
He grips my hip harder.
“Wes,” I try again, and this time his sleep glazed eyes flutter open, framed by thick lashes.
“Is it time?”
“Evelyn’s here. You need to go.”
He bolts up, so the blankets fall off him. “Where?”
“I don’t know. Just hide before she breaks down the door. I’ll see if I can take her out back so you can leave.”
Hurt pinches his features as he untangles himself. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”
I don’t have the time to explain things to him, but it has to be this way. I haven’t had a chance to tell Evelyn how things are. Or it might be more accurate to say that I’ve been greedy, keeping this little bubble of bliss to myself and she thinks I still hate him.
Wes disappears, and I let Evelyn in, pulling at the hem of my shirt.
“Finally!” she squeals, throwing her arms around me. “Talk in a second, I need to pee so bad. There’s a bathroom in your room, right?”
Before I can stop her, she runs past me and into the house and to the open bedroom door. Hinges creak.
There’s a yelp of “What the fuck?” from Evelyn, followed by her saying, “Get out.”
Wes slinks back into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’d offer to stay, but it’s later than I thought and I should probably go meet up with my mom.”
“Yeah, tell George hello for me.”
“She’s excited to see you. To see both of us, but she made a point of letting me know that you’re the main attraction. She wants to take us out after to celebrate.”
“To a late-night diner?” I hedge a guess, recalling the times she took us out to eat when we were younger.
“More like a night club. She loves going out dancing after my shows. You should see her at a honky-tonk line dancing.”
“I’ll think about it. I might be too tired after the show, and we have a second one tomorrow. I don’t want to push it.” The excuses come in an instant. I’m bracing myself to see George. I knew this moment would come eventually, but it terrifies me.
What if she’s mad at all the distance I’ve put between us? Or worse, what if she completely understands and looks at me with so much love and I remember exactly why she was Dad’s favorite person? The only person in this world who loved him as much as I did.
“Just think about it?” Hope pools in his eyes, and I know this is important to him.
“I will.”
With that, Wes collects his phone and keys before heading out, looking back one last time to find me already looking at him when he says, “I can’t wait to be up on stage with you tonight.” And then the door closes behind him.
“Care to explain why you were hiding my enemy in your bathroom.” Evelyn emerges from the bathroom and leans against the bedroom doorway, arms crossed over her chest, covering the text of her T-shirt that reads, Think my opinions are big? Just wait until you see my ass.
“Enemy? That feels dramatic.” I shrug. Maybe if I pretend like it isn’t a big deal then she won’t act like it is. It is though.
Wes at my house for an entire night, after we made each other come from dry humping. Yeah. Business as usual.
“And the hiding wasn’t?” Touché.
“He was just stopping by to check on me before the show. He got here a few minutes before you did.”
“Nice try, but his pants are on the floor of your room.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. I lean to peer through the open door, and yup, there they are tossed in the corner. “Spill. Now.”
I start with last night, the commandeered voicemail and the teddy bears. Then I slip back to the last two weeks but during that I explain how we made up, which means having to explain why we were fighting. Before I know it, I’m telling her about Vegas.
Her face remains unreadable, something I’m not used to from my friend who broadcasts all her emotions so loudly but has been silent for the last twenty minutes.
I pick at the skin around my thumb in my nervousness. “And I guess that’s everything. What do you think?”
“Do you want this to work with him?” she asks, taking me by surprise. If anyone in my life would be against this, I thought it would be her. Not only because of me but also because of her brother.
“You’re not mad?” I check.
“I mean, I’m a bit pissed you didn’t tell me.
But there’s always been something between you two that it’s impossible to make sense of.
And I have to start playing nice now that I’m with his best friend.
” She shrugs. Last month, she ended up going on vacation and running into Garrett.
One thing led to another, and not only are they together, now they’re also writing music as a team. “So?”
“What if I’m getting my hopes up for nothing and look like a fool doing it?
” My voice cracks. “And I still don’t know what I want at the end of this.
If things keep going this way, I don’t know if I’ll want to sign the divorce papers.
But am I just being naive? It’s been a few months and maybe this is just like some summer camp romance where everything happens so fast but when it ends, it’s done for good. ”
Her expression softens and she moves toward me, pulling me close with an arm around my concave shoulders. “Forget the papers. That shit is arbitrary. You can still spend time with him whether you sign them or not. What do you want?”
“I want to be around him all the time because he makes me feel like my favorite version of myself. I don’t want to lose him again and I’m still figuring out what that takes.
I kissed him last night, Ev, but what if that messes everything up?
We haven’t talked about it yet. I’m not ready for an all-in, walking down the street with cameras in my face relationship. ”
When I’m with Wes, I’m at my most vulnerable, but I don’t think I’m able to be vulnerable and under constant scrutiny. I don’t want the world to have access to something they know nothing about and potentially poison it.
“I can’t tell you what to do, but I know if you don’t try, you will lose him.”
She’s right, I know she is.
The doorbell chimes.
Evelyn cocks a brow. “Expecting someone else? Is it my turn to fail at hiding in the bathroom?”
“Not that I can think of.” I get up and check the peephole. No one. I open the door and there on the welcome mat is a brown paper bag with a delivery receipt stapled to the front.
“What is it?”
I smile. “Breakfast.”
The first show.
After months of hard work, redoing the same eight count until it leaks into your dreams, and performing to an empty room, this is what determines if a performance really is more than just the sum of its parts.
Like a tree falling in a forest, observation changes art. Being seen adds a texture of meaning.
Even the most seasoned amongst us are braced for the result. Will it all pay off or will this tour be cursed?
With my back pressed against the wall in my dark dressing room, head between my thighs as my stomach twirls and sloshes, I’m starting to think I might mess up the entire thing.
I tap out a hurried text to Evelyn, the brightness on my phone turned all the way down.
Me
Any chance you have food poisoning?
Ev
No. I’m out here with Garrett. Alyssa and Jared are here too. I think George will join us in a few, but she headed off a minute ago.
Ev
Are you okay?
Me
I think so
Ev
See you after. The lights just went down so Wes is about to come on.
There wasn’t anything about the breakfast hash we split this morning that looked particularly suspect, but I can’t think of anything else that would have sent me into this state.
“Is there anything you need? There’s thirty minutes before you have to be on deck.” Kendal’s soft voice leaks through the door.
“Five more minutes. I’ll be good,” I tell her, though at this point I doubt she’ll believe me since this is the third time I’ve repeated myself.
I was feeling fine this morning through final mic checks, and even through hair and makeup. It was when Kendal came in with her camera and asked me, “This is the first show you’ve had complete creative control over from song selection to costuming. How does it feel to have this freedom?”
Instead of giving her an answer, my stomach cramped and a sweat broke out, and though I’m not exactly thankful for this, it at least saved me from the question I’m not sure I have an answer to. How do I feel right now? That I’ll need someone to stand off stage with a puke bucket and mouthwash.
A knock comes and the door starts to open, letting in a stripe of fluorescent light.
“Kendal, I promise I’ll be up in a minute.”
“She knows. Is it okay if I hide in here with you?” Though it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, I’d know George’s voice anywhere.
“Shouldn’t you be out watching Wes?” I croak. My mouth has gone dry. I was expecting to see George in the safety of a group setting post-show, feeling on top of the world, not like this when it feels like it would take a light breeze to knock me over.
“I think he’ll forgive me. I also think if he knew you were back here huddled in a corner, he’d delay everything to make sure you’re okay.
” I can see her more clearly now, dressed in a satin floral maxi dress, brown hair braided down her back.
She lifts her arm and presses the back of her hand against my forehead.
“I don’t think you have a fever, but you seem a bit clammy. ”
“I think it’s food poisoning.”
Her eyes narrow, not disbelieving but more to inspect my state. She moves her hand from my head to my back, rubbing slow soothing circles. “It’s your stomach?”