22. Avery #2
“It kind of came out of nowhere. I was doing this interview about the show and how I was feeling and then my body tensed up and I thought I was about to throw up,” I explain.
“Do you think it could just be nerves?”
“I’ve never felt like this before any show.”
“But this is different from all your other shows, isn’t it?”
The first time I performed at Dave’s bar, I had nothing to lose.
I remember telling myself, So what if I suck?
It’s not like it matters what these people think .
For years, I was young and invisible. I had people I trusted beside me.
After everything went wrong with Wes and I stopped working with Lydia, I started taking on projects I didn’t have a strong connection to.
When I performed them, I didn’t care as much about what others thought.
If they hated the performance or the songs it’s not like I was baring my soul to them.
I was just a marionette who was happy to have all the strings pulled by someone else.
George is right. This is different.
“What if they hate it? What if they hate me ?”
The circles on my back stop. “Then fuck them. They’re wrong.”
A startled laugh bubbles out of me, easing some of the tension in my shoulders. I forgot how blunt George can be.
She continues. “I am so excited to see you up there singing the songs you love, putting on a performance with so much heart. Because I’ve loved your shows over the years, because it’s you and I love everything you do. But there was something missing and I think you found it.”
My shock at her words clears my head. “You’ve seen my other shows?”
“Any time you’re in Tennessee, I’m up in the nosebleeds.
I never want to get too close and freak you out.
I’m excited to be so close this time.” Her voice cracks and she sniffles.
“No matter how much time has passed, I always find myself turning to the person next to me thinking Hudson is there, and nearly say, ‘Look at our girl go.’ I just feel him with me the most whenever you perform and I know he’s so proud.
You know I said it out loud once to this guy and I thought he’d freak out that this crazy stranger lady was talking to him, but he just nodded and said that he’d saved up for months to see you perform and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. ”
As she talks, something knits together in my chest. She’s been there for me, showing up and supporting me while giving me the distance I needed.
I’ve begged my grandparents to come and support me.
But I never once had to ask George to do the same.
I think part of us might live on in the people we loved the most, and that part of Dad that lives in George has seen me on stage performing songs I couldn’t care less about.
Tonight, I’m going to perform songs I love with my best friend, and I know part of Dad will be here with me.
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited or invited you out or done more than text. I’ve been running from you and Caper for so long because it hurts.”
“I don’t blame you. I’m just happy we’re here now.”
By the time George and I wipe tears from our eyes, and she helps me touch up my makeup, I’m officially out of five more minutes.
A tour crew member ushers me to my spot on a platform that will rise up to the stage the moment Wes’s set is over. I wish I didn’t miss all of it, but I’ll have more chances. My heartbeat is thunderous. My guitar is slipped into my hands, and I rise up until I’m under the blinding lights.
I step forward and sing, not giving a damn what anyone thinks.
A smile rips across my face as I head backstage to meet Wes before our finale number.
He stands, eyes closed, held tilted.
“What are you doing?” I ask, and his heavy lids flutter open.
Heat rolls through me. I’ve barely seen him since this morning and the sight of him—hair tousled and frizzy from his performance, limbs loose—demands my attention.
He looks like he’s just run a marathon and is bathing in the afterglow of victory.
Standing still as others rush around him.
“Listening to my favorite sound.” His lips quirk.
“People screaming your name?”
“People screaming yours.”
My breath hitches, not sure how to react. “We should get going.”
I start to turn, but there’s a tug from my waist that stops me in my tracks.
Wes has hooked a finger through the belt loop of my leather pants.
His other hand lands on the exposed plane of my lower back, and I let him pull me toward him as he rubs slow circles on my side.
My arms loop around his neck and I think he might kiss me again.
My gaze dances between his eyes and his mouth.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice rough from singing.
“I know I forced you to be here, but this means more to me than you’ll ever know.
I miss not being alone out there. I’ve never wanted to be in a band again, but music is always best when I’m making it with someone I care about.
And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to feel that again. ”
“I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. Let’s give them a show.”