Chapter 21 #2
“That’s right, kid; the reach could be insane. Mathew is pulling in the younger audience and you’ve got the hometown advantage. He’s even been doing the media rounds to promote it. You didn’t see his Tonight Show appearance yesterday? It was epic.”
Once upon a time that would have been me, doing all the TV shows and radio appearances. Now all the best promo spots are going to the young cowboy. I try not to let the news hurt my ego, but it definitely still stings.
“What can I do?” I don’t want to be seen as riding Mathew’s coattails. “I have time to kill here.”
“Well, you could go to that bar again. Get seen helping out the town—you know the drill.”
“Okay. Have you been sent any more songs for me?” I ask, eager to start making more music again.
“Nothing great. We need something authentic and meaningful for this one.”
My first albums were sexy and controversial, then as I grew older they became raw and gritty with a lot of pent-up anger.
I don’t want to go back to either of those styles.
I want to make music that can inspire and heal.
Music might have been the cause of my pain, but it can also be a kind of therapy.
If I want this album to be a true representative of me, I need more creative input. I need to write.
“I’ve actually been doing some writing. The new guitar player has been helping me put my lyrics to music.”
“No kidding! Maybe we should hire him full time!” Brendon laughs. “Can you send me a demo?”
Anxiety rises in my throat. What if he doesn’t like it? What if I’m not good enough or talented enough of a writer, and everyone hates it and laughs at me? Then what?
“Are you sure? It’s the first song I’ve written in forever. It could be terrible.”
“How will I know that if you don’t let me hear it? Send it through, and I’ll tell you if it’s something we can work with. Now, I gotta go. Keep practicing.” He hangs up, and I’m left with the phone still at my ear, the line gone.
I look at my cell and open the Notes app and reread the song again, singing it in my head.
It really is good. Chase likes it and he knows music.
Maybe this is how I move forward and recreate myself.
I write my own music my way. The idea has me smiling like a goofball.
I love this idea so much. I fall into a daydream as I wander the footpaths.
Lyrics and tunes pour in as though they had been building up behind a dam and now are flooding out.
I start typing them as I walk, scared to lose my flow.
Minutes later, I finally look up and stop. Where even am I? I turn around and stop abruptly. What the actual fuck?
In front of me stands a dilapidated house, its once bright paint now peeling, and the shutters broken. Weeds and overgrown grass have taken over the yard, giving it an abandoned appearance.
But this is not how it has always been. It used to be a warm and loving home, where my family of four lived and grew up. Where we spent holidays and birthdays together. Now, as I stand in front of it, I can’t help but feel a sense of longing for those happy memories.
I put away my phone and look back at Max.
“Stay here. I’ll just be a minute.” Max opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand.
“Wait here.” Then I step through the weeds towards the front door.
Looking through the dirty windows, I can see that the familiar furniture inside is still arranged, just as I remember.
The house is dark and empty, giving off an eerie feeling.
Despite knowing that I should just leave this ghostly house and return to my hotel, I can’t resist the urge to go inside. I want to see if I still belong here—if I can somehow feel Harper’s presence inside. So, I turn the doorknob and enter the unlocked and seemingly unloved house.
As I walked through the halls, memories flood back to me.
My father’s faded recliner sits in the same spot, no doubt untouched since he moved out.
The old television and couch are still set up in the living room where Harper and I would watch music videos and cartoons together.
A small smile spreads across my face as I remember all the fun times we shared.
But it is upstairs where I truly want to be.
As I make my way up the creaky staircase, my eyes are drawn to the framed photos lining the wall.
Happy moments frozen in time, each one featuring Harper’s radiant smile.
My throat tightens as I look at the last photo, taken just a few months before the accident.
It is a picture of us hugging at the lake on a warm summer day—a memory that I haven’t thought about in years, but one that I will never forget.
At the top of the stairs, I push open the door to my old room. It is like stepping back in time. My dresser, lamp, and posters are all exactly as I had left them. The musty air reminds me that this room hasn’t been aired out in a long time—it’s almost like a mausoleum for my past.
But as I look around. I no longer felt connected to the girl who used to live here. I have grown up and moved on, while she’s remained stuck in this room. A sudden noise makes me jump and knock into my dresser, causing an ornament to fall to the ground.
My mother stands in the doorway, looking much older than she actually is with greying hair and shabby clothes. Her voice is harsh as she asks, “What are you doing here?”
It is then that I realize just how much this house has changed and how far away from it all I have drifted.
“The door was unlocked.” I say with a shaky voice. She may be small, but she looks frightening and not at all as I remember her.
“I live here,” she says, “and I didn’t invite you in.”
“I just . . .” I gesture around the room. “It’s exactly the same.”
“I never had a reason to change it, so why should I?”
I’m not sure what to say. This woman is a stranger to me. All the love and warmth is gone, and it seems that just a shell is left. I should go; I need to get out of here.
I move toward the door, but when she doesn’t move to let me pass, I stop in front of her.
“Why are you here, Bayleigh?” She shoots me an accusatory look, and a lump forms in my throat.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Her voice drips with animosity. “You shouldn’t have come back to this town, either. You’re not wanted here.”
I swallow hard as my eyes burn. “I’m sorry—I’ve said it a thousand times.”
“And it will never be enough. It will never bring your sister back. You ruined everything.” She narrows her dark eyes at me, and it’s like she’s shooting daggers into my heart.
“You are a disappointment. Look at what you’ve done with your life! Drugs, alcohol! Harper would never have turned out like this. She was a beautiful girl, inside and out. You’re worthless.”
My stomach twists painfully, and I feel like I might vomit.
Her words cut me deeply as she spews out all of the insecurities that I’ve always believed about myself.
I shrink back, feeling small and insignificant.
I am the reason my sister is no longer alive and not living the beautiful life she was meant for. I don’t deserve to be happy.
“You should be punished for what you did.”
I lose my balance and collapse to my knees, unable to hold back the sobs that wrack me. “It was an accident.” My voice cracks pitifully. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
But my mother shows no empathy—only hatred. “I wish you would just disappear and never come back.”
I raise my eyes to her and wipe my tear-stained face with the back of my hands. “How can you say that to your own daughter?”
“You are not my daughter anymore. You are dead to me.”
Nothing can hurt me more than her cruel words. We will never be close again; she will never forgive me or show me any love.
“Now . . .” She steps back and gestures to the door for me to leave. “Get out of my house and never come back.”
With shaky legs, I push myself up from the ground. I sniffle and gather the last bit of strength within me. “Goodbye, Mother.” And then I run as fast as I can, down the stairs and out the door. I collide with Max’s solid chest as I rush off the porch.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asks, looking me over for injuries.
“Yes, let’s just get away from here.” I pull out of from his embrace and start speed-walking away. I continue to walk, leaving that house and all its painful memories behind me.