11. Quinn
quinn
. . .
C amping. Not my cup of tea, at least that’s what I used to think. But honestly, sitting around the campfire with my dad, Uncle Liam, and Noah, it’s been one of the best times of my life.
Right now, Liam is strumming his guitar. Over his shoulder, I see the people at the other campsite, lingering somewhat close to our site. I have a feeling they’ve figured out who we are, even though we’ve been very careful not to say our names too loudly.
My dad gets up and disappears into the woods. The three of us snicker, suspecting full well that he’s going deep into the woods to do some business, except I notice that he didn’t take the shovel or the roll of toilet paper.
“Do you think he’s in such a hurry, he forgot?” I ask. Liam looks over and shakes his head.
“If he starts yelling from the woods, I’m not moving. He’ll attract a bear or something.”
“I suppose I’ll have to be the one to go find him?”
“You are his son,” Noah so nicely points out. I flip him off and turn my attention toward where my father disappeared. There’s some rustling among the branches and I’m praying, like down on my hands and knees, that it’s my dad and not some wild animal. We have only our tents to keep us safe, and those aren’t going to do much.
Thankfully, he appears, looking completely unharmed and fully intact, but he’s carrying an arm full of rocks, twigs, and a log.
“What’s all this?” I ask. “I thought we had enough firewood.”
“I’m going to make a drum kit,” he says, sitting back down next to Liam. Sure enough, he starts carving, duct taping and stacking together various pieces of the forest. When he’s done, he pulls out a pair of drumsticks that apparently, he’s had in his back pocket, and starts playing. The sound isn’t exactly the same, but there’s enough beat to go with Liam’s melody, that the two of them are having an impromptu jam session.
“You’re missing JD,” Noah reminds them.
“Eden had some competition this week. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to come around lately. Although, I was the same way when you were playing football. I wouldn’t schedule anything if it meant I’d miss a game,” Liam says to Noah. It’s part of being a parent, making sacrifices for your children. My dad never had to make any for us because if Liam was home, so was my dad. It just worked out that way.
My dad and Liam start playing again. This time I look over my shoulder and notice the couple behind me trying to listen as well. I think the nice thing to do would be to invite them over, but we are enjoying our privacy. Right now, the three guys around me are my family. It’s not the rocker, the drummer, and football player. It’s my uncle, Dad, and best friend. Moments like these are rare and I want to keep them to myself.
I finally relent and head into my shared tent with Noah and grab my guitar. I haven’t touched it since we arrived, opting to enjoy the great outdoors and just be present with everything around me.
My dad smiles.
If I hadn’t been looking at him, maybe for approval, I would’ve missed it. Ever since Elle and her band proposal made its way to my dad’s ears, coupled with my subsequent rejection, I feel like him and I haven’t been on the same page. All my life, he’s been my go-to, even when Katelyn moved in, he was still my number one. But lately, it seems like we’re at a crossroads.
I get that parents have hopes and dreams for their children, but our parents, for the most part, are pretty laid back, letting us decide what we want to do. I decided on doing nothing, probably not what they were expecting, but it’s the way things worked out. I moved back to California instead of staying in Beaumont, which really upset my mom. The twins still had a few years left, but I was done, and Noah was already gone. Living in Cali made sense to me. For what it’s worth, my parents followed quickly after my sisters graduated.
Still, I feel this disconnect with my dad over something as trivial as joining a band. I’m not there, professionally or even emotionally. I’m not invested in my career, let alone wanting to have someone else’s career rest on my shoulders. Thinking about that pressure alone is enough to give me an anxiety attack.
It’s not enough to keep me from playing right now though. I listen to the beat my dad and Liam are playing and start in. Our campsite gets a bit louder, but it’s worth it, hearing our melody echo through the river.
“I feel incredibly left out,” Noah says. There was a time when all of us played instruments. Peyton can still bang the drums pretty hard, but it’s not her passion. Elle, at one point, wanted to be a singer but changed her mind. As for Noah, sports were always in his path, but he did learn to play the guitar.
“I’ll share,” I tell him, handing over my baby, but Noah refuses her.
“There’s no way I can match what they’re doing,” he points to our dads. “You play, and I’ll write lyrics in my head.”
This makes me laugh. Noah the songwriter, that’ll be the day.
Sleep, it’s what I didn’t do while camping. Each night we stayed up late, talking about nothing in particular, sometimes going long minutes without even saying a word, just staring into the fire, only to wake up the second the sun peeked over the trees and started heating our tents. I missed my bed and the air conditioner the most. The rest of my week was peaceful, and I feel rejuvenated.
To do what, I’m not sure. Maybe figure my life out. I’m certain my parents would appreciate that. The band thing for me is out of the question. I have friends who are in bands, and they constantly complain about the drama, the fighting, and the hook-ups, which inevitably screw up the dynamic of the group. No one needs that stuff in their lives, least of all me. I have sisters to keep me entertained.
However, my parents never intended for me to live off my trust fund, which means I need to figure something out. I could go to college, get a degree in something meaningful where I have to put on a suit and tie everyday… but just the thought makes my stomach roll. I know for certain, I don’t want to end up on some reality version of Kids of Famous People Became Losers or have one of my sisters get interviewed and when asked about me, they’ll have to lie and say ‘he’s doing really well, working on his own projects’… in his forties.
I don’t want to be the subject of entertainment fodder, but I also don’t have a clue as to what I want to do with my life. None of it makes sense, and while I know I could easily follow in my dad’s footsteps, I’m not sure I want to.
After bathing in the ice-cold river, my shower feels like heaven. My peers, the others who grew up in the industry with me, all have these over the top apartments. I chose something mediocre. I have stock appliances, a tub shower combination that looks like it’s from the 80s and there’s even wood paneling on one of the walls. Granted, Elle painted that the day she moved in.
Speaking of Elle, I need to change the locks now that she’s moved out because my dad is sitting on my couch. Unless of course, I didn’t lock the door.
“Hey.” I rub the towel over my hair. “Door unlocked?”
“Elle left her key at the house.”
Duly noted, it’s time to change the locks.
I dress quickly, although I’m not eager to find out what my dad wants, especially considering we were just together.
“So, what’s up?” I ask, making my way into the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water, show it to him, but he shakes his head.
“I’m trying out a new bike.”
“Say what?” I ask, almost choking on my water. “Does Mom know?”
Dad shakes his head. “I wanted to see if I liked it first. My other one, repairs are getting costly. I’d like to have it restored and only drive it when your mom insists on it.”
“Makes sense. It’s pretty old, but like I said the other day, there’s a lot of history with it.”
He nods. “But these new ones… Liam just got one and I’m jealous.”
Now I’m laughing. Dad, Liam, and JD are like the Joneses, always having to one-up the next person by getting the best of everything.
“All right, well show me your bike.” I follow my dad out to the parking lot and sure enough, there’s a Harley-Davidson Sport Glide in matte black. I walk around this beauty of a bike, completely in awe. “Damn, Dad, this bike is legit.”
“I know,” he says sheepishly. He runs his hand over his beanie and looks at me sort of weird.
“You ordered this beforehand, didn’t you? When you saw it at the motor show?”
He nods.
“And Mom doesn’t know.”
He shakes his head.
“Man, you’re so busted. Although, you could leave it here. I don’t mind watching her for ya, you know until you tell your wife that you’re replacing her favorite mode of transportation.”
“Fat chance, Quinn. Hop on.”
Sure enough, in the back compartment is an extra helmet, which saves me having to run up and get mine. It’s a bit awkward, riding with your dad, but I don’t care because I’m on one of the finest pieces of man-made machinery. This baby purrs, and much like its name, glides along the roadway effortlessly.
After an hour, we stop at the studio. Dad tells me he has to pick up some sheet music and asks if I want to come with him. Truthfully, I’d rather stay outside and admire this beautiful bike, but he’s looking at me like he wants me to follow.
We say hi to the receptionists before heading toward the designated studio for 4225 West. The band paid a hefty price to make sure they always had space, mostly so they could keep their equipment there.
The red light above the studio door is on. Dad doesn’t say anything, and he definitely didn’t mention anyone using their space.
As soon as we step inside, I turn cold. My sister’s sitting at the table. She looks at us as we walk in, smiling before turning her attention to the window. I follow slowly, afraid of what I’m about to see.
On the other side, Dana Cantu is singing into the microphone, a familiar song, the one my dad wrote for my mom. Behind her, Ajay Ballard is on the drums, a set almost identical to my dad’s, which are sitting to his left. Hendrix Brandt is shredding his electric, while another guy I don’t know is plucking away at his bass. And my dad? Well, he’s now behind his kit, Liam is standing next to Dana, sharing singing duties and JD is pounding away on the piano.
“What’s this? Some kind of set-up?”
“It’s a jam session, Quinn. I know you’ve been to one or two in your life.”
“Don’t patronize me, Elle. Dad freaking duped me into coming here. You know I don’t want to do this.” I point toward the room. She stands and faces off with me.
“Why not, huh? What’s the big deal? This was always your dream and now you’re too high and mighty to let some woman have control, to let her sing?”
“My decision has nothing to do with Dana.”
“Then who? Is it me? Are you still pissed at me for almost failing out of school? I thought you were past that crap?”
“It has nothing to do with you!”
“Then why, Quinn?” she asks. I swear she’s about to cry but won’t do it in front of me. She’ll save those for Ben.
I can’t tell her. She’ll never understand. She doesn’t have to worry about estranged parents coming to look for her, but I do.
I look back through the window, hating everything that I see. My dad and Ajay are in complete sync, playing off each other. This is what he wants, someone he can jam with, someone who can play the drums, and that’s not me.
I make eye contact with Liam. His head turns slowly and then looks back at me. He must know because he’s setting his guitar down, but it’s too late.
“Tell Dad I’m out. Don’t ask me about the band again.”
“Quinn…”
I’m out of the studio before my sister or Liam can say or do anything about it. If anything, this backhanded attempt by my father has made my decision more concrete. If I’m going to go into the music industry full-time, I’ll do it as a solo artist and on my own terms.
Not theirs.