Chapter 4 Kit #3
Finally, he said, “This was my dream for as long as I can remember. I was totally that kid, singing in the mirror with a shaggy Mick Jagger haircut and a brush for a microphone. When I was about nine, I upgraded to this fake plastic guitar from the dollar store. I’d pretend to totally rock out with it.
” He grinned and muttered, “It was super embarrassing.”
“But then…” Devon paused again, and his grin faded.
“It’s not like my mom set out to crush my dream or anything.
She came home one day after working a double shift at her job as a cashier, and…
I mean, I get it. She was completely exhausted, and here I was, this totally amped up little kid pretending to be a rock star and begging her for music lessons. ”
He shifted his gaze to the window, his expression pained as he relived the memory.
“She said there was no way we could afford music lessons, and even if we could, there was no point. She said almost no one who wanted to be a rock star actually managed to achieve that, so I should think about something more practical for my future.”
I exclaimed, “That’s a terrible thing to say to anyone, especially a kid!”
Devon turned to look at me and said, “Please don’t think badly of her.
It’s not like she set out to break my spirit or anything, but it still hit hard.
I felt ridiculous, and selfish. Why did I get to have these pie-in-the-sky dreams, when she didn’t?
It wasn’t like she’d dreamt of working a job she hated, with low pay and long hours. ”
He pushed his hair out of his eyes and continued, “Anyway, I put away the plastic guitar after that, and got a haircut, and stopped singing in the mirror. I tried to let it all go. Years later when she married my stepdad, she offered me music lessons, but I turned them down. I’m not sure why I did that.
Maybe I still thought they were frivolous and pointless.
Or maybe I knew she was right. Almost no one who sets out to be a rock star actually succeeds. ”
“But then, you finally learned to play the guitar.”
“Yeah, at twenty-six, after I found out my days were numbered. I still loved music, so I thought, why not go ahead and give that to nine-year-old me? What would be the harm?” He lifted the strap over his head and turned away from me to set aside the guitar.
I put down my forgotten sewing project and crossed the room to sit beside Devon.
He was still facing away from me, and after a moment, he said, “I waited too long. Why didn’t I start down this path at twelve, when I was offered those lessons?
Or at eighteen, after I graduated from high school, or at any point before the one I chose? Why was I willing to abandon my dream?”
“Maybe because it’s scary to want something that much,” I said softly. “If we reach for our dreams and fail, what are we left with?”
“I think I’m even more afraid of succeeding.”
“Why would you be afraid of that?”
“Because I’m out of time. What if I get up on stage and discover it’s everything I ever dreamed of? I missed my chance, and I’ll never know what might have been.”
“But you didn’t, Devon. There’s still time.”
“You say that because you don’t believe in the curse, but I do. From where I’m sitting, I totally blew it. I should have put that dream in motion more than a decade ago, but I didn’t.”
I didn’t know what to say. There were no words to make this easier, or to convince him he really did have time.
I rested my hand on his and waited until he was ready to talk again. After a minute, he turned to me and said, “I’m sorry I’m getting emotional. I’ve been feeling kind of raw the last couple of days.”
“It’s probably the holidays. They stir up a lot of emotions in me, too.”
“They’re bittersweet, aren’t they? Especially when they remind us of the people who aren’t here anymore to celebrate with us.”
“Yeah, exactly. But this Thanksgiving, we have a lot to be grateful for. We’re in a good place, with good people, and we’re spending it together.”
“All of that really is wonderful. In fact, I was thinking… no, never mind.”
“What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask about subletting one of your rooms. I really like spending time with you, and I like this place, so I want to stay awhile. But I shouldn’t ask for anything after all of that. You might say yes out of pity.”
“Actually, I’m saying yes because it’s a good idea. You need someplace to stay, and I can’t keep paying rent on two rooms, so it’s a win-win. You can take my bedroom, and I’ll move in here.”
“I was talking about subletting this room. All I need is this bed and a corner for my stuff, so your things can stay right where they are.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to charge you for this room and then keep using it.”
“But I like it like this, with all your pretty fabrics and projects and sketches around me. And don’t worry, I promise to stay out of your way when you need to work. Just say the word, and I’ll go find something to do so I’m not distracting you.”
“You won’t be a distraction.”
He grinned and said, “So far, you’re entirely wrong about that. We came up here so you could do some sewing, and I’ve totally derailed you. But I can do better.”
“We can figure that stuff out, and again, I’m all for you staying here. I’m sure my landladies will be, too. We can run it by them next time we go downstairs.”
“Sounds good.” He was all smiles, but then he grew serious and said, “If we’re going to be housemates, I guess that means we shouldn’t mess around again. It might make things too complicated if we’re living together and sleeping together… right?”
I knew what he meant by complicated. It might become too intense, or lead to getting too attached to each other, when neither of us wanted a relationship. “You’re right. We’re better off keeping this strictly platonic from now on.”
Even though I knew that was the smart choice, it still came with a sting of disappointment.
We spent the next few hours in the studio, talking about random things while I sewed and Devon played tunes on his unplugged guitar. He really wasn’t a distraction. I had a lot of hand-beading to do, and the slow, monotonous task was much better with company.
At one point, he called his mom and stepdad to wish them a happy Thanksgiving. They carried on a lighthearted conversation for a few minutes, which made it obvious he was really close to both of them. But when they asked if he was coming home for Christmas, he wouldn’t commit one way or another.
I asked him about it after he got off the phone, and he said, “I can’t plan ahead. All I can do right now is take life one day at a time.” I wondered what his family thought about his gloom-and-doom psychic’s prediction.
In the early afternoon, we could hear people starting to arrive downstairs. I didn’t want to seem antisocial, so I suggested joining the party. Of course, Devon was all for it, and as soon as we got downstairs, he began chatting with and completely charming everyone. He was totally in his element.
I’d met the former tenants and most of my housemates’ friends before, but I didn’t know them all that well. After about twenty minutes spent awkwardly trying to make small talk, I retreated to the kitchen and busied myself by washing dishes.
Devon tracked me down sometime later and announced, “We’re all going to play flag football. I guess there’s a park really close to here.”
“Yeah, Mission Dolores Park is about a block away.”
“Awesome. Let’s get going.”
“There’s no way I’m playing any kind of sport.”
He seemed to deflate a bit, but he tried to sound cheerful as he said, “Okay, no problem. I’ll stay with you and help with the dishes.”
JoJo joined us in the kitchen just then and said, “I’ll keep Kit company. You should go have fun, Devon. Oh, and try to end up on Yolanda’s team. Trust me. Even though she’s the smallest person in the house, she’s fierce when it comes to any kind of competition.”
He asked her, “You don’t want to play, either?”
“Oh hell no, probably for the same reason as Kit.”
In unison, she and I said, “P.E. class trauma.” JoJo added, “Not that I was living my truth as a proud trans woman back then. But gym class and the locker room scarred me for life.”
Devon looked sympathetic. “I can only imagine. But don’t you two want to come along and hang out? I feel bad leaving you behind.”
We both declined, and I told him, “Seriously, go have fun. We’re good here.” He was reluctant, but he finally gave in and went to join the group.
Once we were alone, JoJo plucked the dish towel from my hands, tossed it aside, and poured us two glasses of wine from the open bottle in the fridge. Then she took a seat at the kitchen table and said, “Come sit down and tell me everything! How long have you been keeping that hottie a secret?”
“Actually, we just met yesterday.”
“Seriously? You two seem so close.”
“We bonded quickly, thanks to some felony breaking and entering.” I told her the story of how we’d met before saying, “He asked if he could sublet my studio, since he doesn’t have a place to live right now.
It’ll probably just be for a few weeks, because he’s a traveler and doesn’t seem to stay in one place for long.
I’m all for letting him move in, but obviously I told him I’d have to ask you and Yolanda. ”
“I’m totally fine with it, and I know my wife will be, too. Devon’s a sweetheart, and he definitely fits in here. But are you sure you want to live under the same roof as someone you just started dating? That has the potential to turn awkward if things don’t work out.”
“We’re not dating, and last night was a one-time thing.”
“You sure about that?”
I nodded. “We talked about it and agreed that would be best. Living and sleeping together could get messy, especially if we started to develop feelings for each other.”
“Why would developing feelings be a problem?”
“Because I’m not looking for a relationship, and he says he won’t start something he can’t finish.”
I told her about the alleged curse and the psychic’s prediction, and when I finished, JoJo murmured, “Interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“And he really, truly believes that sometime between now and February first, he’s going to—”
“Yup.”
“I’ve never met anyone quite that superstitious.”
“Same here,” I said. “I keep wanting to convince him it isn’t real, but that’s not what he needs from me, is it? It’s real to him, so I think he just needs a friend, someone who’s there for him, no matter what.”
“I think you’re right. The good thing is, in a couple of months he’s going to turn thirty and realize none of it was true.” JoJo took a sip of wine before muttering, “Well, unless…”
“Wait, does some part of you think there really might be a curse?”
“Of course not, but there’s that thing called a self-fulfilling prophecy. I’m not saying he’s going to keel over just because he thinks he’s doomed. But if he’s taking chances and acting recklessly because he figures his days are numbered anyway, who knows what might happen?”
As that sunk in, I said, “I know what I have to do.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to spend the next couple of months saving Devon from himself.”