26. Music
CHAPTER 26
Music
CALUM
Music explodes in my ears. My foot bounces on the same spot, and I cross my forearms on my forehead, immersed in the sound of my voice. The sound I shared with the world. My music. It’s the only thing that matters right now, and maybe weed.
The boys would love for me to mingle, but I can’t. Kissing or trying to be intimate with another woman feels like cheating on Cathie, which makes no sense since she moved on. I should do the same. Maybe after this tour. Or not. I was celibate before her. I can do it now.
A nudge on my knee causes my forearms to separate. Sam. Lucas. Scott. I sit up and squint. Their frowns rub me the wrong way. This better not be another intervention to quit the weed. I reduced my intake. Now, I smoke when I’m mostly nervous, bored, or trying to stay alive.
My annoyance is a tad evident in the way I say, “What’s up?”
Lucas grabs the remote and throws himself on a couch. His lips move, but I don’t hear a thing. Oh, the earbuds. I unplug and drop them on the table. “Come again, I didn’t get that.”
“Just checking in,” Lucas says. Sam nods. Scott laughs.
“You still up for the Late Night show?” Scott asks.
Not at all. I want to stay here and create music. Who wants to fake interest in a show, smile at a host you know nothing about while dozens of people clap each time you breathe or laugh at your lame jokes? Lucas points the remote to the TV and turns it off. I didn’t realise it was on.
These days, everything goes by in a blur. I rub my hand over the leather of the armrest.
“Yeah,” I reply. Attending shows like that is part of the business.
“All right.” With that, Scott is gone.
Sam grabs the pads from the long chest of drawers under the TV. Back in his seat, he tosses one to Lucas. Lucas starts the game, and the dread in my abdomen extends to my chest.
“What’s up?” I ask them.
“Just hanging out,” they chorus.
They sit on different couches, but their thoughts and actions are coordinated. They attack each other on TV with guns. Something is up. Lucas looks over his shoulder and winks.
“How have you been, man?” he says.
Does the question have anything to do with my new apartment? The blue-pink walls are bereft of pictures. Only thing in the living room are the leather couches, coffee table, TV, and game set up. Most days, I can’t believe I bought the house. Why buy it when she won’t be in it?
“Good?” I murmur.
“Spoken to your mum yet?” Sam asks without looking away from the TV.
No. I don’t know if I’ll ever speak to her in this life. I should. Cathie has moved on. There’s no reason I should hold on to that anger, but I can’t let go of the hurt. “Is she good?” I ask.
An explosion from the TV causes Lucas to laugh. Sam flashes his middle finger, then turns to me. “Yes, she sends her greetings.”
Sam is an idiot. He’s stalling.
The first round of the game ends. They share eye contact, and Sam averts his gaze. Their last combat replays on the TV. I throw my hands up in defeat. They didn’t come here for games.
“What is it?”
Lucas throws a pointed look at Sam. “Sam?”
“You tell him,” Sam grits out.
“No, you tell him. You’re older.”
“By only ten days, you idiot,” Sam snaps.
“Guys, cut it out. What is it?” I ask.
“Your mum sent us here,” Sam admits. My jaw jerks with anger. I curl my fists on my knees. Sam follows the movements. He bangs the pad on his knee, looking at Lucas as if for help. “I know you don’t want to talk to her, Cal. That’s why she’s not here. But she made us come.”
“Why?”
“Well…” Sam trails off.
My fingers climb into my hair, tugging from the roots. I should shave it off. Start afresh.
“Get to it, Sam.”
“Look, man, we tried to say no. Ask Lucas.”
Lucas nods. “Yeah. But she was sitting by herself at the studio and looking so sad.”
“Get to the point.”
“Geez,” Lucas spits out. “Don’t shout at us. We are only the messengers.” He plucks out his phone from his pocket and chucks it at me. “Look at it. She said the cofounder of BGC—”
“BC,” Sam corrects.
“Yeah, BC. Thanks, Sammy boy,” Lucas says. Sam flashes him the middle finger. I don’t have time for this. “Anyway, your mum said one of the cofounders is dead and you might want to take a look at the video on my phone. Remember my password?”
“What?” falls out of my lips.
Lucas raises both hands. “Try not to shout at the messengers.”
My heart drops to my knees. He cannot be saying what I think he just said. Impossible.
Cathie co-founded BC. She’s one of them. I unlock his phone and play the video. A familiar face appears on the screen. I listen once without understanding a word Ashley Greene says. The second time, I understand that one of the co-founders of the popular rant app is dead.
A relieved breath leaves me. I shouldn’t be glad her best friend is dead, but thank God it’s not Cathie. I rake a hand through my hair. Wait, her best friend is dead. I replay the video, and by the end, another person takes over to inform us that the Greene family wishes to mourn the death of their daughter privately and would be grateful if the public respected their wishes.
My body moves on autopilot as I check their official accounts. They released a statement.
It’s real. Amelia Greene is dead.
“Fuck,” I scream.
The boys jump to their feet. I ignore them and fist my hair. Cathie will be broken. She will be crushed. Amelia was her favourite. I’m up on my feet without a thought. I download the app I uninstalled last year. It has more downloads than it did the last time I checked. Staring at the BC logo, a flood of emotions slams into me. Do I create a new account? If so, what do I say?
This is where her man or lover or whoever that fucker is steps in. She’s offline for a reason. No social media. Nothing. She wants it that way. If she wanted to talk to me, she wouldn’t have ignored those letters. My posts had constant engagements. I was crowned BC grand simp.
“What are we going to do?” Sam asks.
The silence settles in. They paused their game. I slump into the couch. “ We? ” I say, scorn dripping into my voice. “It’s not our problem, Sam. We will do absolutely nothing about it.”
As the words leave my lips, bile rushes to my throat. Sam and Lucas share another suspicious look. What? It’s not in my place to comfort my ex-girlfriend. She didn’t want me around her.
“Just to be clear, you’re not going to Wells Spring?” Lucas asks.
No. I glare at Lucas. He has always been the one to voice out his thoughts and opinions, however stupid they are. If at all I’ll be in Europe, I’ll only be at the places we have the tour.
“And why would I do that?” I reply.
She has a partner.
She has a kid.
She has a successful company.
She has good friends.
She seems happy.
Why would she want to see or talk to her ex?
“Just asking,” he says. “Your mum made it sound so important, and we thought you would… I mean, I dunno, Cal. If anything were to happen to Sam, I would reach out to his family.”
It’s not the same thing and they know it. I turn to Sam and he looks away. They can’t make me feel bad about this. Nope. Amelia Greene wasn’t my friend. She was not even my student. But her sister helped me. Still, we weren’t friends. No matter how they spin it, it won’t work.
“You should at least reach out. For old times,” Sam whispers. His voice sounds close. He’s in front of me. “Grief can make us crazy, and a familiar face will make a lot of difference, Cal.”
“Yeah,” Lucas chimes in. God knows what Mum told them. “A call or text will be nice.”
Newly drained by the news, I hide my face in my palms. Do I send a card? A note? A letter? It doesn’t matter. For all I know, Amelia probably hated me. I’m not heading to Wells Spring to mourn with a girl who doesn’t care about my existence. That’s the opposite of moving on.
“No, thank you,” I whisper.
An emotion clutches at my chest. It’s not anger, it’s mostly exhaustion mixed with pain. A raw ache I know will never go away. I’ll never be able to look at another woman the way I looked at her. No one will stare at me like she does and laugh at me for being an American.
“She moved on,” I say. I can’t bear to look at my best friends. They might disagree with my decision. It’s fine. “She has her new family. I should respect that. They can console her.”
Memories of Cathie plague me. Does she still call fries chips? She was terrified of losing people. It’s why she went through life a bit more carefully, never fully experiencing and exploring or making new friends. To be fair, if I was still her man, I wouldn’t appreciate Jackson checking in on her. But what if seeing him for a few minutes will make her feel better? I need to stop. I take the first step towards the empty hallway leading to my room.
“You two need to stop talking to my mum. If she has something to say to me, let her say it to me herself.”
Only that she can’t. She’s not allowed here, and I’ve blocked her on every channel possible.