Chapter 8
MEMPHIS
I stared out the window at the field behind my house as I tuned my guitar–not because I wanted to play, but because the task always calmed me.
The last week had been nerve-wracking for a few different reasons, not the least of which was the fact that I was still wrapping my mind around being a father.
I wouldn’t say I was a dad yet, because to me, there was a distinct difference.
Years ago, one of my older brothers bought Dad a mug for Father’s Day that said, “Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a dad.” At the time, I didn’t think much of it.
I assumed it was one of those last-minute purchases we’ve all made–the kind where you stop at the pharmacy on the way to family dinner so you don’t show up empty-handed.
You hope no one realizes that you’re the piece of shit that forgot the holiday until the last minute and then scrambled to find something that even slightly made sense.
It was like the plain white coffee mug covered in polka dots I got him three years ago.
I bought it at the pharmacy because the other options didn’t even come close to any of his hobbies or interests.
At least the polka dots could be played off as a tribute to his nickname - Polka Dot.
The only decent part of the gift was the sugar-free Jolly Ranchers I filled the mug with before stuffing it into a gift bag and hauling ass to the lunch I was already late for.
Even though it was a low-thought, last-minute gift, Dad still used that mug proudly–just because it came from me.
But the message on that older mug made sense to me now.
Any man can father a child, but not every man can hold the title of dad.
I had friends from high school who had fathers–men who didn’t pay much attention and were more like roommates who paid the bills and got cranky if you didn’t replace a roll of toilet paper.
A dad operated on a different level. A dad would stop what he was doing to give his kid another lesson on how to tie their shoes.
A dad was there in the morning, frowning at you over his first sip of coffee before quizzing you for an upcoming test. A dad jogged across the grass in his work uniform, covered in grease and grime, ready to cheer on his kid from the sidelines before going back to the shop to finish the day’s work.
A dad would sit you down with his third cup of real coffee–after being starved of caffeine for months–and tell you all the best parts of fatherhood.
He’d tell you the craziest things to expect, how you can never know what might happen because kids wallow in the unexpected and have it in their DNA to scare the shit out of you as often as possible.
He’d tell you nothing ever goes the way you planned, but it usually turns out better, and that you should never pass up the opportunity to kiss them goodbye or hold their hand, because you never know when the last time they’ll let you might be.
Even though he was jittery and talking a mile a minute, I took every word Dad said to heart. I wanted nothing more than to be the kind of dad he’d been to me and my siblings.
And then there was my mom. She was a force of nature–a demon when she was angry and a sweet angel when she wasn’t.
She pointed her finger at me and said, “All you’ve gotta do is use the lessons we taught you.
Be honest, be true to yourself, and always walk with dignity and pride while you teach your child to do the same.
You’ll have a good kid. You’ll have a great kid.
That’s what your dad and I did, and look how you turned out. ”
She burst into tears and threw her arms around me, sobbing into my shirt about how excited she was to meet another grandchild.
It took some of the heat out of her words, but it didn’t diminish the meaning.
My takeaway was simple: as long as I loved Ivy as intensely and honestly as my parents loved me, I would do just fine.
I had just pulled my favorite guitar off the wall hanger when the door behind me opened. I turned and saw my bandmates filing into the garage one after the other. “Did I forget about practice?” I asked.
“No, we thought you’d probably be climbing the walls, so we came to watch you squirm while we work on a new song I’ve got half-baked,” Lucky Marks said.
He walked to the refrigerator in the corner and put in the six-pack of flavored water he was carrying.
He took the box of energy drinks my cousin Rocky handed him and set them in the fridge before he turned to me and said, “Scarlet told us you weren’t sure when they’d get here, so we decided to swing by and either talk you into a ride or doing some actual work for a change. ”
Roar walked to the cabinet and took a second to pull his dark hair away from his face, sweeping it up with one hand and tying it back with the band he kept around his wrist. Even though Roar and Rocky were both my first cousins, they didn’t look anything alike.
Roar was the son of my dad’s brother, Clem, and his wife, Kim.
He favored Clem with his dark hair and bright blue eyes, while Rocky looked more like his father, Kale.
Since Rocky’s mom, Terra, was mixed race, he had a darker skin tone than either of us.
His hair was light brown like mine, but textured like his mom’s with tight curls he usually kept in twists.
As Roar pulled the electric drum set out, he said, “The girls won’t be here today. They're at some sort of tea party for Bella.”
“We thought about inviting you out to ride,” Rocky said. He grabbed a guitar off the wall and handed Lucky his before he added, “But then we figured you probably wouldn’t want to leave just in case they show up early, so we’re ready to settle in for the long haul if that’s what you want to do.”
“I’ve been sitting here holding my guitar for an hour, and I don’t think I’ve played a single note,” I admitted.
“I get that you’re nervous, but it’s not like you haven’t met her, right?”
“How long is a two-year-old’s memory?” I asked.
“That depends. If it’s something you want them to remember, then they forget before they even turn around. But if it’s something you want them to forget? They hold onto that shit like it’s a lifeline.”
I smiled at Rocky’s admission before I asked, “Is Jovi still pissed at you for teaching Star those noises?”
“It’s really just one specific noise. The bad thing is she’s used it on other people, and now they’re irritated at me too,” Rocky said sadly.
“Which noise?”
“Beep beep beep beep,” Rocky demonstrated in a high-pitched voice.
“That could get annoying.”
“He taught her to do it when she backs up, but now, when anyone takes a single step back, she does it,” Roar explained.
I winced. “Okay, that could get really annoying.”
“She added a little something to it that I didn’t teach her,” Rocky insisted. “Now there are some really pissed-off women in my family because she went off-script.”
Roar giggled like a kid before he explained, “Now every time anyone bends over for any reason, she makes the beeping sound.”
“Who did that piss off?” I asked.
“Aunt Summer,” Rocky answered with a wince. “She didn’t really pay attention to it until Star slapped her on the ass and yelled, ‘Big bootie ho!’”
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
“It was ages ago when she learned that!”
“Rocky, why are you teaching a two-year-old to sing 2 Live Crew?” I asked.
“I didn’t mean to! I was trying to get her to nap, so I put on Friday so we could chill on the couch. When that song came on, she started wiggling, so I downloaded the soundtrack and we had a dance party.”
“Ransome and I were about to go for a ride and stopped by to see if he wanted to join us. The first thing I saw when I came through the door was my sweet little baby cousin standing on the coffee table, grooving to Dr. Dre. Imagine my surprise,” Roar explained.
“The only one even remotely impressed was my mom, but she’d never admit that in front of Jovi,” Rocky said with a shrug.
“Holy shit. When is Star’s birthday?” I asked.
“End of June. Why?”
“Ivy’s only a day younger than Star.”
“No shit?” Roar asked. “That’s cool.”
“No! That’s not cool!” I snapped.
“Why not? They’ll grow up together just like we did,” Roar pointed out, knowing he was only a few months older than me.
“Because that means she’ll be around people who teach her how to C-Walk!” I yelled.
“My nephew has good taste in music. Why is that a problem?” Rocky snapped as he sat on a stool and settled his guitar on his knee. “I don’t regret that at all.”
“He’s had a kid for a week, and he’s already getting uptight,” Roar teased.
“There’s no escaping it, man. Shit like that is in her blood. You’ve just gotta figure out how to harness her power for good instead of evil,” Lucky choked out through his laughter.
“I’ve gotta get new friends,” I muttered. I entered the code on my phone to open the garage door a little for some air circulation. As soon as it was halfway up, I stopped it’s progress and then set my phone down so I could greet my dog when he came running in. “Dobby! My bud!”
As usual, Dobby acted like he hadn’t seen any of us in weeks, even though he could have walked through his doggie door at any time.
He’d probably been mooching at my parents’ house and only showed up when he heard the guys.
Lucky pulled a baggie of treats from his pocket, instantly stealing my dog’s attention.
It didn’t surprise me that they loved my dog. He’d been all over the US with us on the tour bus. But that made me realize something. I had a kid now, and we were going back on tour soon.
Holy shit. My bunk was gonna be awfully cramped. There was no way Cassia would let me take Ivy on the road alone, and I wasn’t leaving her behind. I guess my dad was right–parenthood was full of surprises. Just when you thought you had a plan, the needs of your child changed everything.
But I already knew those changes would be for the better.