7. Naz #2
Scott is holding out a beer. I take it, mostly because refusing would require effort, and watch as he leans against the railing.
He gazes out at the lake, at the darkening sky, streaks of orange and purple reflecting across the water.
I watch him soak it all in and appreciate my little piece of paradise.
For a while neither of us says anything, but the silence gets to me with him standing right there, so I break it.
“I see you still haven’t found a shirt.”
Without looking at me, Scott smiles. “I see you’re still pretending you don’t appreciate the view.”
I scoff so hard I nearly choke on my beer. The jerk actually laughs.
“You’re awfully full of yourself today.”
I roll my eyes and look back at the lake, secretly hoping he noticed the eyeroll and does something about it. Anything to break the tension.
Instead, he stays quiet. Long enough that I relax back in my chair again.
Eventually, he asks, “Why don’t you stay in that big house? The one near the entrance, I mean.”
“If this place isn’t nice enough for you, I already told you I don’t need you here. Feel free to—”
“I didn’t say that. This is a great place. I’m just curious. Is it not finished or something? No AC?”
I frown, not answering right away. “It’s finished.”
Scott waits for me to say more. It’s annoying how patient he is.
“That’s my grandparents’ house.”
“Oh. So you built their house first, then? That was thoughtful of you. Are they out of town or something? I didn’t see any signs someone was there.”
“They, uh… They haven’t moved in.” The words come out flatter than I intended, betraying my feelings about my grandparents’ house still standing vacant after it’s been finished for months.
Scott turns slightly. “Why not? Haven’t you been working on this place for like a year?”
“They’re just not ready, I guess.” He doesn’t push the topic, which somehow makes it worse. I take another drink of my beer. “I’m honestly not sure they’ll ever move in,” I admit on a sigh.
That gets his attention. I can feel him turn to look at me without looking up at him.
“I built that house to their exact specifications,” I continue quietly. “Every detail. Every request. Half the time I was convinced they were making things up just to make the project harder.”
Scott chuckles.
“I’m serious. The number of conversations I’ve had about cabinet heights should qualify me for some kind of certification.”
“So, what, they don’t like the house?”
I stare out across the water, trying to think of how to explain twenty-seven years of being a disappointment to the people who raised me.
“It’s complicated. I don’t think it’s the house, it’s just… They don’t really approve of me.”
Scott tenses suddenly. “Because you’re gay?”
I huff out a laugh. “Bisexual, actually. But no, that’s not it.”
Something like relief flickers across his face. Or maybe it’s embarrassment. “Sorry I jumped to that conclusion.”
“It’s fine. Honestly, they probably would prefer that I married a nice woman and had some kids since they think I have a choice in the matter.”
Scott’s jaw tightens. Does Scott’s family not approve of his sexuality? I decide not to unpack that right now, but file it away for later.
“They don’t approve of my lifestyle as a musician.”
“What, like the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll part?”
“Definitely that,” I laugh. “But they probably wouldn’t approve even if I was a concert pianist.”
His eyebrows rise. “The music in general? Really?”
“Yep.”
“Even though you’re a multi-platinum Grammy winner? You’re, like, super famous. And super rich.”
I shrug. “They don’t care about all that.”
“What about getting to travel the world doing something you love and bringing happiness to people? Not to mention all the amazing charity work you all do, the awareness you’ve brought to important causes, the money you’ve raised… Surely they’re proud of that.”
The confusion on his face is almost funny.
“They really, really didn’t want me to be a musician.”
“I have a hard time imagining you not being… Well, you,” he says, gesturing at me.
I’m pretty sure I know what he means. From my torn black jeans and faded armless Against Me!
shirt to the tattoos and piercings that cover most of my visible body, I pretty well embody the rockstar stereotype.
My grandparents remind me often that my appearance lets others assume that I’m trashy.
A troublemaker who has nothing to offer, a useless dreg on society.
My nonconformity is an embarrassment to them.
Obviously I don’t care enough to stop getting more art inked across my body.
I’ve never been bothered much by what others think of me, but I understand where they’re coming from and it makes sense that someone wouldn’t expect much more of me than meets the eye.
“They wanted me to be an academic like them. Get a prestigious Ivy League education, do something distinguished, be an esteemed member of society. That kind of thing.”
“But that’s not what you wanted.”
I shake my head. “Don’t get me wrong. I did well enough in school.
I love to read, obviously. And it’s not that I don’t think my grandparents are wonderful, impressive people.
They’re both historians and considered top minds in their respective fields, and they do all kinds of community outreach and education and social justice work. They’re good people. I’m just…”
“You’re not them,” Scott finishes for me. “There’s nothing wrong with not following in their footsteps. It’s not fair that they put that on you.”
There’s a long pause where I focus on the label on my bottle of beer, fidgeting with it and peeling it off in little strips.
A huff of laughter breaks the silence, and I look up to see Scott leaning on the deck rail with his face tilted up, lost in thought.
When he notices me watching him, he grins.
“I bet you were one of those kids that loved school and got perfect grades without trying, took honors classes, and did debate team or academic decathlon or whatever that is.”
That’s definitely not what I expected him to say. He’s actually not far from the truth, but I’m curious. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re pretty much the smartest person I know. You’re always thinking deeply about things. Always reading…”
I wave a hand dismissively. “You and I both know I’m probably just reading smut.”
“So?”
“It’s not like I’m reading historical autobiographies or educational texts.”
“I don’t think that matters. Besides, aren’t you the one who said that all stories have merit?” he asks. “That reading fiction, romance specifically, helps teach people empathy because you get so many perspectives?”
I blink back at him, a little too dumbfounded to respond.
“I don’t remember what the exact words were, but you made it sound smart,” he says awkwardly.
“You remember that?”
“Of course I remember. You know what else I remember?” At my raised eyebrow, he continues. “I remember pegging you as the intellectual type the first time I met you. I wasn’t wrong.”
The fact that he remembers little things like that—That he retained something from a conversation I was probably having with Shawna or maybe Jesse, who occasionally likes to pick at me for having my nose in a book so much, is…
I don’t know what it is. I don’t know how to feel about it, other than squirmy.
It definitely makes me feel some kind of way.
“So am I wrong?”
“Wrong? About what?”
“About you being a model student.”
I huff a laugh. “You’re close enough. I really only did most of it so they’d let me take band and spend time with my friends.
As long as I had perfect grades and plenty of appropriately impressive extracurriculars and accolades to pad my college applications, they didn’t police my time too much.
They did want a say in where I went to school, though, and were excited when I got a full ride to Huntston, which is where they both went and where they met.
I think that was the last time they were truly proud of me…
” My voice tapers off, not actually having meant to say the last bit out loud.
“So what happened?”
“Jesse happened.”
Scott laughs, and I smile despite myself.
“Even before the band took off, I had a feeling it could be more. So I turned down my scholarship and went on the road with the guys. Nothing has ever made me feel as happy as the band did. Not just playing music, but being with them. It was the only time I really felt like myself.”
“And aside from your grandparents, you’re happy with that decision?” He studies me for a moment. “Even now?”
I gesture vaguely at the lake, the property. My life in general.
“Especially now. My life is fucking awesome,” I say in a joking tone, although I do mean it.
I have a good life, even if I feel overwhelmed by it sometimes.
“No matter how crazy things have gotten, I still get to do what I love with the people I love the most. And what’s more, we’re making a difference.
We wouldn’t be getting so much pushback if we weren’t. ”
“They should be proud,” Scott says quietly. “I don’t understand why they wouldn’t be.”
“The music thing… It’s a long story.”
Scott settles back against the railing and opens his hands. “We’ve got time.”
Maybe I should shut the conversation down. Change the subject. Tell him to mind his own business. I feel like I’ve talked enough for today.
Instead, I hear myself open up.
“My dad followed the path the way he was supposed to until spring break during his last year of grad school. He and his school friends went to Puerto Rico for some kind of boring conference, but they ended up at a music festival. That’s where he met my mom…”