Chapter 30. Haley #2
“If he loves you, he’ll come back.” She smacked her fist into her palm. “No matter how painful it’s going to be.”
There is no question that a live band brings a level of energy and excitement to a performance that solo singers can’t match.
On stage with Dante’s Inferno, I didn’t have to worry about the emotional intensity of my performance, because I could draw on the energy of the band.
I didn’t have to worry about bookings, staging, set lists, or even equipment.
I just had to show up and sing. It should have been perfect.
I knew the band. We’d done at least half a dozen gigs together.
But as the night went on, I realized something had changed.
Had Nick always turned up his amp to compete with Jules’s drum solos, leading everyone to do the same until my eardrums felt like they were bleeding and everything was so out of whack it sounded like a terrible, incoherent mess?
Had Jules always gotten mad when she thought she wasn’t loud enough and started arguing with Derek and Nick?
How many rehearsals had we had when everyone actually showed up?
Did the guys always argue about who got to do the vocals for some of the lower-range songs?
And since when had Derek forgotten the chorus of tracks we’d played dozens of times?
I kept looking to Dante to sort out the mess, but it was clear he was just there to play his bass and wasn’t interested in anything else.
Had it always been this way? Why hadn’t I noticed that each of us was so focused on our own performance that we lacked true cohesion—the give and take and fundamental trust that were the core of any good relationship.
“You were great,” Chad said in the cab on the way home.
He’d come with Paige, Theo, and Aditi to support us and we’d decided to split a cab because the temperature had dropped below freezing and no one was excited about taking the late bus home.
“I don’t know what was going on with Nick and Derek, but I don’t think anyone else really noticed. ”
“I used to think it would be so much better to be part of a band, but it was like herding cats,” I said.
“I wanted to try out a new song, but Dante couldn’t even get them to agree on a set list of songs we’d played before, much less try something new.
It was something very personal. I was hoping to try and draw out the kind of emotion Stefan thought I was lacking on stage. ”
Chad gave an indignant huff from the front seat. “You are an amazing singer. What else did the dude want? For you to rip out your soul?”
“I do keep a lot inside.” And then, because nothing else was working to keep my feelings contained, and because trying to draw on the emotional energy of a discordant band had left me feeling curiously unfulfilled, I forced myself to share with people I knew would never judge me.
“It started after my dad died. I was only twelve and I was the one who found him after he’d had his heart attack.
Every night after that I had nightmares about finding him—he’d been hit by a train, or fell out of a tree, or was in a car crash.
He’d say, ‘I love you, baby girl,’ which is what he used to call me, and then he’d die all over again.
It was too much. I couldn’t feel those feelings over and over, so I found a way to block them out. ”
Paige took my hand and gave it a squeeze. She was the only person who knew how I’d coped and what I had to do to get through each day.
“That’s a lot for a kid to deal with.” Aditi’s eyes warmed with sympathy. “I hope your mom got you some help.”
“She didn’t know. She was very deep into her own grief, and my brother was, too.
But Ace knew. I don’t know how. I never told him.
But he knew, and sometimes he’d just be there, walking me home from school on Father’s Day, or sitting with me on the porch on what used to be our first camping weekend of the summer, or bringing me something to eat because I couldn’t bear to go into the kitchen.
That’s where I found my dad. He was a chef, and it was his happy place.
He’d been making grilled cheese sandwiches for our after-school snack. ”
“Jesus, Haley.” Chad dabbed at his eyes. “I can’t believe you never told us about this stuff before and we’ve been friends for almost three years. You know we’re always here for you.”
“I never cried,” I admitted as the words continued to spill out. “Not for him. Not when my mom basically abandoned us to deal with her own grief. Not for my brother Matt when he died on deployment. Not for Ace when he left…”
Chad gave me a calculated look. “That was never a good idea.”
“It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone. Just like everyone else.”
“They don’t have to be gone,” Chad said.
“That’s your choice. I did a lot of therapy when my brother died, and what helped me the most was bringing him back into my life.
I went through my phone every day and looked at the pictures and videos of him and remembered all the good times we had together.
It was hard, but it was healing, and it was good to have those memories back.
You should try it. Just one picture or one memory at a time. ”
Nothing else had worked, so I gave it a try.
I mentally opened the black box and a memory slipped free.
It wasn’t one I would have chosen, but it was the high school freshman talent show.
I was terrified, and for a few painful moments after I stepped up to the microphone nothing came out.
And then I heard a whoop and a holler and cheering from the back of the gym.
Seniors never showed up at freshman events.
They were too cool, too classy, too busy.
But there they were. Matt and Ace. Making idiots of themselves to support me. I’d felt so loved.
It was the day I realized that I’d found my path and the moment I knew who I wanted to walk beside me.