Day 22 Philadelphia, PA
MAX
“DUDE, CAN YOU CALM THE fuck down? I’m trying to drive over here.”
Sam reaches over, resting a hand on my thigh, which I’m jiggling up and down as I squirm in the passenger seat. But I can’t help it — I sit up even straighter, craning my neck as I peer out the window.
“Sorry, man — but aren’t you excited? Twenty-two days, ten different states, who the fuck knows how many gas station bathrooms — and that’s the Delaware River! We’re almost home!”
Sam shakes his head, grinning at me. “Thought you were the only one in this van who wasn’t burnt out and tired as fuck.”
I shrug. “Hey, even I have my limits.”
We’re on the Ben Franklin Bridge, crossing over from New Jersey into Pennsylvania, the whole Philly skyline spread out in front of us.
Beneath the bridge, the Delaware sparkles in the afternoon sun, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see it.
Tour has been awesome — you might even say life-changing.
But I’m ready for whatever comes next. I want to see where this thing is going with Sam.
Something is definitely up with him. He told me last night that he was just tired, but I have a feeling it’s probably more than that.
I know that I have to have a talk with him, to tell him how I feel and make sure we’re both on the same page.
But I also know that it can wait, that feelings can get out of control after this many weeks on the road, even if you’re not dealing with your best friend having some sort of sexual orientation crisis and then becoming completely obsessed with you.
Sam has put up with a lot from me the past couple weeks, and he deserves his space.
Besides, tonight is going to be awesome.
It’s not quite our last night of tour — that’ll be tomorrow night in Allentown in front of a hometown crowd, after we’ve had a chance to drop our stuff off at home and rest for a few hours.
But this is going to be a celebration anyway, a big show with a few other bands in one of the coolest cities I know.
As we pull up to a stoplight, Sam glances into the rearview mirror. “Hey Rox, I can never remember where your sister lives — do I get onto the Vine Street Expressway here?”
Roxie leans forward, her head nearly between the seats. “Nope, just stay to the right and go down Vine Street. When you get to Broad, make a left, and I’ll tell you where to go from there.”
I lean against the window, watching the city go by.
It’s funny — we’ve been on the road for weeks now, and we’ve been to New York and Boston and Baltimore and so many other places all through the Northeast. But no matter how far I go, this will always be my city.
Sam and I grew up in a tiny town in the Lehigh Valley, and there wasn’t much there.
Whenever our parents or school or whatever wanted us to see or do anything, this was where we came.
I saw my first dinosaur bones here. Went to a couple of Phillies games with my stepdad on the few occasions he decided to try to bond with me.
Got my eyebrow pierced in a shop in West Philly.
And I’ve wandered the streets with Sam more times than I can count, any time we needed a break from our everyday lives.
Even though I’ve never lived here, I feel like I’m home.
Sam grins over at me. “Should I open the window so that you can stick your head out?”
I laugh, because he’s not wrong. “Fuck off.”
It’s not too long before Sam is pulling up in front of a tidy rowhouse not far from Rittenhouse Square.
We’re staying with Roxie’s sister Holly tonight, and she’s already waiting for us on the stoop, mousy brown hair pulled back from her face and a flowered sundress that Roxie would never wear in a million years.
We all pile out of the van, and Holly sweeps her sister up in a hug. “Rose! I missed you.”
“You are the only person who gets to call me that,” Roxie scowls back, but she seems less prickly than usual.
As we schlep our bags into the house, there’s more small talk — about the drive and the tour and Holly’s job in the administration at Penn and her husband Jared’s latest book on Quaker architecture.
But for once, I’m content to let it all float around me, to sit on the couch with my arm around Sam’s shoulders and soak in the atmosphere.
And he puts a hand on my knee and looks up at me, giving me a soft smile, and I know I don’t have to say anything. Because Sam — he just gets me, and that’s all there is to it.
ROXIE
I hope the walls of this church are solid, because it sure feels like we’re about to rock this place off its fucking foundations.
Yeah, I’m tired. Yeah, I need a fucking shower. Yeah, I’ve been in a weird funk for the past few days. But honestly? For once, I’m not thinking about any of that shit.
Because I’m sitting here on my throne, bashing the fuck out of my drums while a whole crowd of punks loses their shit in front of me, and I feel fucking alive.
Max is screaming into the microphone, and for some reason being tired from tour is actually making him sound even better than usual.
Sam has his head down, concentrating on his fingers flying over the strings, and okay — I don’t want to give anybody a big head, but we do not give that guy enough credit for how much care and attention he puts into his bass lines.
Dude really keeps us together. And after three weeks on the road, we’re a tight little outfit, playing off each other really well, knowing our timing by heart.
It’s hard to pick out anyone in particular when I’m playing, but I know my sister is out there somewhere, probably hanging out with Blake.
Holly really tries her best to support me, but I know she’d much rather be going to see Celine Dion or something, even if she did put on her only black T-shirt and a little more eyeliner than usual to come out with us.
Blake will take care of her. I know I can count on him.
Blake. Three weeks we’ve been doing this shit and that motherfucker hasn’t raised his voice once. The other day I caught him muttering at the washing machine while we were at the laundromat but I think that’s the most ruffled I’ve seen him. I do not deserve that guy.
I told Sage back in Vermont that I don’t have all the answers, and that’s still fucking true. But for now, I have enough of them. And that’s fine by me.
SAM
“Hey, does anyone know where Max went?” I ask, poking my head into the living room. Roxie and Blake are deep in conversation with Holly and Jared, and it sounds like it’s about politics.
“I think I saw him go upstairs,” Blake replies.
“Yeah, you could check the rooftop deck,” Jared chimes in. “It’s a nice night.”
“Thanks, guys.” I make my way through the house, climbing the rather steep staircase.
Holly and Jared live in one of those narrow Philadelphia houses from the nineteenth century that certainly has its share of stories and maybe even ghosts.
It’s small and cozy, but it seems to be right for them.
On the second-floor landing, I catch a glimpse of a neatly furnished bedroom, then spot the spiral staircase up to the rooftop deck.
“Thought you might come looking for me.”
The terrace is small and filled with greenery. Max is reclining on a double chaise lounge in the middle of the space, one arm behind his head as he looks up at the night sky. He holds the other arm out invitingly, and I join him, curling up against his side.
He seems to be in a weird mood, more introspective than usual, and I’m not sure where to begin.
“It was a really good show tonight,” I venture.
Max starts out of his reverie, focusing his eyes on me with a soft smile. “You sounded fucking amazing. But then, you always do.”
I can feel the blush heating my face, and I glance down, fingering the bottom hem of Max’s shirt. “Um — thanks.”
“No, really.” Max lifts my chin with his finger, making me look at him. “You’ve always been a better musician than I am. It would be sort of infuriating, except for the fact that I remember that I always want the best shit for you. Because you’re fucking great.”
It’s too much, and I want to hide my face, but Max is still holding me, and it feels pretty good. So I try deflecting instead. “Dude, why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I like being nice to you,” Max murmurs, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “Besides, somebody should.”
I don’t know what to say, so I nestle my head into his shoulder, squeezing his waist with my arm.
It sure is starting to feel like everything I’ve ever wanted is happening to me, and I don’t know what to do with it.
We’re lying in the open air, the night sky lit up by city lights.
But even though I have the whole universe spread out above me, Earth’s gravity holding me in place, I still don’t feel like it’s enough.
The flimsy walls of my chest can’t possibly contain the enormity of what I’m feeling.
I’m not quite sure how long we lie there, listening to the sounds of the city all around us. But eventually Max stirs, resting his cheek on my hair as he hugs my shoulders.
“We should move here.”
“Huh?” I lift my head to look at him. “We still have school and stuff.”
“I mean, after school,” Max explains. “We only have one more year, right? You’re going to be a nurse and you can work anywhere. And I’m sure there’s at least one company in this city that could use a sorta half-assed IT guy. Why — did you have other plans?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought about it,” I muse. “I mean, I have a few contacts back at home from doing clinicals. But I hadn’t really gotten much further than that.”
“Just think about it.” Max is sitting up, really getting into this, and I sit back on my heels to watch him.
It’s hard not to feed off his energy. “Punk shows every weekend if we want. Plenty of bars where we can play music. Awesome food. All the museums and shit. The Gayborhood. This city is fucking paradise and we belong here.”
My mind is racing, and I can see it — every dream Max is laying out in front of me.
There’s something else too, some implication underneath all this that feels too big to name, but I’m not ready to probe it.
Instead, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Holly was talking about the housing market here, too. Like, we could afford to buy a house in a few years if we can save up.”
“Us. Homeowners.” Max is grinning, reaching for my hands, and the too-big thing gets just a little bit larger.
My hands are in his, and my fingers are trembling, my palms sweaty as I stare at a spot in the middle of his chest. “What is with you lately?” I whisper fervently.
Max chuckles, and he sounds a little nervous. “What do you mean?”
“I dunno, it’s just —” I take a deep breath, lifting my eyes to his face. “You. Me. The future. It feels like things are happening so fast. Like you’re jumping in with both feet without looking back.”
He looks a little sheepish. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No, but —” I bite my lip, and I’d be picking my fingernails if Max wasn’t holding on to me so tight. “I just want you to be sure. I don’t want — um, I don’t want you to get sick of me.”
“Sammy —” Max breathes. “Come here.”
He tugs at my hands, guiding me forward to straddle his lap, my knees on either side of his hips. When I’m settled, he smiles softly.
“There. That’s where you belong,” he murmurs.
“Sammy, we’ve been best friends for twenty years now.
And we’ve lived together for three, and I already know that yours is the first face I want to see every day.
I could never get sick of you, because you’re everything to me.
And yeah, this whole thing has been fast. But I dunno — when I look at you, everything makes sense.
And I just know that what we have — it’s right. ”
“Max —”
I don’t know what to say to that — because if I try to say anything right now, every single too-big thought I’ve ever had is going to come spilling out of my guts.
So I surge forward, grabbing his face with both hands, pouring those thoughts into his mouth instead, my kisses almost frantic.
And maybe he figures out what I’m trying to say, because he splays his fingers across my back, clutching me close as he opens to me, a growl rumbling in his throat.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where any of this is going to lead. But I know I have Max right here, right now, and I want to keep this dream alive as long as I can.