“A few minutes ago.” I reach over to the table and grab the box and cup. “I brought you breakfast.”
“Thanks.” She takes my offering and opens the donuts. “Why aren’t you at work?”
I point toward the window. “It’s raining, and we can’t do anything.”
“That makes sense.” She takes a bite of her donut and refocuses on the book in front of her.
“What are you doing?” I tap the book. It looks like a bunch of recipes.
“Studying.” She moves the book off her lap and sets in front her. “We have to show that we know how to make drinks the next couple of nights as a sort of test before we get our certification.”
“You’ll do great.” I bump into her, doing anything I can to lessen the tension radiating off her. “Even Eric agreed the drinks you made Sunday were good.”
“I know, and I feel more confident with the different types of drinks, but making those, I wasn’t under any sort of pressure.” She sighs and leans into me. “There weren’t customers waiting on me to get them drinks as quickly as possible. That’s what has me concerned. And then you have your big performance this weekend and I feel like I’m spinning in too many different directions.”
Now I know for sure my music is part of the reason she’s having a hard time. Though, I’m not sure why. “What does my performance have to do with anything?”
“Nothing really.” She won’t look at me and I know it’s a lie. If it was nothing, she wouldn’t have brought it up and it wouldn’t be adding to her stress.
“It’s obviously not nothing.” I need to get to the bottom of this. Need to know she’s in my corner regardless of what happens. Because right now, it feels like she doesn’t give a damn and it hurts. It’s a big part of my life and something I want to pursue outside of playing on the small stage here in Asheville. If she’s not on board with that I need to know.
She buries her face in her hands and takes a few deep breaths. For a second, I don’t think she’s going to say anything. The room is silent and it adds to the building pressure. Finally, she moves her hands. Leaning back, she focuses on the ceiling, doing everything in her power not to make eye contact with me.
“I know music is your life, and you want to do big things with it, but that scares me. I just got back to town, and we’re building something new. When Crooked Halo picks you to go on tour with them, where does that leave us?” She doesn’t say it but what she really wants to know is where it leaves her.
“That’s not going to happen. Me and you,” I point between us even though she can’t see me. “We’ll figure out how to make it work. That’s what couples do. Nothing is going to change between us. And you’re assuming my band getting picked is inevitable.”
She throws the comforter off of her, the box of donuts knocked over, and climbs out of bed. I pick the food up and put it back in in the box as I watch her pace back and forth in front of her dresser. She seems to be gathering her thoughts, and I don’t know what to do to help.
“There’s no way they aren’t going to pick your band. Y’all are that good. Which means everything will change. You’ll be on the road touring, and I’ll be here bartending and wondering when I’m going to see you next.”
"That's not about to happen. I don't know what I can do or say to show you I'm nothing like her." I get off her bed and face her. "I'm not your mom. There's no way in hell I can forget that you exist."
The minute the words are out of my mouth, I know I've made a huge mistake. Lisa looks as if I just slapped her even though I'm on the opposite side of the room. Deep down I know all of this stems from her abandonment issues, and fear of loneliness. I don't know how I can prove I won't be the cause of that. And, honestly, it shouldn’t fall on me to do all the work when she already is halfway out the door.
Lisa takes a few moments to school her features, and wipe all the emotion from her face. "I think you should leave."
"Look, I'm sorry." I take a few steps around the bed in her direction, but she holds up her hands, warding me away. “I shouldn’t have said that. We should talk about it.”
“Not right now, Devin.” She runs her hands through her hair, her fingers getting caught in tangles. “I’ll see you at your show this weekend.”
There’s no room for argument. A part of me wants to at least hug her bye, but I know that won’t help matters. She did say she’s coming to the show, so I’m hopeful it means this isn’t the end for us. That she’s only temporarily putting up walls and she’ll think things through. Then we can talk about it and figure us out.
Instead of approaching her, I turn to her bedroom door. “Will you at least let me know when you make it home from class tonight? The storms aren’t supposed to end until tomorrow.”
“I will.”
Opening it and walking out, I can’t help but wonder how I fucked things up so badly. Besides the part where I told her I wasn’t her mom. That was a shitty thing for me to do, and I do regret it.
Eric is sitting on the couch, watching a news show when I walk out. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really,” I walk straight to the front door, “just letting you know she’s not in a good mood, so tread carefully.” I hope he realizes now isn’t the time to go in there and be a mother hen. She’ll talk when she’s ready. I only hope that’s sooner rather than later.
“Thanks for the warning.” He stands, approaches me and shakes my hand. “Be careful out there, man. The weather guy said there could be tornados.”
“I’ll keep my eye on the news.” It’s not like I’ll be out on the roads. There’s only one place calling to me. The weather just happens to match my emotions. Fear and possible turmoil. Without another word I walk out.
I stopped at my house long enough to grab my notebook and pen. One of the days I’ll remember to keep one of each in my truck. My clothes are soaked from getting in and out of the truck. It could have been avoided if had what I needed on me. But there are other songs I want to work on that are written inside this shabby notebook.
