“Where is she anyway?”
“Who?”
“Your mom.”
He stands and points over his shoulder. “My mom is down there. She looks like a little ant.” He giggles. “I should go before she gets worried. Bye!”
And then he’s off, racing down the hill I thought was ten times bigger when I was his age.
Dragging a hand down my face, I stare at my guitar case before letting out a deep breath and pulling the instrument inmy lap. For the past few months, creating music and rehearsing for the tour took over every waking moment of our lives. But it still felt distant. Now it’s right around the corner.
Before the shooting that took place at one of our concerts years ago, I never feared being onstage. I fucking loved it. I thought nothing could get better than the feeling of playing with my best friends. But that spark of adrenaline that I felt before getting onstage was snuffed and replaced with fear. I don’t think I’ll ever forget how it felt to hear an entire arena erupt in terror.
I’ve tried to hide my anxiety from my siblings, but the panic attacks that took over my body before every show and public appearance made that impossible. If it was up to my siblings, we would never do another show ever again—for me. Except I would never let them sacrifice a big part of our career. Wouldn’t that be letting the fear win?
The anxiety medication I was prescribed two years ago when I felt like I’d hit rock bottom has helped me feel in control of myself. I just never wanted this burden on my chest. Part of my anxiety is fearing I’m going to mess up onstage, which would cause disruption for my band members. So, I practice all day. I don’t let myself eat or drink as I force myself to sit in place and play until I make no mistakes.
I notice the sun is going down when my fingers become numb. Gathering my stuff, I bring another cigarette to my lips and spark it up as I make my way back home. I blow smoke up into the air, and I watch it disappear.
I drag my feet up my driveway, and the steps creak under my weight. I balance my guitar against the brick as I move to open the storm door. A flash of red catches my attention in the reflection of the door. Without thinking, I spin around and almost topple over.
It’s not the unfamiliar car parked across the street.
It’s because thereisa car there.
Call me a creep if you want, but I know they haven’t moved. I was always afraid of that. That house was part of the little normalcy I had in my life. Some of my best memories were spent there.
She went away to college, yet I didn’t consider that there was always a huge possibility of her coming back.
I can’t look in that direction without feeling like my heart is clogged in my throat. How am I going to live here?
A layer of sweat covers my forehead as my stomach twists.
I’m going to throw up.
SIX
LILY
“He said what?” Thea screeches over the line.
Wincing, I pull the phone away from my ear and put it on speaker.
“Girl, if you don’t give me all the information you know about him, I’m going to strangle it out of you.”
“Oh, yes, he did,” I stammer, throwing on a red sweat set and removing my makeup. I’m never going on another date. I would rather be a bunny lady. “He even said he didn’t want to waste his time on me. Can you believe that?! I was the one sitting there, having to endure a disrespectful man.”
“Do you think if we go into town, we can find him?” I hear keys clinking together on her end. “I hear it hurts really bad when guys are kicked in their balls.”
A laugh bursts out of me as I slip into my comfiest pair of fuzzy socks. I head downstairs to make a warm cup of lemon water.
“I’m already wearing my indoor clothes, so the ball kicking will have to be on another day.”
She huffs, “You’re no fun.” I can imagine the fake pout that’s on her face. “Do you know what you are?”
“It’s not like I haven’t heard enough insults today. Hit me.” I roll my eyes, leaning against the counter as I wait for my water to boil.
“You’re a grandma.” She snorts.
