Thank fuck. The basement is our rehearsal space. Dank concrete floor, sagging ceiling, rugs and egg cartons slapped up to kill the echo. Cables everywhere. Padraig’s kit in the corner. Mic and guitar stands against the walls.
The only place in this goddamn house where I can be myself.
We make it down step by step. Brennan ushers Seamus ahead. Padraig and Cillian lower me onto the beat-up couch. I clench my teeth in agony. Seamus brings a towel and an ice pack. Doesn’t speak. Padraig presses it to my temple. I wince.
“Fuck.Hurts.”
Seamus curls in the corner. Brennan vanishes behind his laptop. Cillian stares at the wall.
Padraig’s face is wracked with guilt. “I’m sorry.”
I arch an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Not getting there sooner.”
“You tried.”
Padraig’s the only one who knows me. The real me. Even he doesn’t know how deep this goes.
“He looked at me like I was filth,” I whisper so the wee lads can’t hear. “I told you he fucking hates me for being into guys.”
“You’re not filth.” Padraig shakes his head.
“He thinks I am,” I correct him. “Part of me understands. I want to be with women. I want to be with men. How am I supposed to choose? How will I ever have what you and Stevie have?”
Padraig doesn’t answer right away. Stevie is his soulmate. He’s loved her since he was a kid.
“Da doesn’t get to have an opinion about you.” He slumps down to the floor. “Not ever again. You’re allowed to be yourself without worrying about him.”
I close my eyes. Let the cold bite of the ice numb the pain.
Thankfully, we don’t talk. Not for a while.
Eventually, I sit up. Arms crossed, body aching. “Fuck this mopey bullshit. I wanna play.”
“No. You’re concussed.” Seamus pops up and tries to keep me from picking up my guitar.
“Ah, I’m grand, wee one.” I muss Seamus’s hair and push to my feet.
The amp crackles. Strings tremble beneath my fingers. One chord. Two.
Then I fall into it.
Padraig gets behind his kit, counts us in with his sticks.
My face might be a mess and my ribs might ache like a motherfucker, but my guitar is home.
We play until the walls forget what happened.
It’s the only way I know I’m still alive.
two
Avonna
Six Months Later (Age 15)
Thechapeliscolderthan usual.
