“I’ll be at the bar both evenings. I managed to convince the owner to give me the weekend shifts while I work with you guys,” I explained.
“You’re still working there? I thought you’d quit now that you have this gig. Aren’t we paying you enough?” Silas asked, neatly folding his sandwich wrapper before putting it back in the takeout bag.
“You do,” I rushed to answer. I didn’t want them thinking I was unhappy with the more-than-generous salary they were paying. “But I’ll need to find work when we finish the album, so I didn’t want to quit only to have to look for another job in a month. Plus, I don’t mind it there. The regulars tip well, and the college crowd generally stays away.”
Abel put his half-eaten sandwich down on the desk and leaned back against the wall. “So you really don’t want to work in music?” he asked, surprising me. “That’s what your sister said last night.”
I sucked on my top lip before meeting his gaze. “I just don’t want to have unrealistic expectations. How many people want to be musicians? How many people actually succeed? I’m supporting myself and my sister, and I can’t risk our livelihood for a pipe dream.”
Abel’s eyebrows pinched together. “Don’t your parents help support Molly?”
Oh fuck. I’d walked right into that one. I’d been so taken aback by Abel speaking to me without any obvious snark in his voice, I hadn’t fully processed what I was saying.
Four pairs of eyes fixed on me, waiting for the answer I could no longer avoid giving.
“They passed away.”
Despite my efforts to stay neutral, my throat tightened as I uttered the words. I watched as their expressions shifted through varying degrees of shock. I let out a breath and looked down at my feet.
The typical reaction of someone finding out that Molly and I were orphans was a recalculation. A re-indexing of all our earlier interactions to label the tells they didn’t pick up on before. Maybe that’s why we always seemed a little sad when we thought no one was looking. Maybe that’s why Molly seemed a bit mature for her age or why I hadn’t had a boyfriend in years.
When the process was complete, their faces would become a mask meant to convey sympathy. But I saw it for what it was. Pity.
“I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?” Silas asked, forcing me to look back up. He was slouched on a rickety chair that seemed like it was made for a child when contrasted with his size. The strange thing was that his face hadn’t become a mask of pity. None of the others had, either. Instead, they were looking at me with something that seemed a lot like respect.
I shrugged, letting my hair fall into my face from behind the ears. “Not a topic for casual conversation, really.”
“How long ago?” Abel stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“About two years. They got T-boned by a drunk driver.”
“And you didn’t send Molly to live with some relatives?”
I narrowed my eyes at Abel. “Are you kidding me? She’s my sister. I wouldn’t let anyone else take care of her. She’s my blood.”
What I didn’t say is that for a moment I’d considered doing exactly that. The shame made my cheeks prickle.
Abel was looking at me with a thoughtful expression I’d never seen on his face before. It halted my own turbulent emotions like someone had pressed pause on a remote control. I gazed into his green eyes, seeing the real Abel for the first time, and in that moment, I suspected we had a lot more in common than I’d initially thought.
“Fuck,” Cole swore, interrupting the connection between the singer and I.
“Exactly. Fuck,” I said. “But hey, life goes on. Molly and I are fine now. Our parents worked in insurance, so we’ve been living well enough on the money that they left us, but it’s not going to last forever. That’s why I gotta find something solid in the next few months. Something that pays decently, has benefits, security. You know, all that boring crap that music isn’t going to give me.”
“You think that’s what your parents would have wanted for you?” Silas asked in a low voice, and I clamped my mouth shut.
My parents… Well, they probably would’ve told me I was an idiot for giving up on music, but they weren’t here, were they? After the Julliard fiasco, they’d kept trying to get me to pick up my guitar, and when I did, they constantly told me I was meant to be a musician, despite the failure that had brought me to my knees. They’d died before they managed to convince me.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I told Silas while looking down at my food.
It was Abel who ultimately changed the topic. “Let’s wrap up. Cole, Ezra, I hope lunch is going to inspire a better performance out of you two. The rest of you can go practice in the room next door. We’ll meet back here to rehearse all together for an hour before we go.”
SILAS
I was thirty-one years old, and by now I should have been able to squash the thing that was building up inside of me as I watched Adeline rehearse the fourth song on the album.
We were sitting in the small rehearsal room down the hall, just the two of us, after Abel had instructed us to leave the studio. Adeline’s earlier admission about her parents was still at the forefront of my mind, illuminating parts of her that up until now had been hidden.
Life had dealt her a crappy hand, but she was clearly more than capable of handling her business. She was a fighter, and I didn’t want to insult her with pity. No, instead, I wanted to worship her, for her strength, her beauty, her talent, and most of all, her heart. Because it took a fuck load of heart to do what she was doing for her sister. Putting two and two together was easy now. She loved Molly and would work her ass off to give her a good life, even if that meant sacrificing her own dreams in the process. My reverent intent wasn’t unique. I had seen it in the eyes of my bandmates, too.
