A Not-So-Simple Life (15 page)

“How long are you going to tour with us?” Jason asked this morning. We were having coffee in the hotel lobby, waiting for everyone else to check out so we could hit the road. I was hoping they’d take forever like usual. That way I’d get more time to talk with Jason. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

“Get moving, Maya,” commanded my dad when he showed up looking haggard and sleepy and like he’d forgotten to shave. “We’re burning daylight here.”

I wanted to point out that I’d been waiting for him, but he’s been extra grumpy since New Year’s. I know the reason is that he’s working too hard—too many concerts—and I’m worried this tour is going to kill him. I even said as much to Thomas, who acted slightly concerned, then told me it wasn’t really my problem. Okay, if it’s not my problem, whose problem is it?

Speaking of problem parents, Shannon has been calling me on my cell phone for weeks now. At first I simply ignored her calls, then finally I felt guilty. I mean, even if I hate her, she is my mom. So about a week ago I answered. To my surprise the first thing she said was, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?” I asked in what I know was a cold and suspicious tone.

“I am so sorry, baby. I know how badly I hurt you. And all I can say is that it was the drugs. It wasn’t me.”

Okay, I didn’t know how to respond to that. I mean, who was the one who chose to use the drugs? Who was the one who chose to steal my money? Finally I said as much.

“You’re right, Maya. You’re absolutely right. And all those things you said to me that day…well, even though they hurt a lot, I know they were the truth. I’m a horrible person. A horrible mother. I’ve been nothing but a great big hopeless mess, and I can’t blame you for hating me.”

“Yeah…”

“Even so, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me… someday.”

“I don’t know…”

That was pretty much our first conversation, and I was extremely relieved to end it. But the next time she called, I was a tiny bit nicer. But that was only because I was in a good mood, thanks to Jason. We’d just had a great heart-to-heart talk about families and dysfunction. He came from a home where his dad got drunk and beat the kids on a regular basis. And yet Jason seems to have forgiven his dad and moved on. He even said that he uses the pain in his music. He’s a songwriter as well as a pretty mean bass player, although he only does the grunt work on Dad’s show.

As much as I respect Jason, I’m not sure I get the part about forgiving someone who’s wounded you so deeply. And
I am absolutely certain that I can never put to use the crud that Shannon has dumped into my life. Mostly I just want to stay far, far away from her.

But thanks to Jason’s influence, I answered the phone that day with a slightly cheerful voice, which I’m sure must’ve taken Shannon by surprise.

“Oh, baby,” she said with a sob in her voice, “I miss you so, so much.”

“You miss me?” Okay, the skepticism was back then. I seriously doubted that Shannon missed me. For the past few years she’s been pretty much unaware of me. But maybe she missed my help in keeping things picked up. I could only imagine how the house looked by now.

“I miss you more than you can imagine, baby. My life is so empty without you.”

I wanted to tell her that she sounded like she was singing the lyrics from one of Dad’s songs, but I controlled myself. Instead I asked, “Are you staying clean?”

“I’ve been clean for thirty-two days now. And I’ve been going to the rehab meetings really regularly. I’ve even been spending time with Myrna.”

“Myrna?” Now this surprised me.

“In fact, she told me to send you her love.”

“Really?”

“Did you know her son was an addict?”

“Actually, I did.” Okay, was it possible that our big blowout had done something in her—something that nothing else could do? Or was I just wishing? Anyway, we talked some more, and although I was cautious, I wondered if she might really be changing.

I had an interesting conversation with Dad about Shannon at dinner tonight. It was just the two of us for a change, and he was in a fairly good mood. We’d checked into a hotel in Grand Rapids earlier in the day, and he’d had a long nap and a soak in the Jacuzzi. I think he was feeling slightly rested, although he was also gearing up for tomorrow night’s concert.

“I talked to Shannon again today,” I told him.

“Has she fallen off the wagon yet?”

“No. In fact, she said she was celebrating Day Forty of sobriety today.”

Dad toasted with his water glass. “Good for Shannon.”

“Do you think she’ll stick with it this time?”

He frowned, and I could tell he was even more skeptical than me.

“Why do you think she uses?” I asked.

“Wow, if I could answer that question, I might be able to write a self-help book and be on the Dr. Phil show.”

“Seriously, Dad. You’ve known Shannon longer than I have. Why do you think she uses?”

“Because she’s an addict.”

“I know. But why is she an addict?”

“It might be a chemical imbalance.”

“I’ve wondered about that too,” I admitted.

“Or it might be her way of avoiding things.” His expression was thoughtful now, as if he was seriously considering this.

“What things?”

“Shannon had a pretty sad childhood, Maya. Has she ever told you anything?”

I shook my head. “Not much.”

“Her dad was a real creep.”

“I know that she left home early to get away from him,” I said.

“Well, after her mom died and her sister was gone, Shannon didn’t have anyone to protect her from her dad.”

“So he beat her?”

“And worse…” Dad looked uncomfortable now, like he didn’t really want to talk about this. But I needed to know.

“Do you mean he sexually abused her?” I asked quietly.

“That’s what Shannon told me once. She never wanted to talk about it though, and even when I encouraged her to get counseling, she’d get mad. Sometimes she’d even deny that it had happened. She’d accuse me of making the whole thing up.” He looked sad.

“But you didn’t…”

“No.” The bill came then, and he signed it. “And I should warn you that Shannon could be mad at me for telling you that, Maya. But I think maybe you needed to know.”

“Thanks, Dad. I probably won’t ever mention it to her.”

“You could get your head bit off if you did.”

And I’m pretty sure he’s right about that. At least about the old Shannon. To be honest, I am wondering if she might really be changing. Also, as I think about what my dad told me, I feel a little sorry for her. I don’t know if I feel sorry enough to forgive her for everything, but I feel a bit more understanding than before.

I am perfectly miserable today. Dad fired Jason yesterday, and it was my fault. We were in Branson so Dad could perform a Valentine’s Day concert last night. Jason had made a joke about how this was “the land of old people,” and I thought he was kidding. But I looked around and realized he was right, which is odd since I don’t think of my dad as terribly old. I mean, he’s not ready for a walker or an oxygen bottle yet. But he must be in his sixties, which seems rather ancient if you think about it.

Anyway, it was a typical day. As usual, I’d been just hanging by myself while they got things set up, checking out the hotel amenities, which were also typical. And being that it
was Valentine’s Day, I noticed that the hotel gift shop had all kinds of romantic cards and goodies to give to your Valentine. So on impulse I decided to get a little something for Jason. Okay, I know it was probably stupid. But I was bored and surrounded by old folks who seemed to be having more fun than me. I guess I just couldn’t help myself.

So I got Jason this cool card and a big milk chocolate heart wrapped in red foil. Then I went and found him working on the setup for the concert, and I presented my Valentine to him. Oh, in the meantime I’d also fixed myself up a little, so I looked pretty nice and probably older too.

Jason had been bugging me about my age lately, trying to figure out how old I really am, which made me think that he could be interested. But I just acted aloof and mysterious. I’d already told him that I was old enough to drive but not old enough to vote. I also told him that I had my GED, which makes me sound older.

Anyway, I was pretty sure we were alone backstage when I gave him the card and chocolate, and he seemed totally blown away by it.

“Wow, Maya, this is for me?”

“Sure,” I told him, suddenly embarrassed to realize how much I’d shocked him, which meant he hadn’t even considered me in a romantic way.

“Wow, that’s really sweet of you.” Then he opened and read the card, and I could tell he was slightly uncomfortable.
Maybe because I’d written “Love, Maya” at the bottom, along with an X and O. And suddenly I was pretty uncomfortable too, and for one long awkward moment, neither of us said anything.

“I guess it was kind of silly…,” I admitted. “But it was Valentine’s Day, you know, and—”

“I think it was really sweet,” he said sincerely. “I will treasure it always.”

Okay, that probably bolstered my confidence ever so slightly. Consequently, I took it to a whole new level. But I should’ve known better.

“And that X and O were for real,” I said in my best seductress voice—not that I’ve practiced. But then I stepped closer to him. So close that I could smell his cologne, or maybe it was just him, but the scent was somewhat intoxicating. Jason is only a couple of inches taller than me, and I was looking straight into his eyes. The next thing I knew we were kissing. First in a tentative way and then with passion. And suddenly everything was spinning and blurry, and I thought I could feel my feet lifting off the ground.

“Jason!” yelled one of the other guys on the crew. “Get your butt over here now!”

Jason immediately let go of me and stepped back. “Sorry, Maya, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s okay. I wanted—”

“I gotta get to work.” And then he dashed off.

Well, I was still floating as I went back to my room to daydream for a while. And I was still walking on air that evening on my way to the concert, not to listen to my dad, but hoping to simply catch a glimpse of Jason. I rode down on the elevator and was actually dreaming of the next time Jason and I would be together, maybe even later that evening. And as I entered the lobby, I was imagining what our wedding would be like and how many children we’d have, and suddenly, like the popping of a balloon, I heard my dad calling my name from the other side of the lobby. He was dressed for the concert, but his expression did not look even slightly entertaining. I hurried over to see what was wrong.

“I had to let Jason go,” he sternly informed me.

“What—why?” I asked, although I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

“Ham said he saw you two backstage earlier today, Maya, acting in an inappropriate way.”

I didn’t respond, just looked down at the carpet as a mixed-up mess of feelings rushed through me.

“I confronted Jason, and he didn’t deny it.”

I looked back up now. “And you fired him?”

“In his defense, he had no idea you were only sixteen. He was pretty shocked when I told him that.”

“But I’m old for my age.”

“Sixteen is still sixteen.”

I could feel tears coming now. “You really fired him?”

“I told him to pack his bags and collect his check from Thomas.”

“But, Dad—”

“No buts, Maya. Jason is gone. I’ll give him my recommendation, but he is off the show.” Dad shook his head. “And we need to come up with another plan for you too.”

I frowned. “For me?”

He softened slightly. “You are way too beautiful and too young to be hanging around a bunch of crusty old dudes. Thomas warned me right from the get-go that having you on tour was a formula for disaster, but I didn’t believe him. Jason was the first one to cave.”

“But Jason’s not like those other guys. Jason is different. And it’s not even his fault—”

“Let it go, Maya!” Dad’s face grew stormy. “Jason is gone, and I don’t have time to discuss this with you at the moment.” He glanced at his watch. “I just wanted you to know what was up.”

So I went to my room, and I haven’t spoken to Dad since then. I am mad and brokenhearted and totally frustrated. It’s like the whole universe is set against me. Sometimes I wonder why I don’t just give up… Why do I even keep trying?

D
ad and I have both been doing a silent act this week. Well, his isn’t a completely silent act since he still talks to the crew, but not to me. And I speak to no one. I’m well aware that I’m acting like a juvenile. But according to my dad, that’s what I am. So why not just play it out? Who really gives a rip anyway?

It was Dad who finally ended the silent war. He took me aside today, giving me a look that suggested I’d better listen.

“I talked to Shannon this morning.”

I didn’t say a word, just shrugged. The truth of the matter was that I had also spoken to Shannon earlier this week. According to her, she was still clean and sober, but she was also slightly depressed, which is never a good sign. “I have nothing, Maya,” she told me in a dramatic tone. “Just an empty shell of a life. No family, no career. The pitiful truth is that I have hardly any friends. Not real ones anyway. I think I know the difference now.”

“What about Myrna?”

“I think I’m more Myrna’s project than a friend.”

I didn’t say so, but I could imagine that.

“How long do you plan to stay with your father, Maya?”

“I don’t know…”

This was followed by a long, uncomfortable silence. I almost thought she’d hung up. And so, knowing it wasn’t smart, I actually confided in her. Call me crazy or just plain desperate, I told her all about Jason and how Dad had fired him and how it was so unfair.