Just a Girl (18 page)

From Craigslist

Guitarist ISO band

Kickass electric guitar player looking for band. No country, no Christian. Hard rock preferred. 2 years experience. Serious inquiries only.

Guitar Player seeking regular gig

Experienced accompanist looking for band to jam with. Available for shows 1-2/month. Large repertoire of “wedding band” type songs already known. Ask for Dave.

Guitar Player in Recovery Looking for Likeminded Musicians

After 30 years in the business, I took a 5-year break. Now have my 5-year chip. Looking for low-stress musicians interested in playing “clean” shows. Absolutely no drinkers please! Friends of Bill preferred.

Paul canceled all his students for the next two days. He didn’t even have to show his face at the store. It was torture watching the door all day, hoping he’d walk through it. I’d unintentionally memorized Paul’s schedule over time, so I knew when each of his students should have walked through the door.

I wanted to give him some space. Especially after I’d told Kenzie about the Oxy. I knew I couldn’t be his favorite person right now. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried.

Finally I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

I texted him,
How are you?

There was no answer for a long time. Finally,
Okay.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard while I considered my options. I could interrogate him about if he was still using. Ask if he was mad at me for telling his sister. Beg him to forgive me.

You haven’t been at work. I was worried.

Needed some time.

Twice I typed
I miss you
but deleted it both times. But I didn’t feel like I could say anything else instead. The words demanded to be expressed, and nothing else seemed right.

I put the phone away for a few minutes while I tried to come up with something—anything—else. The truth was, I had a lot of things I needed to say to him, but they really deserved to be said in person.

Can I see you?

He made me wait over an hour for an answer, during which time I checked my phone about twice a minute, convinced I’d felt a vibration.

When?
My knees buckled when the answer finally came, and I had to sit on the floor.

Tonight? I can come to your place after work.

I’ll come to you.

Well, that was a start anyway.

He showed up near closing time, and I immediately abandoned the display I was straightening to meet him at the door.

“Hi.”

He had his hands in his pockets and only gave me a tight smile.

“Why don’t we go to your classroom?” I suggested. It would be empty and no one would be able to eavesdrop.

He followed me down the familiar hall and into the small practice room. There were only two chairs, and they were placed facing each other for lessons, so that sitting in them made me feel a bit like I’d been called to the principal’s office.

“How are you?” I asked.

“All right.” He shrugged. “What did you want to see me for?”

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. For…everything. I should have stood up for you more with the band. I shouldn’t have taken Ronnie’s place—”

“Yes you should have,” he interrupted. “You’ve done more for the band than we ever did on our own. We’re—they’re lucky to have you.”

“But I screwed everything up. They never would have asked you to leave if I hadn’t joined.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

I wasn’t ready to discuss maybes. I wasn’t done yet. “I shouldn’t have told you we couldn’t be together. It wasn’t fair.”

He looked down at his hands. “No. It wasn’t.”

Tears threatened to sneak past my eyelids, but I forced myself to look up and keep them at bay. “And it didn’t make any difference anyway. I just—I got everything wrong.”

Paul nodded, not speaking.

“So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I fucked everything up.”

He considered that. “Okay. Well, thanks, I guess.”

I added one more “I’m sorry” for good measure.

“Are you expecting us to get back together now that I’m out of the band?” he asked. “Because you kind of made that decision without me the first time. So, you know, I’m not just here for you to snap your fingers and decide it’s okay now.”

The tears made another push to escape and I blinked rapidly to hold them back. “I know.”

“Besides, I’m a head case, remember?” He tapped his temple. “You don’t need my shit.”

“You know, it really pisses me off when you say that crap.”

He looked startled.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Yeah, there actually is. That’s the point, Pres. I can’t just decide to get over it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Or bad. That’s the part that makes me so mad. You act like you’ve failed somehow.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. I can’t even call to make an appointment to see a doctor about my panic attacks without having a panic attack.”

“Have I ever once asked you not to be yourself? Have I ever said you were crazy or that it was all in your head?”

“No,” he admitted after a pause.

“Because that doesn’t matter to me. Why would that matter?”

“Do you have some kind of savior complex?”

“No. Do you have some kind of martyr complex?”

“No!” He crossed his arms. “I just don’t get why you’d waste your time with someone as fucked up as me. I mean, look at you. You could have anyone you wanted.”

“I don’t want anyone.” I leaned forward and looked him in the eyes. “I want you.”

“Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe after you chose the band over me.”

“I didn’t—” I stopped, knowing that yelling at him would not improve things. “I made a mistake. I thought…I thought they’d never see me as just me if I was your…girlfriend, or whatever. That’s what it was like in The Luminous 6. I was the vagina with the voice. Somewhere for Brendan to stick it when he didn’t have anyone else handy. And I didn’t want to have everything on the line again.” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to get thrown out of the band if you got sick of me.”

Saying it out loud made me want to throw up. God, how could I have put up with that crap for so long? What a complete disappointment I was to eighteen-year-old Presley who’d gone to L.A. with dreams of the
Billboard
charts, the VMAs, a boyfriend who actually cared about her.

Paul’s shoulders drooped. “I would never have treated you like that.”

I nodded, afraid of speaking just then.

“Look, I get it,” he said. “If anyone can understand irrational anxiety about something, it’s me. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

I nodded again, unable to stop a tear from slithering down my cheek. “I should never have let you go. And I have no right to ask you to take me back. I know that. But if you would…” I didn’t even know how to finish, because to say that I would do anything felt cliché and inadequate.

“I don’t know, Pres.” He scooted to the edge of his chair, bringing our knees close enough to touch if they lined up. “I’m going to handle my shit. I really am. I’ve already taken the first steps.” He put a hand on my knee, his thumb rubbing gently. “But I don’t think I can handle something so uncertain right now.”

“I’m not uncertain,” I said, covering his hand with both of mine. “I know I made a mistake. I…Paul, I think I’m in love with you.”

He closed his eyes, sighing softly. Then he stood up, leaning over to kiss me on the forehead. “That’s…I…I just can’t right now, Pres.”

And he left, carrying my heart away in his pocket.

July 30

Me

Did you know I’m uncertain?

Liv

About what?

Me

No. Like it’s a personality trait. As in I am unreliable.

Liv

If that new band is fucking with you I’m going to kill them!

Me

Not them. Just Paul.

Liv

You talked to him?

Me

Yeah. Because obviously I enjoy pain.

Liv

Oh honey.

Me

He doesn’t want me. It’s officially over.

Liv

I’m so sorry.

Me

Yeah.

Liv

Want me to kick his ass? I’ll check flights.

Me

No. Thank you though.

You’re the best.

Is it me, though? Am I a Yoko?

Liv

The band’s not breaking up, is it?

Me

No

Liv

Then you’re not a Yoko.

Me

Just relationship kryptonite.

Liv

If it helps, I’d date you.

Me

Don’t think I’m not considering it.

Liv

We’d be such a cute couple.

Me

We really would.

Liv

And since we’re both perfect, it would obviously be the best relationship ever.

Me

Obviously.

Liv

Plus, I hear I’m great in bed.

Me

I’m sure you are.

Liv

OK, it’s settled then. If Paul is too dumb to see that you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to him, you can be my girlfriend.

Me

:) You’re the literal best.

Liv

It’s going to be OK, sweetie.

Me

Thanks.

Liv

Though I still think you should come back to L.A.

I mean, should we really start our relationship long-distance? ;)

Me

xoxoxoxoxo

Liv

Do you realize you never answer me when I ask if you’re coming back?

The reviews for the Columbus show had come back completely positive. Nothing about something missing, nothing about falling flat despite the execution. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Lead singer Presley Mason is so raw with emotion the audience needs a group hug when she’s done.” That show? I sure was. I could have used a hug from the audience myself.

The promotions group who’d hired us seemed happy enough, at any rate. They contacted our manager to book a few more shows in the Midwest. None of them were the usual bars that hired the band, which was great news. But it did leave us with the question of how the hell we were going to perform without a guitar player.

As Paul had said, guitar players were kind of a dime a dozen, but that didn’t mean really good ones were just sitting on a shelf waiting to be picked out like a good cantaloupe. The best ones were usually already in a band, and if they weren’t it was because they didn’t want to be, or couldn’t for one reason or another.

The guys set up a couple of auditions with people they knew or who’d been referred to us by friends. The first was…awful. The second was mostly interested in getting a band to play his originals, which wasn’t what we were looking for. The third had kids and could only do one, maybe two shows a month, no travel.

In the meantime, we were stuck with either no guitar, which only worked on a small percentage of our songs, or pulling out another instrument and shuffling everyone around. Thankfully, the guys all played more than one instrument. James could get by on guitar for a lot of songs, but no one else could play the keyboards as well, so he couldn’t do a song on guitar unless I could comp the chords for it. But everyone agreed it wasn’t great to have me in the back, away from the lead mic. I was a singer, plain and simple. Aric could carry rhythm guitar, no problem, but he wasn’t up for solos. And besides, if we took him off the quirky percussion instruments, the violin, and the ukulele, other songs suffered.

We were able to fake our way through a few rehearsals while we waited for the right guitar player to arrive, but the deadline was getting pretty close with another show coming up.

“We need Paul,” I said.

“That doesn’t exactly help us right now,” Spence said.

“Okay, but if we could get him back, would you guys let him back in?” I asked.

“He’d have to want to,” Rob said.

“And we aren’t interested in watching him turn into an addict,” Nick said.

They were kind of adorably straitlaced, actually. I mean, they drank, and a couple of them would take a puff or two of marijuana, but overall, they were basically Boy Scouts.

“I know, but if he’s willing?”

“Depends. Are you asking because you’re boinking him again?”

“No. Fuck you, Nick.”

“Not me. Paul.”

Rob snickered and did a
badum-ching
on the drums.

“All right, you got me.” I put up both hands in surrender. “It’s true. I am a female and I have been known to have sex. I have even”—I stepped up to the mic, practically swallowing it so my voice boomed through the practice room—“had sex with one of your bandmates.” I backed away, speaking normally. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know a good fucking guitar player when I hear one. And Paul is a great fucking guitar player. Now, if we can get him back—safely—are you assholes in or do you really think I can’t handle my shit without a penis to guide me?”

“Jesus, Presley, nobody thinks you can’t handle this because you’re a chick,” Spence said. “We just don’t want to sit around listening to you two either”—he held up one finger—“bitch at each other”—he held up a second finger—“or screw. Nobody wants to hear that shit.”

The others agreed.

“But to be fair, nobody wants to hear Rob diddle his wife either,” Karl piped up.

“True story,” Nick agreed.

“Do you?” Karl asked me.

“Um, no.”

“Okay then. So, we’ve all got the same rules in play. Fair?”

I considered that. It was utterly reasonable. And more than manageable. That was, of course, if I could get Paul back in the band, and back to me—neither of them being small tasks. “Fair.”

“But I still think it’s legit to ask if you want him in the band for the right reasons,” Nick said.

“Considering he doesn’t actually want to be with me anymore, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve got my head on straight, yeah?”

“Good enough for me,” Aric said.

“Kind of a shame, really,” Rob mused.

“Why?”

“He was better when you guys were together.”

“Yeah, well…” I didn’t have an answer for that. Just another item on my list of wrongdoings.

“So what are we going to do in the meantime?” James reminded us. “We still need a guitar player for the show next week.”

“Anybody know anyone else who’s available?”

“We can put out an ad on craigslist.”

“Yeah, and get a bunch of shitty wannabes answering.”

I had an idea. “Can any of you come to my parents’ store tomorrow night? There are always a bunch of musicians there. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Only James and Nick could, but that would have to be good enough.

After rehearsal, James grabbed me before I could leave.

“Hey, is it cool if I bring Kenzie tomorrow? She’ll probably murder me if I go to the After Hours show without her.”

“Do you think she’ll come?” It was a sincere question. “I thought she hated me.”

“No. She doesn’t hate you. I mean, ‘hate’ is a strong word.”

Great. “If she’s willing to be in the same room as me, then yeah, she can come.”

“Cool. Thank you.”

“Do you…Is this going to be weird for Paul? I mean, we’re basically shopping for his replacement at the place he works.”

“He’ll be fine.” James hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to tell me what came next. “He’s actually doing really good with it.” There was another lengthy pause. “He started seeing a therapist.”

“He did?” I wanted to grab James by the shoulders and shake the rest of the information out of him.

“Yeah. It’s going good.”

“That’s…great!” It was hard not to hug him, just to have something to do with my happiness.

“He, uh, misses you.”

Now the happiness turned bittersweet and a knot formed in my chest. “I miss him, too.”

James leaned in confidentially. “I think you should try again.”

“Try what?”

“Try to get him back.”

I shook my head. “He was very clear about that. I’m too uncertain for him. And if he’s really getting better, I don’t want to interfere with that.”

“That’s exactly why I think you’re good for him. You get him.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to tell him you miss him, at least?”

“No. If I’m going to do anything, I’ll do it myself.”