Paradise (22 page)

“I came back so you could take me to Austin.” I knew when I said that, it was a game changer. I didn’t know what would happen, but it couldn’t be worse than keeping everything in. I was letting it go and letting it out. Finally free. Like spinning in a circle on the pier at Moon Lake with Paradise.

“Austin?” Mother sank onto a chair.

Dad stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

“There’s nothing between me and Waylon.” I took a deep breath. “Except his band.”

Mother’s eyes hardened. She reached for Dad’s hand on her shoulder.

No point in holding back. The sun was coming up, and we had a six-hour drive ahead of us.

“I’m the drummer for the Waylon Slider Band. We play”—I swallowed hard—“we play Texapalooza tonight in Austin. I was headed across the pasture to meet up with the band.”

Mother glanced at the trays of music-note cookies, at the kitchen window, at the sink. She squeezed Dad’s hand. I think she’d convinced herself that she was deep in sleep and trying to climb out of a bad dream.

I carried on with what I’d been thinking for weeks. “I don’t want to run away to get there. I want someone in this family to take me.”

Dad grabbed a cup and waited as the coffeepot gurgled and spit. “For a drummer, Paisley,” he said, “you’ve got some off timing.”

“A drummer?” Mother slapped both hands on the table, stood up. She was good and awake. “Drums! What do you know about drumming? A snare in the school band doesn’t count. Kitchen pans and wooden spoons don’t either. You’ve never had a professional lesson. If Waylon Slider told you how good you were at drums and how you could be in his band, he was buttering you up because he wanted something.” Mother bent down and snatched up the lemons. “From what I saw outside L. V.’s hangar, it looks like Waylon is well on his way to getting it.”

Dad drank his coffee. He’d blow a cooling breath across the top then take a sip. Blow and sip. Blow and sip. One. Two. Three. Four. Just like I’d count the band in on my
caja
. If we could get there on time.

“The only thing Waylon wants from me is to play the drums. We’ve been practicing in Uncle L. V.’s hangar. I use that old drum kit.”

Mother palmed a lemon. I think she wanted to throw it at me. “I kissed Waylon so you’d not ask me why I was there.”

Mother slammed the lemon down, jerked a cutting board and carving knife from a drawer. “Oh, what a tangled web you weave.” She slit the lemon in half, then cut it with lightning speed into perfect wedges, gritting her teeth. “When once you practice to deceive.”

Through the kitchen window, I saw the pasture with its wildflower-covered hills come to light in the morning sun. If I was going to make Austin, we needed to hit the road.

“Mother, I didn’t run off this morning when I could have. I may have made some mistakes, but I’m owning up to them. And I’ve got to get to Austin.” I looked down at my boots, the dark stained edges from the wet grass. I had to trust that turning around and coming home could not have been a mistake. Goodwill had to be on my side. “The band is counting on me.”

“Hah.” Mother shook her head and carved her lemons. “I can’t believe we’ve raised you to be so gullible. Waylon Slider is going to get his little hick hiney handed to him on a really big stage.” Mother loaded handfuls of lemon wedges into a plastic bag. “And I’m going to protect you from that humiliation.”

Dad folded his arms at his waist. I’d seen him do that in baseball games when the pitcher was losing a batter and throwing junk balls instead of strikes. Settle down. Focus.

“You let people look down on you. I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of where I’m from or what I do and neither is Waylon. We’re playing our style of music, and folks can take it or leave it. It’s an under-eighteen competition. We’re actually better than you think.” My voice cracked from the fear that I was about to be stuck at home during Texapalooza, but I forced myself to stay the course. “I can explain everything to you on the way to Austin. I just really need for you, for somebody, to take me.”

Mother began placing the bags of sliced lemons and trays of cookies into a large plastic box labeled
THE KITCHEN GODDESS.
“Paisley Tillery.” She used both names—not a good sign. “I can’t even process all that you’ve snuck around behind my back and done. I don’t want to even think about it. And I am certainly not of a mind to take you to the end of the driveway much less a six-hour drive to Austin or anywhere else. And even if I was, which let me make clear I am
not
, I have a catering job today. And your sister has tryouts for a choir today. Have you even stopped to think what that means to her?” Mother’s voice grew louder and louder. “And you want us to throw away Lacey’s future—her college plans—so that you can go bang on a drum and help Waylon Slider make a fool of himself and you too?”

Dad stayed silent and kept his arms at his waist. But I had stayed calm as long as I could. My dream, my commitment to the band, everything was rolling away from me—faster and faster downhill. I had to catch it.

I pulled my sticks from my back pocket. Laid them on the table in front of her, in the big middle of all her handy catering work done for a dream Lacey didn’t even have. “My dream is important too.” I kept my hand on the sticks. “I have to get to Austin.”

Mother iced the plan. “The only thing you have to get is a grip on reality.”

I grabbed my sticks. “NO!” I looked at Dad. “Someone has to take me.”

“It isn’t about the ride, Paisley,” he said. “It’s about the blessing.”

He was right. I had wanted Mother’s blessing, her presence. I had a crazy notion that playing in a band was a stupid thing to hide, and everyone else’s family could be on board so why not mine. But not anymore. Now I just wanted, needed, to get to Austin. “I trusted that if I turned around and did the right thing, came back, you’d understand. Y’all have always said you’d support us. I’m telling you drumming in this contest is my dream. I’ve worked my butt off for it. Give me a break. Give me the same effort you give Lacey.”

Mother closed her eyes and shook her head as if I was the one being difficult. “Stop with the selfishness,” she said. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now we’ve got to focus on Lacey and the tryouts.”

I thought I’d scream. Until I heard Lacey’s voice behind me. “I’m not going to those tryouts.”

I spun around.

Lacey stepped into the kitchen in her pink pajamas, her hair pushed back in a headband. She held an envelope out to Mother. The
GLAMOUR BEAUTY COLLEGE
logo in the top left corner.

“Lacey, no.” I tried to stop her. Good intentions seemed to be punished in this house. I didn’t want Lacey to screw up her chances.

Mother opened the envelope. Dad moved behind her, read over her shoulder. “Beauty school?”

“Yep.” Lacey yawned. “I’m doin’ hair and makeup. I’m done with singing.” She took a Diet Coke from the fridge and popped the top. As if it were any other typical morning.

Mother handed the letter to Dad. She spoke carefully to Lacey. “You’re giving up too easily and settling for so much less than what you deserve.”

Dad pointed at the letter. “It says here you’ve been approved for financial aid.” He seemed to take that part personally. “Since when do you need financial aid?”

Lacey took a swig of her soda. She fished underneath the plastic wrap and pulled out a quarter-note cookie. “I wasn’t taking any chances.”

“Chances!” Mother took off her kitchen goddess apron, crumpled it into a wad, and threw it on a chair. “This is your future. You have no idea the chance you’re taking. Your dad and I have scrimped and saved so you girls could get an education and make a better life for yourselves. And your bright idea is to make a career standing on your feet twelve hours a day, listening to customers complain because their haircut doesn’t match the magazine picture, and nursing your hands dry and beet red from soap and water and chemicals?”

Lacey smiled. “That is so my bright idea.”

Mother stared at Lacey, then she looked me over from my drumsticks to my boots. “God help us all.”

Sunlight filled the kitchen. If I didn’t find a way to get to Austin soon, we’d be running into traffic and risk missing the show.

“Let me get this straight.” Dad still held on to the beauty college letter. “You took it upon yourself to apply for financial aid before asking me about that?”

As usual, the conversation centered on what Lacey was or was not going to do while the clock ticked away on my performance.

“I’ll still need help paying for school.” Lacey offered that as if it would make him feel better. “I want a degree in business too. So I can have my own salon one day.”

Mother pulled the platters of finger sandwiches from the refrigerator. In the morning sunlight, the purple discs under each of her eyes made her look like she’d been punched. “I’ve done all this.” Her eyes reddened. “And you knew the whole time you weren’t singing.”

Lacey had Dad’s coolness. She could sit a batter down. “I told you after the rodeo I was done singing.” Lacey snapped a cookie in half and popped a piece in her mouth. “You just hear what you want to hear.”

I rolled a drumstick through my fingers, end over end and back again. I stood it as long as I could. “I’m running out of time. If no one is taking me, can I please have the keys to drive myself?”

Mother took a deep breath and looked at Dad. “The only person going anywhere is me. I still have catering to deliver.” She snatched up one of the boxes. “You two can stay home and make up grand schemes to carry out behind our backs.”

Lacey tried to help me. “You can be mad at me, but Paisley deserves to get to play in Austin. If I was her, I’d be two hours down the road by now.”

“The only thing you two deserve is each other.” Mother threw open the kitchen door and headed for the Suburban.

I pleaded with Dad. “You know I’ve worked for this. I came back. I told the truth.”

“Sometimes you can be too late with the truth.”

“You could take me.” My heart swelled with every beat. My chest heaved.
“Please.”

“Don’t ask me to go against your momma. I’ve loved her since she was your age. You two act like you’re the only ones who ever wanted anything out of life. She sacrificed her wants so that the rest of us could go after ours, and she did it while bearing the weight of her own friends and family treating her like trash, excluding her. And now you’re going to fault her for wanting better for you than what she had. For wanting people to respect you. Let me tell you two something. She never gave up and walked away from me when things got rough. I ain’t turnin’ my back on her now.” He picked up a box and opened the door. “You shouldn’t give up on her either. There’ll be other band shows.”

The door closed behind him.

I stood perfectly still. The water faucet over the sink dripped.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
“I shouldn’t have come back.” I said it to myself but Lacey was listening.

“Dumb ass.” Lacey broke another cookie. “But I texted Levi when I heard y’all in here talking. He said Waylon had a backup plan. His uncle will fill in for you.”

That burned like a hornet sting. I wasn’t surprised. I suppose I was relieved. But I was the drummer for the Waylon Slider Band. It was
my
job. And Waylon’s uncle was too old. The band would get to play, but they’d probably get disqualified.

I looked through the small window in the kitchen door. Mother and Dad were sitting on the bumper of the Suburban. She leaned against his arm and clutched his hand between her knees. I watched her wipe away tears with the back of her hand. The tears were probably for Lacey.

“I’m not going to Austin.”

It sounded so unreal. Even if Dad was talking to her and somehow Mother changed her mind, too much time had gone by. We’d never make it. “I’m, I’m not going to Austin,” I repeated.

I glanced through the little window in the kitchen door one last time. Dad had her wrapped in his arms. She might come around, but it was too late for me.

I’d been on my bed for over an hour, staring at the wall, playing Texapalooza over and over in my head for what seemed forever. Waylon’s uncle wouldn’t attempt the
caja
. They’d go for the sure thing and open with a straight snare count. He’d set the pace, probably even throughout the whole set. Could be a yawner, but Paradise on his accordion would add some interest. They’d skip the drum solo, my solo.

The door to my room opened. I didn’t roll over. I didn’t care who it was. Lacey knew better than to bother me. But from the heavy scent of sweet perfume, I knew it was Mother.

“Paisley, I’m going to deliver the catering. When I get back, we can talk about this thing, this whatever you have for playing the drums.”

She waited.

I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Don’t think I don’t care about your dreams,” she said. “If I could change things for you, I would. I’m not saying I’d approve. I’ll never allow you to hang out with a bunch of … I’m just saying I’ll dig down deep. We’ll find a way to support you and the dreams that you have.” She sounded like she was simply repeating the words Dad would’ve told her.

I pulled a pillow into my chest. The heels of my boots clicked together. I’d forgotten I even had them on. When the anger eased, I simply went cold.