by Amy Jones
“Sam!” She clenched the beer can tightly, and it buckled under her fingers. “Why can’t you just believe me? Or at least pretend to believe me. I mean, what does it matter to you if it was the same deer or not? Why is it so hard for you to go along with me on this?”
He laughed again, more bewildered this time than amused. “Because it’s not realistic?”
Mags jumped to her feet. “You are talking to me about realistic? You, the same guy who thinks we can keep living in his parents’ basement for the next ten years without them knowing? The same guy who thinks that we’re going to have our big break in Thunder Bay? I just wanted to believe we didn’t kill that deer. I was just trying to meet you in the fucking middle.” She grabbed the guitar and stormed out of the motel room, leaving Sam sitting there on the floor, mouth gaping slightly.
Outside, it was still raining, but there was an awning over the door, and she sat down in the little plastic deck chair and tried to let it go. She knew it was stupid for her to get so angry. Stupid for her to believe that it could have been the same deer. But, for once, she had just wanted something to work out.
Her fingers found the strings. She didn’t know what she was playing until her left hand began moving on the fretboard, and she realized it was a melody that she hadn’t played before. That no one had played before. Eventually, the words came to her too. She opened her mouth and started to sing.
Later, she came back into the motel room to find Sam already in bed, his face lit up by the glow of his phone. “What was that you were playing?” he asked. “I couldn’t really hear it clearly, but it sounded good.”
“Nothing.” Mags sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Sam propped himself up. “No, I’m sorry. Look, I’ve been going through apartment listings.” He turned his phone around to show her.
“Sam…”
“No, listen. I want to take care of you, okay? I have savings, and I can work. There’s no point in me going to university anyway, since we’re going to have our big break soon and become rich and famous.” He put his phone down on the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m kidding.”
“Who knows, right? It might happen.” Mags lay down next to him, curling herself against his body. “And I don’t need you to take care of me. I’ll get another job. It’ll be tough, but we’ll make it work.” She almost believed it. And she supposed that was a start.
* * *
The next night was their show in Thunder Bay. They half-heartedly worked their way through their set list to a pub full of people who hadn’t realized a band was going to be playing and were just trying to enjoy their food. About three-quarters of the way through, after an older man near the front of the stage eating dinner with his wife had asked them if they could “turn it down a bit,” Zac put down his drumsticks.
“Well, fuck this. I’m going to get a beer,” he said.
Paul, Sam, and Mags stood there for a minute, unsure of what to do. In the silence they left behind, the room filled with chatter, with forks and knives clinking on plates, chairs being pushed back from tables.
Sam slid his bass strap up and over his head. “Well, I mean, it’s not like we’re going to have our big break in Thunder Bay,” he said, looking at Mags. “We might as well go home.”
Home. That word again. Mags motioned to Paul’s acoustic, which was sitting on its stand. “Can I borrow that? I have something I want to play.”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “You want to play guitar?”
“Yeah. I kind of wrote something.” When Paul still hesitated, she added, “Come on, it’s not like anyone’s paying attention.”
“Of course you can,” Sam said, picking up Paul’s guitar and handing it to her. He glared at Paul. “At least someone is putting in the effort to make things happen around here.”
Paul rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “I guess you can’t mess things up more than they already are.”
They left the stage and Mags put the guitar strap over her head, stepping toward the mic. She placed her fingers awkwardly on the fretboard and strummed, feeling the strings buzz unpleasantly against her nail, ripping it halfway off. She paused. Maybe this was a bad idea. But then she glanced toward the bar and saw Sam watching her, his face glowing, and she realized he had never seen her like this, from the audience. He had never seen what she was able to do. So she stuck her nail in her mouth and ripped the rest of it off, repositioned her fingers, and started to play the song she had written the day before.
It felt different, being up there without anyone else. The stage seemed so huge, like it was engulfing her, like there wasn’t enough of her, alone, to fill it. But as soon as she started playing—something that she had completely written herself, something that was entirely hers—everything changed. She could feel herself growing, expanding, her voice filling the stage, the pub, the city, the world. It was like she was nowhere and everywhere all at once. Her eyes were open, but all she could see was light and stars.
Then the song was over, and she came back swiftly into her body, the last note echoing across the pub. No one moved. No one spoke. Not a single fork clanged against a plate. All eyes were fixated on the stage, on her, but the only ones she could see were Sam’s, shining with pride as he stood by the bar, beer bottle clutched between white knuckles.
He put down his beer and started clapping, breaking the spell. Everyone else in the room began clapping too. And in that moment, Mags knew. Nothing had really changed, but somehow everything had. This was their moment. This was what they had been waiting for.
Mags was home.
Form Submission – New Form – Thunder bay show at the Forge
Squarespace
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Name: Tom Baker
Email Address: [email protected]
Subject: Thunder bay show at the Forge
Message: Dear Miss Kovach,
I am nearly quite embarrassed to be writing these words, as I don’t normally do this kind of thing, but I happened to be out dining with some friends on the night of June 21, expecting simply a quiet, ordinary evening of sorts at one of our humble local establishments when I was struck by the most Beautiful, Angelic voice I had ever had the most amazing opportunity to hear. Even more in awe was I when I looked up to Behold this heavenly voice was as yet attached to an incredibly gorgeous and sexy face and body on the stage as though on a cloud descending from heaven directly into my Heart. I apologize for my extreme language but there is really no other way to describe the attracted feeling I had upon seeing you, this stunning creature on stage in front of me as if God had put you there just for me. I am also an artist so I understand the deep connection and passionate you have toward your art and your calling, you can see some of my work at www.thomasjohbaker.angelfire.com/artwork, if you tell me which one is your favourite I will send it to you free of change. I would like to honour you with a drawing of yourself as well if you are ever back in our city, or perhaps from a photograph if you could send me one, preferably wearing something black (lace or spandex) and not covering too much skin. Not for sex of course but for drawing, as it is preferable.
Your devoted servant,
Tom
(Sent via Align Above)
Edenmariehart Follow
edenmariehart Thank you guys so much for all the bday love!!! This has been the most exciting, exhilarating, uplifting year of my life, and none of it would be possible without all of you. I have the best fans in the business, and I can’t wait to party with you on my birthday special. We will sing some songs, eat some cake, and celebrate the joy that is this precious life we are blessed with. And don’t forget to send in all your beautiful artwork! I love you all!! XO Eden
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mylittlebownie EDEN YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL
greeneyegirl65 Flawless
_tytyly_69люблю тебя красотулька
mylittlebownie LOVE YOU E
DEN
mylittlebownie I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN EDEN
mylittlebownie MY LOVEEEEEEEEE
mylittlebownie AWESOME
mylittlebownie MY BABY HART I LOVE YOU
tania_schreiber12 Happy B-Day We all support and love you
edenator_sg.cc Te amooo
peachimika follow for follow
mylittlebownie FOLLOW ME EDEN
mylittlebownie EDEN WHY ARE YOU NOT REPLYING TO ME
herbal_detox_system Happy birthday, Eden! Keep it up!
mylittlebownie REPLY EDEN
mylittlebownie REPLY EDEN
mylittlebownie REPLY EDEN
mylittlebownie REPLY EDEN
mylittlebownie REPLY EDEN
mylittlebownie REPLY EDEN
Ava
January 2012
HIWTHI
Winter Special: Happy 13th Birthday, Eden!
You are beautiful, the banner said. Unrolled, it measured at least six feet in length, the words painted on with poster paint, pink and blue and yellow, edged with glitter that fluttered to the floor like ash as Ava spread it out across the kitchen table, letting the ends drape over the sides. re beauti, it said now. Ava liked it better that way. It could be an experimental poetry collection, or an article in some pretentious design magazine. Re: Beauty. Re-beauty.
“You are beautiful is so last month,” she said to Val, who was wrestling with a bubble-wrapped envelope full of what turned out to be two-dimensional paper flowers, cut from construction paper and painted with more glitter. “This should say Survivor. At least it would be shorter.”
“Why do they all have to use glitter?” Val asked, brushing a large swath of it off his sweater and onto the floor. “I find it everywhere. I found some in my cereal this morning.”
“What’s the matter, Val, don’t you want to sparkle?” Ava said, before blowing the glitter off her hand into the air, a shimmering cloud hovering in the space between them. “Besides, little girls love glitter.”
Val grimaced, stuffing the last of the paper flowers back in the envelope and making a mark on the clipboard in front of him. “This is not from a little girl,” he said. “Unless you know any little girls named Jim who currently reside in Terre Haute Federal Correctional Complex.”
“Ew. Get rid of those.” Ava sat back in her chair, examining the banner. “This is filling me with existential dread. What was it Keats wrote? ‘Of the wide world I stand alone, and think, till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.’”
“Or, in the immortal words of Britney Spears, ‘I’m Miss American Dream since I was seventeen.’”
Just then David came in, an armful of mail clutched to his chest, leaving a trail of loose envelopes behind him like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs. “Ooh,” he said, dropping the pile on the ground. “I like that banner. We’ll put it up over the window here. It’ll look great.” Ava and Val said nothing. “Oh, come on, you guys. Cheer up. Eden is going to love this. It’s going to be the best birthday party ever.”
“Uh-huh,” said Ava. “Nothing says ‘best birthday party ever’ like a bunch of decorations made by crazy people.”
Because Eden was famous now, she had fans to make her birthday decorations. On the show blog, the network had asked people to mail in their best creations for the chance to have their handiwork featured on Home Is Where the Hart Is Winter Special: Happy 13th Birthday, Eden! For the past three weeks, Ava and Val had been opening envelopes, cataloguing all the crafts, and throwing out the obviously terrible ones. How they got saddled with that job, Ava couldn’t quite remember, except that it was pretty obvious to everyone that the two of them had nothing better to do. Neither of them had had a storyline all season that lasted more than one episode. Thanks to Eden, they had basically become background actors in their own lives.
David lifted the banner reverently, stretching it open to its full, You are beautiful glory. It was long enough to take up his entire wingspan and still sag in the middle. “Gorgeous!” he proclaimed, letting the banner drop again, glitter puffing out around him as it landed. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
“Sure.” Ava opened another envelope, this one containing a piece of white Bristol board that unfolded into the shape of a unicorn, with a picture of Eden’s face pasted on its head. She immediately flattened it out and placed it on top of the banner.
“Eden and Bryce’s flight lands at three p.m. today,” David continued. “I’m going to go into the city to pick them up, so we should try to have all the decorations ready before then.” He wrinkled his nose, picking up the unicorn. “Well, this is just creepy.”
“Can I come?” Ava asked. It had been so long since she’d been out of Gin Harbour she was beginning to forget what the real world looked like. Weren’t all houses a hundred years old, with giant, lumbering porches and stained glass embedded in the doors? Weren’t all towns eerily silent all winter, save for the clacking of ice chunks against one another as the waves pushed them toward the shore, the constant howl of the wind banging against your front door? Weren’t all streets muted under a blanket of snow, and lined with shuttered craft stores and empty bistros, with signs proclaiming they serve the World’s Best Fish Chowder? Ava wouldn’t know. She had been stuck in this old-timey sea shanty for all of eternity.
But David shook his head at what she could only assume was partially the unicorn and partially her. “I need you two here to wait for the event planners.”
Ava groaned. Because Eden was famous now, she got to do publicity tours while her brother and sister got to open her fan mail. Because Eden was famous now, she got to be gushed over by Ellen and Kelly and Whoopi while her brother and sister got to wait for the event planners. Because Eden was famous now, her thirteenth birthday was going to be a huge, on-air celebration, while her sister’s fifteenth birthday had passed quietly, with a Dairy Queen ice cream cake and a trip into Halifax to go see a movie, where afterward a trio of hockey moms had cornered her in the bathroom and forced her to take a selfie with them, even though she had spent the past hour and a half crying her eyes out at The Tree of Life.
Because Eden was famous now, her brother and sister had a little taste of fame. To Ava it tasted a lot like strong whiskey, or dark chocolate. It was bitter, but she could see how someone could like it. She could see how it could become addictive.
As soon as David left, Ava went into the front room, lugging a large plastic tub of decorations behind her. When she got there, she found Val dressed in his parka and pulling on his winter boots. “Where the hell are you going?” she asked.
“Out,” he said.
“Out where?”
“None of your business.”
Ava grabbed his boot out of his hand. “You’re kidding me. There is no way you’re leaving me here by myself.”
“I assure you, I am,” He snatched the boot back. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before anyone even notices,” he said with a grin.
Ava and Val’s confinement order had slackened over the past year, mostly because no one cared where they went. They had even enrolled at GHJSH the previous fall—Ava in eleventh grade, Val in tenth—and although they were expected to be available for filming, if the call sheet didn’t have their names on it, they actually had to go to class.
Now, Ava sat down on the stairs dejectedly, watching Val wrap the world’s longest scarf around his neck. “Can I come with you?” she asked, knowing the answer.
He laughed. “And destroy this whole air-of-mystery thing I’ve so carefully cultivated? Where’s the fun in that?” He heaved the door open against the bitter January wind and gave her a little wave before closing it behind him.
“Ahh! This is bullshit,” Ava yelled. She picked up the top of the plastic bin and hurled it at the closed door. “Why does everyone have a life except me?” But she knew why. Television viewers liked Eden best. The local kids liked Val best. David and Bryce liked being on television best. And who liked Ava best? No one.
She was on her way to the kitchen when the
phone rang—possibly the last landline in all the wide world. “Hello, Hart’s Desire, where all your nightmares come true.”
“This is Beth from Beth’s Event Planning. I’m confirming the address for the Hart party today. We just arrived in Halifax, and we only have the refrigerated vans for the ice sculptures for another three hours. Will that be enough time? We still need to assemble the chocolate fountains too.”
Ava squeezed the receiver so hard she thought it might crumble in her hand. Ice sculptures? A chocolate fountain? There was only one person in this house who got everything. And that was Eden.
“Oh no,” said Ava. “Didn’t Cindy call you? Cindy!” Ava pretended to yell out into the kitchen. “Did you forget to call Beth from Beth’s Event Planning and tell her the party was cancelled?”
“It’s cancelled? But we came all the way from New York. We were speaking with a…” She paused, and Ava could hear pages rustling. “Bob and Tess? At LifeStyle?”
“The cancellation order came from Bob and Tess. Cindy was supposed to call you. But Cindy can’t seem to do her job right!” Ava yelled out the last part into the kitchen.
“But I’ve already sent two of my assistants to pick up the horses for the parade, and the fireworks are being delivered as we speak!”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Beth.”
“We had a contract!” Beth sputtered. “You’re going to have to pay the full amount, as well as reimburse us for our travel and time.”
“Well, someone is. Right, Cindy?” But Beth had hung up. Ava smiled to herself. Let her eat Dairy Queen cake, then, she thought. See how she likes being treated like the rest of us.
* * *
—
When David, Bryce, and Eden got back from the airport at 4 p.m., Ava was sitting in the front room, reading. “What happened?” David asked her, looking around the room in shock. “Where are the event planners?”