Untitled

by Jackie Chanel

  That hurt. Since the first time she heard me play, my mother has been happy that I found something that I enjoyed. She appreciated and respected the fact that I enjoy making music. She got excited when I got told her about the gigs I was playing because she thought that I was just doing it on the weekends. She understood my passion for my guitar. All she wanted was for me to have an education, a degree to fall back on if I didn’t make it.

  She didn’t deserve to be lied to.

  But how could I have avoided not having to lie to her? She would have gone straight to my father if I told her what I’ve actually been doing.

  “Mom, I’m sorry.” I wanted her to look at me, to see that I was sincere in my apology.

  “You could have come to me, Aiden. I’m your mother.” The hurt in her voice was almost too much for me to bear.

  “We could have figured something out. You could have come home. You could have gone to school in Chicago and did your music thing at night and on the weekends. You had options, Aiden. You didn’t have to lie to me.” My mother’s expression of pain tore at my heart.

  I never even considered that my mom would have helped me if I’d given her the chance. But I acted on instinct because she usually sides with my dad.

  “What you’ve done is completely unacceptable. And it ends today. I hate to believe what your father has been telling me for years, but it’s apparently true. You don’t make good decisions and you cannot be trusted. You’re coming home.”

  “Mom,” I protested. “I don’t want to go back to Mt. Vernon.”

  “What you want doesn’t matter anymore, Aiden,” she responded curtly. “Your father has made up his mind, and I can’t say that I disagree.”

  My bedroom door opened and my father stood in the doorway.

  “Movers are too expensive,” he said to my mom. “And truly unnecessary. He’s not bringing any of this garbage into our house. Have him pack up his clothes and I’ll go see what we need to do to terminate his lease.”

  Without another word, he closed the door. A few seconds later I heard him leave the apartment. I stared at my mother. I understand that they’re angry and disappointed in my decisions but I can’t let them do this. I’ve worked too hard here to let it all go to waste and move back to Mt. Vernon.

  “Mom, I’m not going to back home.”

  “You don’t have a say in this,” she replied shortly. “You heard your father. Pack up your clothes and equipment. I’m sure we can take your stuff back on the plane.”

  “No,” I defiantly mumbled. “I’m not going back there, Mom. I will die if I have to go back. I’m doing fine here. I’m sorry that I let you guys to believe that I was still in school, but that doesn’t mean that you can force me to do something that I don’t want to do.”

  “Pack your clothes, Aiden,” she said and walked out of the room.

  I sat on my bed and stared out of the window. How can I reiterate my position and live to play my guitar again? Would I even have a guitar anymore after I made it clear to my father that I’m not going back to Mt. Vernon? He had confiscated my guitar before and it was his money that had bought two of the three guitars that I own and all of my pedals, amps, and speakers. It would be by the grace of God – as Kat says – if he leaves without smashing my stuff.

  I walked into the living room when I heard my father come back into the apartment.

  “We’re going to have to pay this shithole of an apartment complex $800.00 to get him out of his lease,” he was grumbling to my mom.

  “Actually,” I spoke up. “You don’t have to pay them anything, because I’m not going back to Mt. Vernon.”

  “Yes...you...are,” my dad answered slowly. His chest swelled and his face became redder with every word.

  “I know you’re pissed but you can’t just force me to come home. I’m not a kid anymore, and I’m not going.”

  “Just what do you plan on doing down here in this hot, God-forsaken place?” he practically spat in disgust.

  “I’m going to keep making music, Dad. I’m really close to getting a record deal.” Another lie but so what. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.

  “Aiden, I’m only going to say this once,” my father said, tight-lipped. “I’ve allowed you to indulge in this hobby of yours with minimal interference. But listen to me carefully,” he stared straight at me with angry eyes.

  “You are not some backwoods country redneck with a guitar and a dream. You are my son. My son who I’ve tried to raise to be an educated man and an upstanding member of his community...not some drug addicted, whoring rock star!”

  “First of all, I’m not addicted to anything!” I yelled back. “And who says I can’t be a rock star? I can be anything I want to be!”

  “You’re messing with the family name...the name that I gave you!” he sneered. “We are one of the most prominent families in Mt. Vernon. Your sister has been accepted into Johns Hopkins. What you’ve done, the way that you’re living, is a disgrace to our family!”

  I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. I don’t understand where my dad comes up with these long winded speeches. It’s like he’s read some outdated book on raising sons. How can I be such a disgrace to the family when all I’m doing is playing a little music?

  “That’s great for Sara. I’m really happy for her because that’s what she’s always wanted. I don’t want that!”

  “What you want doesn’t matter because you don’t know what the hell you want,” my dad yelled.

  “Doug, calm down a little before you have a stroke. Aiden, do not antagonize your father. You are coming home and that’s the end of this. We’ll decide what you’re going to do when we get there. Just go start packing.”

  I got frustrated...and mad. “Okay, what part of ‘I’m not leaving’ are you guys not getting? I’m not going back there. You can’t force me. I am an adult,” I reminded them.

  “How are you going to take care of yourself, Aiden?” My mother looked around the messy apartment and frowned. “And don’t tell me you can take care of yourself because you haven’t been doing a very good job of it.”

  I shrugged. I’ve always known that my parents wouldn’t approve of my apartment. It’s nothing like their immaculate five-bedroom house in Mt. Vernon with the manicured front lawn and in ground pool in the back. My apartment screams “STARVING ARTIST”. Of course they’d hate it.

  “I’ve managed, Mom.” I tried to my best to sound confident, to reassure my mother that I’m going to be okay even though my bank account is dwindling. Not playing at Rabbit’s is starting to hurt my pockets.

  “But how will you continue to manage?” she asked pointedly. “I’ve checked your bank account. You have no money?”

  I made a mental note to switch banks.

  “Dina, don’t worry about him!” my father interrupted. “That’s what you want, right Aiden? You’re going to do whatever the hell you want to do, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Aiden...” my mom uttered mournfully.

  I had enough. Her mournful sigh took me right over the edge.

  “What?” I yelled. “Jesus! You guys are acting like I shaved my head and joined a cult! All I did was quit college to do something that I want to do, something that I’m good at. I’m doing this. Deal with it!”

  I immediately recognized the angry gleam in my dad’s eyes. I’ve seen it more times that I care to remember.

  “Deal with it?” he repeated. “I swear to Christ, Aiden Anthony Tyler, I will not support this decision in any way. No son of mine is going to be living in the projects with gangsters and spics with no money and no education, trying to live out a fucking fantasy.”

  “I’m only going to give you one more chance, Aiden. If you choose this path, if this is what you really want to do with your life, then understand that you are turning your back on everything that your mother and I have tried to give you. Know that you are giving up everything, and I do mean everything, to fulfill your dream. Know that if you choose thi
s path, you will be on your own...completely.”

  Another speech from his book of bad parenting speeches.

  “You’ll be on our own...completely.”

  “You are giving up everything.”

  Whatever. His threatening words don’t scare me. I already knew he’d threaten me with this. All he ever has to dangle like a carrot is money and status, two things that I will gain on my own...through my music.

  “I’m staying,” I finally stated after a long moment of silence. “I’m not doing this to deliberately hurt you guys, but I need to do this. Dad, just come here me play,” I pleaded. “You’ll see that I’m good.”

  “Let’s go, Dina.” My father completely ignored my plea. He grabbed my mother’s hand and pulled her to the door.

  “Doug, wait,” she protested feebly. “He’s your son.”

  He shook his head as he walked out of the door. “My son wouldn’t do this to me. This is not my son.”

  “Doug!” my mom cried but it didn’t matter. He was already halfway down the walkway.

  My mother pleaded with me, begged me to reconsider. When I wouldn’t budge she called out to my father, sitting in their rental car with the engine running. She kept looking back and forth between me and my dad, torn between the two of us.

  I’ve already made my decision. My father has made his. Now she has to decide whose side to take, who she’d be loyal to, her rebellious son or her husband. In the end, she did exactly what she’s always done. She picked up her purse off the loveseat and gave me a tight hug and kiss. I felt her wet cheek pressed against mine and hugged her back. I love my mother. Making her cry makes me feel like a horrible person.

  “Mom, I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Go home with dad. Try to make him see that I’m not wrong. If you can’t, I’ll understand.” It was a total lie. I will never understand why my dad can’t see things my way.

  Despite our tense relationship, I do love my father. I just wish he’d open his mind a little and accept me for who I am, not what he wants me to be. Even if he doesn’t like that path that I’ve chosen, I’m still his son, his only son, his flesh and blood. I’m the only one who will continue to carry on the Tyler name. He can’t stay mad at me forever.

  But when I stepped out on my patio and watched my parents drive out of the parking lot I couldn’t help but feeling that I wouldn’t be seeing my parents for a very long time.

  Have I really turned my back on my family?

  I hope not. What will I do without the only people in the world who love me?

  Chapter 14

  “Aiden,” the girl lying next to me whispered in my ear again. “Someone’s at your door.

  I groaned and rolled over. The bright red digital numbers on my alarm clock told me it was too late for visitors.

  The soft knocking continued as I struggled into a pair of sweatpants and tried to remember the blonde girl’s name.

  Kimmie...Candy...

  Cammie!

  “I’ll be back.”

  I stumbled to the door and opened it. Standing on the other side, dressed in all black, like a midnight marauder, was Sunny, holding a six pack of Guinness. She smiled sheepishly.

  “I know it’s late but I’m just getting home from work and...” she paused.

  “And what, Sunny?” I didn’t feel like dealing with her. Too much tequila, too many beers, and too many cigarettes over the last couple of days had me feeling woozy.

  “Paulie called me,” she said. “Aunt Kat too. No one’s heard from you, Aiden. They’re worried about you.”

  “For what? No one needs to be worried about me. I’m fine.”

  “Come on, Aiden. Have a beer with me. I’m too wired to go to sleep right now.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the apartment barefoot and shirtless.

  She opened her apartment door and allowed me to walk in first. I’ve never actually been inside of Sunny’s apartment. She always makes me stand outside.

  The first thing I noticed was that every wall in Sunny’s apartment was painted a different color, ranging from lime green to neon blue...every color of the rainbow, electrified. It totally threw me off. How could this mean girl live in such a colorful place and not smile every once in awhile?

  Rolls of fabric of all different textures and colors were strewn about haphazardly. What should have been her living room looked like Joann’s Fabric Store.

  Her apartment is bigger than mine. I wonder how much she pays for rent because I can definitely use something bigger so that I can start recording. I can’t afford studio time but if I had a bigger apartment I could transform the living room or a second bedroom into recording space.

  She told me to make myself comfortable, an impossible task because I didn’t want to be there. I just wanted to go back downstairs, put what’s her name out and go back to bed. Didn’t seem like that’s an option though, so I looked around for a place to sit.

  I discovered a comfortable looking sofa buried beneath tons of fabric swatches, patterns, and fashion magazines. I pushed them to the side and sat down. Sunny handed me a beer and plopped down on a purple bean bag chair across from the couch.

  “What’s up with you, Aiden? Why is everyone so worried?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and took a swig of the strong beer. “Did you rob a fabric store?”

  She laughed. “No. I design clothes in my spare time. I’m a stylist every other hour of the day. I’m trying to start my own line.”

  “That explains it,” I chuckled. “I’ve never seen you dressed in the same shit these girls around here wear. You make your own clothes, right?”

  “Most of them. Don’t try to change the subject. What’s up with you? Paulie said something about you and your parents had a fight a couple of weeks ago and you quit Rabbit’s. I thought you liked playing there.”

  “I did like it, but some people didn’t like me playing there, like Jerry and his son.”

  “Some people are just haters,” she said. “Crabs in a bucket. You can’t let people hold you down, Aiden. If you’re going to be a musician, you better toughen up.”

  “I’m fine,” I repeated. “Rabbit’s isn’t the only blues spot in town. I’ve been getting gigs.” I gulped down the rest of my beer and reached for another. If I’m going to lie, I might as well get drunk doing so.

  I haven’t had a decent gig in weeks. At every bar that I’ve been to, the owner or bandleader took one look at the color of my skin and laughed me right out of the club.

  “Nobody wants to hear a white boy tryin’ to play the blues.”

  “The blues ain’t happenin’ right now.”

  All I hear is “No” everywhere I go. The only time I ever pick up my guitar to play for the public is in coffee houses, sitting on a chair...no band, no speakers, no amps. Just me, my acoustic, a microphone, and a bunch of people not really paying attention. To them, I’m just background noise. I am bored out of my mind so I spend my nights bar hopping and picking up random girls. I didn’t think anyone noticed the downward spiral I’m on, especially not Kat.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sunny can be very persistent and slightly annoying.

  “I’m fine. Why do you care anyway? You never have before.”

  “Actually, I don’t,” she grinned. “I’m just doing a favor for my aunt and your best friend. I see and hear you stumbling in here late at night with a different airhead on your arm every night. I told them you’re fine but they don’t believe me.”

  “Thanks for the concern,” I told her. “You can tell Paulie and Kat that everything is okay.”

  “Tell them yourself. My good deed is done. I was asked to make sure you hadn’t hung yourself or something stupid like that. Even though getting drunk and screwing random chicks every night is stupid, it’s normal for you. Paulie wants you to call him anyway. He said he has some good news for you and you look like you could use some good news too. And a shower and shave,” she added.

  She yawned. “I’m going to bed. Go back to yo
ur flavor of the month.”

  I got up and walked to the door. Sunny didn’t budge from the comfort of her beanbag chair.

  “Don’t forget to call your friend. I’m not gonna be happy if he calls me again,” she mumbled.

  I called Paulie the next day, after I took Cammie home. I was lying on the couch with a bowl of Lucky Charms and was watching cartoons when I remembered that he wanted me to call him. His roommate said he was in class and would tell him that I called.

  I’d taken out my acoustic and was contemplating some melodies in my head when Paulie burst through my front door, excited and out of breath. I almost dropped my guitar.

  “Dude, what the fuck!” I yelled.

  “Sorry. But I got some news,” he said. “And by the way, where the hell have you been? I haven’t heard from you in weeks. What happened after your parents left?”

  “I’ve been around. How’d you get over here?”

  “MARTA. But anyway,” he said, returning to the original topic of discussion, a subject that I’m not comfortable discussing with anyone...my parents’ visit.

  “You never called me back after your parents left. Have you talked to them since then?”

  I shook my head. Truthfully I’ve been afraid to call home. My parents were so angry with me when they left that I figured I’d give them a few days to calm down before I called to try and explain my decision..again. But a few days had quickly turned into a couple of weeks and no phone call was made. They haven’t called either.

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” I told Paulie. “Why’d you send Sunny down here to check on me?”

  He laughed. “She’s the only one I could call.”

  “So, what’s this big news you actually took MARTA to come over here and tell me about?”

  “You remember that kid we used to play with, Aaron?”

  I made a face. Of course I remember Aaron.

  “What about him?”

  “He’s here in Atlanta. He’s the drummer with a band called PURE.”

  “Never heard of them,” I replied. He could have called me with this news.