by Mae, Amelia
My voice trails off as I imagine navigating foreign cities in languages I don’t understand, checking into backpacker hostels, and finding little hidden gems in each city. Stopping for an espresso at a cafe in Tuscany or a pastry in a Parisienne patisserie.
Sure, it triggers my anxiety. But it excites me too. Way more than the idea of sitting in a classroom does.
“You’re getting dreamy,” Kelvin mocks.
“Sorry.”
“Jane,” Dean says gently, “I think you know what you really want to do here.”
“It’s not practical,” I argue. Even if Dean is right.
“No offense, but neither is a degree in the arts,” he replies. “Trust me. I work two day jobs.”
I laugh.
“When are you ever going to get an opportunity to do something like this ever again in your life, Jane?” Kelvin asks. “The time is right. The money is there. I think you need to do this.”
“I… I’ll think about it.”
Before we can discuss it any further, the three of us are shocked by the sudden intrusion of a Lady Gaga song in the middle of the peaceful, traditional music playing in the restaurant. Dean’s phone.
“It’s Dylan,” he says, clearly not expecting a call from his cousin, “I’ll be right back.” He politely takes the call outside.
“Wonder what that’s about,” Kelvin says.
“Yeah.”
And I wonder why he called Dean instead of me.
“I’m sorry he couldn’t make it tonight,” Kelvin continues. “Dylan’s a good guy. I kind of like you two together. It’s very opposites-attract.”
I kind of nod, but my mind is in the alley with Dean and whatever Dylan is telling him on the phone.
When Dean finally comes back, he looks concerned.
“I took care of the check,” he announces. He turns to Kelvin “We have to go. Jane, can I call you a Lyft?”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“Bullshit. Tell me,” I demand.
“Dylan’s drunk,” he answers reluctantly. “Like… really drunk and he needs some help getting home.”
“I’m going with you.”
“Jane, I think it’s best if you sit this one out,” Dean says. “It’s not going to be pretty. He’s… saying a lot of things.”
“I can handle it,” I assure him. “I’m coming too.”
Dean doesn’t argue.
The three of us head to some little bar nearby where Dylan is sitting at a high-top table by himself, slumped over but not passed out or anything.
He blinks when he sees me.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“Nice to see you too,” I say, sarcastically.
“No, I…” he starts. “You’re not supposed to see me like this.”
“Consider it payback.”
The guys help Dylan off of his stool, make sure that he pays his tab and leaves the poor waitress a hefty tip. Then the four of us pile into Dean’s car and take Dylan back to his apartment.
Once safely inside, I force Dylan to drink several glasses of water and put on a pot of coffee.
“Don’t blame me if this is terrible,” I warn him. “This is some high-tech, spaceship of a coffee maker.”
He doesn’t laugh.
I insist that Kelvin and Dean leave us. They tell me to call them if I need anything.
I fix two cups of coffee and hand one to Dylan. He doesn’t drink it, but after the water and some toast, he looks a little steadier on his feet.
“What’s going on?” I ask bluntly.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Try again,” I say. “Not buying it.”
Dylan tosses himself down on the couch. I sit on the armchair and curl my legs up underneath myself and wait for him to elaborate.
“Cora’s pregnant,” he mutters.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.”
I picture Cora with her little baby bump, and Ian holding her hand and taking her to the doctor and whatnot. They’re so in love with each other, and now they’re having a child…
“No it’s not.”
Well. Daydream buzzkill.
“Does she not want children?” I ask, surprised, “because I got the impression that…”
“No, she and Ian are fucking thrilled,” he says, “but it means that the band is done for.”
“What? Say Yes is breaking up?”
“We haven’t officially,” Dylan says, “but I’m sure that’s where we’re headed.”
“What makes you think that?”
“We were supposed to leave for our first international tour right after the new year, Jane. This is the biggest fucking deal.”
“There will be another tour,” I assure him.
“No, we’re on top of the world right now. This is the moment to do this. Strike while the iron is hot and all,” he insists. “But Ian says he won’t leave Cora and the baby.”
“Can you get a temporary replacement drummer?”
“You don’t get it,” he continues. “As soon as Ian told us his news, Shawn was looking like he couldn’t wait to get home and knock up his girlfriend. Jack might too someday. It was like they were all planning to move on and do their own things. Like the band didn’t matter.”
“I’m sure it’s not..”
“This is why I wanted to be a solo act in the first place. I didn’t want to deal with other people’s bullshit.”
“Cora and Ian’s baby is hardly bullshit, Dylan,” I scold him.
“But we were so fucking close,” Dylan says, mournfully, “and now it’s never going to happen.”
“Close to what?”
Dylan looks at me as if to say if you have to ask, you just don’t get it.
Fine.
“Can’t you just move everything back a year?”
“That’s not how it works, Jane.”
Something about his pedantic, patronizing tone makes me livid.
“Oh, no, Dylan,” I start. “No one person in the history of humanity has ever attempted to balance a work with their personal lives. Oh yeah, duh, people do it every fucking day. And you’re acting like your whole fucking career is over just because you have to adjust your plans to accommodate someone.”
Dylan shakes his head no.
“You have the right idea, Jane,” he says.
“About what?”
“You should always just go it alone,” he clarifies. “You don’t need anyone.”
Okay, now I feel like fire is coursing through my veins.
“Are you fucking serious?” I shout. “You have a band that loves you, a family back home that wants to reconnect, and a whole community of people who want you in their lives. Not to mention the millions of fans.”
“Big deal.”
“It is a big fucking deal.”
Dylan makes a derisive noise. “You sound jealous.”
“I’m terribly fucking jealous. I’m not alone by choice, Dylan,” I tell him. “People in my life actively chose to leave me behind.”
He says nothing. He knows I’m right.
“You’re alone because you push people away. And right now because you’re being selfish.”
Dylan takes a throw pillow and covers his face with it to block out the late evening glare.
“You don’t understand,” he mumbles.
I stand up. I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense. Confident that Dylan isn’t going to be a danger to himself or anyone else, I make my way to the door.
“You’re right, I don’t understand,” I tell him. “I don’t understand why you’re like this. Not at all.”
21
Jane
The next morning, I get a text from Julia inviting me a My Hero show at some club downtown. Over the next few weeks, I join her and Nikki for drinks several times. Then once for a movie and two other times to go shopping. They’re sweet and right away, I feel like part of their little group.
Tonight
, we’re in Nikki’s apartment, hanging out in her living room, assembling favors for Cora’s surprise baby shower. Her boyfriend Jack is out somewhere with the guys I’m assuming.
“I kind of can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt,” Nikki says, smiling. “I mean, really, I can’t believe Ian’s going to have a kid. My brother once got so drunk that he fell ass-first into a wall and went straight through the thin plaster, and we had this giant ass-shaped hole in the wall for the better part of a decade. And now that guy is going to be a dad.”
“Remember the time he and Shawn got shit-faced and passed out on your front lawn?” Julia adds.
“Oh God. That poor baby,” Nikki groans. “And poor Cora. She’s stuck with him.”
“He seems like a pretty nice guy,” I chime in.
“Oh, he is,” Nikki says quickly. “He’s a good man and a great brother. Well, now that he’s grown up.”
“Good.”
“It’s just… Ian’s going to be a father.” She sounds bewildered. “Fuck.”
Nikki looks around the room, counting the assorted gift bags and looking at the wealth of party decorations to be put up. Much to Jack’s apparent dismay, they’re throwing the shower in his and Nikki’s living room.
“We’ve got plenty of stuff for mimosas and Bloody Marys,” she says. “There’s tequila and other hard stuff if people want. And we got a case of cider for you, Jane.”
“For me?”
“You’re coming to this thing,” she says. “You’re part of this now.”
“I am?” I ask, surprised. “I mean, Dylan and I are kind of fighting. We haven’t spoken in a few days.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, are we in seventh grade and can’t be friends because we chose sides after a fight?” Julia asks. She’s teasing, clearly. “Like Nikki said, you’re part of this.”
I don’t want to reveal to them how much that means to me. I don’t want to dork out on them too much like that and make them uncomfortable. But it means a lot to me that I’m here. That they consider me a friend.
“What did happen with Dylan?” Julia asks.
I sigh.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she assures me.
“No, it’s… he thinks the band is breaking up.”
“What?” Nikki gasps.
“I probably shouldn’t have said that,” I say, hoping that I didn’t just overstep. “He just thinks that with the baby on the way and the tour having to be postponed, that everyone’s going to go off and do their own thing. No more Say Yes.”
“That’s insane,” Nikki says. “So they take a year off from touring. They’ll still record. They’ll still play shows.”
“I think he was looking forward to the ‘international tour’ aspect of it all,” I tell her. “For whatever reason, that was what really would have confirmed for him that he made it. That the band made it.
Nikki and Julia murmur their agreement.
“It’s selfish, isn’t it?” I ask.
“It is,” Nikki answers carefully, “but I get where it comes from.”
“Huh?”
Right. I have to remember that there’s still so much of Dylan’s life story that I don’t know yet.
“Dylan’s dad is a doctor,” Nikki says, “and his mom is a professor. A few of his siblings have high-powered jobs too. One of his sisters is some big-shot prosecutor and his brother is a plastic surgeon who has done work some celebrities and stuff. Point is that Dylan really disappointed his family when he decided he wanted to be a musician.”
“Really? But he’s so successful now.”
“He wasn’t always,” Nikki continues. “His parents cut him off and refused to support him. They hoped he’s come around and do something more practical with his life. As far as I know, they’re still not speaking.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. So every one of Say Yes’s successes was just a tiny little fuck you to the people who doubted him. I think he’s afraid of losing that edge.”
“Hm…” I muse. “I get it. But I still think it’s dumb.”
“Really?”
“I won’t go into the whole sob story right now, but my mother turned her back on me when I was young and cut me out of her life,” I say, “but if she called me tomorrow and wanted to apologize and ask for a second chance, I’d give it to her. That’s just what you do.”
“I hear you, but I don’t think it’s that easy to just up and forgive someone,” Nikki adds. “My dad walked out when I was a baby. If he came back tomorrow, I don’t think I could just have coffee with him and tell him it was okay.”
“Oh, I’d make her work for it,” I assure Nikki, “but I’d give her another chance.
Nikki nods and continues stuffing the gift bags. Julia is quiet, and I hope I haven’t touched on a nerve of hers.
“Do you think that you and Dylan will be able to figure your shit out?” Julia asks, changing the subject. “I mean, I don’t know how serious you were or anything.”
“I have no idea. And, I mean, I might not be around too much longer.”
“What? Where are you going?”
I explain the long sordid story of finally being about to receive my inheritance.
“And I’ve pretty much decided to finally go on the trip I’ve been planning for… forever really,” I conclude. “I have the money and the time is right. If I can plan this all the way I hope too, I’m going to leave right after Christmas.”
“That’s amazing,” Nikki says. “But that’s not enough reason to call things off with Dylan.”
“You’re coming back, right?” Julia asks.
“Yeah. Of course. L.A. is my home now.”
“Jane, December is months away. There’s no reason that you and Dylan can’t figure it out before the trip. Or see each other after.”
“Maybe,” I concede.
It’s hard to explain. Dylan and I have some pretty irreconcilable ideas about the importance of community in our lives. I don’t know if I can be with someone who is determined to push everyone away.
Because one day, it’ll be me.
22
Dylan
I spend the next week or so crawling out of my skin. I’m not usually an anxious guy, but the worry and the tension is eating me alive. If the band dissolves, what does that mean for me?
Say Yes’s fourth album, Stung, has outsold its predecessor by nearly double, the singles are climbing the charts and our last national tour was a huge success. Now is the perfect time to up the ante and go international. If we postpone the tour for a year, there’s no guarantee we will still be riding the high that we are right now.
I call a meeting with Christian. A one-on-one meeting. To discuss my career options and to voice my concerns.
“I’m not too worried, Dylan,” he says, to my utter surprise.
“You’re not?”
“No,” he assures me, “normally, I’d be livid that a band wants to defy my plans and put off such a major milestone, but I actually think that having the fourth album drop and then immediately start working on a fifth could prove… okay.”
“We’re not shooting for okay.”
“It won’t be the complete disaster I think that you’re envisioning.”
“I just…”
“Listen,” he continues, “we’re actually taking a pretty interesting marketing approach that Julia suggested. We’re going to start you guys playing underground, less publicized venues. Kind of like secret shows. True fans only stuff.”
“Okay…”
“Of course, we’ll book some shows in major cities to satisfy the arena crowds, but we’re going to get you into some more places that are off the beaten path too. So you guys can kind of reconnect with your indie roots.”
“I’m listening,” I tell him.
“Then, provided that the fifth album sells as well as the fourth, and no one else gets knocked up, we start a national tour that’ll be about six months long and then we take it oversea
s,” he says, looking very proud of himself.
I have to admit that it does sound good. I’m almost appeased. Almost.
“So are you okay then?” Christian asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “Quite frankly, Ian is going have a kicking, screaming, pooping infant a year from now and probably won’t be any more likely to want to go on a long tour. I’m sure that Shawn and Aya are thinking about kids. Nikki and Jack might even be trying the knot soon. Pushing everything back a year might solve things right now, but who knows what we’re going to be going through next year?”
Christian looks a little frustrated.
“Dylan,” he starts, “is that what this is really about?”
“What?”
“Is this really about the tour and the fame and the numbers?” he asks. “Or is this about the fact that three quarters of your band is practically married off and you’re the only single one left?”
“Excuse me?”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I think you’re the one with the right idea,” he assures me. “That whole life is for schmucks. People like you and me. We’re living the dream.”
Christian gives me a satisfied smile. look around at his nouveaux-riche decor and his sleazy bachelor pad. And, of course, Petunia.
Ick. Just… ick.
“So what do you want to do?” he asks. I guess I’ve been quiet for too long.
“I don’t know, maybe…” I hate that I’m about to say this, but it has been on my mind for awhile. “Try some solo stuff.”
“Really?” he asks. “You’re thinking of ditching the band.”
“No. Not, like, permanently, anyway,” I clarify. “Just, you know, making sure that we stay in the spotlight.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dylan.”
“And why not?”
Christian puts his feet up on the coffee table and clasps his hands behind his head. He’s about to deliver an I know better than you do speech, and I already know it’s going to piss me off.
“It’s going to upset your fans, first of all,” he starts. “They’re going to think the band is breaking up. Secondly, it’s going to create so much tension between you and the guys in a band that has surprisingly little drama surrounding it.”