by Jamie Ayres
Sighing, I flipped open my laptop and typed another blog, keeping time.
I feel small and tired today. Forget today, how about every day. Things have been so tough in my life lately, and I can’t remember when life was good. Minute by minute, I struggle not to think of the accident. I wish I had courage to face tomorrow. I wish I had peace over what happened. I wish I felt like there was a purpose to my life.
Right after Conner died, I thought I’d never go on, like the only thing ahead of me was suffering, loss, grief. Then I started my life list. The 18 Things helped push me toward a goal, but now I feel like all my dreams have fallen flat. I’ve worked hard all my life, but what’s the use? Things didn’t work out for me. I don’t know how to handle all this grief. Before Conner’s accident, if someone would’ve asked me what the most powerful weapon in the world was, I wouldn’t have known the answer. I might’ve guessed a nuclear bomb. A knife in the hands of your enemy. A United States Marine and his gun. A missile. But now, I know the answer with absolute certainty: the most destructive force isn’t anything you can hold physically with your hands, it’s something you hold in your heart. It’s a tiny five-letter word, not even hard to pronounce: g-u-i-l-t. It kills you slowly from the inside out, and there are no drugs to numb the pain.
I almost typed, ‘I would know,’ but I also felt too guilty about that incident to even admit to the deed. The only people who knew about it were my parents and Nicole. I sighed, pounding the keyboard while I summed up my thoughts.
Sometimes I’m tempted to daydream about my future, then I stop myself, wondering if the future is really in my hands. Life is so not fair.
“Life is so not fair,” Mom repeated over my shoulder, making me jump.
I hit the post button and then shut my laptop with a little more force than necessary. “You wanna argue with me about that, too?”
She sat next to me and took hold of my hand. “I have your father as a husband and you as a daughter, so anyone would be hard pressed convincing me life is all unfair. You just need time to heal. And that’s okay. But I think everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t see the why just now.”
I cleared my throat, so over the ‘everything happens for a reason’ right now. “Yeah, well, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go.”
Sean pulled his truck into the last parking spot in front of Buffalo Bob’s skate shop downtown, and Nicole was forced to Parallel Park her Civic on a side street nearby. All sorts of folks were packed in the blocked off areas. Nate and Kyle helped Sean gather the band gear out of the trunk, while the girls helped me retrieve my supplies. During my time spent in Mom’s Boot Camp, I bought a box of thirty plain red T-shirts and another box of thirty plain blue T-shirts. I experimented in Photoshop and created different iron-ons featuring angry chimps and the name of the band. I wanted to see how they sold tonight at twelve bucks a piece. Increasing their fan base was my first step in helping Cantankerous Monkey Squad land a record deal.
I arranged the shirts on the table the event coordinators set up for me, and Tammy came over to help.
“So what’s with the hippy skirt you’re wearing tonight? New look?” she asked.
I harrumphed. “Kind of. Mom let me borrow it. Her old hippie look matches the band better than any clothes I own, and I wanted to dress the part since I’m selling these shirts.”
I tugged my own Cantankerous Monkey Squad shirt over my stomach, admiring the logo I designed.
Tammy blew a bubble, and the gum popped in her face. She wiped off the sticky substance with her hand.
“Nice,” I said.
She laughed. “Just like that skirt.”
I fluffed my hair with my newly polished fingernails. “Well, at least my hair and nails look great for once. Nicole helped me get ready when she came to pick me up.”
Tapping manicured nails on the table, Tammy said, “Totally hot. And you can still wear cool jewelry even if your clothes suck. Come and look at this stuff.”
She dragged me to a tent where necklaces dangled from an Eiffel Tower Jewelry Stand. “Check this one out.”
Tammy held out a blue glass pendant on a sterling silver necklace with a diamond in the middle.
“It’s beautiful.” I searched for the tag, then whistled at the five-hundred dollar price. “Wish I could afford it. It’d probably be the only diamond I ever get.”
She unclasped the necklace, then held it around my neck so I could see what it looked like in the tiny mirror mounted on the canvas. “Nonsense. And you should splurge. I never see you spending any money you earn from the bookstore.”
A flush crept across my cheeks as I caught a wistful look from Nate in the mirror. I hadn’t seen him standing there.
I cleared my throat. “Nah. I’m saving money for college. But what do you say you, me, and Nicole grab a bite to eat before Battle of the Bands starts?”
“Sounds perfect,” Nicole said from behind.
I glanced at the table where she taped her poster advertising our T-shirt sales.
“Your bubble letters haven’t changed a bit since third grade,” I said as she steered our little group toward the sub shop. “And do we really need to eat at the Pavilion Wharf Pizza and Sub Shop again? We go there on our lunch break almost every day.”
“Hello? A submarine sandwich is a very fitting meal for the Coast Guard Festival.”
The automatic door slid open, and we all sailed in, the sky behind us as blue as the sea.
We got so wrapped up in our convo at dinner that we almost missed the start of the boys set. I took my seat in Waterfront Stadium as Kyle picked up his sticks, ready for their first song. The guys looked adorable in their matching ensembles: frayed jeans, a mixture of red and blue Cantankerous Monkey Squad shirts, tweed jackets they found at a thrift store, and a pair of two dollar reading glasses they bought at The Bookman. After their self-titled song, I shifted the water bottle I held to underneath my arm, then clapped with the rest of the captive audience. They adjusted some of the settings before the next and final song while I snarfed down the bag of SunChips left over from my value meal.
They announced they were ready and the small crowd cheered, clearly the hometown favorite.
“Thanks for your patience. I’m Nate. On electric guitar, we have Sean, and on drums, we have Kyle. To our right, you can buy the CD. It’s underneath the green tent with white stripes. Also, starting today, we have available the newly handmade Cantankerous Monkey Squad shirts. Olga, stand up, please, so we can thank you properly for all your hard work.”
I wanted to crawl underneath a slide, as I did when I was in kindergarten, and make myself small, then wait for Conner to rescue me. All eyes trained on me, and suddenly, I found the ground very interesting. At least I had my merchandise table to hide behind.
“This next song is titled Return.” Nate’s ocean blue eyes rolled in the back of his head, reminding me of Conner’s death.
Shivers tingled down my spine.
Several girls to my left held up their hands, swaying to the music and batting their eyelashes at the guys, like real groupies. The entire crowd forgot about their lawn chairs and danced around, a blur of red, white, and blue, complete with a standing ovation as the cymbals hummed the last note.
The crowd cheered and clapped.
Nate found me and stared, but a guy to my left distracted me, repeatedly yelling, “Yeah, baby!”
Clapping my hands, I joined his praise, and for some reason, I felt compelled to speak with him. “Seems you liked what you heard.”
He nodded and took a sip from his red solo cup. “They are really entertaining. There aren’t a whole lot of young bands that can play well and still be interesting to watch live.”
I rocked back and forth on my heels and checked him out. He wore a red spandex muscle shirt, but I tried not to hold that against him because I got a hunch this guy was someone important. “My name’s Olga. I’m kinda like their groupie. Uh, not in every sense of the word. I make their T-shirts.�
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I wiped the chip grease onto Mom’s skirt, then held out my hand.
His handshake was firm. “I’m Alan. I scout out talent at different events like Music Walk and Battle of the Bands.”
A girl walked by, distributing a business ad in the form of a hand-fan made from heavy cardstock and a light wood handle like a Popsicle stick, which reminded me how Conner and I could go through a whole box of Creamsicles on a summer day like this. I wondered if he had anything to do with this serendipitous meeting with Alan. “So, do you like, work for a record label?”
He nodded. “Yes, for a small, independent label Mixed Tape.”
Taking another sip of water and fanning myself, I tried to keep my cool as I felt the perfect timing of divine intervention clicking together. “So, are you gonna offer them a record deal?”
Wind blew a thick cloud of his bad cologne my way and I coughed as he cocked his head to the side and smiled. “I wish. I don’t have that kind of clout. I can only meet with the band and report what I like to my boss. If he thinks they’re sellable, then he’ll tell me to set up a gig for them so he can see them play. If he likes them, that’s when the ball starts rolling.”
The guys cleared their equipment from the stage, and Nate stepped up to the microphone. “We’re Cantankerous Monkey Squad. Don’t forget to like us on Facebook and check out a bonus track on YouTube. And go buy a T-shirt! Peace out.”
“Well, duty calls,” I said, holding out my hand to Alan.
His cell phone rang, and he mumbled a ‘Nice meeting you,’ then took off.
A warm glow spread throughout my body as I headed toward the tent. Nicole and Tammy helped me for the next two hours, but I was too excited for the band to think straight. Making correct change proved too difficult for my brain.
“Who’s talking to the band?” Nicole asked, accepting a twenty from someone, then she handed them back a five and three ones, completing the sale of the last T-shirt.
I couldn’t believe we sold out.
I spied the guys talking to Alan by the stage and smiled. “Number three on my list.”
We gathered the tin full of money and the now empty boxes and then headed back to the stadium seating. Twelve bands performed two songs each, and now they were ready to crown the new winner.
“Thank you,” the lead singer from last year’s winning band announced as the huge crowd screamed. “First, on behalf of the promoter for this event, Big Jimbo, I’d like to thank our five local celeb judges. They stepped up to volunteer for the impossible task of choosing the top three performances. Today’s extremely talented bands came from all over the country.
“All three will take home a cash prize, but top dog will also leave with some free studio recording time. Third prize, all the way from Cleveland, is Jasperwal. Second place, from just across the lake in Milwaukee, Under the Joshua Tree.”
Weird both band names are references from the Bible.
“And first place, from right here in Grand Haven, our very own Cantankerous Monkey Squad.”
I closed my eyes, appreciating the applause and all the support the band earned from the community, and I wished Conner experienced this achievement with me. After a minute, I looked around Waterfront Stadium, the setting sun shining the last of its rays on the stage.
I sighed at the official end of summer, and prayed I didn’t get any death threats tomorrow.
“If you’re going to do something tonight
that you’ll be sorry for tomorrow morning,
sleep late.”
—Henny Youngman
In déjà vu fashion, school was the last place I wanted to be. I dressed for the first day of my senior year in a mesh Michigan football jersey and a pair of skinny jeans. Nicole had taken pity on me and brought me a new outfit yesterday when she picked me up for the festival.
Looking out across our back porch, I noticed the ducks waiting by the pond for their bread or cheerios. Since I hadn’t much company this summer, I’d taken it upon myself to feed them as part of my morning routine. Leaving them high and dry just because I was returning to school seemed cruel. I grabbed a bagel, ripped it into pieces, then threw them into our backyard while repeating a pep talk Dr. Judy gave me at our emergency session on Saturday. First, she told me to list all my blessings to help stay focused on the positive. Okay, good things. The Jedi Order, newspaper, The Bookman, books, coffee, a second chance, the beach, Jesus, school. School? Somehow school worked itself into my subconscious. Well, Dr. Judy said challenges are our real opportunities to know who we are and what we have the potential to be. If I could get through this year, the next one would be easier—it had to be. I had to press on and finish the race of high school, so I could apply for tons of scholarships this year. College was my only ticket out of here.
Nicole’s clicking high heels snapped me out of my reverie. “Oh, you look truly amazing in the jersey!”
I gave her a hug. “Thanks. Whoever bought it for me must have really good taste.”
“I totally do. It’s all sexy with attitude on you.”
Mom approached from behind and cleared her throat, as if she couldn’t stand to hear the word sexy describing her daughter. “Hello, Nicole. Olga, you girls should hurry so you’re not late.”
She poured herself a cup of coffee and clinked her spoon against the mug. I grabbed my backpack off the floor and clutched some books in front of me like a security blanket. Not one goodbye between us, like these past five months taught us nothing at all.
We headed toward Nicole’s shiny, silver Honda Civic in the parking lot, and Nic studied me the whole way. “What’s with the tone and glare? Your mom still mad about us sneaking out?”
I nodded. “Did you forget who my mom is? If there was a world record for grudge holding, she’d be listed in Guinness.”
“Man, parents really suck.”
“That may be the truest statement you’ve ever made. Ready to roll?”
She smiled and swaggered to the driver’s side, keys in hand. “Let’s go meet my peoplez!”
I laughed at our contradictive emotions. I couldn’t feel any less enthusiastic.
When I walked through the front doors with Nicole, everyone stared at me.
“I have a really big nose,” I told her, joining everyone else’s whispers.
Slamming lockers echoed through the hallway, making me jittery.
“What? No, you don’t. You have a strong nose.”
I blinked and swallowed the lump rising in my throat. “I was just trying to delude myself into thinking they’re gossiping about some other aspect of my life. But you really think my nose is strong? What does that mean?”
She laughed, but I held out my hand and she grasped my fingers, keeping me near, keeping me safe. A memorial plaque with Conner’s school photo on it hung on the wall to my right, a poem about Heaven beside the picture. Suddenly this place didn’t feel like a high school anymore. It felt like a funeral home.
My body shook, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
“S.T.A.R.,” came Tammy’s perky voice behind me. “Turn around and open your eyes. You’re about to become yesterday’s news, baby.”
Two girls who’d always hung out with Tammy last year walked in together, each sporting a preggo bump.
A small gasp escaped my lips. “Baby is right.”
“God bless them both,” Nicole blurted.
I turned to Tammy. “Did you know already?”
She shook her head and put her hand on mine, then pulled me down the hall. “Nope. They’ve been M.I.A. this summer; guess now we know why. It appears everyone is just finding out. I bet they got themselves knocked up at prom. They hooked up with some guys from Lakeview that night. Anyway, they should provide a nice distraction from the Conner and Olga gossip for the rest of the year. Plus, that means two less people to compete for a cheerleading spot.”
We spotted Nate, Sean, and Kyle up ahead, standing under a handmade poster for this Friday’s pep ra
lly. A yawning student approached them, then handed Kyle a couple of bucks in exchange for an energy drink. Kyle, always the entrepreneur, started selling them on the down low last year after the school banned energy drinks and sodas from the vending machines.
Nate turned and saw me, his goofy grin warming me from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet.
“Good to see you,” he said.
He was no stranger to The Bookman this summer. Nicole said there was no way he really needed all those books and stuff. She thought he used ‘reading’ as an excuse to see me since I’d been grounded. As I restocked books and dusted shelves, we shared lots of animated conversations about life and dreams. Even when I handled the register for hours, he still stayed near, sharing secret smiles with me over grumpy costumers while he sat in the armchair by the window. The Jedi Order also started our Saturday morning breakfasts at Morning Star Café before my shift. My parents thought I went in early to unload shipments.
The lies came easily now.
My hands felt sweaty, so I stuck them in my pockets. “You, too. Guess Kyle is open for business already?”
Nate nodded, his hair falling over his forehead lower than usual, and I wondered if he planned on ever cutting his locks again. Nate looked like a younger, hotter version of Bono with his dark curls and sideburns. Nicole and Sean locked lips to my left, and Tammy and Kyle did the same thing to my right.
Annoyed with the awkward silence, I shuffled my feet, and my yellow sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floor.