Scar

by P. J. Post

  “Where is she?” Todd asks.

  “Family shit,” I say, taking a long drink.

  “I didn’t know she had family around here. She never talks about them. So what do you want to do in the meantime?” Todd says as he tips back his beer.

  Greg comes out and stands there in his jeans, wife-beater and tennis shoes, kicking at the ground. He hasn’t opened his beer yet.

  I just stare at him with a blank expression.

  Scrotum is a pretty good hardcore punk band but Larry, their singer, is a douche. I pretty much assumed they all were. But I have to admit that Greg is one hell of a drummer. The whole band is pretty good, when they aren’t posing.

  “Should we go in?” Todd encourages.

  I don’t know if the Palomino show is even going to happen. Tonya didn’t inspire me with confidence. I can’t think clearly about anything except her right now. What is this new fucking secret? Where is she going and why does her dad have any say in what she does?

  The audition is suddenly pissing me off. I was hoping it would distract me from my anxieties, but it’s just making matters worse.

  I’m a basket case.

  I nod for them to go inside, but I don’t follow. I sit back down and light another cigarette while I stare down the street watching for Bradford’s BMW.

  It’s not long before I hear Todd’s bass thumping through the wall, and Greg starts warming up, getting the feel of Kevin’s kit.

  Then I hear something that breaks through my melancholy.

  Kevin has a double bass drum set up, but Greg is doing something with it that I never heard Kevin do. I’ve never heard anyone do what I’m hearing now. It’s got a Motorhead vibe. He’s using both feet, one for each pedal, and playing thirty-second notes like a jack hammer, like a loud jackhammer on the kick drums.

  I get up and walk inside.

  “What the hell is that?’ I ask Greg.

  Greg stops and looks at me. “Sorry. It’s just an exercise to tone my calves.”

  “Do it again,” I say.

  He starts up like a metronome on meth and then starts layering subtle syncopated beats over the top. I shake my head to the groove as Todd starts thumping along in time. I ignore my hair as it whips in my face. It’s a driving, in-your-face rhythm. But it’s not like that rock-a-billy shuffle, wailing away on the snare, this is heavier — darker.

  I grab my guitar and flip on my amp. Todd just grins as my amplifier tubes warm up and once I have volume, I de-tune the top E string down to D and palm mute the strings as I start chugging one finger power chords in time.

  This is brutal.

  And I hear this music for what it is — it’s different and yet familiar in a way that makes no sense.

  We’re creating something magical here. If we capture this sound and play it live, our fans are going to go fucking ape shit. All of those kids and our fans that thrash about in those mosh pits, working through their anger and frustration, have no idea what we are about to unleash on them. They’ve never heard anything this heavy before.

  It’s pure energy.

  It’s violent.

  And yet, it’s alluring and tribal — cathartic, like a shaman or priest exercising out the bad mojo in some ancient purging ritual.

  It’s like a long forgotten and primitive addiction that’s been reborn within my soul.

  It’s what Tonya does to my heart.

  It’s funny how losing or even the thought of losing the girl I love sharpens and focuses every memory of her, every flash of those compassionate brown eyes, every gentle laugh and the lingering spark of every touch, as though those sensations, like this music, will never again be separated from my soul.

  I wonder what she’ll think of what we’re doing here today, and I hope she hears what I’m hearing, feels what I’m feeling — if not for me, then for the band and our future.

  My eyes are closed and I’m just following the beat, lost in my head as my fingers create their own path along the fretboard and then drop C suddenly sounds like a better idea — lower tone, heavier sound still.

  I open my eyes and a shot of anxiety jolts me as I notice a movement near the front door. I thought it might be Tonya, but it’s Peg. She’s sitting on the stairs watching us and especially Todd. She’s grinning at him with enthusiastic devotion while she bangs her head in time. I nod and smile and she waves back like a kid might.

  And I know we’ve done a good thing because hope is returning to those dark eyes, like she believes that happiness is real and waiting for her — she has a future.

  And assuming Tonya gets with the program, Ache has a promising future too.

  §§§§§

  I take a break and step back outside into the nearly hundred degree afternoon to watch for Tonya again. It turns out Greg already knows most of our songs, apparently he’s a fan. Todd is working with him on some of the trickier changes and Peg is taking a shower. We decide to wait a little while longer for Tonya and then everyone wants to split and get a late lunch.

  I need to get cleaned up as well, but I feel tethered to the porch, so I plan on begging off from lunch and sticking around here. Besides, the anxiety is churning my stomach and lunch sounds like a bad move anyway.

  I’m barefoot, shirtless and still wearing my 501’s with the top button open. I’m leaning against the brick wall near the front door, holding a beer to the back of my neck while I absently stare down the street. I glance up and shield my eyes against the sun as I slowly burn under its heat. Rivulets of sweat roll across my chest and down my stomach. The sun is hot on my pale skin and it feels like its searing. Another memory revisited and it feels wonderful.

  I see a flash of light and glance back to the road to see the sun’s rays reflecting off chrome. It’s a car I’ve never seen before. A chocolate brown Fiat convertible speeds into the parking lot. The girl driving it looks like a movie star from the 50’s. She has big, dark sunglasses on and her hair is wrapped in a scarf. The car comes to a skidding stop sideways in front of me and the driver’s door opens. Powder blue heels and nyloned legs pivot with schooled grace and then Tonya slides out of the car. She’s wearing a tight, long-sleeved, knee-length dress that matches her shoes.

  Who the fuck is this and what has she done with Tonya? I’m reminded of that movie, Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

  She walks up to me, stops and then looks me up and down.

  This is yet another new fashion statement for her, but regardless of our argument, just seeing her warms my heart more than the sun ever could.

  “Nice car,” I say, grinning.

  She ignores me.

  “Greg, you know the drummer for Scrotum, he’s here to audition. He’s good, and as it turns out, a pretty decent guy,” I say.

  She tips her sunglasses down, revealing those beautiful brown eyes and a reflexive smile spreads across my face as the anxiety begins to melt away.

  “Sorry about yesterday. Should we talk first?” I ask cautiously.

  She ignores my question and then she says, “You look like shit.”

  She slides her shades back into place, tilts her chin up and throws open the door, walking inside.

  I know we had an argument and she said some shit, but what the fuck was that? Was that a fucking I’m-better-than-you judgment? I’m speechless and the anxiety rushes back in, pressing and crawling under my skin.

  §§§§§

  I follow Tonya inside, dumfounded and hurt — again.

  She unwraps her scarf and sets it down along with her sunglasses next to the phone. Todd and Greg are both staring at her with their mouths hanging open. Tonya has always been cute, but she looks amazing now, like she’s walked right out of the pages of some New York fashion magazine. She looks completely out of place among the rest of us.

  She does look better.

  “What’s going on,” she asks Todd, ignoring both Greg and me.

  “Greg here wants to audition for the band, to replace Kevin,” Todd says.

  She’s stil
l not looking at me.

  “He sounded pretty good with that other band,” she says with disdain. “Do you think he’s a jerk? I mean, is he going to be a problem?”

  Todd smiles and then turns to Greg. “Well, Greg. Are you a dick?”

  He grins. “Nope. Well, not usually.”

  “Tonya?” I begin. We really need to talk.

  She gives me a not-now look that gives me chills. I start to say something else and then realize I’d be acting like a pushy jerk, forcing her to deal with this shit on my terms. When she’s ready, we’ll talk. But just like Todd, I seem to be running on a short supply of patience these days.

  I need to just back way the fuck off.

  Tonya turns to Greg. “Better not make me regret this.”

  “No, ma’am,” he says through a widening grin.

  She starts flipping switches for the mixer and P.A. amps. I grab my guitar and flip my amp from standby to on.

  Greg starts laying down a beat with the kick drums while he runs the pads.

  “I know a lot has happened the last few days,” Tonya says.

  “Really? What happened?” Greg asks as he picks up speed on a soft drum roll.

  “So none of your business,” Tonya says. “Anyway, I’ve been doing some thinking and I want to open our set at the Palomino with Why I Live, acoustic, like we did at Aaron’s. And then I want to do Amazing Grace.”

  I think for a minute, reviving the melody. Todd still plays in his Church’s band and starts laying down the foundation. I watch him for a moment and turn my guitar up slightly and begin to play a soft arpeggio.

  Tonya turns to me with irritation and waves me off to stop playing. So, I stop and wait.

  What’s with the attitude? This isn’t like her at all.

  Todd stops after a few measures. “Like that?” Todd asks.

  “Yeah,” she says unenthusiastically. “But no. We need to crank it up, thrash it.” She looks at me. “Think you can you follow Todd without wanking?”

  Todd gives me a what-the-fuck look and I just shrug. “Yeah,” I say quietly, like a whipped puppy.

  I roll the volume up and begin chugging the chords as I follow Todd’s changes. Greg leads us along on the ride cymbal and then, when he starts in with that double kick again, Todd and me lock in and that drive returns from earlier. We play a few measures and then stop again. I watch Tonya — she hears it too. The look on her face says that she’s feeling the same thing as me and for a few moments, I feel close to her again.

  “Better?” Todd asks.

  Her eyes are excited, but Tonya manages to only respond with a slight grin. “Much.”

  “You know what?” Greg asks.

  “You don’t get a vote yet,” Tonya says.

  “No, I mean, I know, but I heard you that night at Aaron’s. You should sing the first half a capella,” he says.

  Tonya cocks her head. “What do you think, Todd?”

  Am I fucking invisible? Did I lose my vote here or what exactly?

  “You have a great voice, why not?” he answers.

  Tonya walks over to the mic and holds it in that sensual way she always does and closes her eyes. She looks like she belongs in the B-52’s and not some punk garage band. And when she begins to sing, it’s like the voice of a goddamn angel, emotionally raw and vulnerable, but powerful, dynamic and clear as a bell.

  She’s incredible and hearing her just reminds me of this emotional flip she’s doing.

  She looks at Todd and Greg, smiling and then stops. “What?”

  “I had no idea you could sing like that,” Todd says.

  “Oh. I can sing like that,” she says grinning. “I’m full of surprises.”

  She sure the fuck is.

  This is the most uncomfortable I remember ever being around her. I feel like I’m the only one in the room feeling the tension. Why is she working so hard to ignore me and give me shit? She doesn’t play head games. At least she never has before.

  And what the hell happened with her dad?

  Does she really just need space and I’m freaking out over nothing?

  Is there even anything to freak out over?

  Did I misread her the other night or am I being way sensitive now.

  And when the fuck did I turn into a teenage girl?

  A shadow moves over on the stairs and I see Peggy standing there, with tears in her eyes, staring at Tonya.

  Tonya turns and sees her at about the same time. “Peg!” She runs over and they embrace fiercely.

  I hear them mumbling to each other and then Tonya takes Peg by the hand, the rehearsal forgotten and leads her back upstairs.

  Sterling Hills.

  Blood everywhere.

  It started by the sink.

  Tonya is the girl Peggy saved. Why didn’t I make the connection?

  Tonya is laying in a snow-white tub, covered in blood, her compassionate brown eyes closing for eternity. She’s all alone in a tub, setting outside under the Elm Street tunnel. And like some waking nightmare, the pavement is suddenly covered with hypodermic needles. I know that that was Annie, but the memories overlap, superimposed one atop the other. I love them both.

  The image is seared into my mind. I lost Annie and now I have this inescapable fear that I’m losing Tonya too.

  §§§§§

  We decide on take-out pizza instead and the girls stay upstairs while the guys sit around and talk shop. But my head isn’t into discussing gear and set lists. When we finish, I head back outside to the heat, trying to collect my thoughts. At least we have a drummer and a game plan for the show, but Tonya is freaking me out — she’s not acting like herself at all. I hear the girl’s voices from inside, laughing and giggling and then they go silent. I take another drag off my smoke as Peggy steps outside.

  She’s wearing jeans and a pink, South Padre Panama Jack shirt.

  I light her cigarette.

  She leans back against the wall next to me. “You haven’t told her, have you? You don’t think she knows.”

  “Who doesn’t know what?” I ask.

  “B…Tonya, you think she doesn’t know that you are in love with her?”

  “I never said it was Tonya,” I say defensively.

  “You didn’t have to. I see how you look at her.”

  I blow out smoke and drop my head in defeat. “Don’t say anything, okay?” I ask.

  “What is this high school? Why not?”

  “It’s a long story and I don’t feel like getting into it.”

  “Didn’t you, like, talk me into leaving by abusive boyfriend all the way back to last night? You think I’d be better off if I didn’t take that chance?”

  “Of course not, but this is different.”

  She laughs at me. “It’s always different when it’s your shit. Everyone says that, but it’s not. You should tell her how you feel, you know?”

  I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You snooze, you lose. Remember I told you this.”

  “Why, what did she say?” I ask.

  “She didn’t say anything. She was careful to avoid talking about you at all, which is weird, because it should be obvious to anyone how you feel. She has to know.”

  “We went out the night before last, but I never said I loved her. You think so?”

  “Don’t be stupid. Yeah, she knows, but she needs to hear it from you.”

  “Then why was she treating me like shit earlier.”

  “Girls are complex,” she laughs again.

  “Something is going on with her, between her and her dad. I thought we were getting along really well. We had a great time, and then she talked to her dad yesterday.”

  “Yeah, there’s been shit going on there for a long time, but you need to talk to her about that. It’s not my place to say anything.”

  “I want to help her, but I don’t think she’ll let me,” I say.

  “Don’t think so much. You won’t know until you try, tough guy,
” she says and then flips her cigarette into the parking lot and walks back in.

  She heads straight for Todd and wraps her arms around him. “Who wants to play quarters?”

  Todd turns and takes Peggy’s hand in his own, raising it to his lips. “Mademoiselle, but I do believe I’m in love.” He kisses the back of her hand and she giggles.

  “Who’s in?” Peggy asks with excited eyes.

  Tonya puts her hands up. “Not me, I’m going out.”

  Going out?

  “Going out? Like a date? Anyone I know?” Peggy asks.

  A fucking date? Is that what she meant? A date? With a dude?

  “Trevor, Bradford’s friend.”

  My right foot starts twitching like I’m playing Greg’s drums as my nerves fray.

  “Trevor Stone?” Peggy asks.

  You’ve got to be shitting me, Trevor fucking Stone? Who names their kid Trevor fucking Stone?

  “He used to be hot. He was tall and all muscle and had those to-die-for blue eyes. Has he changed?” Peggy continues as she glances at me and then taps her wrist like she’s wearing a watch.

  Fucking really, Peg? Just have to rub it in, huh? Thanks a million.

  “Hotter,” Tonya laughs.

  Of course he is, the fucking asshole.

  A couple of days ago, Tonya was talking about wanting to meet a special guy, and I thought she was really talking about me, but now she has a date with, well, not me?

  Is this the family business she was all worried about?

  “Let’s play until he gets here,” Peggy says, pouting.

  “Okay,” Tonya says, “but only until he gets here. Hey, we should double. You and Todd should come with us.”

  “We won’t get in the way of the fireworks?” Peggy asks.

  Fireworks? Shut the fuck up Peg, seriously, just shut the fuck up.

  “No, it’ll be fun, please come,” Tonya pleads.

  “I need to run home and change first,” Todd says.

  “Are we going anywhere fancy?” Peggy asks.

  “I’m not sure what he has planned, but we could keep it simple,” Tonya says.