Blessed Tragedy

by HB Heinzer

  “So, you wanna head home or hang out?” Mike asked after we watched our oldest brother walk out the door. I think, no matter what we knew the outcome was going to be, it still surprised us he was so unwilling to even hear me out.

  “Well, I have nothing better to do and I've never just hung out with you, so yeah, let's hang.” I looked sheepishly over at my brother. “Is it weird that I want to spend a Saturday night with you?”

  “Nah, I'm a hot ticket around here,” he laughed.

  “If that's the case, why were you sitting at Dad's house on a Saturday night and not out with one of the many women lining up to spend time with you?” I leaned over to bump my shoulder against his and flinched momentarily when he wrapped his arm around me.

  “Blew them all off. Told them I had a date with a younger woman who wasn't going to be around for long.” Looking at Mike, really looking at him for the first time ever, I didn't doubt for a moment he would be the type of guy women fought over. He was charming, funny, had a smile that could light up the room and broad shoulders that made you feel safe to be with him. Add flattering and only a little bit conceited and I started to wonder why he was still single at thirty-two.

  Before I could think of a witty comeback to his comment about a date with a younger woman, a rotund man with a baby face dropped a black three-ring binder on our table. “Gonna be a busy night, make sure you get your entry in early,” he said without looking at either of us. Great, I tell Mike we need to hang out and it's karaoke night. This should be fun.

  “You going to sing tonight?” Mike asked, that devilish glint in his eye told me he was up to something.

  “Probably not.” I emptied my beer glass, knowing there was little chance I would walk out without singing. If Mike pressed the issue, I'd wind up doing it to make him happy.

  “Come on, you know you wanna,” he goaded. “Not to mention, best of the night takes the hundred dollar prize. It'll be fun.”

  “And how, exactly, will it be fun? And how is that even fair? I'm pretty sure there's not enough beer in this place to make me screw up.”

  Yeah, it was an arrogant statement but it was true. Karaoke was one of the most miserably painful excuses for entertainment I could think of. Most people needed a healthy dose of liquid courage before getting up on stage; the irony being that by the time the song started, they were too obliterated to perform, no matter how good they were sober.

  “Plus, I'm pretty sure I'd be disqualified even if I did go up there.” It was a last ditch effort. Mike was on a mission and I was his secret weapon.

  “Take a look at the rules, there's nothing in there that says 'you can't be the lead singer in a kick ass band' or anything like that.” I looked my brother square in the eye and realized the boy was definitely buzzed. It was rather amusing but I had a feeling that was only going to strengthen his resolve.

  “Mike, I don't feel comfortable getting up there and taking money that someone else could really use.” Another morsel of truth. No matter how much I was irritated by the unknown nosy people of Lexington, I would feel like a greedy bitch if the person who came in second was doing this because they needed the money.

  “So, after it's all done, you give the money away. I just want to see you sing again and I want everyone in town to see it too. You're amazing and we never gave you enough credit for that.” Okay, I really hoped Mike didn't get drunk with the plethora of women hoping to cash in their proverbial tickets because if he was this sappy buzzed, I could only imagine him full-on drunk. Maybe that's why he was single.

  “Will you shut up if I say I'll do it?” He didn't need to know he'd found my weak spot. Buzzed, drunk, or whatever the reason, hearing him compliment me did me in.

  “Yep. But I get to pick the song.” There was that twinkle again. I had a feeling I was going to regret this night before we got home.

  As Mike thumbed his way through the three inch thick binder, I pulled out my phone. I hadn't talked to Colton at all today and I wanted to know how things were going in Florida.

  Me: Shoot me. Mike has me at the bar. Convinced me to do karaoke.

  Colton: LOL, have fun with that. Whatcha singin?

  Me: That's the best part. He is picking.

  Colton: Want video.

  Me: Not fucking likely. Well, knowing people around here, Google it in a few hours, I'm sure it'll be posted.

  Colton: More problems?

  Me: Just the pic from yesterday. Wish they'd let me be.

  Colton: How's dad?

  Me: Not sure yet. Talked to Mike tonight, tell you about it later.

  Colton: Okay. Btw, you know Tanya's gonna kick your ass over the hair, right?

  Me: Yep.

  Colton: I think it's hot.

  Me: Good. Because you know everything I do is done to make you think I'm hot.

  Colton: You could wear a burlap sack and I'd still think you're hot.

  Me: Too itchy. Mike's apparently picked, gotta run. Ttys.

  From the moment Mike walked back from the stage after turning in my slip, I swear the man was bouncing in his seat. I tried to get him to tell me what song he picked several times but he refused to tell me; his excuse being it was the only way to level the playing field a bit.

  Five horribly off-key, out of time songs later, I felt someone walk up behind us. I turned around to see none other than Garrett Dietrich reaching over to shake Mike's hand.

  “Hey Maddie, didn't expect to see you again,” he said, pulling me into an awkward hug. I shouldn't have been surprised by the gesture since we had dated for a while in high school before realizing we were better off as friends, but it still felt too familiar. Too intimate. And I'll be damn if it didn't make my heart skip a beat or two.

  “Well, we had a break and I had some stuff to take care of here,” I sputtered. There had to be something in the air around here that caused me to lose my mind. I was this person I didn't recognize. Not Maddie, not Rain, more like a diluted version of both of my personalities. “It's good to see you again. You care to sit with us?”

  Shit, why did I ask him that? The last thing I need is to spend time with Garrett. At least Mike's here. Shit, Mike thought it'd be funny to bring me to the school and fail to mention that Garrett was the band director. What in the hell is he going to do?

  “Need another drink?” Garrett asked, noticing I had drained yet another pint of beer. There were far too many ways I could get myself into trouble if I kept drinking, but I'll be damn if I could think of a single reason at that moment.

  “Sure, grab me a good micro.” I watched as Garrett disappeared into the swarm of people as the DJ called my name to come to the stage.

  You wouldn't think I'd get nervous performing in a hick bar but I wanted to puke for just a second or two. I'm pretty sure that's just how I'm wired. I live to sing and I love performing but I hate those moments when everyone is looking at me, anticipating what's to come. The song title appeared on the screen in front of me and I threw my head back laughing. This was going to be fun. I tilted my head to each side cracking my neck and winked at Mike, who'd made his way front and center.

  The problem with Kiss Me Deadly by Lita Ford is there's no intro. No time to prepare once the play button is hit. On the other hand, Lita Ford was my secret role model growing up. Mom wanted me to be Mary Lou Retton and I wanted to be Lita.

  In a bold move, I nodded to the DJ to start the song and I jumped off the low stage. These people wanted a show, my brother wanted me to show everyone what I can do, who was I to deny any of them? I danced my way through the crowd, growling out the lyrics in true badass rocker chick fashion. I saw a spark of recognition in a few people's eyes, but that could have also been the liquor making them glaze over.

  When the song ended, there was a moment of dead silence. That's about the scariest reaction out there. If people jeer, you know they hated it. If they scream and clap, they loved it. But silence? There's no telling what they think. Lucky for me, the cheers and whistles started. Not so lucky f
or me, they were accompanied by flashes from camera phones. Knowing there was nothing I could do to change the fact that I would never again be anonymous in my hometown; I did what anyone would do. I grabbed my beer and gave my brother a hug.

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite my best efforts, which I have to admit weren't all that great in my inebriated state, to tell Mike we should leave since my cover was blown and there was no way I was staying in their little competition, I was still planted firmly on the cracked vinyl barstool. Garrett apparently thought it was a great idea to keep me there as well since he was the designated beer bitch for the night and made sure my glass was never empty.

  With every round he went to the bar to buy, Garrett seemed to get a little friendlier. I'm pretty sure that given four or five more rounds, he would have wound up sitting directly on my lap. The worst part was I didn't hate it. The me I knew just a few months earlier was the master at holding a grudge. We had our fair share of history, and we didn't exactly part on good terms the day we graduated.

  He was the only friend who knew my plans to leave town as soon as my graduation party wound down. I didn't even plan to stay long enough for everyone to leave; just long enough that my absence wouldn't be noticed before I could get a head start. And him knowing meant there was one person too many apprised of my plans.

  That morning, as we listened to the principal drone on about what a huge day this would be in our lives, Garrett tried to talk me out of leaving. He was the first of many people in the years that followed to tell me what a selfish person I was.

  Apparently, now that I was living the life I dreamed of, he changed his mind about that. Or maybe not. Maybe now I was just the selfish bitch who had the cajones to go after what she wanted. I swore I would never forgive him for those words as I slammed the door on my Malibu and peeled out of the driveway.

  “Nickel for your thoughts?” Garrett said, poking me in the shoulder after setting yet another beer on the table in front of me.

  “I'm pretty sure that's not the way the saying goes,” I laughed, pulled back to the present by his words.

  “No, but I know that, no matter what you are, cheap isn't one of them. I want to know bad enough that I'm willing to dig out a nickel.” He sat down next to me, leaning in so he was dangerously close to invading my personal bubble.

  “Just thinkin',” I said, hoping he'd get the hint I wasn't in a mood to talk. If there's one thing, besides karaoke, that doesn't mix well with alcohol, it's reminiscing about the past. There's nothing you can do to change it and alcohol has a tendency to cast a rosy glow over things that have happened.

  “About?” Garrett obviously wasn't going to let it go. I needed to figure out how much to give him so he'd shut up and let it rest.

  “Graduation day.” I didn't look at him. I couldn't. Looking someone in the eye when I was uncertain what I would see there was something I didn't know if I would ever be able to do. The eyes tell too much. I wasn't sure if it was his eyes or my own I was worried about.

  “And?” Either he was playing dumb or he didn't remember and that pissed me off.

  “What do you mean, 'and?',” I asked, turning to him with a dumbfounded look on my face. “We weren't exactly speaking to one another when I left. And now, here you are, pretending like nothing happened. I seem to remember you saying something to the effect that I'm a selfish bitch who won't realize what she's thrown away until it's too late. That I was giving up on everyone, that I was better than whatever my misguided dreams told me I was.” Garrett seemed to be slinking away from me, obviously not expecting this conversation. “So, what's changed? Is it all better in your eyes now that I've made a name for myself? Because, I have to tell you, I never forgot what you said. Your voice, the look on your face, you standing in the middle of the road when I left, it's all been replaying in my mind for the past six years.”

  Garrett ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, suddenly unwilling to make eye contact with me. “Look, Maddie...I can't take back what I said, and part of me meant every word of it.”

  My eyes grew wide at his confession. I was wrong, he had much bigger balls than I had, sitting next to me admitting he meant to say those things to me. I took a draw from my beer, willing him to continue, trying to remember we'd once been friends.

  “It hurt like hell knowing you were leaving everyone behind. I hated you for leaving me behind. But there was also part of me that hated myself for not being strong enough to do the same thing. Do you really think my dream gig is taking over my old man's slot as the high school band director?”

  I laughed, remembering all the times we picked on Garrett's dad. To say he was passionate about enriching the musicality of young minds, as he put it, was an understatement. To him, music was a way of life. Unfortunately, part of that way of life drove him to envision a legacy of Dietrich men teaching the next generation of musicians.

  “So that made it okay for you to pulverize me before I left? Dude, that's twisted. Even for you.” Garrett was right; he never would have gone against his parents' wishes, no matter what the reason. It was one of the reasons we hadn't worked out as a couple. I may not have known a lot about men or what I wanted, but I knew

  I wouldn't be happy with someone who was so willing to be a doormat.

  “Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugged, lifting his head slightly to see the look on my face. “Any chance we can put that behind us? It's pretty apparent you did what was best for you, so it's a good thing you didn't listen to me.”

  “It's all good, man. I think we both said some shit that we wish we could take back. We can't, so now it's time to move on,” I said, pushing myself away from the table.

  Yes, moving on. That's exactly what I needed to do. This odd attraction I was starting to feel towards Garrett was dangerous. Not only was I now, for the first time since high school, in a relationship, I was leaving soon and needed to distance myself from anything that could pull my focus away from Blessed Tragedy.

  As I tried to slide between Garrett and the person sitting behind him, I felt his hand wrap around my arm. “So, that's it? With one exception, we've been friends for almost twenty years but you're going to hold onto shit I said when I was a stupid ass kid?”

  No, that's not what I wanted to do at all but it's what I needed to do. At least for the night. I squeezed his hand as I pulled it away from my arm and walked out without saying another word.

  My body was sore all day Sunday. Between drinking my weight in beer and stumbling the mile and a half home, I hurt in places I didn't know could hurt. But the worst pain I felt was in my chest.

  I hated walking away from Garrett, no matter how good I was getting at doing it. We'd been friends from kindergarten on and I'd spent the better part of half of the time we'd known each other walking away from him. It never got easier.

  Allowing that guilt to creep into my head led to feeling like I was betraying Colton by talking to Garrett. Being drunk had never been a viable excuse in my opinion and the thoughts I'd had at the bar definitely weren't all platonic. I knew the right thing to do was call Colton and let him know about the talk I had with Garrett, if for no other reason than to ease my own mind, but I didn't want him freaking out on me about it while we were over a thousand miles apart. That wouldn't do anyone any good.

  Instead, I sat in my room and festered much of the day. I felt bad about hiding out since Mike had come over early in the day to spend some time with me but I needed to think. By the time I made my way downstairs to help Mike make dinner, I wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone or anything.

  “Did something happen last night?” Mike asked as we danced around each other in the kitchen preparing spaghetti and meatballs.

  “Nope.” How was I supposed to explain to Mike everything that had gone on between me and Garrett over the years? For one thing, I think we'd all decided it was for the best if no one brought up my time away and telling Mike would require venturing into that territory.

  “Bullshit,” Mik
e said, leaning over the prep island. “You stormed out last night and you're pissy today. Now, either you're not telling me something about you and Garrett or something else is going on. Are you pissed about Matt?”

  “It's nothing, Mike. Please, let's just drop it. Matt's going to be here soon and I don't need to listen to him bitch if dinner's not ready. We're talking to Dad tonight, right?”

  While Mike had originally been hesitant to confront Dad about the possibility anything was going on with his health, spending the entire day watching him changed his mind. He agreed with my observations and didn't want to waste any time. To make matters worse, Dad was still in a place where he was questioning his ability to go on without Mom in his life.

  For all of our family's quirks, the one thing no one could question was the love my parents shared for one another. They'd been high school sweethearts, married the summer after they graduated high school. When she passed away, they'd been married for just shy of forty years. It's understandable that he couldn't fathom a life without her. Their love was the type everyone should pray they find in life.

  That didn't change the fact that he had four kids who, while adults, needed him in their lives. Making him see we relied on him was going to be the key to getting him help.

  Mike met Matt in the driveway to let him know what was going on. I couldn't hear their words, but through the sheers covering the bay window in the living room, I could see it wasn't a pleasant conversation. I wanted to go outside and ask Matt why he was making such a big deal about talking to Dad. Even with my absence, it was hard for me to understand why he wouldn't want to encourage Dad to live a healthy life.