Front Row

by Rebekah N Bryan

  For once, my classes proved to be a welcome distraction. In communications, I had a group activity, which I normally dreaded, but instead, I found myself laughing along with my fellow classmates. Maybe because the loneliness and guilt had left me craving some sort of positive human interaction. Perhaps it was because I didn't want to go back to my apartment to face the guilt; but for some reason, the one time I didn't want classes to end, time was flying faster than ever. Although the wind cut right through my hooded sweatshirt, I moped along and took the scenic path back home. There was not much else I could do to delay the inevitable. I didn't have any money, so I couldn't disappear for a few hours to shop or eat somewhere. It was too cold to keep walking outside without bundling up more, which would require going to my apartment anyway. I had to start making things right. Somehow.

  Kim had The Out of Towners CD blaring from her bedroom. A song about friendship lilted from the speakers, and Randy's voice and words hit me for the first time. It was just what I needed to hear. Funny how many times I had listened to that song, but I didn't appreciate the meaning until that moment. I felt like Randy himself had saved me. Or slapped some sense into me. Friends will always be there, won't they? I had to be a better friend myself, and maybe things would be OK.

  I did the only thing I could think to do. I was still too embarrassed after waking Taj up to call him, and I didn't know if I should go straight to Will, so I decided to write Taj an email and leave it up to him. I felt bad roping him in on my drama, but better for him to be annoyed with me than for Alexandra to continue to be angry with me.

  Taj—

  Hey, sorry for waking you up yesterday morning. I didn't want to call you again just in case you were busy, but I was hoping you could help me with something. I'll leave it up to you to decide whether you want to show this email to Will or not. I just wanted him to know that Alexandra is great. She's a catch, and she's not the type to sleep around. I understand he was probably a little caught off guard because she fooled around with someone he knows, someone he's friends with, but I hope that fact doesn't influence his feelings for her. The two of them seemed to really connect, and I would hate to have a hand in ruining that before they had a chance to explore it. Besides, everyone has a history, right? I desperately want us to all move forward, so please tell me how you think we can do that. And Taj, while I'm putting myself out there, I want you to know that I think about you all the time. I'm so glad I met you and the rest of the guys. Hopefully talk to you soon.

  —Rach

  Like always, I reread my email at least ten times before sending it. Should I keep the last part out? I wanted Taj to know how much I appreciated him, but was this the email to do that? On the other hand, this might be the perfect place to do it—while I'm trying to find out how Will feels about Alexandra, I might as well find out how Taj feels about me. Whatever. Stop analyzing. Sent. I broke out in a cold sweat and clicked on my sent folder to reread it a couple more times. It sounded so much more dramatic in retrospect. I never had the urge to drink; it was always something I did socially, but at that moment, I needed a stiff cocktail. I put both my hands over my face for a second and rubbed my eyes. Whatever would come of this, I thought that I was headed in the right direction. I still needed that drink, though.

  Getting up out of my desk chair, I opened my bedroom door to the kitchen in search of my purse. I stowed a couple of Alex's tiny bottles of liquor in there during the last concert. I dug through my purse on the kitchen table until I found the small container of vodka, drained it into a cup, and poured in a little bit of orange juice, which I seemed to recall was the recipe for a screwdriver. The orange juice was Kim's, and I expected to feel her wrath later for using some of it without asking, but I would just have to apologize and replace it at that time. I sipped my cocktail and made a face as the vodka burned my throat. I would have to drink it that way anyway; I didn't want to risk stealing even more orange juice. My phone rang, and I dug through my purse with one hand until I found it on the last ring.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey Rach, it's Taj. I saw your email."

  I sank into one of the kitchen chairs. His voice made all the tension melt away. "I thought you said you didn't check your email very often."

  "I thought you had my number so you wouldn't have to email me."

  I swirled the liquid in my glass and took another burning sip. "I felt bad about waking you up the other day."

  "Rachel, seriously, call me anytime. Tour can get boring sometimes. I could always use a distraction. Anyway, I saw your email."

  "Right, the Will thing. I just didn't know what else to do."

  "We'll get to that. You think about me all the time, huh?"

  That comment caused me to stop my absent-minded beverage swirling. My cheeks burned, and I couldn't tell if it was from the cheap vodka or his question. "Oh that part."

  "We have a couple shows left with The Out of Towners this weekend in D.C. and New York City. You and Alexandra should come. I mentioned your email to Will, and he wants to see her again. I'll make sure it's worth your while."

  "I would love that, but first of all, how the heck am I going to get to D.C. or New York? And second, Alex is still not speaking to me."

  "Just try. You only live once, right?"

  He had a point, and maybe a quick trip east was just what Alexandra and I needed. "Which one's on Saturday?"

  "D.C."

  "I'll see what I can do. Taj, my roommates are home. I gotta go. I'm going to see what they think about D.C. I'll talk to you later. Thank you again."

  "You got it. I hope you can smooth things over with Alexandra. I'll see you in D.C."

  "Maybe."

  "See you in D.C., Rach. Bye!" Click.

  My lips stretched into an unfamiliar shape, having not smiled in far too long. I realized I was still holding a glass with a little bit of contraband orange juice in it. I gulped down the rest as my roommates unlocked the door. "Hey, you guys want to go to Washington, D.C.?"

  "What? No, Rachel, you're crazy," said Kim.

  Haley's interest was piqued. "For a Towners show?"

  "Yeah, Taj said he could get us in, and I thought it would be a good way to make it up to Alexandra."

  "Are you planning on buying her plane ticket?" asked

  Haley.

  "Well no, but Taj talked to Will, and Will said he wants to see Alexandra again. I thought seeing him might cheer her up and make her hate me less."

  "Can you afford it?" This is why I always had to bounce my ideas off of someone else. They were often crazy and improbable, but I never wanted to believe that. Haley made me realize that this was one of my impossible ideas, but I wasn't hindered yet.

  "Probably not, unless I don't eat for a few weeks, but I still want to run it by her just in case."

  "Well good luck. I won't be able to join you."

  Kim ducked her head in the refrigerator. "Has

  someone been drinking my orange juice?" Crap.

  Chapter 11: Washington, D.C.

  After apologizing about the missing juice to put the cherry on the top of my two-day apologizing binge, I hid in my bedroom to send a quick email to Alex. I wanted to keep this one short and simple.

  Hey Alex—

  I'm still really sorry. Will does want to see you again, and he and Taj are really hoping we show up at one of the final shows of The Out of Towners tour this weekend. I'm thinking D.C. on Saturday. Wanna go have another adventure? It wouldn't be the same without you.

  —Rachel

  I didn't know if it would be enough, but it was all I could think of to do. I hoped she'd check her email and find it in her heart to forgive me in time for the show. Even if she gave me the silent treatment all the way there, I hoped that she and Will would have so much fun that all would be forgiven on the way back.

  The reply email came during the night, and I saw it the next morning before class. "I'm still mad, but yes. Let's do it."

  I texted Alexandra on the way to class and
continued to text her back and forth during class to figure out travel arrangements. Her replies were clipped, but I was relieved that the lines of communication were open. During my computer class, I made sure to sit in back and booked my plane ticket—the cheapest one I could find. I didn't know if Taj was a texter, but I knew he wasn't big on email, and I wanted to tell him right away. I shot his number a quick, "See you in DC!!!" After a couple minutes, he responded with a smiley face. Smiley face indeed.

  On my way home from class, my phone vibrated against my hands stuffed in the pocket of my hoodie. My heart quickened. It had to be either Taj or Alex calling about D.C. The screen read "Dad." Strange. If anyone called me from home, 99.9% of the time it was my mom.

  "Hi, Dad. What's up?"

  "Hey, Rach. Um, I have some bad news." His voice broke, and I thought for a second that he was going to cough.

  "Grandma died last night in the hospital. She wasn't able to fight off the cancer any longer."

  "Oh Dad, I'm sorry." My eyes filled with hot tears. I sniffled. It wasn't a surprise—she had been in the hospital for about a month—but that didn't make it any easier. She was admitted the day of the Detroit show, which had put me in an even worse mood than the inconvenient events of that day.

  "The funeral's going to be on Saturday in Chicago."

  Saturday. He seemed like he was waiting for me to say something, but all my words were stuck. I felt like a terrible person because my first thought was, any day but Saturday.

  "We'll pick you up on the way. OK, Rachel?"

  "K." I felt like I was going to be sick. My grandma's dead, and I just threw $212 down the toilet for a concert I couldn't go to.

  I wanted to hide out in my room for the next three days and not speak to anyone, but Kim was at the stove, stirring a pot of what appeared to be soup. "What did Alex say about D.C.? Did you ask her yet?"

  "Yeah, but I can't go."

  "Too much money?"

  "Yes, but that's not why." I tried to keep my tears in, but my face was constricting into ugly cry mode faster than I could control it.

  Kim stopped stirring. "Is she still mad at you?"

  "I think so." My words came out as little more than squeaks. My cheeks tightened, and my eyes squinted. I had to get out of there. My voice shook as I told her the real reason I couldn't go.

  "Aw, I'm really sorry, Rach. I know how hard that is. Both my grandparents died last year." I remembered. Haley had rallied us all together to send flower baskets to both their funerals. "Do you need a hug?"

  The ugly cry face was in full effect by then—pinched cheeks, eyes in slits, mouth grimacing. All I could do was nod and bury my face in my hands as my friend gave my middle a quick squeeze.

  "Anything we can do?"

  I shook my head, squeaked out a "Thanks though," and retreated to my bedroom.

  The next couple days at work, I found myself having to excuse myself to run to the bathroom to cry and blow my nose a few times each day. Any time I had some downtime where I was able to think, I worked myself back into tears. During our weekly meeting, my boss used my past drawer discrepancy as an example, and I had to dig my fingernails into my thigh to keep myself from losing in it front of all the assembled tellers.

  Alex had taken the news in stride when I texted her about it. She had of course apologized for my loss, and then said she would convince Shelly to go with her instead. On one hand, I was relieved that she had a new travel companion that I knew she'd have fun with; but on the other hand, it should've been me. After some pleading with an accommodating and understanding ticketing agent named Glinda (the good witch, I'm convinced), we were able to transfer my ticket to Shelly and save me from the frustration of flushing almost an entire paycheck down the pooper. Some good news, finally.

  ***

  My parents and brother picked me up from my apartment Saturday morning as planned. I chucked my purse into the backseat of the tan Honda CRV and climbed in with a heavy sigh. "Hey, bro." He had ear buds shoved in his ears; I wasn't sure if he could even hear me.

  He glanced up from his MP3 player. His eyes were red, which almost made me break down again. I wasn't used to seeing my family cry. "Hey."

  My mom passed a black and gray sweater back to me. I had found my black skirt to wear, but I didn't have any nice black tops. My sweater collection consisted of all the colors of the rainbow, white, and brown. No black. It wasn't my color, which resulted in a panicked phone call to my mom after they had already left their house to come pick me up. She stopped at a store on the way to run in and get me something. It wasn't a sweater I would ever wear again, but that was for the best. I didn't need the sad memories. The dark red sweater I had brought as a backup was the one I had worn the previous Christmas—one of the last times I had seen my grandmother. Although we weren't able to get together all that often, her passing made me realize how much I would miss having her around. She wouldn't be there to tease my future husband during Thanksgiving dinners. She wouldn't be there to give my future children nicknames and buy them everything on their Christmas lists. Seriously, everything. She loved spoiling my brother, cousins, and me. This would be the last time we would be taking this route.

  We made this drive every holiday. I knew how long it would take to get there by each identifying landmark we passed along the way. Across the state line, we drove by Six Flags Great America. Then came the oasis where we often stopped to get gas or snacks. Then, when we exited the expressway, there was the Portillo's where we had to turn left to get to Grandma's. Except this time we went straight to go to the funeral home.

  When we arrived, my aunt, uncle, and cousins stood just inside the entrance to greet people. I resisted doing something silly to lighten the mood and try to make my younger cousins laugh. Instead, the younger generation stared at each other's feet, not knowing how to deal with the grief. My family went up to see her together, and it was surreal. Since she had lost her hair from the cancer treatments, they put a wig on that didn't look anything like her real hair. It looked better than a bald head, but it wasn't right. She didn't look anything like my grandmother whom we all loved. I didn't cry yet. It didn't seem real. My mom shifted to the left to read the cards on the flower arrangements that had been delivered. The large wreath arrangements were propped on tripods, while other baskets and vases were bunched together on a few different-sized tables.

  "Rach." My mom beckoned to me to come look at one of the vases. I couldn't identify all the types of flowers, but the color combination looked familiar. The blooms were pink, purple, yellow, and blue with green leaves. Those were the colors of our butterfly costumes from Halloween. The card caused prickly tears to form behind my eyes.

  "Thinking of you and your family today. So sorry for your loss. - Haley, Shelly, Kim, and Alexandra." My sweet friends. What would I do without them?

  After spending an hour bobbing our heads and thanking people for coming to the wake, the procession moved to the church for the funeral service. My grandmother's church was huge and beautiful. It was tucked away in the midst of a charming and affluent Chicago neighborhood. The inside was grandiose with at least twice as many pews as my home church. Behind the altar was an ornate and prismatic stained glass window, and to the right of the pulpit hung a 10-foot-tall painting of Jesus with his arms spread wide, welcoming the people to church.

  I held it together at the beginning of the service until my uncle stood to give his eulogy. When my brother sniffled and dabbed his eyes with a crumbled up tissue, I bit the inside of my mouth and pinched my arm as hard as I could. My uncle mentioned how proud Grandma was of her grandchildren, and that's when I lost it. My blubbering was not quiet, but I tried not to feel self-conscious about it. If there was any appropriate time for a loud, ugly cry, this was it.

  I needed to get it out, and being there in that majestic church with all my family put everything into perspective. Washington, D.C. was not where I needed to be this day. I was right where I was supposed to be.

  ***


  Since my dad had to preach the next day, we round-tripped it that night and drove back home after the dinner that followed the funeral. I slept most of the way and woke up right as we were entering my little college town. I stretched and then leaned my forehead on the cool window pane while I waited for my dad to pull into my apartment complex parking lot.

  As I pushed opened the door, my mom asked for the tenth time. "Are you sure you don't want to come home with us and go to church tomorrow?"

  "Yeah, positive. I just want to chill by myself tomorrow. Love you guys." My brother snored from the passenger seat, but my parents each stepped out to give me a hug.

  I stuffed the sweater in our kitchen garbage can as soon as I entered my apartment. The place was dark, and I assumed that Kim and Haley had gone to bed early. Without turning on a light, I walked from the kitchen to my bedroom with my hands out in front of me, slammed my foot against the leg of the kitchen table, and cursed. My phone was dead, as usual, so I plugged it in and checked my messages while logging on to my computer to see what I missed in the world that day. An email from Taj awaited me in my inbox, but I was too drained to get too excited.

  Sorry about your grandma. - Taj

  That was sweet of him. I supposed Shelly and Alex had told him why I wasn't there. My text messages from Shelly provided me with a summary of their night.

  Shelly: All the Face Rake guys miss you. They wish you were here, and so do we.

  Shelly: Taj says hi.

  Shelly: Come to NYC. Not optional

  Shelly: Sorry, that was Taj. He stole my phone. You should fly to NYC tomorrow if you can.

  Shelly: We're going to take the train up. We could meet you at the airport.