by Rob Jones
“Since when did you become Dr. Phil?” She giggled. Seriously, that’s good advice, Ethan. Thanks for listening. You can crash my pity party anytime.”
He went back to strumming a melancholy tune on his guitar, pouring out his emotion on every string, making his guitar weep. He was contemplating if he could be a good father. How could he possibly take care of a baby? He barely could take care of Sue. He knew how selfish and spoiled he was. Having this baby meant that he would have to grow up and become what he hated—a responsible adult. Not to mention that having a child might become a threat to his music career. If he had to stop playing music because of Zoe, would he end up hating her, or even worse, would he end up hating and not loving the baby like a father was supposed to love his child?
He understood that he was just as culpable for their predicament and if he was going to hate anyone, it was himself. If only he could talk to his father and get some fatherly advice, to get some kind of guidance, because right now he was lost in a self-inflicted purgatory. He could talk to Nana, but in this situation he needed to hear a masculine voice of experience, someone who could provide him some insight, some sage advice, so that he would have some tools to work this out.
“You’re awfully quiet over there. Is everything all right?” Bella wiped the sweat from her forehead.
“Mm hmm,” was all that he could manage to say.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Ethan
“Could you turn me up just a little in the headphones please?” Owen asked while tuning his bass as the band started to record their first E.P. “I really like the idea of recording all of us at the same time, rather than individually. I think it’s really going to exhibit and capture the essence of the band. Especially recording at night, it gives off this cool vibe.”
“We here at Meltdown Records love going old school when it comes to recording bands,” said the engineer they called The Muse.
“Hey, why do they call you The Muse?” Owen inquired.
“Because he inspires and brings out the best in those who record here,” his assistant, Blake, answered for him.
“Is it me or does Blake look like someone who picks up lonely women at yard sales?” Ligon muttered to Ethan. They both snickered. Ethan held up two fingers that represented the sign of rock-n-roll then he went into the control room where The Muse and Blake were.
“Okay, guys, the three elements for a successful recording session are focus, freedom, and fun, so with that being said, let’s make some history, gentlemen. Ready whenever you guys are.” The Muse checked the levels on his soundboard.
They began to play the first few measures of the first song, which had an inauspicious start. Right away Ethan could see the confidence leaking from their faces. The Muse continued checking levels.
“No worries, let’s get rid of those pesky butterflies swirling underneath those rock-hard abs and try again,” The Muse said with an encouraging grin. They started the song over but before they got to the chorus they messed up.
“As Taylor Swift would say, shake it off. You got this, boys. Let’s take it from the top.” Once again a mistake happened. This went on for several excruciating takes. They couldn’t seem to get on the same page, couldn’t seem to get out of their own way. They were all out of sorts. They stopped playing and began to blame one another as frustration etched on their faces.
“Why don’t you go over the song once before we start recording again? Ethan, go into the vocal booth and sing while they play,” The Muse suggested. Ethan cast a look of indignation at them while he leisurely walked into the vocal booth.
They commenced playing again. Ethan could hear that Ligon was rushing his guitar part and playing out of tune. He stopped singing, got out of the vocal booth, returning to the rest of the band.
“Give me your guitar,” he ordered.
“Why?” Ligon responded.
“Because you’re playing like a handicapped monkey, that’s why.” Ligon gave him the guitar. “Take it from the top.” They played the whole song through without any mistakes, so they thought.
“Wes, get up please.”
“I thought we nailed it that time, Ethan.” Wes rose from behind his kit.
“That’s what you get for thinking. You were in and out of the pocket during the chorus.” Ethan demonstrated how the drums should be played. “Stay in the pocket, and Lig make sure your freaking guitar is in tune. Be better this time and do your jobs. Oh yeah, Owen, thanks for being professional and on point.” Ethan pointed at Owen then stormed out of the room with the demeanor of a general into the engineering room where The Muse was.
“Ugh, we played this song a million times, I just don’t get it.” Ethan still continued to rant.
“Listen, listen, listen.” The Muse paused and looked at them. “It seems as though you’re in your own heads. I heard you guys play before, and I’m going to be totally transparent with you. Out of all the artists on this label, you guys have the potential to be the biggest and the most successful of them all.” He encouraged them like a father encourages his children. “We got all night to do this, no need to rush, no need to feel any pressure. Let’s take a little break, regroup, and comeback swinging.” They all retreated outside with frustrated postures and deflated faces.
“Hey, Ethan, can I bend your ear for a minute?” The Muse motioned him over.
“I was terribly impressed with how meticulous, talented, and authoritative you are. A star quality resides within you, my friend. I’ve recorded many superstars in my life and you walk in that rare air as they do. Dare I say, with this band you might be a star, but without them you will definitely be a superstar. I know how this music machine works, and with your talent and your quintessential looks, the rock world can be yours.”
“Listen, Musk.”
“It’s The Muse.”
“Whatever. I would never sell out or abandon my brothers for anything in this world. We are a family and family is worth far more than independent fleeting fame, and nothing, I mean nothing, can change that. Each person in this band is a superstar, and once we finish this album the whole world is gonna be informed of that.” His eyes popped.
“No need to throw a hissy, I was just presenting options.”
“Well, you can keep your options to yourself. I’m good, bro. The success of my band is all the affirmation and validation that I need to know that I am a superstar.”
***
Zoe
The morning air was calm and yet not as hushed as recent mornings. For the very first time Zoe was more in tune and recognized how different the morning music was from the music of the night. How the animated interchanged with the inanimate in song. The singing of the birds collaborated with the hum of the town, the sound of car horns, the motor of a school bus, innocent chatter of children, and the back and forth barks of a German shepherd and a Dachshund. They all somehow orchestrated a symphony.
It was not like the music of the night, which was mainly all animated musicians. A chorus of crickets singing with the frogs. The hooting of an owl chiming in with tiny critters crawling, creeping, and flying with a timeless rhythm. All day and night the music of life accompanied humanity.
“Good morning, sweetie.” Abby walked onto the porch where Zoe was at. “Oh my, it’s quite chilly out here. You’re going to catch a cold sitting out here.” She shivered.
“It’s not that bad out here, Mom.” Zoe sniffed and cleared her throat from crying silently in the cool of the day.
“What’s wrong, sweetie? Why are you crying?” She consoled Zoe with a committed hug.
“Mom, there’s a lot that’s wrong.” She concealed her face in her hands while tears of shame and regret rained down her face.
“It can’t be that bad. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m…I’m…Mom…” She choked on her words.
“Are you pregnant, Zoe?” Abby carefully lifted up Zoe’s face. Zoe could only offer her a nod of affirmation.
> “Oh baby, baby, baby. We knew he was just too worldly for you. We warned you about this relationship because we were afraid this might happen.” She looked at Zoe with merciful eyes. “Oh honey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this.”
Zoe looked up and saw her dad looking out the window with an isolated tear leaking from his left eye. That tear communicated that he knew she was with child. He told her a few days ago that he had a dream she was holding a fish next to her stomach. Her grandmother used to tell her that every time she dreamt of fish she knew someone was pregnant. She thought it was an old wives’ tale until her grandmother came by her house one day when she was practicing her violin with her friend Ally. Her grandmother told Ally that she was pregnant, and the reason she knew was because she dreamt about fish. Ally laughed it off and thought her grandmother was joking, but several days later it was her grandmother who had the last laugh.
When Charles turned away from the window, Zoe’s heart dropped a few inches and hot tears began to drop as well.
“Zoe, darling, I know you think this is the end of the world for you, that all hope is lost. You may think this is God’s way of punishing you.” Abby secured Zoe’s hands. “But that isn’t so. Now God does discipline His children whenever we want to become a law unto ourselves, and deviate from what He has already confirmed to us is right. But He disciplines us to prevent us from doing further damage to our lives, so He lets us experience the consequences of our actions.”
Zoe crossed her legs.
“You know how when people break their arm or leg, then the pain comes?” Zoe nodded. “That pain is to let you know that something is wrong, and if you keep bending and moving it, it will do further damage. That is what sometimes happens when we experience pain or difficulty. When we are doing or have done something drastic in our lives, that pain we experience is clamoring for your attention and saying stop what you’re doing or it will get worse.”
Zoe knew exactly what her mother meant, she understood the purpose, and the valuable lesson of this situation, and what a costly one at that. But the question that gnawed at her was, what now? Was there redemption for her? Was there some sort of reprieve or would she forever be a statistic, an outcast, exiled from her dreams and her purpose? All it took was just one moment to shatter a lifetime of innocence and dreams, to snuff out and lose everything she’d worked so hard for, to lose all that was near and dear to her.
“Let’s go in, sweetie, and I’ll tell you a quick story that I think will help you get some perspective and comfort.” Abby took her hand and escorted her into the house. Abby grabbed a box of Kleenex for them both. They sat down at the kitchen table, Tulip curled up next to Zoe’s feet.
“There was this couple who met in college and they fell madly in love. They had a romance that was so big, so epic that it could have been turned into a book.” Zoe blew her nose. “They were to be married within a year, so they vowed to remain celibate until they got married.
They made every provision to make sure they followed through with that vow.”
“And how is this comforting for me?” Zoe placed her elbows on the table as she rested her head in her hands.
“Hold on, I’m getting there.” Abby swept her hair back away from her face. “Just when their wedding date was getting closer he had to leave for four months because he was presented with an internship that would take him overseas. So the night before he left they went out on a pontoon boat, where the ebony sky was the backdrop of a myriad of twinkling stars. The moonlight was reflecting off the water, creating an intoxicating scene that flooded and carried them away with tempestuous emotions that caused their hearts to capsize and left them drenched with desire, where their only option was to surrender to each other. As a result of their union she got pregnant that night, and she thought her whole world was falling apart. She cried day and night for weeks.” Abby was misty-eyed.
“When she broke the news to him, to her surprise he was very supportive and comforting, assuring her that they would be fine.” She broke out a smile and leaned forward in her chair. “So he came back home early, they got married, and they had a sweet, beautiful, healthy baby girl and they named her…” The tears began to flow. “They named her Zoe, because she was their life.” Her hand trembled as she grazed it over Zoe’s cheek. “You have and always will be our life. Trust me, you and this little one here will be okay.” She rubbed Zoe’s stomach. “Your dad and I will be here to support and help you through this all the way. You are not alone, sweetie.”
Zoe wept fervently and embraced Abby. “I love you so much, Mom. Thank you for that.” She exhaled. “I feel a little bit better.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh sugars, I need to get dressed.” She bounced out of the chair. “I’m meeting Ethan for breakfast to talk to him about our next move before he goes to his photo shoot.” She dashed toward the stairs then turned back around to give Abby another hug. “You are the best mom.”
***
“Welcome to Starbucks. May I take your order, please?” the wiry built cashier asked. Ethan looked up at the menu.
“I’ll have a bacon gouda and egg sandwich with a Grande White Chocolate Mocha.” Ethan turned to Zoe. What about you, babe?” The cashier yawned, shook his head and took her order.
“I had that come-to-Jesus talk with Lig about his imprudent use of his alcohol and other questionable substances,” Ethan confided in Zoe while they waited on their order.
“I bet that went well.” She produced a sarcastic smile.
“Actually, it did go well. He didn’t put up a fight. Rather he admitted that he has been negligent with his drinking and drug use. But knowing Ligon, he probably was just trying to appease me so I wouldn’t keep pressing him.”
“Here you go.” The cashier handed them their orders. They found a table and continued their conversation.
“Yeah, I told him that he drinks deep from the well of life, which is cool, but he has to rein it in before it reins him in and destroys everything that we’ve all been working so hard for. I conveyed to him that he was not indispensable to the band, even though he really is, but I can’t arm him with that kind of leverage.”
She wondered why he was talking about Ligon when they had a crisis on their hands. Their lives had changed forever and all that he could think about was his band. Men…huh. More like professional adolescents. In the middle of her pondering she asked herself why she was in such a rage. Were her hormones derailing?
“You know, looking back he has always been susceptible to taking things to the edge. He is fearless, and that’s one of his intriguing qualities that I love and at the same time hate about him.” He went silent.
Zoe thought that she should engage herself in this conversation and act like she was interested in his concerns, then ease into the baby talk, because apparently he was shying away from the subject. She inhaled.
“That’s great you had that talk with him and that he sees the error of his ways.” She blew on her Skinny Mocha. “Let me ask you this. How can you be around that environment and not be enticed or influenced yourself? Don’t you think it’s going to be a matter of time before the same thing will happen to you? That’s something you have to consider since you’re going to be a father.” She said this to appropriate the conversation.
“Zoe, my drug, my fix, my habit is my music. It makes me feel alive. It gives me that high that nothing or no one can, except you of course.” He gestured toward her with a nod. “I know I take things to the edge, and God knows I’m not a perfect angel, I’m more like a dirty angel with tainted wings. I like to have fun just like the next man. But I am driven, I have conviction and resolve. Anything that would try to impede my progress and focus of being the best singer, the best songwriter, the best musician has no place in my life. I’m in it to win it, babe.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “So don’t worry, love, I’m impervious to those trappings.”
He seemed determined to avoid talking about the baby and their future. She had to b
e straightforward with him.
“Okay, so, sweetie, any thoughts about our predicament here? I mean you and I have to sort this out before you go back on the road.” He sat quietly and looked down at his cup of White Chocolate Mocha.
“Ethan?” she said nervously. A mother with a crying baby walked in. Zoe looked at them and smiled with eyes of wonderment.
“I’m really trying to wrap my mind around this, Zoe. There is so much going on in my life right now, so many good things and you are a part of those good things. Let me ask you this.” He cleared his throat. “Do you really want to have this baby? I mean you’re in school and I know that you want to be in the Nashville Symphony Chorus, and be a music teacher, so how does having a baby factor in these endeavors?”
She knew, or she thought she knew, what he was asking her and that was to get an abortion, something she would not do, something she could not do. She was somewhat shocked that he would consider it. Her heart felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and beat it into a million pieces. But the questions Ethan raised were legitimate. How could she accomplish her lifelong dreams of being a part of the Nashville Symphony Chorus and a music teacher? She knew it would be even more of a difficult hurdle to get over by being a mother. But she would rather sacrifice those dreams rather than to sacrifice a life.
“I’m not going to have an abortion, Ethan. That is totally not going to happen.”
“What? Wait a minute. I wasn’t suggesting that. I was thinking adoption.” She shot him that are-you-kidding-me look. “All right, Zoe, I’ll come clean. I’m not going to say that it hadn’t crossed my mind, but I know that at the end of the day I couldn’t live with myself if we did that, so I immediately banished it from my thoughts,” he confessed.