Playing by Ear (Country Roads #1) - Chapter 33

“Charlie,” Mom’s voice came through my bedroom door.

I didn’t want to hear it. I just pulled a pillow over my head and ignored her.

“Charlie, I’ll give you five more minutes, and then I’m coming in there for you.”

I didn’t get up. I felt numb.

I hadn’t waited for Hanna when I left the party. The house was on the other side of town, but I’d paid attention enough on the way there I had an idea of how to get back home from there. I just started running. By the time I hit the shops on main street, my legs hurt, and my lungs were burning, but I didn’t care. I just kept going.

Mom wasn’t home yet, but the phone was ringing when I walked in the door. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Picking it up, I hung up on whoever was on the other end and then set the phone down, leaving the line open, and went to bed.

I hadn’t even taken off my shoes, and my clothes were filthy from the run across town. Mom would probably freak when she saw me on the clean sheets like this, but I didn’t care.

“Last warning,” Mom called from outside my door.

“Fine,” I said, pushing myself up.

I’d slept at some point, although I didn’t remember falling asleep. It must have been before Mom came home, because I don’t remember that, and I’d locked my door as soon as I got into my room. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the dresser. My face was dirty, a combination of sweat, dirt, and dried tears.

“Jesus,” Mom said when I opened the door. “I need to know what happened. The phone was ringing off the hook when I got home. Hanna was frantic.”

“Rhonda broke up with me,” I said, walking around her and flopping down on the couch.

“Ohh, baby, I’m so sorry,” she said, sitting down next to me and putting her arm around me. “Hanna asked how you got home last night.”

“I ran.”

“From where?”

“Somewhere along Merrimon, down near the lake, I think. I didn’t look at street signs.”

“Charlie, that’s almost four miles away.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really.”

“Do you want me to stay home from work with you?”

“No, I’m going to call in sick and just go back to bed.”

“Okay. Call Hanna though, she’s worried sick about you.”

“I will,” I said, slumping over sideways, to lie on the couch.

I half-watched Mom gather her things and get ready for work. She kept glancing back and I knew she was worried, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. I just didn’t have it in me to get up.

She disappeared from view and I heard the front door open, but oddly not close again.

“Charlie, I’m leaving for work, but there’s someone out here to see you.”

It had to be Rhonda. Hanna was just across the street, and Mom would have let her in if she saw her. Besides, Mom said ‘someone.’ Had it been Hanna, she would have used her name. It was just the type of shade Mom would have used, saying someone instead of Rhonda’s name, to send a message that she wasn’t happy with my ex-girlfriend.

I almost didn’t get up off the couch. She’d crossed a line and, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have even been surprised. This had been coming for a while. She craved the status that being with him would bring. That’s what had been behind trying to get me to Karen Brooks’ party and telling the football players there was still alcohol at Cameron’s party. I’d like to give her enough credit to think that she’d done it because she was still mad about Kat, but I didn’t think that was the reason. She’d always been headed here.

I sighed and sat up, rubbing my temples. If she was here to talk, she wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. She was the last person I wanted to see right now, but I couldn’t just leave her out there.

Opening the door I paused, surprised. It wasn’t Rhonda at all. Kat stood up quickly when I opened the door, wiping her hands on her pants.

“Kat? What are you doing here?”

“I heard what happened, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Were you there last night?”

“No. Dad wanted … told me I needed to stay home last night. I … umm … I heard it from Aaron. He said I had to go to breakfast with him and he was, kind of, bragging about it. Or whatever. I came as soon as he let me leave.”

There was a lot in that sentence I’d have felt like addressing any other day, but I just didn’t have the energy today.

“I’m fine, Kat, and I appreciate you coming to check on me, but I just want to be alone for a little while.”

“Okay,” she said, looking down.

“Hey,” I said, taking a few steps down and putting my hand on her shoulder. “I really do appreciate it, and my wanting to be alone is normal, I promise, and has nothing to do with not wanting you around. We’re still friends, and I’ll definitely need your support when I feel like being around people again. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, before surprising me.

She took a step up, until we were about even, and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly.

“I’m sorry you’re sad,” she said before letting go and running down the steps and out to her car.

I felt bad sending her away, especially after what Dr. Rothstein had said about her fear of abandonment, but I just didn’t have the energy to deal with her problems. I trudged back inside and almost flopped on the couch before I saw the phone, back in its cradle. I gave another sigh, mostly for the drama, even though I was the only one there, and picked up the handset.

“Hi, Chef,” I said when he picked up. “I’m not feeling very well today. I know I’m supposed to train today and play tonight, and I don’t think I can. Is there any way you can find some way to cover for me?”

“Charlie, I’m happy to hear from you. You had everyone worried last night.”

“God, is all anyone does around here gossip?!”

“If by ‘gossip’ you mean your friends calling around, worried about you, when you suddenly disappear, then yes, that’s all anyone does.”

“Chef, please, I’m not in the mood for jokes. I really just want to go back to bed.”

“Totally understandable.”

“So can you find some way for the band to cover for me tonight?”

I was getting exasperated by how little he was taking me seriously. He apparently knew what happened, and didn’t seem to care at all. All I wanted to do was lay on my bed, and here he was dragging this out.

“No, I can’t. If you want to keep getting training, I expect you here this afternoon as usual. Feel free to sulk all you want this morning, but someone will be along to pick you up after lunch like normal.”

“Chef, how … you said it was understandable. Why are you forcing me to come up there?”

“It is understandable. Getting dumped like that sucks. Anyone would want to stay home and sulk. Life’s also tough and you don’t get to check out because you’re sad. This is going to sound harsh and cruel, but it’s what you need to hear right now. You want to get adult opportunities? You want to start a career in music now, up on stage, when most kids your age are out partying and counting the days till they go to college, then this is the price you pay. You can go back to being a kid and stay home, but that’s how it will be. You’ll go back to being a kid. You want to be up on stage, then you’ll follow through on your responsibilities, sadness be damned.”

“Fine,” I said, through gritted teeth. “I’ll be ready when my ride gets here.”

I hung up. Actually, I slammed the phone down as he was responding, not hearing a word of it. I was furious. He knew what happened. He understood that I was in pain, and he just didn’t care. Here he was, pretending to be my friend, and as soon as something happens and I need a break, he busts my balls.

I slammed the door open, but grabbed it before it smashed against the wall, taking two deep breaths. I was pissed and felt like I wanted to just break something, but this wasn’t our trailer. The last thing we needed was some kind of penalty or fee from the landlord because I was angry.

I threw myself down on my bed and put a pillow over my face, screaming into it. When I finally stopped raging, I just felt empty again. I wasn’t actually mad at Chef. He was right, I’d asked for this and I was getting things that no one else had a chance at. They’d done all this and hadn’t asked for anything in return.

I lay there through lunch, not feeling like getting food, which is why I was surprised by the knock at the door. I was gross, but since I was just going to train and then take a shower, there wasn’t a reason to get ready now. I’d washed my face and didn’t look like I’d been crying all night, which was about as good as I was going to manage.

Instead of someone from the restaurant, I found Hanna on the other side of the door.

“Nope, back inside,” she said, her arms crossed.

“What? My ride should be here any minute. I don’t need anyone else yelling at me,” I said, even as I went back into the kitchen and sat at our little table.

“I’m your ride. It's still the lunch rush and everyone else is working.”

“Why so early? Chef doesn’t normally get me on Sundays until after lunch.”

“He has this crazy idea that you were just going to skip lunch. Have you eaten since dinner last night?”

“No,” I said, not making eye contact.

“See, he was right. You can’t do all that exercise he has you do on an empty stomach. First though, you and I need to talk.”

“What?”

“You don’t ever do that to me again,” she said, slamming her palms into my chest, causing my chair to rock back. If I hadn’t been working out and improved my balance, I probably would have ended up going over backward. “I’ve been worried sick all night. I’ve barely slept. No one knew what happened to you. Rhonda destroys you at the party and then you just disappear. Your lights were all off when I drove by here and no one answered the door. No one answered your phone. I thought something had happened to you. Don’t ever … EVER … scare me like that again. Do you hear me?”

She was furious at me, which partially snapped me out of my moping. I’d been so hurt last night, all I’d wanted was to wallow and cry. I hadn’t thought about what it must have looked like, my disappearing like that.

“I finally got ahold of your mom, who told me you were at least alive.”

She surprised me by sitting in my lap and throwing her arms around me. I hugged her back as she buried her head in my shoulder. It was … strange. Over the last few months, she’d become my best friend and we spent time together constantly. I ate at her house once a week and saw her every day. Despite that, she wasn’t a physical person. We didn’t hug; let alone her sit in my lap.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie. I know you really liked her. I was ready to kick her ass last night, but I wanted to make sure you were alright first. I’m going to go beat the shit out of her once I drop you off.”

“Don’t do that. Rhonda made her decision and at least it was now, before things got more serious between us.”

“Don’t be all noble,” she said, releasing the hug and sitting back, although not getting off my lap. “You’re pissed at her and I am too. She doesn’t get to pull this shit.”

“She’s with Aaron. How long do you think it will be until that becomes an absolute shit show? The way he was looking at me, I guarantee you the only reason he was with her was to get at me. You should have seen the smile he gave me after I caught them. Rhonda’s going to get hurt all right, and neither of us has to do anything.”

Hanna looked at me for a moment and said, “You’re a lot calmer about this than I’d be.”

“I’m not, not really. I almost told Chef to go fuck himself when he said I still had to come and train.”

“That would have been bad.”

“No kidding, but mostly I was just mad at myself. I saw this coming and I ignored all the signs. I’m still sad, but I think I’ll be okay. I’m just glad I have such good friends. Did you know Kat was here this morning, to check on me?”

“She called me, looking for you. That girl is weird. Like, really weird.”

“She’s a good person. Anyways, thanks for being here, my friend. Now get off, you’re heavy.”

“Shut up,” she said and surprised me again, by hugging me. “Just make sure you don’t do this ever again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We drove mostly in silence to the Blue Ridge, although I did feel better after talking to Hanna. I still felt betrayed and hurt, but I didn’t feel as alone as I did the night before.

Chef didn’t say anything when I got to the kitchen, just pointed me out back, which I took as a sign to start stretching and warming up. I was halfway through my warm-up when he came outside and sat on the steps.

“Come here,” he said, patting the spot on the stairs next to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Hanna talked to me for a little while.”

“But still like crap?”

“Yeah.”

“That won’t go away any time soon. If you let that feeling take over your life, you’re just giving more of yourself to someone who’s already rejected you. It’s a waste for everyone.”

“So what do you do to feel better? When do I forget about her and move on?”

“Mostly, you just give it time. It doesn’t feel like it now, but it will hurt a little less each day until it doesn’t have a hold of you anymore. Did I ever tell you I almost got married?”

“No.”

“This was after I finished fighting. I’d just moved to the US and opened my first restaurant. There was a woman from my hometown and an aunt asked her to show me around. We really hit it off and started spending all of our time together until we were just dating. We talked about getting married and even started looking at rings until one day she told me she was moving out and going back to China.”

“Why?”

“Her childhood flame got divorced and called her, told her he’d made a mistake and wanted her back. She decided she wanted him more and was gone a week later.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. My aunt tells me they’re still together and she has a little boy, so I guess it was for the best. I’ve moved on, but what I haven’t done is forget her, and why would I? Eventually, they stop hurting and you realize your memories of them aren’t good or bad, they’re just your memories. You enter the next phase of your life and they just become a part of who you are now.”

“I guess,” I said.

It made sense, but right now every time I thought of Rhonda, my heart broke a little more, and I couldn’t help but immediately think of her kissing Aaron.

“You won’t believe me now. No one does. Fresh like this, it seems like that feeling will last forever.”

“So I just have to wait?”

“Well, there are two things you can do. First, don’t let it change you. Don’t let your response to what they did to you turn into hate. All that does is fuel the pain. It’s over, and the quicker you accept that, the easier it is for the memories to stop hurting. At first, it’s not easy. You have to stop and look at your response and chose to not let it be hate. Eventually, that will become a habit, and it will make it easier.”

“Okay, and the other thing?”

“I try and sweat it out of you. Up!”

I thought he was just joking, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn’t joking.

He worked me until I collapsed. Training and then conditioning, back and forth, until my legs wouldn’t hold me up anymore. On the bright side, he did start teaching me more practical applications for what I’d been learning and began sparring with me.

He made sure to say, multiple times, that this was only for defense, and if he ever heard of me hurting someone when it wasn’t to protect myself or someone else, all training ended forever.

He wasn’t wrong about the sweating. For a while - as I kept getting knocked to the ground trying, and failing, to land a hit on Chef - I forgot about Rhonda.

Normally, Chef called a stop to things around four, so he could get the kitchen organized for dinner. I didn’t even notice the time, or that the light was falling, until a voice from the kitchen forced us to stop. While I still hadn’t landed any hits, I’d started getting close. It wasn’t until Chef helped me up one last time that I noticed how dark it was getting. While it did get darker as we got closer to New Year's, it still must have been almost six, which meant the dinner rush would have already started.

“I see you all’ve kept things together while I’ve been gone,” Willie said from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Willie, you’re back?” I said, happy to see him.

Although I’d played with him the previous weekend, I normally had practices with him daily and had grown used to seeing him all the time.

“Yep. I played my last gig this afternoon and Keenan drove me home. It was good to be on the road again, but I missed the old place. I’m surprised to see you out here so late, Chef.”

“Charlie’s had a rough couple of days and I decided it’d do him some good to sweat the pain away. Besides, Vinney's been pushing for more responsibilities, so this was a good trial run.”

“Training your replacement so soon?”

“You’re leaving, Chef?” I asked, a stab of fear in my chest.

“Not any time soon, but if I do turn over the Ridge, I’m going to make sure whoever takes it over doesn’t destroy all my hard work. It would be nice to take a day off every now and then, though. I do need to get back in. He’s making good progress, but that doesn’t mean he still won’t burn everything down. Go take a shower, Charlie, and get ready for tonight.”

“Sure,” I said, whipping the dirt off my sleeves. “Thanks, Chef. I really do feel better.”

I was happy to hear Vinney was getting the opportunity. He was a good guy and this was the kind of thing Chef liked to do, give people a chance to show they could excel. I was just one of Chef’s projects, which actually made me feel good. While it’s great to feel special, it’s better to feel like part of something.

“Just be careful. You feel better because you’ve distracted your brain. The pain isn’t gone, and it will come back and hit you when you least expect it. That’ll still happen for a while, until the wound closes over. Don’t go back down that rabbit hole. When it comes back, distract your brain again. Keep doing it until you don’t feel like going down the hole again.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Come find me when you’re done,” Willie said, as he and Chef went inside.

I felt better, after a shower and change of clothes. Chef had been right. The exercise hadn’t just made me forget everything that had happened; it had, at least for a while, made me feel better. Between that and my talk with Hanna, I didn’t feel so despondent anymore. I was still sad and missed Rhonda, but that was all. I didn’t feel like lying in bed just staring at the walls anymore.

Willie was back in his favorite spot, leaned back in his chair on the porch, watching people come and go from the restaurant.

“So, I hear you’ve had some heartbreak,” Willie said as I sat down.

“You people sure do like to gossip.”

“It’s gossip when you’re talking to your peers. It’s stayin’ involved when it’s Chef or me. How can we keep y’all from puttin’ your foot in it if we don’t know what’s goin’ on? Besides, it’s good that you’ve had some heartbreak.”

“It’s good I got publically dumped?”

“Yep. The best music comes from this kind of thing. Hell, look at some of the songs you like to play up on stage. Think about the lyrics you’re up there singing. How many of them are about someone done dirty?”

He had a point. Probably half the songs in my setlists were about someone sad about something.

“Have you thought about workin’ on your own music?”

“I have, actually, since you mentioned it last week. I started working on something, but … I’m not really sure what I’m doing yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two ways to go about it, and that’s all on how the inspiration hits you, so neither’s the right or wrong way to start. Sometimes, a sound or beat or tune gets in your head and you start playing with it. You start out from that first sound and until you’ve got a melody and then a chorus and so on and so on. Then you find the words to fit the music you’ve made. Other times you have a feeling you want to get across or a subject you want to talk about and you start with the words. Then you find the music to fit the feelin’ you want people to get from the words. Like I said, either is right.”

“I kind of just started writing something, because you said I needed my own music.”

“You do, but that’s not the way to start. You don’t make something because you feel like you need to make it. You make it because you have somethin’ that needs to get out. You need to stop and think, what are you feelin’? Is it strong? Start with that.”

“So you don’t plan out a song or try for anything specific. You just … feel it?”

“Well, you do start planning out your song once you know what it is, but that’s not how you start. Some people can make that work, mind you, but usually it comes off as boring. Music isn’t about hitting certain themes or notes, music is about feelin’. It’s about you tryin’ to make your audience feel something specific. It might be exciting, with a fast beat and hittin’ it hard on one part of the chorus, it could be slow and sad. You could go for nostalgia, tryin’ to make someone remember what they felt when they were kids, or you could try to make them angry at something. Think about all the songs you’ve enjoyed in your life. Do you like them just up here, in your head, thinkin’ about a nice two-four bridge or how they got all the hard syllables on the downbeat of the chorus, or is it here, in your heart? Do you think about how that song made you feel, when you think about it afterward?”

“I think I get it, but I’m going to have to start over.”

“Going to write about your breakup?”

“No, actually. I probably will, but I need some more room for it. I feel completely different now than I did this morning, which was different than what I felt last night. I think I need some time to figure out what I really feel about that. Besides, I might be mad at her, but I don’t want to hurt Rhonda, and she’ll eventually hear it. If I was to write about it now, I’d say something I couldn’t take back.”

“Ha, you’re a better man than most then. Words you can’t take back make for the best music. Show me what you’re thinking about, then.”