Playing by Ear (Country Roads #1) - Chapter 2

It turned out ‘springing’ me from the hospital was a lot more complicated than I had hoped. We waited for the x-rays to come back, which showed I only had bruised ribs, not broken ones. The actual bad news was that I did have a hairline fracture in one of the bones in my foot. Luckily, the fracture was on the top of my foot instead of the bottom. The doctor explained that, since the bone would not get a lot of pressure when I walked, they could just put a boot thing on me instead of a full cast. The location of the break also meant that I should only need a few months to heal at the most, and there should not be any lasting problems, as long as I only took off the boot to shower and was careful.

The doctor wanted me to use crutches as much as I could, but I could also get away with just walking when needed. He told Mom that while all the bruising looked bad, they should all be healed up by the end of the week, except the bruising around the ribs, which might take a few days longer than everything else to stop hurting.

Of course, none of this was enough to get me out of more school.

Mom drove us home and dropped me off, before rushing out to her night job on a cleaning crew that serviced a bunch of the local businesses. A part of me wanted to ask her to stay, but I pushed that down. I was not seven anymore and could stay home without my mommy. Plus, she already missed a shift today, and we really could not afford for her to take any more time off.

I was just settling into a funk when the doorbell to the trailer rang. I had forgotten that I was supposed to be having dinner with the family whose nephew I helped out, and his cousin was supposed to come to pick me up.

I awkwardly pushed myself up and hobbled towards the door, grabbing the crutches I had leaned against the wall. I was really bad on them, but I did not want to push myself and have to wear the stupid boot thing any longer than I needed.

Sure enough, Hanna was standing on the wooden steps that lead out the front door of our trailer.

“Hey,” was the cleverest thing I could think of to say.

“That looks bad?” she asked, pointing at my foot.

“Actually, not too bad. The doctor said the break was small and that I should be fine in a few months. Since none of my ribs are broken, I’m counting myself lucky.”

“You ready to go?”

“Actually, I need to change. Sorry, by the time we finished at the hospital and got home, I’d forgotten about your mom inviting me.”

“I can tell her you need to have dinner another night if you don’t feel up to it now.”

While that actually did sound like a good idea, since my sides and face still hurt, Mom would ask me about the dinner in the morning, and I did not want to have to admit I ditched. She always made a big deal about upholding social obligations, and she would not be happy if I blew this one-off.

Also, whatever they were eating had to be better than the little blue box of mac and cheese, I would end up eating if I did not go over.

“No, I can still go. I just forgot, and these clothes have mud on them from this morning. Do you mind waiting for a couple of minutes? I promise I’ll be fast.”

“Sure,” She said, although her tone was in the ‘undecided’ category.

I pushed the thin aluminum door open wider, inviting her inside. She stepped hesitantly past me, looking around the kitchen that served as our entryway. The kitchen was not actually dingy, but everything was an off shade of brown that gave even a freshly scrubbed apartment a dirty look.

I hobbled past her, trying to move without the crutches, which I found hard to use inside the trailer, and led her into the living room, which was essentially a small couch, two chairs, and a narrow pathway in between that led to the back of the trailer.

“Have a seat, I’ll be right out.”

She sat down wordlessly, still looking around. I limped down the hall as fast as I could, and into my room. Dropping my dirty pants and shirt on the floor next to the bed, I tried to make a mental note to pick the clothes up later. I knew I would probably forget again, leaving them for Mom to grab as she picked up my laundry.

I changed into a clean t-shirt, the bulk of my wardrobe, and a pair of track pants since they seemed easier than getting blue jeans over the boot.

“You’re dad isn’t home?” Hanna asked, standing up when I limped back into the living room.

“He and my mom split up.”

While that was not completely true, I figured the statement was close enough to not count as a lie while saving me from having to explain the whole truth.

“Ohh. Mine, too.”

“Sorry.”

I never knew how to respond to something like that.

“It’s cool. He left while when my mom got pregnant, so I’ve never really known him.”

I grabbed my crutches that had been leaning against the door frame and made a try of going down the steps. I managed to not actually fall on my face, but that is about the only positive thing I could say about my attempt. In the three steps to her car, I realized I was not sure what to do with these then.

I was just considering trying to limp back to the trailer when she said, “Just slide them in the back seat.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, as though I had already thought of that, instead of having a mini-panic.

I was not much of a car person, spending most of my life driving around in a beat-up Winnebago; but hers seemed nice. Her sedan was not particularly showy, but it was nice, with a sparkly blue paint job. I laid my crutches with the bottoms on the floor, trying to not get her seats dirty, and then lowered myself into the passenger seat.

The inside of the car was meticulous. The dashboard was not covered in dust, and there was not a speck of dirt anywhere. Mom always prided herself on keeping things clean, and her car was not anywhere as nice as this. I caught a whiff of a faint flower smell, although I was not sure where it was coming from.

“How do you like the Carr school?” I ask, trying to fill the silence that closed in as soon as the doors closed.

“Carr’s just like any other prison.”

I gave her a sideways glance, trying to figure out if that was supposed to be a joke.

“Sorry. I showed up late to school, and my math teacher wouldn’t let me retake the quiz and hit me with a zero. She’s such a bitch.”

“The teachers are bad?”

“Not really. Some are, but most are at least okay. I guess the school isn’t that bad.”

The drive did not take long, although a lot longer than my walk across the creek that morning had taken. We had to take a left out of Oakdale, drive down a half mile and take another left, down a bit and take another left, then we were winding through their neighborhood. The drive between my trailer and their house was a big square that took about five minutes despite there being just over a hundred yards between my trailer and her house.

Pulling into her driveway, I found getting out of the car was harder than getting in the car. I had to swing my boot out and managed to whack it against the door frame, sending a shock of pain up my leg.

“Ahh!” I said in surprise.

“Do you need help?” she asked, stopping as she was halfway out of her door.

“No,” I said, moving my foot out slower and getting my left foot planted before pushing myself out. “I’m just not used to moving this thing around.”

“I get ya. I broke my leg at the beginning of my Junior year. It was a massive pain in the ass. I had a cast and had to keep my let straight all the time.”

“I’m glad I didn’t end up with that. This is the first time I’ve ever broken anything, and this boot is bad enough.”

I retrieved my crutches and swung my way along behind her. She pushed the unlocked door open and walked in, leaving it open behind her. I followed her inside, stopping to push the door closed with my air cast.

“Mom, I’m back,” she hollered as she walked through the entryway.

She had not said anything, but I followed behind her. Her mom appeared at the end of the hallway, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

“Charlie, how is your foot?”

“Only a hairline fracture. The Doctor said the break should be better in a month or so, and I didn’t need a regular cast. Where’s Sam?”

“My sister picked him up this morning,” Ms. Philips said. “She wanted me to tell you thanks for helping him out. He really wanted to stay for dinner tonight, but she has work in the morning, and they have a long drive back to Raleigh. Now, I know those crutches can start to hurt until you’re used to them. Hanna, will you show him to the table while I get the food?”

Hanna had reached her mom and stopped, looking back at me and then turning to the right. I eventually got to the end of the hallway, which opened up into a wide area with a kitchen on one side and an area with a dining table on the other, the kitchen counter forming sort of an L to separate the two.

Leaning my crutches on the wall by the door frame, I limped to the table and stopped.

“Mom usually sits here,” she said, pointing to the end of the table closest to the kitchen, “and I usually sit there, against the wall. You can sit here.”

‘Here’ turned out to be the chair in front of me, in which I pulled out and lowered myself, keeping my leg stretched forward and the boot out of the way.

I thought she might go help her mom, but she sat down on her side of the table and pulled out her phone. Not wanting to interrupt her, since she did not seem to want any more idle chit-chat, I looked around the room. The table was a dark brown wood that seemed to go well with the two-toned walls, a darker color on the bottom half, and a light brown on the top half. I did not know much about design, but the house seemed nice, with everything well maintained.

Square plates with a black swirling pattern in one corner were already on the table, a napkin with a fork was sitting next to them, and a glass of water in front.

Ms. Philips came out carrying a large white bowl with a pile of spaghetti sticking up from the top. The scent of tomato, meat, and herbs filled my nose causing my mouth to water instantly. My mom tried hard, but she would never be a great cook. We lived on things that originated in a box and could be made with only a few steps or simple foods like sandwiches. Spaghetti may not be the most complex meal someone could make at home, but it was several steps above what I usually ate.

“That smells great!”

“I’m glad you think so,” she said, using a large spoon to scoop a big portion on my plate.

While she served herself and Hanna, I twirled several strings of the sauce-covered pasta around my fork. I was just opening my mouth to take my first bite when she said, “We need to give thanks.”

“Huh?” I asked, closing my mouth, and lowering the spaghetti covered fork back to my plate.

“She means we are going to say the prayer.”

“Ohh,” I said, setting the fork down.

While we were not atheists, my family had never been particularly observant. If I thought really hard, I could come up with maybe one or two times I ever set foot in a church. I knew for certain we had never said a prayer over a meal.

Hanna and her mom held hands, and both held a hand out to me. I reached across the table and took Hanna’s and then her mom’s, unsure of what to do next until both closed their eyes and slightly bowed their heads.

I followed suit as Ms. Philips began.

“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the bounty we are about to receive and all the blessings you have given this family. We thank you for Hanna’s health and well-being. We thank you for Dad’s successful recovery. Thank you for the prosperity you continue to give us. We especially thank you for our new friend Charlie, who you sent to watch over Sam this morning and keep him safe. In all things, we give thanks, oh Lord. Amen.”

Hanna echoed the ‘amen,’ and I joined her, although a fraction too late.

“Tell us about yourself, Charlie,” Ms. Philips said after folding her napkin and putting it in her lap.

My fork was, once again, hovering inches from my open mouth.

“Uhh,” I said, setting down the fork and stalling for time. “I’m not sure there’s much to tell. We moved to town this summer after my mom got a job at the factory.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“Nowhere specific. Before my dad... uhh... left, we kind of moved around a lot.”

“Is he in the military?” Hanna asked.

“No, he’s a musician. We would kind of live out of our Winnebago and drive from gig to gig. Sometimes we’d stay at a hotel or whatever.”

“You didn’t have an actual home?” Ms. Philips said, sounding scandalized. “Where’d you go to school?”

“I mean, I always thought of the Winnie as my home. Mom had me in the homeschooling program, and taught me in between helping my dad manage his career.”

“That’s so cool,” Hanna said. “Did you like, go into the clubs and party and stuff.”

“No. When I was little, Dad was in bands, and they’d handle the behind the scenes stuff. I stayed with Mom in the Winnie or a hotel if we had one. By the time Dad started playing solo gigs I was nine, and they let me hang out in the green room if they had one, or sometimes the manager’s office. If they had neither, I just hung out in the Winnie by myself.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good way to raise a child.”

“I guess not. Everything seemed normal to me, but I think Mom would agree with you. As soon as Dad was out of the picture, she found a regular job and moved us here.”

“Good for her. I know getting out of a toxic relationship can be tough with a controlling partner. I’m glad she was able to get out for your sake.”

“Yeah, but we were left in a tough spot. Dad never made much, and what he did make he couldn’t hold onto very well. When he left we were flat broke. Mom borrowed enough cash from some of their friends to be able to move us here; but she’s killing herself, just to get us through each month. Now that we’re in one place I was thinking I could get a job after school and help her out, although I’m not sure how I’ll get anywhere without a car.”

“Isn’t Chef Tang always looking for people?” Ms. Philips said. “I bet if you ask him, he’ll let Charlie have the same shifts as you, and you two can ride together.”

“Mom,” Hanna said, her tone switching to ‘exasperated teenager.'

“That’s ok, Ms. Philips. I don’t want to put you guys out. If you just tell me the name of the place, I can go and talk to him and see if he’s looking for people.”

“His place is called the Blue Ridge, and you won’t put us out. Hanna would be happy to talk to them and get you rides.”

I would have had to be blind to not pick up the looks passing between mother and daughter. Hanna clearly was not a fan of this idea, but her mother seemed to be winning. I really did like the idea of getting a job, especially one where I had rides back and forth. What I did not want is to make the only person I knew in town that I had not actually been in a fight with to suddenly have a reason to dislike me.

“Really, I know Hanna has a lot of things to do with her senior year. She’s going to be too busy to drive me back and forth.”

One last look passed between them before Hanna let out a sigh and said, “No, I’m fine driving you. Chef won’t mind us having the same schedule if I’m your ride. He’s really good about that. He also teaches some people self-defense. I bet if we ask, he can teach you enough to not get beat up.”

“My pride wants to disagree, but my ribs think that’s a great idea.”

“Excellent. I know Hanna also won’t mind giving you rides to school,” Ms. Philips said.

“MO-om,” Hanna said again, this time cranking the exasperation to a ten.

“Hanna, Charlie went out of his way to help us and even got hurt. If you think for a second, you will remember you were supposed to be watching your cousin until I got out of the shower. He might not have gotten involved if you were with Sam. This is the least we could do to repay his help.”

“I guess,” she said, switching deftly from exasperation to sullen with practiced ease.

“You don’t have to....”

“Nonsense. Hanna will drive you.”

She made her statement seem very final. Hanna did not look angry, but she definitely looked annoyed by all the chauffeur work her mother had just volunteered her for.

“I’ll walk across the creek in the morning. At least you won’t have to drive any further.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“I’ll be fine. Getting across the creek might actually be easier with the crutches.”

“That works for me,” Hanna said, even though her mom still looked dubious.

I decided my best course would be to change the subject and hope her mom did not volunteer Hanna to help me anymore, otherwise I would be starting school with someone already hating me.

“What’s the Blue Ridge like, is it a restaurant or something?”

“It’s something,” Hanna said. “The sign says ‘bar and grill.’ During the day the Blue Ridge is mostly a restaurant getting business from people traveling up to the Smokey Mountains. At night the customers are there to drink and listen to Willie play.”

“Who’s Willie?”

“Willie Johnson. Apparently, he’s a big deal on the blues circuit and made a name for himself as a traveling musician in the forties and fifties. He’ll tell anyone who asks stories, but none of the names he mentions means anything to me. He’s nice though, and he really does play well. Plus, the tips go up when he’s playing.”

“That sounds cool.”

We lulled into silence, both focusing on eating until Ms. Philips decided to start grilling me again.

“Do you play sports?”

“Not really. I don’t have anything against sports but living in the Winnie and moving around all the time didn’t really make joining anything an option. I played in some pick-up baseball games sometimes.”

“Then what do you do for fun?”

“Mostly read and play guitar, since those are things I can do anywhere by myself.”

“You play guitar?” Hanna asked.

“Yeah, my dad liked to teach me.”

“Do you still play?” Ms. Philips asked.

“Yeah. I find playing comforting. Plus, I’m at home alone most the time, since Mom doesn’t get back till pretty late, and we don’t have a computer or a TV.”

“You don’t own a TV? How do you live?” Hanna asked in horror.

“We’ve never owned one, at least not that I can remember.”

Hanna was looking at me like I had grown a second head.

“Are you any good?” Ms. Philips asked.

“Huh?”

“At guitar. Are you good?”

“I guess I’m okay. Dad was a good teacher, and the people at the clubs he played, liked teaching me, which helped a lot.”

“Maybe you can play for us some time.”

“Sure, I could do that.”

“Great.”

The rest of the meal went fairly well, and Hanna eventually opened up once her mom stopped pestering her with extra responsibilities. I found out that Hanna had been a cheerleader when she was a freshman but had quit. I did not find out any more since she and her mom seemed pretty uncomfortable with the subject. She had, at some point, given up most of her extracurricular activities, now just worked at the Blue Ridge, and went to school. She had been at the Blue Ridge since her sophomore year, and her mom seemed to think the chef there was a good influence on her daughter, which actually made me feel better about asking for a job at a bar. I had been in my fair share of bars over the years, and most of them were not places I would want to work as a regular job.

Ms. Philips worked at a real estate agency and seemed to do well for herself. Neither brought up Hanna’s dad, and I did not press, not wanting to hit on a sensitive subject.

Dinner lasted another hour and included a cake Ms. Philips had made. The meal was honestly one of the best I could ever remember having. I secretly hoped Ms. Philips would invite me over again. I knew I would be sad the next time I opened a boxed meal for my dinner. Seeing how the other half lived, and then having to go back to reality, was tough.

Not that I begrudged them their success. Seeing what I was missing just confirmed once again that I needed to avoid making the mistakes my dad had made.

I tried to convince Ms. Philips to let me walk across the creek and back to my trailer, but she ‘wouldn’t hear of it.’ I apologized to Hanna once we were in her car about all the things her mom volunteered her for, but she just waved me off. After she dropped me at my trailer and sped off, I was not sure if I had a friend at my new school or a series of uncomfortable rides for the next year.

I was noodling on my guitar when Mom came home a few hours later. I saw her expression darken the way it always did when I picked up the guitar. I knew she was not crazy about me playing. The fear that I would decide to drop out of school and follow my father’s footsteps was always weighing on her mind. My continual denials did not seem to help much. Despite that, I could not stop playing when I had the time. Playing relaxed me, calmed me down, and made everything seem right in the world.

“How was dinner?”

“Good. They’re really nice.”

Even I knew enough to not gush over the quality of the food since the praise would sound too much like I did not appreciate Mom’s cooking.

“Hanna, the daughter, said she might be able to get me a job.”

“You need to focus on your school. You’ve never sat through classes and taken tests and everything, before. Going to an actual school is going to be a big adjustment, and you need to focus.”

“I will focus on school, but you know we need the money. I won’t know until I talk to them, but Hanna made the job sound like it would be mostly on weekends.”

“How are you planning on getting to this job, is it near here?”

“Hanna said she would take me. She said the owner would let me work shifts at the same time as her shifts, so I could get rides.”

“Charlie, don’t take advantage of these people.”

“I’m not. I told them ‘no,' that I would find my own way, but Ms. Philips doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

I could see Mom fighting with herself. She clearly did not like the idea of me working while I was in high school. Just like with the guitar, she was terrified that I would follow dad’s path. He dropped out his senior year of high school to ‘follow his dreams.’ One of the things they always fought about was how much she wanted me to stay in one place and go to a regular school, but there was no way we could make that work. Dad did not want to give up his life as a musician, and we did not have enough for him to travel around, and still rent somewhere Mom and I could live.

On the flip side, she knew we needed the money. She liked to shield me from our money problems as much as she could, but every additional dollar we could get was needed. At the moment, we lived hand to mouth. One emergency, like the trip to the hospital, was all that was needed to put us out on the street. A third paycheck would give us enough to eat every day, and put a little bit in the bank for emergencies. Our financial situation was why Mom did not fight Ms. Philips on paying our hospital bill, and why I knew what she had decided before she finished arguing with herself.

“Okay. You can go, but if you start struggling in school, I will make you quit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Also, make sure you thank Ms. Philips and her daughter. Offering to find you a job and drive you back and forth every day is incredibly generous.”

“I did. A bunch of times. I guess I should tell you they also offered for Hanna to take me to school and back instead of me riding the bus.”

“Charlie,” her tone rising at the end in a way I knew meant she was getting fed up. “This feels a lot like you’re taking advantage of these people. I know they feel like they owe us something for helping them, but they already paid off your hospital bill. I don’t want you bothering them with other requests.”

“Mom. You know me better than that. First, I didn’t ask for any of this. The job, the rides, none of it. They offered, or at least Ms. Philips did. I think Hanna isn’t thrilled about being volunteered so much. Second, I said ‘no.' I said ‘no’ a bunch. She wouldn’t accept my saying ‘no.' I either had to say something rude to get her to stop, or just accept the offers. I managed to hold my ground on at least walking to their house each morning instead of Hanna having to drive around here to pick me up.”

“Okay. I know you aren’t the type to take advantage of people, but you also don’t have a lot of experience in situations like this. Once people start doing favors for you, they don’t take long to decide you owe them, in return. Being in someone’s debt always ends badly.”

“Can I promise to be careful, try and not to agree to anything else, and tell you if they offer to do anything else for me so you can decide what I should do?”

“Yes. You’re a good boy Charlie. I’m proud of you standing up for their nephew this morning. I just worry about you.”

“I know you do. I love you, too.”