Face the Music (16 page)

“Allie, I want you to call your mom,” Caitlin said as we were finishing up signing CDs. “Tell her what’s up and at the very least have her make a doctor appointment for when we get home next week.”

“I’m just tired,” complained Allie. “Everyone’s tired.”

“Well, we’re all going back to the hotel,” said Caitlin. “And everyone’s going to take a nice long nap.”

No protests there.

Another concert tonight. This time we were headlining with a new warm-up band called Wooden Head. It’s a guys’ band from Sacramento, so you’d think they’d be fairly well received (you know, the home field advantage), but the crowd was only so—so about them. I’ll admit I didn’t think they were the greatest either, but then everyone’s style is different. Plus it’s still pretty hot down here, and it was an outdoor concert, so I figured
maybe everyone was just so baked that they weren’t really responding to the music anyway. Not exactly a happy thought since we were on next. But fortunately the crowd seemed happier when we got onstage, and all in all it wasn’t such a bad concert. Although I still felt we were lagging. I mentioned it to Willy afterward.

“It’s okay, Chloe. You can’t expect to be in top form every night. The whole tour thing just wears on you. Some bands would be a complete mess by now. And this heat doesn’t help a bit.”

“I’ll be glad when it’s over, Willy.”

He patted my head. “We all will. Only two more concerts and we can go home.”

“Home …” I thought about this. I don’t think I’ve ever longed for home as much as I did tonight. Even now, in the “comfort” of this hotel room, I wish I could be like Dorothy and just click my heels together three times and end up in my own bed in my own room at home. Two more concerts.

We performed with Iron Cross tonight. And considering how wiped we all are (even Iron Cross admits to being frazzled), we did okay. But that was all. Just okay. Sometimes I wonder if the audience is ever disappointed in us. Like maybe they’re thinking they didn’t get their money’s
worth this time. And I’ll admit this bothers me quite a bit, but on the other hand, I don’t think there’s much we can do about it. The old “you can’t squeeze blood from a turnip” saying comes to mind. They could pressure and grind on us, but I seriously doubt we could play any better no matter how hard we tried. We are all just plain tired.

I feel a little bad that I’ve been mostly ignoring my e-mail lately. I have about a hundred unanswered pieces, and these are from people I actually know—friends and relatives. Although I think about half of these are from Tiffany Knight. I almost cringe every time I see her name in the “from” box. And I control myself from deleting her posts unread. That would be incredibly rude. But really, that girl needs to get a life! I do, however, try to answer the ones from my parents. But that’s the best I can do at the moment. I’ll catch up with everything next week when we go home. Home. Ahh, just the sound of that word makes me feel better.

We were all hanging in the hotel today, mostly reading, napping, and eating what Caitlin determines is “healthy” food. We’re basically trying to recuperate enough to do our final concert tomorrow. It’s a biggie with six bands playing all day. Iron Cross will be there, of course, to finish the whole thing off. We’re supposed to play before them. Willy says they’re saving the best two bands for last. That’s pretty cool. And we really wanted to be in top form for this concert.

But then something happened that just knocked us all flat. Mostly me, I think. I’m still feeling pretty horrible about it. And guilty. And sick.

The phone rang about two o’clock in the afternoon. I answered.

“Chloe?”

“Dad?”

“How you doing, honey?”

“Pretty much spent. How about you guys?” Now I always get a little nervous when the parents call, since we tend to e-mail more than use the phone. I start thinking something is wrong, like
with Mom or Josh or Caleb. And today was no different, and actually I thought I heard something in his voice.

“Well, something sad happened here in town last night. I think you were friends with Tiffany Knight.”

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Tiffany was riding a motorcycle with her dad last night, and they hit gravel, and, well, Tiffany was killed.”

“Tiffany was killed?” Allie and Laura were coming over to where I was standing now, their faces concerned.

“Yes, it was a bad wreck. The bike slammed into a telephone pole and the father is in critical condition, but the news said Tiffany died instantly. I wasn’t sure if I should call and tell you or not, but then I thought you should know.”

“She’s dead?”

“I’m sorry, pumpkin.”

“I feel horrible.”

“I know. It’s hard to hear about something like this.”

The line was quiet for a few moments, and Allie and Laura were both tugging on me, wanting more information. Finally I said, “Thanks, Dad. I need to tell Allie and Laura about this.”

“Chloe?”

“Huh?”

“I love you, honey. And I’m so glad you’ll be home soon.”

“I love you too, Dad. Tell Mom I love her too. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Good. That’d be good.”

I hung up the phone and turned to Allie and Laura, then noticed that Beanie and Caitlin were looking at me too.

“Tiffany Knight was killed in a motorcycle wreck last night.” I know my voice sounded flat and emotionless, but that is not how I felt.

Allie’s eyes grew wide. “No way. Tiffany Knight is dead?”

I nodded.

Laura sank into the couch. “Wow. That is so sad.”

“Was she a close friend?” asked Beanie.

We all looked at each other, then finally I spoke, trying to sound normal over the huge lump that had lodged itself in my throat. “Actually, she was trying to be my friend,” I admitted. “But I spent most of my time just blowing her off.”

“That’s not true,” said Laura. “You were always nice to her.”

“That’s right,” agreed Allie. “You were probably nicer to her than anyone else at school.”

I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t.” And then I began to sob. I couldn’t even talk anymore. Everyone tried to comfort me, but it was useless.
Finally, I just had to come into the bedroom. I told them I wanted to take a nap. But I cannot sleep.

I feel like the most rotten human being on the planet. I can remember, in vivid detail, every single time I resented Tiffany, tried to avoid her, wanted to escape her—every single miserable thing. And I make myself sick. I even glanced back through my diary to see if it was true. And there I am whining and complaining about how God has given me this “hard challenge to love Tiffany.” What is wrong with me? I am such a hopeless, pathetic loser.

And I’m sure God must be ashamed of me down to His shoes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such self-loathing in my life. Or at least not since I became a Christian. I don’t see how I’ll be able to perform tomorrow. How can I stand up there on the stage and tell everyone to love others the way Jesus loves them when I am such a total hypocrite?

I know Allie and Laura were seriously worried about me before today’s concert. I tried to act as if I was going to be okay, but inside I felt like someone had put my guts in the blender and just whirled them for about an hour. Still, I thought I was keeping up a brave front.

“I heard about your friend,” said Jeremy.

I’d purposely sat by myself in a quiet area of the large room set up for musicians to eat and rest between performances. I thought I was doing a pretty good job of pretending to read my Bible, with my knees pulled up to my chin, sending out a strong “do not disturb this spiritual person” message. But the truth was, I was just sitting there like a vegetable, tucked into the corner of the sofa in this miserable little heap of guilt and grief. But I was surprised to see Jeremy there since he usually avoids this scene. I’d only gone there myself because I thought I could be ignored amid all the noise and busyness.

“Mind if I join you?”

I shrugged. “I’m not very good company.”

“I know.”

We sat there in silence for a good five minutes before Jeremy spoke. “I’m not going to say I know how you feel, Chloe. But I think there must be a reason you’re taking this so hard. You want to talk about it?”

“Did the girls send you to rescue me?”

He smiled. “Sort of. They’re worried about you. They said you’re taking this too hard.”

“Too hard?” I felt slightly angry now. “You know why I feel like crud? It’s because this girl who died, Tiffany Knight, had been trying and trying to be my friend, and I couldn’t stand her. I mean, I tried and I tried to love her, but she just basically made me crazy.”

“Laura told me about how she used to beat you up.”

“Jesus was beaten,” I tossed back. “But He loved His enemies.”

“You’re not Jesus, Chloe.”

I sighed.

“And Allie said that no one liked this girl. And that you were nicer to her than anyone—”

“But that wasn’t good enough,” I said, fresh tears filling my eyes. “She’d been e-mailing me a lot recently, and I never even read her e-mails—not a single one. I mean, if I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve read them, Jeremy—I would’ve written back. I would’ve told her to give her heart to God and—” Then I totally lost it. And
despite our pact, Jeremy put his arms around me and held me for a while. But it was a brotherly sort of hug. I absolutely knew this, and I really don’t think it was wrong. Finally I was able to stop crying. I sat back and blew my nose on the red bandanna that he pulled from his pocket.

“So, you’re worried that she died without giving her heart to God?”

I nodded as I held his bandanna out to him.

He smiled. “Keep it.”

“The last time I talked to her about God, she admitted that she was still trying to figure it out.”

“Then maybe she did.”

I frowned. “You didn’t know this girl, Jeremy. I hate to say it, especially since she’s—she’s dead, but she was the shallowest person I’ve ever known in my life.” I started crying again. But not so hard this time. Still, I felt like the scum of the earth for saying what I’d just said. I used his bandanna to blot my eyes and tried to explain myself better. “I feel totally rotten for not reaching out to Tiffany more, for not loving her better. And now it’s too late.”

“Chloe,” Jeremy said in a quiet but intense voice, as if to really get my attention.

I looked up at him.

“Listen to me, okay?”

I nodded.

“Do you trust God with everything, every part of your life? Do you think He’s big enough to handle it?”

“Of course.”

“Then you need to trust Him with this. Do you really think what happened to Tiffany Knight was totally out of God’s control?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Was Tiffany a part of your life? I mean, did you share Jesus with her and pray for her and stuff like that?”

“Yeah. I did. A lot.”

“So, she was part of your life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you really think God wasn’t involved with what happened to her? Do you think He’d allow her to die without getting it squared away with Him first?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you need to just trust Him with this.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I suppose I haven’t been doing that.”

“And you need to ask Him to forgive you.”

“I did.”

“Then you need to forgive yourself.”

“I know you’re right, but it’s hard.”

“When we don’t forgive ourselves, it’s like spitting on Jesus, Chloe.”

I knew what he was saying. I think I’ve said as
much to other people before. “I know. I know …”

“Do you want to pray about it?”

I nodded.

And there in the midst of all these other musicians, we bowed our heads and began to pray. But then something amazing began to happen. I heard others walking over to us, and pretty soon there was a circle of about a dozen people sitting and standing all around us in this circle. They were putting their hands on my shoulders and head and actually praying for me too. It was incredible. When we finally finished, I was crying again. But these felt like healing tears. I thanked everyone. And we hugged and it was like the body of Christ in action. Amazing.

So just before it was time for Redemption to perform, Laura said, “Maybe we should just skip the rock-paper-scissors routine tonight. Allie or I can speak.”

I shook my head. “No, I want to, if you guys don’t mind.”

“You sure?” Allie’s eyes were still full of concern.

I nodded.

So we went out and played. I think it was the best we’d played in days, maybe even weeks. And finally it was time to share, and I silently prayed that God would somehow sift through all my emotions and help me say what it was I wanted to say.

“A friend of ours died Saturday,” I began, and the crowd grew instantly quiet. “Her name was Tiffany Knight and she was seventeen and about to start her junior year. She was killed instantly in a motorcycle wreck, and her dad is in critical condition right now. In fact, let’s all take a moment of silence to think of Tiffany and to pray for Mr. Knight.” I bowed my head and blinked back the tears that were filling my eyes again, and after a moment I continued.

“I want to admit something to you guys tonight. I knew that God had called me to love Tiffany Knight, but the truth was, I found it really hard to love this girl. She had beaten me up when I was a freshman, and she made fun of people who were overweight or unattractive or just different. To be perfectly honest, Tiffany Knight was pretty obnoxious.