One Hit Wonder (6 page)

“Nothing that isn’t related to music. I said to myself: if in five years with the band I can’t make a living, I’ll find another way.”

“How long has it been?”

“Five years.”

“I’m glad it’s working out.” She reached for the pillows at the end of the bed and propped them in position again.

“Need a hand?”

“Nah, I got it.” She placed her foot on the pillows and lay down, grimacing with discomfort.

“You really should take the antibiotics,” he said, but she responded only with a faint smile. “How about you? Have you thought of doing something else besides photography?”

Audrey snorted, not used to being referred to as a photographer. “I’ve thought about doing a million things, from being a fashion designer to working with indigenous tribes in the Amazon. I guess I get that from my mother. She was always restless, pursuing several things at once but never sticking to one long enough to see results. So she was, mostly, a stay-at-home mom with big dreams.”

He was staring at her. Disconcerted, she returned her gaze to the ceiling and said, “Growing up, I was her business partner.” Audrey smiled. “She told me about the value of work and how it can dignify even the most hopeless of souls. She never accepted just being at home, even when my father had told her he could take care of us and she shouldn’t worry about it. It wasn’t about money for her, which was good, because she never made any. I remember once she decided to make homemade truffles and chocolate-covered candy. Bombons, as they call it in Brazil. She went out and spent over two hundred dollars in tools and supplies, but sold only sixty dollars worth of chocolate. My father and I ate truffles for weeks.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Oh, I didn’t. Not at all. Except for seeing her face afterwards. She never said anything but I could see the disappointment in her eyes.”

The noise from the air conditioner took over the room again as they lapsed into silence.

“You still haven’t told me what you wanted to do.”

“I … .” She let out a sigh and offered him a vague smile. She could have told him she wanted to be a photographer, but she knew it wasn’t the truth. She still didn’t know what she wanted. She knew she didn’t want to spend years doing a job she hated or marry a boyfriend she didn’t love, and most certainly, she didn’t want to stumble through life anymore.

Photographing the band with an injured foot had proved more challenging than she’d anticipated. After one week, she finally removed the stitches in a Minute Clinic on their way to Tuscaloosa, where the band was going to have the last gig on Saturday before heading out to Texas. She still felt a pinch of pain at every step, but she didn’t hesitate to walk normally anyway, afraid her leg would atrophy from lack of use. It was an absurd fear, but it had been subconsciously imprinted on her mind from knowing a beloved aunt wasted away to her death after becoming paraplegic in a car accident in Brazil.

Over the past few days, John’s animosity had transformed into something else. He still stood away, towering over everyone like a centenary oak tree when Kevin and Tyler were showing off or competing for her attention. But now she could escape the noise and join him in his quietness. He no longer fled.

They had arrived in Tuscaloosa on Wednesday, and the next day she woke early to survey the town and work on her own photography. After her conversation with John, she’d decided photography was no longer going to be only an avocation. The early hours of the morning had its advantages: the light was beautiful and she could be alone. Completely alone.

“I was looking for you.” John was sitting on the stairs that led up to the second floor of the hotel, when she got back at eleven.

“I was photographing some places around town.” She wasn’t sure what her professional inclinations were yet, but nature wasn’t her forte. Not because she didn’t like it or appreciate its beauty, but because anything short of Edward Weston was not even worth pursuing. Perfectionism and indecisiveness had proven to be a bad combo. She was drawn to people, everything about the human presence intrigued her. Even when determined to photograph the historic centers of the little towns they drove through, she’d find herself taking pictures of graffiti on building walls, interesting bystanders, or pie displays inside run-down diners.

“Cool. Anything good?”

“Oh, the usual. I’m still looking for…inspiration.” She felt embarrassed about the truth. She walked around with her D90 furtively pressing the shutter at the things she saw, but she ached for meaning — for her images, for her life.

“It will come to you.” John nodded as if he understood the subtext. “Listen, I found out about this little museum they have here. It’s called the Westervelt, and it’s supposedly huge on American Art. Do you want to go check it out?”

She was caught off guard. It was the first time he’d asked her to do anything. “Yeah, sure.”

“It opens at noon. We can take a cab.”

“Okay.”

They rode in silence to the Westervelt. The drive was scenic and calm, but her mind was racing. Unable to decode her thoughts into a coherent explanation, she overheated like an overloaded CPU.

The museum was a beautiful stone mansion that sat on a hill surrounded by trees. Inside, the surroundings were as warm and rich as a log cabin, with high ceilings and walnut paneled walls. Works of art were spread all over rooms which resembled more a large house than a museum.

“Look, Durand’s
Progress
.” John pointed to a large landscape painting with a baroque gold frame hanging on a corner.

“Wow.” Audrey approached the painting. It was breathtaking, with its vast lavender sky, bathed in golden rays of sun that seemed to emanate out of the canvas. “How did you know?”

“I’ve taken some art classes.”

“Did you?” Her voice was soft, wavering between incredulity and joy.

“I thought they went well with my music major.” He glanced at her, then returned his gaze to the painting. “Durant said, ‘Let the artist scrupulously accept whatever nature presents him until he shall, in a degree, have become intimate with her infinity.’ I tend to think of nature as life.” He smiled at her and walked to the next painting.

“How did you start with music?”

“My mother. She died when I was younger.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, It was a long time ago. She loved music. She played several instruments. She gave me my acoustic guitar.”

“The one — ” Audrey lifted a finger over her shoulder and gestured toward the direction they’d come from.

“Yes. I always have it with me.”

“Aw,” she murmured. It was the saddest, sweetest thing she’d ever heard. Staring at him surveying the art, she bit her lower lip and braced herself to fight the urge to step closer and hug him.

• • •

“Audrey? Earth to Audrey … .” Matt’s voice sounded distant, even though he was sitting next to her at the pub. “Is everything okay?” He asked when she looked at him.

“Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know. You look worried.”

“I’m okay.” She grasped the back of her hair with both hands and twisted it in a makeshift pony tail, letting its long strands fall over her right shoulder.

This cannot be happening to me
. She squeezed her beer bottle and pretended not to watch John at the bar talking to the pub owner.

When Audrey and John had arrived back from the museum in the afternoon, Matt, Tyler, and Kevin were throwing a football in the hotel parking lot. They all played for a while, but Audrey wanted to be alone. Her head had been spinning ever since the incident in Columbia. She was glad John had finally stopped avoiding her, but now she felt her insides melt when he was near. It was nauseating.

“Where’s Rob?” John said.

“He took the bus to the mechanic,” Matt said.

It was ironic how they always referred to the decrepit Winnebago as the bus, for tour bus.

“Where have you two been?” Kevin threw the ball to Audrey.

“At a museum.” She caught it without difficulty.

“Nice catch,” Tyler said.

“My father wanted a son.” She threw the ball at Tyler in a perfect spiral.

When they knocked on her room door and invited her to go hang out at the pub where they were going to perform the next day, she almost said no, but figured staying alone ruminating on her feelings was worse. She needed distraction.

“From Gary.” A waiter placed Jägermeister shots on the table. They looked over at the bar and Gary, the pub owner, waved at them. They’d met him the night before, the first time they went to the pub to introduce themselves and check out the place. After the high-tech company Gary had worked for went under, he bought the bar and moved from Silicon Valley to run it.

“I think he’s interested,” Tyler smirked.

Audrey lifted her glass, nodded at Gary, and dropped her head, feeling the burning in her throat and the heat crawling up her chest. It was exactly what she needed to forget what was happening to her. Happened to her. Stupid Penny Lane. She gulped the rest of her beer. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Wanna dance?” She asked Matt.

“Dance?” He stiffened.

“I’ll go with you.” Kevin quickly offered. Audrey glanced at Kevin, then back at Matt.

“Go. I’ll take the next one,” Matt smiled shyly.

Audrey shrugged. “Come on, Kevin.” They walked toward the empty dance floor — a small area in front of the tiny stage.

The band performing had an upbeat sound that reminded her of Maroon 5. The lead singer let out a little cheer when he saw them approaching, moving with the beat of the drums. The music transformed her body into a malleable material that bended and flailed, as sinuously as a dangerous road. She raised her arms and Kevin placed his hands on her waist. For a moment, she had the urge to look at the bar to see if John was watching, but he wasn’t there. Gary, though, was behind the bar and couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked at the table where she’d come from, John was sitting with the guys. His name vibrated in her head along with the stirring music. John, John, John. She threw herself into it and danced until her hair felt heavy and damp, clinging to her back and neck. When the music stopped, Kevin gave her a celebratory hug and led her toward the table.

“I’m going to get something to drink.” She veered toward the bar.

The reality was, she didn’t want to be in John’s vicinity just yet. Her last relationship had ended very badly and, in the two years she’d spent with that boyfriend, she had not once felt the throbbing of wild horses crushing her chest like she did when John was around. Strangely enough, she also experienced an incredible serenity, as if she was riding up a mountain in a ski-lift, watching the smooth white carpet below her while cool snowflakes flickered and melted on her face.

“What can I get you, gorgeous?” Gary placed a napkin in front of her.

“Jack and water.” Audrey sat on a vacant stool at the edge of the bar and he turned to mix it. He placed the drink in front of her, and she pulled a twenty from her pocket.

“No, on the house.” Gary dismissed the money with a wave of his hand.

“Thanks.” Audrey knew there was no point on insisting. Every other round the band consumed was on the house. Gary wouldn’t allow her to pay, considering his obvious interest. She felt a pang of devilish shame about the situation, because his tanned Californian looks didn’t do anything for her. Even if the thoughts of John weren’t constantly pulsing in her head, like the first signs of a massive migraine, Gary’s ‘what’s-up-dude’ attitude appeared to be that of someone trying very hard to live in a decade that had long bid farewell.

“You looked pretty good on the dance floor,” Gary said.

“Oh.” Audrey wasn’t sure how to respond to being complimented on something as frivolous as dancing. She hadn’t somersaulted backwards, for goodness sake. “Thanks.” While she couldn’t think of a single reason to stay there and endure Gary’s foundering attempts to charm her, sitting by John was not a better prospect. She wanted to. Oh, hell. She wanted it to be near him so bad, she’d started to daydream about it, but being unemployed, living with her parents, and absolutely clueless as to what to do with her life kept any hopes of a relationship at bay.

“Come sit with us.” Matt leaned on the bar. “Can I have four Budweisers, please?” He asked a young bartender. Gary was at the opposite side of the bar talking to other patrons.

“Matt, have you ever been afraid?” Audrey said, without looking at him.

“What have you been drinking?” Matt reached for her glass, and sniffed the liquid inside it.

“When you started the band. How did you know you were going to get along?”

“Well, I didn’t start the band. John did. I just joined in. I didn’t know if we were going to get along and we didn’t — all the time, he kept us together.”

“Hmm,” Audrey took a sip of her whiskey and pondered. “Weren’t you worried John wasn’t going to reciprocate your…efforts?” Audrey bit her lower lip, wishing she could stuff those words back into her mouth, because Matt’s expression was torn between amusement and incredulity.

There was a moment of silence, long enough for Audrey to knock back her drink and wish to burst in flames.

Matt’s expression turned contemplative, then he said, “I suppose we never know what other people will do, that’s why we can’t worry about it. What we can do is not let fear keep us from living the best life we can.” He paid for the beer the bartender had placed in front of him, then intertwined his long fingers on the bottles, two in each hand. “I can tell you one thing for sure, John is the best person to share your
efforts
with, because he always does what’s in his power not to let anyone down.”

“Want to go on a hike?” Matt asked John, as he and Audrey stepped on the curb and made their way to the hill behind their hotel the next day. They ran almost daily, before they got in the bus or after getting out. No matter when, Matt was the one who insisted on running, he had explained he was built like Jon Favreau, always on the line between fit and fat. Audrey didn’t mind. She pushed herself to exhaustion, so she could fall into bed and be unconscious before a veil of troubled thoughts covered her like a wet blanket.