Unfamiliar (2 page)

We arrived at the concert hall a few minutes after the concert started and of course, there was no parking.

Braxton had been convinced that parking wouldn't be an issue since he just couldn’t fathom that anyone would actually willingly choose to torture themselves by sitting through a piano concert. I didn't even bother to argue with him because I knew that it would be crowded with people from the city who actually did enjoy the arts. But if there weren't whistles, a ball of some sort, and a bunch of sweaty guys slapping each other's asses, he wasn't interested.

“Okay, so I stand corrected. Apparently these things are a big deal.”

“I told you we should've left earlier.” I tried not to snap at him, but the annoyance I felt crept into my tone anyway and he looked taken aback.

“Hailey, look, I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“I told you we'd need to get here early. You just didn't want to come.”

“We're not that late. Let's just park here and walk the rest of the way. We'll be able to catch most of the concert, right?”

I wanted to point out that this wasn't like basketball—there were no instant replays. I'd never get to know what I’d missed and it sort of ruined the entire experience.

“Yeah, sure.” I was mad and I felt bad for it. After all, if we had left earlier like I’d wanted, he wouldn't have been there to help his dad.

It took us ten minutes to walk from our parking spot to the concert. The venue was small and there wasn't assigned seating, but when we discreetly entered the auditorium, there weren't any open seats available which forced us to stand in the back.

There was a young guy around my age, maybe slightly older, playing the piano on stage. He had short dark hair and wore trendy glasses. He was wearing a charcoal suit and an equally dark tie. Even at this distance I could tell the musician was passionate about his music. The song he played invoked a heavy feeling of sadness mixed in with such frustration that I found myself tensing up in response. The tightness in my chest caused by his music was so strong that I couldn't tell if the emotions were my own or his. Listening to someone play with such passion was like getting a front row seat to the inner workings of their heart. I found myself instantly drawn to him. I wish we could have been closer.

“Hailey-
” Braxton started, but I put my hand up to stop him.

“Shh. Not now,” I whispered without looking at him. I was too mesmerized by the pianist's hands and not at all in the mood to listen to another apology from Braxton. He could wait until after the concert was over.

I knew he didn't enjoy this sort of thing, but I thought since I never complained about the countless basketball games he dragged me along to that he would at least humor me.

I looked through the program for the name of the pianist on stage. William C. Lancaster. I'd heard of him before. He was some sort of musical prodigy. He’d made his orchestral debut at the age of seven or something like that.

I could feel Braxton watching me and I knew that he wanted to talk, but I was intent on ignoring him until after the concert. I wasn't going to miss any more of the concert because of him.

After the concert was over, Braxton reached for my hand as we walked out into the lobby.

“It was good. Especially that piano guy,” Braxton said. I couldn't tell if he was just trying to suck up or if he’d actually ended up enjoying it more than he thought he would. If I had to guess, I'd say he was just sucking up.

“Yeah, well, sorry you wasted your evening.”

“It wasn't wasted. Just because this music stuff isn't my thing, doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy spending time with you.”

He kissed my forehead and I felt the ice start to melt. I really didn’t want to be mad at him on my last night in town.

“I wasn't exactly nice to you,” I said.

“It's my fault we missed part of the concert. I wouldn't have been very nice to me either.” He smiled.

“True.” I nudged him with my shoulder and couldn't help but smile a little. I was being dumb. It wasn't like he’d purposely tried to ruin my night and it wasn't exactly very considerate of me to choose an activity I knew he had no interest in. We should have just stuck with something more neutral like dinner and a movie. “William C. Lancaster was brilliant.”

“Should I be worried?” he asked seriously.

“Worried about what?” I asked, unsure of what he could possibly have to be worried about.

“About you falling in love with the Piano Man.” He cracked a smile.

“Ha, hardly.” I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s not like I’d ever have the chance to actually meet the guy,” I teased.

“That’s reassuring.”

I stood on the tip of my toes so I could reach his cheek and gave him a kiss. “Don’t worry about that, I tend to go for the good boy-next-door type.”

“It’s a good thing I live next door then, huh?” He kissed me and then asked, “Wanna grab dessert somewhere?”

“Cheesecake Factory?” I suggested. “We can grab some to take back to your mom.”

“She won't eat it.” His face darkened and his shoulders hunched forward. “I don't know what it is, but it's different this time.”

This was his mom's third round of chemo, but it was the strongest. I wasn't sure how much more her frail little body could take and I knew that Braxton was thinking the same thing.

I gave his hand a comforting squeeze and smiled as brightly as I could manage. He’d been there for me after my mom had left, offering me constant support as I struggled to come to terms with being abandoned by the person who was supposed to love me unconditionally, and then of course dealing with my dad's resulting downward spiral. Braxton's family had become my unofficial adoptive family. It was their home in which I spent the holidays and enjoyed family dinners. Only in the Douglas home did I feel loved again.

“She never turns down cheesecake.” I put on my best optimistic smile. “Come on. I'm sure there is bound to be a flavor she hasn't tried yet. That's sure to spark an interest.”

“Maybe you're right,” he replied with a dubious sigh.

We walked the few blocks to The Cheesecake Factory hand in hand. Braxton and I ordered our usuals (cherry for me, key lime for him) then we picked out a sinful looking caramel apple cheesecake for his mom. Before she’d gotten sick, it had been a game for her to try a different kind every time she came here. I hoped the memory of that tradition would perk her up enough to enjoy at least a few bites.

It was after midnight by the time we made it back to Southlake. Braxton walked me to my door and kissed me goodbye.

“I'll put this in the fridge and try to get her to eat it for breakfast in the morning.”

“I hope she's okay.”

“Me too.” He sighed and then pulled me into his arms for another long hug. “I don't know what I'm going to do without you.”

“You'll still have me. I'll just be a little further away than the house next door.”

“I know, but it won't feel the same,” he said almost sadly. “I feel like everything is going to change.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know. I'm being dumb. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

As I entered my dark and quiet house, I couldn't help but agree that everything was about to change. My whole life was about to change. I felt like I had been trapped in a cage for the last few years and tomorrow, I'd finally break free.

Chase

Choices.

Choices were what had led me to this low point in my life. A bunch of messed up, fucked up choices that had set me on a destructive, down-spiraling path for life.

Well, according to my parents, anyway.

“You could be doing so much more with your life. You’re not unintelligent, Chase.” My dad sat at the head of the table, drinking one of his expensive wines out of an equally expensive, fancy wine glass as he told me all the things I’d done wrong in my short, twenty years in this world.

My mom sat to the right of Dad, the elegant bun on her head bobbing as she nodded in agreement at his words. “Your father’s right, dear.”

As I stared back at my parents, I couldn’t help noticing how much I resembled both of them. Dad’s dark brown hair and angular jaw; Mom’s hazel-green eyes and olive complexion. It was amazing that I was nothing like either them.

“Yeah, whatever,” I said with a shrug. I’d heard the same crap over and over again for years so it wasn’t like any of this was new to me.

My older sister, Cecilia, was on Dad’s left, also dressed impeccably in a navy knee-length skirt and a white blouse. She was fidgeting with her wavy, brown hair—that was the exact shade as mine—looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Hell, I’d rather be getting my wisdom teeth pulled out than be sitting here at Sunday lunch with my parents. It had become this stupid tradition in our family ever since I’d moved out after graduating high school. It was like my parents thought that eating together once a week would magically turn us into a normal family who liked each other.

Mom and Dad were a unit who agreed on everything, especially when it came to me and all the wrong choices I’d made for myself, starting with my decision to major in Music at Oakdale University. It had been two years and they still weren’t over it.

The other thing they really couldn’t get over was my choice to be the lead singer of
Set the Flames
, the pop punk band my best friend, Jonathan Flick, and I had started together as juniors in high school.

But, honestly, when had I ever really given a fuck what they thought about me and my choices? Heck, I did most of this stuff intentionally just to piss them off, because according to them you weren’t good enough if you didn’t have a Law degree like them, or at the very least a boring, stuffy, nine-to-five corporate job.

Cecilia had managed to avoid their criticism by giving in and doing what they wanted her to. But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t a follower. I did things my way. Even if they didn’t turn out so well for me in the end, at least I was making my own mistakes.

Compared to Cecilia and her recent promotion to partner at a prestigious law firm, I was the disappointment. The struggling musician. The one who could barely afford to scrape through college without his parents’ help. To them I was a failure.

Well, fuck them.

“We only want the best for you, Chase.”

In an attempt to appease me, Mom slid the dish of sweet potatoes my way. She wasn’t a carbs kinda woman, and I knew she only made them for our weekly lunches because she knew how much I loved them.

“Yeah, I know.” My voice was just as flat as my response as I met Mom’s disapproving eyes with a blank stare. “You want the best for me, you don’t want to see me making bad choices, and I’m wasting my life pursuing a Music degree, blah, blah.”

“We’re just trying to give you good advice,” Dad said, frowning at me. “Take for example your relationship with Heather. You were with her for three years and we kept telling you she was all wrong for you and look what happened. You should’ve just listened to us and-”

I’d told myself that I wouldn’t let them get to me, but that was the final straw. My break up with Heather was still fresh in my mind—those wounds were still bleeding and had yet to scar over. They had no reason to bring her up. It was a low blow.

“Fuck this shit,” I said, standing up so quickly that my chair fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

My parents and sister shot to their feet, alarm ringing clear across their faces. But I didn’t care. The only thing I was aware of was the pounding in my ears. The same pounding I’d felt the day things had ended for Heather and me.

“Chase, calm down,” Mom said, trying to reach out for me.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I pulled myself out of her reach and stared around the table at them. “I sit at this table every week and put up with endless shit from both of you. You tell me the same crap every Sunday, but you do not get to rub my relationship with Heather in my face.”

Dad actually looked troubled as he started to walk around the table to me. “Chase, all I was trying to say was that you are so much better without her. She was all wrong for you.”

The reason they thought Heather had been all wrong for me was because she dressed too scantily for my conservative parents and had decided to pursue an Arts degree instead of something more “practical” that my parents approved of. She was also an alcoholic whore who smoked a lot of weed, but that was something I’d never liked about her either.

“Yeah, well maybe I don’t need to hear that right now. Maybe I need you guys to actually support me for once.” I began walking toward the front door before Dad could reach me. Once I’d wrenched it open, I turned to Mom and shot her a tight smile. “Thank you for lunch. The sweet potatoes were excellent as always.”

Then I stormed out into the sweltering heat and headed toward my beat up car, which made me smile because I’d paid for it myself without my parents help. It was a piece of shit, but it was my piece of shit.

“Chase!” There were hurried footsteps behind me, and I turned around to find Cecilia coming after me.