Yes (22 page)

The concert continued in that vein for a full two hours and then closed with the band’s biggest hit, “Homesick.” The resident string quartet at UT joined them onstage for the final number, which prompted Matthew to say, “I’d kill to be one of those violinists right now.” At one point, Topher stopped singing and let the crowd carry the signature line of the song.

Afterward the band left the stage and the audience stomped their feet. Matthew put his arm around Ryan. “They only do one encore, and it’s always a cover. I read they keep it a secret from everyone, even Stanton and Marvin.”

When the four members of Dime Box returned, Topher stepped up to the mic and said, “You might recognize this next one.” He pulled a harmonica out of his back pocket, and the riff he played sent a wave of hysteria through the yard. Everyone in the VIP area looked at each other in shock.

“They’re not…?” Matthew asked.

Ryan recognized the tune immediately, and the members of Dime Box threw themselves into the opening bars of Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road.” Topher’s voice had worn out just enough to lend it a rough edge. The four musicians attacked the rock classic like a band who had never left their garage. For this one song, they were just four kids from a tiny Texas town, playing the music of a man they no doubt considered to be a god, and to hell with what anyone thought.

A thunderous ovation followed the closing bars. The audience would have stood all night listening to the band, but Topher waved and blew them a kiss. “I gotta get home and check on my kids. Thanks for coming out. We love you. Good night, y’all.”

When the lights came up, Quentin walked over to Matthew and Ryan and put his arms around them. “You’re invited back to the house, if you’re free.”

“What house?” Ryan asked.

“The band’s. They have a big place just east of here.”

Matthew’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “You mean you’re inviting us to Topher Manning’s house? The one he lives in?”

“Can you both make it?”

“Definitely. Both of us. Right, Ryan?”

Ryan nodded. “Don’t worry. We can make it.”

“Good,” Quentin said. “I’ll text you the address and then see you over there in a few.”

He walked away, and Matthew turned to Ryan. “Can you believe this?”

“No, I can’t. But I think your dream of meeting Topher Manning is about to come true.”

S
INCE
THEY
didn’t want to be the first ones there, they hung out for a while and got a drink. Ryan and Matthew left Stubb’s around one o’clock and drove to the address Quentin provided. Their GPS led them to a huge two-story house in East Austin with a sign in front.

PARTY IN BACK

They walked up the driveway and found everyone gathered inside the garage apartment. The small group included the members of Dime Box, Stanton and Marvin, the Walsh family, the UT string quartet, and what were probably a few stagehands.

Moments after they arrived, the Ackerman twins made a beeline across the room and said, in unison, “Is one of you Matthew?”

“That’s me. I’m Matthew.”

“I’m Robin, and this is my brother Maurice. We hear you play the violin.”

“How do you know that?”

“Quentin told us,” Maurice said. “You ever hit the bong?”

“Sure,” Matthew said.

“Let’s go out on the patio and smoke a bowl.” Then Maurice turned to Ryan and asked, “Do you mind if we borrow him for a little while?”

“Not at all. You just made his night.”

The twins put their arms around Matthew and escorted him out of the room. Ryan felt uncomfortable for a second, but then he saw Quentin near the kitchen, standing next to Topher. Quentin whispered something into Topher’s ear, and then Topher looked at Ryan.

He smiled, crossed the room, and offered his hand. “Hi. I’m Topher Manning.”

“I….” Ryan felt a little starstruck but shook it. “I know who you are. I’m Ryan Parker.”

“I know who you are too. Would you like to see the house?”

“Sure. I’d love to.”

“Groovy. Follow me, then.” Topher led them out of the garage apartment. As soon as they closed the door behind them, a peaceful, late-night silence replaced the loud clamor of the party. “The kids are asleep, so we have to keep the celebration confined to Marvin and Ty’s place.”

“They live in the garage apartment?”

Topher started down the steps. “When they’re in town. Ty couldn’t get away from work this week.”

Ryan followed him. “That’s Marvin’s boyfriend?”

“Husband.”

“How many kids do you have?”

“Two for now. I like to check on them after a show, just to remind me of what’s important.”

Ryan followed Topher across the backyard and through the kitchen door. They cut through the living room and then climbed a set of stairs to the second floor.

“Are they up here alone?”

“No,” Topher said. “The nanny is across the hall.” He opened the first door on the right and stepped inside. Ryan stood in the doorway and watched as Topher crossed to the first crib. He leaned over and gave its inhabitant a kiss. Then he motioned to Ryan and whispered, “Come on in. This here is Gracie.” Ryan stepped into the room and looked down into the sleeping face of a little girl who looked about a year old. Topher crossed to the second crib. “And this is William. You can see he’s gonna be a soccer player from the way he kicks his covers off.” Topher replaced the blanket and sang a verse of “The Cradle Song.” Ryan listened in rapt wonder.

They stepped back into the hallway, and Topher shut the door. They went downstairs and returned to the kitchen.

“You want a beer or something?”

“Can I have a glass of milk?” Ryan said.

“Sure.” Topher went to the fridge and pulled a carton of milk from the top shelf and a bottle of Shiner from the door. He poured some milk into a glass and handed it to Ryan, then twisted off the cap of his beer. “Have a seat.” Topher returned the milk to the fridge, and they sat at the big table in the center of the kitchen.

“Did you adopt?”

“No,” Topher said, “we used a surrogate. I was so excited when we found out we were having twins. Being around Robin and Maurice my whole life, it just seemed natural. Stanton was a little resistant to the idea. Of having kids, I mean. But you should see him now. Gracie has him wrapped around her little finger.”

Ryan took a drink of milk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He wasn’t quite sure how he got there—sitting in the dark kitchen of a rock star at two o’clock in the morning—but he wanted to find out. “Why am I here?”

Topher laughed. “Quentin asked me to talk to you. He told me about your, um… situation.”

Ryan panicked. “What situation?”

“Relax. I know everything. But it’s okay, I promise. I’ve had some otherworldly experiences myself.”

“Really? Like what?”

“It’s a long story. Stanton even wrote a book about it. Let’s just say I know my way around unexplained phenomena. Ben and I both talk to dead people.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Topher looked at him suspiciously. “You woke up one day twenty years younger, and you think I’m the crazy one?”

“Sorry. I see your point.”

“Do you mind if I ask how it works? Are you young on the inside too?”

“Physically, I’m twenty-one. But I have forty years of memories.”

“Hmm,” Topher said. “There is only one of us.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Just something someone said to me once. So your name’s not really Ryan?”

Ian fidgeted with his glass. “No, it’s Ian. Ryan is a cover story. It was my friend Mark’s idea. I don’t really know what I’m doing. Mostly I’m just making it up as I go along.”

“I’ve been there.”

“Any advice?”

“You’ve probably forgotten something.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t say since I don’t know you. Were you happy at forty?”

Ian shrugged. “Not really. I owned a coffee shop, which made me look successful. But I didn’t feel successful when I went home to an empty house. My one true love never materialized. I wasted most of my life. I tested positive ten years ago, which has been a convenient scapegoat for every mistake I’ve ever made.”

“Are you still…? I mean, have you been tested since…?”

“I’m negative again.”

“Wow,” Topher said. “How are you dealing with that?”

“I’m not sure. It feels like a cheat. The whole thing feels like a cheat.”

“So when you turned forty, you weren’t in a good place?”

“No, I wasn’t. I made a wish on my birthday cupcake. I wanted to go back and do it all over again.”

“Oh, I see. So this isn’t something that’s happening to you. This is something you’re choosing. Tell me, what was it like when you were twenty-one?”

Ian thought back to those days. “Amazing. Everything was a possibility, and I had so many dreams. Who doesn’t love their early twenties?”

“A lot of people,” Topher said. “Myself included. I was still reeling from my dad’s death, at that age. I’d never want to be twenty-one again. But you’re different. My guess is, you left a part of yourself back there. You forgot something, and this is your way of remembering what it is.”

“It’s an awfully extreme way to jog my memory.”

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Ian grinned. “I never expected you to quote
Hamlet
.”

“I have a very smart husband.”

“Well, he’s a lucky guy.” Ian took a drink of milk. “You were great up there tonight.”

“Thanks. It still feels like a fantasy most of the time.”

“I know how that goes. Why does your guitar strap say ‘Hutch’?”

Topher smiled. “Read Stanton’s book.”

“Okay, I’ll put it on my Kindle. I’m glad Quentin said something to you.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not mad about that. You have to trust Quentin. We all do. He’ll stick his nose right into your business, but if he ever gets that crazy look in his eyes and tells you to do something? Do it.”

“Okay, I promise I’ll listen to him. Should we go back to the party?”

“That’s probably a good idea. Who’s the guy you’re hanging out with?”

“His name is Matthew. He’s an awesome guy, really….”

“But?”

“But I’m in love with someone else, just not as this version of me.”

“Shit, that’s a tough one. Well, you know what the Backstreet Boys said.”

“What?”

“Quit Playing Games with My Heart.”

“I hear you.”

“Sorry,” Topher said. “Stanton listens to the boy band station on Pandora, and a few weeks ago, he started quoting song titles. Then I started doing it. Last week we were in bed, and he looked at me all serious and shit and said, ‘God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You.’”

“Were you able to keep a straight face?”

“Hell, no. I burst out laughing, but that was the point. He loves to crack me up in bed. Do you sing, by any chance?”

“No,” Ian said.

“Play an instrument?”

“No.”

“Dance? Paint?”

“No and no.”

Topher sat forward. “Have you ever seen a play called
Love’s Labor’s Lost
?”

“No.”

“You love that word, don’t you? No. Maybe you’ve forgotten how to say….” Topher took a drink from his bottle of beer. “Let me tell you a story.
Love’s Labor’s Lost
is a play by William Shakespeare. I happen to be partial to the name William, for obvious reasons. Anyway I had to read
Romeo and Juliet
in high school, but I didn’t understand a word of it, to be honest. Then Stanton took me to see
R&J
live in Central Park, and I loved it. Even if I didn’t get the meaning of every word, it didn’t matter, because I got the feeling of it. So I told Stanton I wanted to see more, and we started going to all these little productions downtown. We saw a version of
The Tempest
in a SoHo loft and a woman playing
Hamlet
. And then, a few weeks ago, we went to an NYU student production of
Love’s Labor’s Lost
. It’s about these four guys who swear off women, and you can imagine how far that gets them. The ringleader’s name is Biron. He’s a real hardass, let me tell you.

“After the production, the director took questions from the audience. An old man raised his hand and said, ‘I noticed this credit in the program for something called a dramaturg. What’s that?’ And the director explained that a dramaturg helps with research and historical context and such. The old man asked for an example, and the director told us about this thing called a concordance, which counts the number of times any word appears in one of Shakespeare’s plays. You can find out, for instance, that Juliet says the word ‘love’ thirty-two times and Romeo says it forty-four times. So one day the dramaturg comes to the director and says he knows something interesting about Biron, the real hardass character I told you about.”

“The ringleader?”

“That’s the one,” Topher confirmed. “The dramaturg says he was playing around with an online concordance. The whole thing is searchable now, he says. So he types in the following question: How many times does Biron say the word ‘no’?”