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“Anyone can get a record deal, Stella. It’s not that hard. They’re always looking for idiots who will work cheap and who aren’t hard to look at. One in a million. He’ll crash and burn just like that loser father of his, then come crawling back to this town, probably a drunk like his father, too.”
“Mom, that’s mean.”
“It’s the truth. I’m glad he got out before he could drag you into that world, too.” Her look turns to an icy glare. “Even if you are still throwing your life away.”
I got offers, scholarships, the whole nine from good schools, but I knew from the start it’s not for me.Schoolis not for me. I want to write music, I want to tour the world, I want to be with Riggins
And I’m good at it. All of the reviews for the debut EP of Atlas Oaks mention the beautiful songwriting. It’s healing, some reviews say. Real and raw, another said.
I’m good at this, and for the first time in my life, I understand what I’m supposed to be.Who I’m supposed to be.
“Mom—” I start because this might not be the best time to talk to her about it, but there probably won’t be a better one. But I’m put off when her face turns to one of horror.
“That’s why, isn't it? Why you’re refusing to do the right thing and go to college?”
“Mom,” I try again, but she steamrolls me as she’s wanted to do.
“Stella Jane, you are going to fail. You are going to fail and come crawling back. Don’t be a fucking idiot.”
“I like writing, Mom,” I whisper.
“Then go to school and write papers.”
“I like writing songs.”
“Stella, there are a million and seven foolish young girls just like you, falling in love with rockstars and convincing themselves they’re different. You aren’t special. You aren’t different. But if you abandon your future for this, you are stupid.” The burn at the back of my eyes starts. We’ve tiptoed around the topic of why I decided not to go college, but this is the first time we’ve talked outright about my dreams.
I think a part of me truly thought when I said it out loud, my mother would concede. She'd see and hear the music I’ve written and agree it’s a worthwhile dream.
I should have known better.
“That’s enough, Rhonda,” my father says, walking into the room, his hand loosening his tie. Her face snaps to him, pure venom there.
“No, it isn’t enough. We’ve been ignoring this disaster for years, and it’s starting to ruin Stella’s life. I will not have a loser of a daughter, and that’s where you’re headed, Stella,” she snaps in my direction.
“Rhonda,” my dad barks in a loud voice even I don’t expect. My mom’s eyes go wide slowly, and she turns her entire body to his. “Can I speak with you in the other room?”
For the first time in my life, I watch my mother obey someone else’s command without arguing, her back straight as she leaves the kitchen stiffly. My father follows her close behind, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before he nods once and walks out of the room.
For the rest of the summer, I get the mail before my mother every day until Riggs comes home.
6 NO COMPLAINTS
NOW
STELLA
It’s nearly ten when he comes in. I see him from the back, watch him walk in, pop his sunglasses to the top of his head, and start chatting with Amelia at the hostess stand, smiling wide as she flutters about, clearly frazzled that the local celebrity is in our restaurant.
He uses his thumb to point outside at the three tables out there, then tips his head in my direction without his eyes shifting here. From this angle, I can see her face screw up a bit in confusion, ask something, then he nods. Finally, she nods and walks outside to seat him.
When she returns and walks right up to me, I don’t even have to wonder what she will say.
“Stella, you’re never going to believe who is here,” she says, excitement coating each word.
“Riggins Greene.” Her smile drops, and if I weren’t having an internal crisis, I would feel bad for ruining her fun. But I am, so I don’t.
“Yes! He’s sitting outside, asked you to be his server. Do you know him?” My eyes shift to the big window at the front of the restaurant, where we paid a local teenager with an amazing talent to paint a mural for the summer season. Even though an enormous sandcastle mars my view, I can see his broad shoulders and a grey teeshirt, his hair in a bun at the top of his head. He must have put his sunglasses back on, which I suppose will be a slight relief.
