Maybe she’s right.
Maybe I won’t be able to edit that messy first draft until I’ve taken a good look at it.
Shown it to someone else.
So I open my mouth and let the words flow.
“My dad is as good as they come. His one flaw is that he fell for a woman who couldn’t be relied on to pick you up from the hospital, let alone raise a family. The one thing my mom had going for her was that she had music in her veins.”
Lou shifts at this, tightening her grip. I don’t know which of us needs grounding more.
“My parents met at a bar where my mom was performing. She was always looking for something bigger and better, but she didn’t have the discipline—or even the luck—to make anything of it. When she fell for my dad, it was enough for her, at first. She thought she could give herself a new dream. Thought she could be content in a small town, performing with a band every Friday night. And for a while, she was.
"But she had a beautiful voice. And she got just enough recognition to make her discontented. She was constantlyhungry for more, and I’m not saying it’s her fault, but seeing her get it—seeing her get any little hint of fame, seeing her constantly hustle to be noticed—it rubbed off on me.
"When she left us—which she did all too often—I didn’t resent her. I envied her. It seemed like the best plan in the world. I thought she would reach the highest levels of stardom—because how could she not? To me, she was the most beautiful, talented woman in the world. And I just assumed she’d reach the top and take us with her.”
We’re at the top of the Ferris wheel now, and it pauses, making us sway. The movement, coupled with the height, makes the ground feel impossibly far away. Then there’s a slow creak, and the wheel keeps turning.
And I keep talking.
“Whenever she came back, she had her tail between her legs, claiming she missed us too much and couldn’t stay away. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I realized she was lying.”
I pause, exhaling slowly, my grip on Lou’s shoulder tightening before I ease it slightly.
“And by then, all I wanted was to succeed where she failed.”
Lou stays quiet, letting me talk. She flips my hand over and traces slow patterns on my palm. It’s a comforting, supportive gesture, and it gives me the assurance I need to bring up the one topic I want to stay farthest from.
“I was obsessed with music. It was the only thing I cared about. More than my dad or my brother. Way more than my momma. I only kept my grades up because I needed them to get into NECM.”
She doesn’t say anything. She just listens. And now that my tongue has been loosed, I can’t seem to stop.
“I got into NECM. You know this. And I was put in a dorm my freshman year with two other freshmen and one sophomore.”
Lou lifts her head slightly. “Nash?”
“Nash,” I confirm.
“What about Duncan?”
I hesitate. “He showed up eventually. But at first, it was just me and Nash. He was a man with a plan, and even though I was the one there on a full-ride scholarship and he got in through family connections, I worshipped the guy.”
Lou tilts her face back to mine, her brow furrowing. My arm tightens around her reflexively, protectively—it’s like my body wants to shield her from a past that has nothing to do with her. A past I don’t want to haunt her, too.
“It’s hard to imagine you looking up to someone else. Not in a bad way,” she adds. “But because you’re … an island.”
I frown, thinking about how her words hit.
“I don’t think I was born that way. I think I became that way. To protect myself.”
“From what?”
“A mother who was always leaving, probably. Getting taken advantage of, definitely.”
“Huh.” She exhales and settles back against my side, a small gesture, a quiet acceptance that makes my chest constrict.
How can she trust me so much?
