Page 109 of Strum Me

Chapter Thirty-Four

Emily

I read the text message. By the time I get to the end it’s blurry and I have to wipe my eyes to make out the words. Just like with all the other messages. I can’t quite make myself delete it, and archive it in a folder with the rest of them. Hidden until halfway through the night when I can’t sleep, and I take them out to read, one by one again.

At least we’re back home.

After leaving Bra—…after leaving Liverpool, Silas was at least reasonable enough to let me go home instead of joining them on the road immediately. I thought he was being especially generous, only to find out that his band was going to be based in London for the next few weeks anyway, doing a round of live interviews and shows, and rehearsing to work out some of their kinks.

I wasn’t going to complain though. The last thing I really wanted was to jump head-first into another tour, with people I didn’t know.

Ben is back in school, which is the best thing for him at this point. Brad or no Brad, in hindsight, taking him on the road at such a young age and while he was injured probably wasn’t the best thing for him. They say routine is the best thing for a child, and the tour with the Rock Chamber Boys was anything but that.

That’s what I tell myself though, when the doubt seeps in, and I hear him calling for Brad.

I try to ignore that fact that it was the trauma of leaving, not of being on tour that did the most damage. Instead I try to focus on the knowledge that in the long run, this will be the best thing for him.

For me, maybe not, but for him. Which is really the same thing, I guess.

The phone rings, and I brace myself. Either it’s Brad or it’s Silas. One I want to answer but can’t. And one I don’t want to answer, but will.

I glance at the screen and sigh.

“Yes, Silas?”

“Don’t know if you know, but we’ve got a show booked for tonight.”

“Yeah, I have the schedule.”

“Do you need us to come pick you up?”

“No.”

“Um, okay then. I guess I’ll see you there at six.”

I hang up the phone, keen to get away from him as soon as possible. I throwing the phone onto the bed.

I tell myself the initial anger and loathing will subside soon, and then we can move on. And somewhere, deep inside me, I try to believe that it will happen.

***

The band comes running off the stage to the sound of enthusiastic applause. They’ve played an eight-song set, mostly their own songs, with two covers as an encore.

I sit at a table in the back, taking notes.

They have a tried and true rock sound, and their lyrics have some depth. But the performance leaves me cold. And it has nothing to do with the music. I know though, that my write-up will be as objective as it can be, because in the end, my feelings toward Silas, not the band, are purely personal. The other members have had nothing to do with my situation and from what I’ve seen of them, there’s no reason for me to think of them as just like any artists, trying to make it big in the world.

“Hey.” Silas comes over to me, shaking some hands as he moves through the crowd.

“Hey.” I don’t look up from my notebook. There’s no reason to look at him more than I have to.

“How was it?” he asks, high-voiced, still hyped from his set.

“Good.”

“Any notes?”

“Uh, nope.”