Page 76 of Midlife Crisis

“But you deserve the job. You might have had to jump through a hoop to get his attention, but once you had it, you must have wowed him.”

“That’s the thing. I already played these games at Bigle, and it sucked.” Her shoulder shrugs again. “I’ll just have to find something else.”

“So what? You’re going to keep working here?” The question snaps sharper than I intend, but Midge is too smart to order parts and take calls from some of our asshole customers. She can do the job, no question, but should she? No. No way. “What about going out on your own? Starting your own company?”

She shrugs again, her expression one of defeat. “It takes a lot of money, and I’m not in a place for that right now.”

She told me about her ex-husband and how he wasn’t pleased to pick up the tab on his own kids’ tuition for their fancy high school. There’s nothing wrong with public schools, but I understand where her kids go offers more opportunity; besides, they are used to where they attend. No need to change things. Be a man, I say. Pay for your kids.

“Brut says I can stay here.” Her soulful eyes look up at me. “Is that not okay with you?”

My chest tightens at the thought she’s gone to Brut already. She must have talked to him before she declined Pendelton’s offer. It’s Brut’s business, and I don’t have a say one way or another. If he offered for her to stay, it’s fine. I can’t say no. I mean no—because I want more for her—but seeing her every day brings me selfish pleasure.

“Of course, it’s okay. I just want you to be happy, and this place isn’t it.”

“What’s wrong with this place?” She looks around, and I follow her gaze, taking note of the improvements she’s made to the outer space. It’s free of oil and grease, smells like vanilla, and looks relatively clean. Still, it’s a place that means I settled. I caved because I had nothing else once the band collapsed.

“Even I don’t want to be here, so how can I suggest you stay?”

Her head tilts. “Why don’t you want to be here? This is your father’s legacy to you and Brut. Besides, your brother is here, and you get along well enough. You can do your thing here.”

“Do my thing?” I scoff, my fingers twitching with the old feeling of holding drumsticks. “I’m far from doing my thing.”

“What else is there?” She pauses a beat. “Are you referring to your band?” She gives me a look, narrow-eyed and unreadable. “If a band is your thing, why didn’t you start a new one?”

Kit died, rests on the tip of my tongue, but that really isn’t the truth of it. We could have carried on, I suppose. Could have gotten a new female lead singer, but it would never have been the same. Kit was Kit Carrigan and Chrome Teardrops. We were just background noise, and I have not a ratty-tat-tat to show for that time in my life. I couldn’t move on because no one wanted me. I was a risk in my condition, a has-been in my prime because of my reputation.

“It’s not so simple.” She stares at me, waiting for additional explanation, but I don’t wish to share. I’m tired of rehashing Kit and calling up my failures. I look around the cleaned-up waiting room and rap my knuckles on the counter. “I need to get to work.”

+ + +

It’s late when I collapse on the couch opposite Brut’s desk. I’ve been staying after hours to work on my own baby. The Mustang has been neglected too much these past weeks.

Brut’s working on something with reader glasses on his nose.

“Getting old, man?” I tease.

“You wait. Your time is coming.” He continues looking between some report and the computer screen. I fiddle with the torn leather on the back of the couch, staring at my thick finger tugging at the loose piece.

“What’s on your mind?” I look over at my brother. He’s pulled his glasses down to the tip of his nose, and he peers at me over the frame.

“How do you know something’s on my mind?” Brut crosses his arms on the desk and stares at me.

“Because I know you, unfortunately.” He’s teasing. He’s also right. My big brother knows too much about me, and in some ways, I’ve taken advantage of him. I thought about what Midge said earlier. Brut took me in, welcomed me home after I fucked up, and he never blinked. He gave me a job, knowing I could do the work even if I was a bit rusty, and he never complained. He never griped although this wasn’t his dream any more than it was mine. This is your father’s legacy to you and Brut. We might not have wanted the place, but it’s offered financial stability, and if we wanted anything else, why didn’t we go for it?

“What did you want to be, Brut, when you were a kid?” He glares at me with uncertainty on his face, like if he admits his dream, I’ll laugh.

“Doesn’t really matter anymore. I am what I am.”

“And what are you, Brut? In the grand scheme of things, what are you?”

“You hitting the bottle again? These are kind of deep thoughts for a Monday evening.” He chuckles, knowing I’m not drinking. He scrubs at his forehead with his finger and thumb, like he’s holding in long-lost opportunities. I think of Lily briefly.

“You know I always wanted to bang my drums with a band, tour the world and shit. I got to do all that. I blew it, but I did it. But what about you?”

“First, you didn’t blow it. You guys were on top of the world while it lasted. Cancer is a shit thing, and Kit getting it so young was a heartache. But never say you were a failure, Hank. You had it all. Sometimes, losing is beyond your control.”

I watch my brother, his worldly comments sinking in slowly.