Page 105 of Bound to Burn


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I wonder what Peter would have done had he known. What kind of life would I have had if I were with him? Cash had told me the Peter he knew was not a bad person, but that was years after my mom died. Maybe he wasn’t equipped to raise a baby even if he wanted to, but he was never given the opportunity to try or to prove himself. I’m sure my mom had her reasons for telling him she’d had an abortion, and maybe when she left me with my grandparents to go find him she’d had a change of heart, or maybe she never intended to. We’ll never know.

“You were such a happy baby, always smiling, and you looked so much like our Maggie, we just wanted to move on and give you the best life we could,” Grandpa John finishes, his eyes misty.

“You did,” I say softly, unable to contain my emotions.

Grandpa John slides onto one of the kitchen stools, his body weary. “We didn’t want to make the same mistakes with you that we did with Maggie.”

In the pain etched on his face and the tears pooling in his eyes, I can see the regrets. These are the kind of regrets that eat at you from the inside out. Grandma Jo turns around to look at us, and I can see the same remorse in her eyes, the years of sadness and loss. I don’t know what kind of relationship they had with my mom, but they did everything they could to make me feel loved and wanted.

“I had a wonderful childhood,” I murmur as I swipe at my tears, thinking about all the birthday parties and how I never felt for one minute that I wasn’t loved. “You made it so that I never wanted to leave.” That’s why it’s so hard for me to think of my future. I want to be a photographer, but I want this place just as much. If there was a way to have both I’d welcome it, and who knows, maybe there is.

Grandpa John opens his arms for me and I slide into them, resting my head against his shoulder. “We didn’t,” he falters with his words, overcome with emotion, “ever want to lose you, too.”

I hear the sound of Grandma Jo’s slippers scrape against the tile as she walks around the island to join us.

“We only ever wanted to protect you, Sasha,” she says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I wrap my arms around her, feeling so loved between the two of them.

There are still so many questions I have, but only one person can answer them.

Peter Hayes.

40

MY NAME IS SASHA

SASHA

Midnight Rider by The Allman Brothers

“Hydrate!” Sebastian says as he hands me a water bottle as we move through the crowd. I take it from him and down almost the whole bottle. The cloud cover in San Francisco is just as misleading as in L.A. and I didn’t realize how thirsty I was. The heavy backpack rubs against my back, and I’m eager to get it off.

The stage area is lit up, the music is loud, people swell like the ocean, and I feel like a buoy pushed and pulled with the tide. The music pulses and everything blends together from the colors of the crowd to the urban landscape surrounding the park. It is a beautiful setting for a festival.

A lot of press takes photos from the pit in front of the stage, but Sebastian wanted to get shots from the general admission area with a wide lens. With the cloud cover and the energy of the crowd, I can’t wait to look at them later, but it’s hot and I’m tired of trying to shuffle through the throng of people.

I continue to follow Sebastian until we break away from the crowd and move past security to the backstage area. We arrived yesterday and barely had time to stop over at our hotel before arriving at the festival to get some press with one of the main bands performing. We stayed all through the evening, and then this morning we came back and did it all over again. I’m exhausted, and it isn’t even evening yet. I’m looking forward to going back to L.A. tomorrow.

Sebastian veers off to chat with some of the other press milling around while I take the opportunity to set the backpack down. Roadies and engineers rush by getting ready to set up for the next act. A few musicians walk by on their way to another stage. I unzip the bag and pull out the old Kodak Cash gave me. It feels so different in my hand compared to the advanced equipment Sebastian has. Holding it up to take a few pictures, I notice the difference in weight and sharp angles. I love its vintage feel in my hands, and it takes great photos. It reminds me of Cash and the record store, that not all new things are necessarily better.

I’d shoved it in my suitcase at the last minute, just wanting to have a little piece of him with me. The camera brings me comfort as I hold it in my hands, grounding me after the chaotic day I’ve had. I love music and I love photography. This job is a dream come true, and I’ve learned so much from Sebastian already. With my online capstone class, I have been so busy that it feels like I’m running a mile a minute. Most days I miss waking up and walking out to the barn, working with the horses. I miss seeing Cash walk out from the back storeroom of the record store, a smile on his face, the smell of decaying cardboard and the hint of gasoline as he’d walk by me on his way to the register. The internship and school have dominated most of my days.

“Now that’s a dinosaur,” Sebastian says which startles me out of my thoughts.

I turn the camera over in my hand. “It is,” I laugh.

He takes it from me, inspecting the shutter. “Wow, they don’t make them like this anymore.” He looks over at me and smiles, handing the camera back to me. “Very sturdy,” he says, “and in really good shape for its age.”

I smile and look down at the camera, seeing the parallel to Cash. Sebastian doesn’t know how right he is. They do not make them like him anymore.

“If you want to take off, I think we’re done here,” he tells me.

“Oh.” I blink.

“You’re more than welcome to stay and enjoy the show. One of the perks, ya know.” He winks, making me feel better.

“If you’re sure you don’t need me.”

“We got everything we need for today,” he says. “Go enjoy yourself. The rest of the crew is in the VIP area.” He pats my shoulder as I get ready to turn.

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