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Royal
Aspen didn’t answer for a long time. “Because they are the only people who see me. This is the only place I’ve fit in. I can’t lose that.” His words broke my heart. “Every time I’m more myself, they embrace us. We’ve built our entire career on embracing ourselves. I know I tell Kingsley all the time I’d love to retire to Boston and just write music, but I’d lose all the people we give homes to every night. All of them have felt what I have. Have felt alone or depressed. They listen to our music because they connect with Kingsley’s lyrics, and I’ve come to realize on this last leg of the tour, for acceptance too. That’s why we both went to shows. Do you remember?”
I smiled, nudging my nose into his forehead. “I remember. It was the only place you were happy and free. I wanted to give you that feeling as much as possible.”
“And this leg of the tour is the happiest I’ve ever been, and now with you, I’m scared to want it. I’m scared to know I may lose it. I don’t want to lose you or it. I’m so fucking mad at him.” He lifted his face, and his eyes were red-rimmed, and it made me want to kill Arthur even more.
“I’m sure we can weather it. We will put out a statement denying it, and it will blow over like everything else.”
“And then what? The kids who used to feel safe at our shows don’t anymore?”
“I don’t like the idea of that either.” I was trying to process Aspen’s grief and the possible loss of our privacy and how I felt about all the things people might think of me now. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s best. You’ve always known what the fans wanted way more than I have.”
“Remember when you told me I’d scare them off?” He laughed, not saying it unkindly.
“Why do you smirk at the crowd like that? You’re gonna scare them off,” I asked while we packed up after our set.
“Because they see me. I can be myself out there.”
“You can be yourself anywhere. No one cares.” I laughed because no one paid us any fucking attention. We’d barely played to a half-filled room.
“No, I can’t. On stage is the only place I feel like I can be myself.”
I stopped and turned to look at him.”Why do you feel that way?”
“Hasn’t our childhood taught you the same? They don’t even want us to do this.” He meant our parents. Ma was coming around, but I was sure it was only because Dad was dead. He would have never allowed it. “No one wants us around. They want to keep us out of proper society. The punks, the misfits, the queers. The punk scene is the only place we’ve ever been accepted for who we are.”
“I’ve always accepted you.” I rubbed the back of my neck, stomping out the end of my cig with my doc.
“Sure, but no one else did. You remember how they looked at us in high school? When we didn’t follow our fathers. When we didn’t grow up to take their places waiting for a bullet or to drink ourselves to death?” He looked into my eyes like I was made of magic. Aspen had always made me feel like no one else could. “I don’t want to be those people they expect us to be.”
“To be fair, I don’t think they expected it after you ran away.” I knocked my shoulder into his.
“You know what I mean.” Aspen rolled his eyes. “What would you be doing if you weren’t here. You’d become an enforcer like your father was? Die and leave a widow to raise your kids. Or maybe I could drink myself to death while I beat my fucking wife and kids. Get killed by my wife.” Aspen shook his head.
“Does Kingsley know?” I asked as we carried the stuff out to the van so Kingsley wouldn’t hear.
“No, and I’m not going to tell him. I think she was trying to save him, or maybe she just wanted to save herself. Either way, no one is going to miss him.”
I nodded. I would have done it myself had it not happened soon after we’d met.
“And do you want to do that to your mom again?” Aspen asked after we’d shoved the gear in the back of the van.
I cringed. They’d done it right in front of our house as a warning. Ma had to walk outside to his blood splattered all over the sidewalk. “No, I don’t ever want her to have to go through that a second time. She really loved him.”
Aspen held out his hand for the Bic lighter I had in mine. “This is home, and I don’t care if we only play to half-filled clubs for the rest of our lives because here I can be me. That’s all I want. To be happy and to be myself.”
I passed him the lighter, tipping my head back to look at the moon. We barely made enough to scrape by living in a basement with the rest of the band, and some days, I wished I’d taken the easy route as I’d be sitting in a life of luxury. I might not have lived long, but my life would have been comfortable. “What do you mean?” I said at length.”What does that even look like?”
“I mean—” Aspen shook his head and turned in a circle, spreading his hands out. “I don’t have to fit in and put on the mask every day here. I can at least kind of be me. Kind of be the fucking weirdo. Can you imagine me doing that there? They would have put a bullet between my eyes if I put on eyeliner or fucking lipstick. My dyed hair. All of it. These people have welcomed us more than our ‘families’ ever have.”
“Okay, I see your point.” He wasn’t wrong. They didn’t tolerate even the most moderate of that shit there. He wouldn’t have been taken seriously. The guys back home put guys who looked like Aspen six feet under. They didn’t let anyone be a fucking sissy.
“Do you not think it’s worth it anymore?”
“I’m tired, Aspen. I’m tired of eating ramen every day and barely scraping by.” Most of the time, I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but tonight I was tired. “Soon, we’re going to have to start sucking dick for cigarettes.”
Aspen got this coy smile about him. “When we are selling out arenas, you’re going to thank me.”
