Chelsey laughed, but then stopped. It wasn’t really funny. I’d spent everything I’d had on that worthless album. Staring at the table, I sighed. “I think I finally get what you were talking about…”
She squeezed my arm. “What do you mean?”
Looking over at her, I felt my chest compress tighter. Maybe I was having a heart attack. Or maybe this was just what despair felt like. “The dog and the steak. I think I get what you were saying. And you were right…I understand too late. The steak is already gone…”
Switching my gaze to my mom, I thought about her relationship with Dad. They’d been together forever, since Mom was eighteen and Dad was twenty-eight. They’d gone through so many ups and downs in their marriage, but they were still a team. United. Where had I gone so wrong? Why had my team fallen apart? I knew the answer to that though. Anna and I fell apart because I stopped acting like we were a team. I kept her in the dark, made all the choices, and then lied my fucking ass off. The only surprise here was that she hadn’t left me sooner.
“She was my best friend,” I whispered. “They all were…and I tossed them aside for something I thought I needed more. I’m such a fucking moron.” When I looked back at my sister, her eyes were watery; mine felt the same. “What do I do now, Chelse?”
She stared at me so long, I started getting uncomfortable. I felt like I’d just pried open my chest and exposed my innards, and I was going to bleed out if she didn’t say anything. Just when I was about to repeat my question, because the silence was killing me, she spoke. “You forget about what you never had…and you go after what you lost…even if you have to crawl through the mud to do it.”
She made it sound so easy, but I knew it wasn’t. Just the thought of picking up the phone and telling the guys I was wrong…about everything…made me feel sick. And Anna…I didn’t even know where to begin with her. How could I do this? I wasn’t even sure I had the necessary skills to be all repentant and shit. “How do I do that?” I murmured, feeling defeated. I was really beginning to hate feeling that way.
I’d moved my head so I wasn’t looking into her eyes anymore, but she moved hers until I had no choice but to meet her gaze. “You take that pride that you hold on to so hard, and you shove it down a deep, dark hole. You show them something real. Be human. Be fallible. Be flexible. Be humble.”
None of that sounded easy. Or like me. I tended to be the opposite of all those things. It was simpler to be an awesome god who could do no wrong. Because…admitting I was wrong…was complete and utter torture. I didn’t think I could do it. “So…you want me to be lame, is what you’re saying?”
Smiling, she clapped me on the back. “That’s entirely optional, but it might help.”
A small chuckle escaped me, and it felt good to release it. I felt like I hadn’t laughed in years. And, if I were honest, it had been a while. I don’t think I’d let out an honest laugh since I’d parted ways with the band. That’s when everything had gone downhill for me, and now I was so far down, it was hard to see my way back up.
“Thank you,” I told her. “For everything. I think you’re the only one who gives a shit.”
Chelsey rubbed my back. “No, more people care about you than you think. But…it’s like your ego is a force field…it pushes people back, instead of letting them in. You’d see the world differently if you opened yourself up to the possibility that…”
She bit her lip while she stared at me, and I saw a grin growing in the gesture. “That what?” I asked, knowing whatever her answer was, it was going to be smart-assed.
She released her lip and the smile broke free. “That you’re an imperfect person…just like the rest of us.”
Six months ago I would have wholeheartedly denied that, but now…“Yeah…I know. Brat.” I bumped her shoulder, and laughing, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.
“I love you, Griffin, and I know everything is going to be okay.”
Closing my eyes, I prayed she was right.
Chapter 21
Reality
I was woken up Monday morning by a buzzer going off in my ear, and I decided right then and there that that was not a dignified way for a human being to be roused from sleep. If I ever had the opportunity, I would hunt down the sick son of a bitch who had invented the damn thing and drive a couple of spikes through his forehead. How does that feel, fucker?
Shucking off my covers, I painstakingly rose to my feet. God, I hated mornings. There was no good reason for them. My body felt tight, my head was throbbing, and my knees cracked when I stood up. Man, I was getting old. Either that or my body was rebelling against the time. The time, and the task that I was about to do.
I was starting at Dad’s old factory today. Yippee. The money would help me make payments to the bank though, and at the moment, that was more important than the potential suckage of this monotonous job.
Nobody was awake when I stumbled into the kitchen. I thought my parents would be up to see me off, but no, I could hear Dad snoring in his room. In the kitchen, I found a note attached to a small paper bag, the kind I’d used as a kid to take my lunch to school. The note said, “Good luck,” and inside was a ham sandwich, a bag of chips, an apple, and two chocolate chip cookies. Damn. Now I felt like I was eight again.
“Thanks, Mom,” I muttered, grabbing one of the cookies. I popped it in my mouth while I debated adding a beer to my lunch. It was a factory, surely adult pop was allowed if you were on break.