I Unlove You (22 page)

I
laugh and struggle to my feet, slapping his legs and walking
towards the drum set.
“
Be more dramatic, why don
’
t you?
And I
’
m not going anywhere. Will I be able to do this
as often? Maybe not. But that doesn
’
t mean
I
’
m quitting. I need music, Joey. You know this better
than anyone.
”

“
I know,
”
he says, standing and
joining me.
“
But think about what you were part of last week. We
were at that festival all day, drank and rocked out with our fellow
band-brethren, and stayed up until the sun rose. Are you telling me
you
’
re going to do that once the baby
’
s
born?
”
He picks up a drumstick and runs it through his
fingers.
“
There
’
s no chance.
B
’
s
a cool girl - so far as girls go - but she
won
’
t let you get away with that.
”

“
Maybe, but
—“

“
And besides,
we
’
re about to explode. You were there. You saw how
people reacted to us. You
’
ve seen how many
downloads we
’
ve had since. You
were there with me, when every single band showered us with
praise.
”
He throws the drumstick to the ground, and walks towards
our first ever gig poster.
“
I told you months ago
that this is our summer. Soon, we
’
ll be touring and
supporting every up-and-coming band in England.
”
He sighs
again.
“
End of an era, brother,
”
he whispers.

I stand behind him and look over
his shoulder, at the torn poster from our first battle of the
bands. So young, with no songs of our own, and a cocky swagger all
teenagers possess once they enter a stage that overlooks their
peers. I was sick beforehand and considered making my first gig my
last, but as soon as I stepped in front of those lights, and the
music kicked in, I lost myself in a haze of nothingness.

Joey and I may be complete
opposites on stage, but it fuels us both the same. Where he dances
and dodges between amps and equipment, I stand still, unmoved for
the entire show. I imagine I look bored and uninterested, but my
insides buzz with adrenaline, and last week, surrounded by hordes
of people on a gorgeous, sunny Leeds afternoon, I drowned in
excitement as every hair on my arms stood on end.

Within minutes, my nervous tummy eased; tension moved down
my shoulders and back. Taking the weeks of anxiety with it, I
became lighter and lighter as each song passed. The music soothed
me into submission, dissipating my woes, worries and fears. A brief
escape into a haven I needed, and one I
’
d begun to
forget existed.

A
crowd of people stood before me. Loud sounds battered my ears, but
I stood in peace, picturing me and
B
and our little bundle
attending a festival, or sitting in the park, the three of us
having a picnic as I strummed my guitar and
B
sung
softly.

It
didn
’
t matter if it was six months from now, or a year, or
five, because we were together, and will soon spend a lifetime side
by side. I smiled on stage, lost in my world of music and freedom,
a soon-to-be father with lots of worries to worry about, but with
more than enough love to keep me going.

I
smile, recalling the sunny afternoon whilst scanning this wall of
posters. It
’
s hard to believe
how many times we
’
ve ventured on stage
together, but here
’
s the proof. Dozens
of posters offering a mere snapshot of our band
’
s story.
Each time, my nerves tear my inners to pieces, but
it
’
s a sensation I miss and need, and a time I feel
alive, free and light, floating on stage with music my muse and
helping hand.

I
can
’
t lose music. I can
’
t lose this band, or
Joey, the only real friend I
’
ve ever had. In some
ways he understands me better than
B
, and maybe
he
’
s right. Maybe this is the end of our era, because
without
this
; this room, this
connection of music; maybe what we have won
’
t be the same.
Maybe it is time for the big break he
’
s always dreamed
about. If it is, he
’
s right. It must
leave without me, and replace me, and forget about me, because how
can I follow?

“
Maybe you
’
re
right,
”
I say, placing my palm on a poster with each band
member
’
s silhouette decked across it.
“
I guess if
this takes off, it will have to be without me.
”
Damp and cold, the
derelict wall seeps through the old paper.

Dragging his foot back and forth, he leans.
“
No,
we
’
ll figure something out. We couldn
’
t go on
without you. Christ, you
’
re the one who
writes most of the songs,
”
he says, laughing and slapping me on
the shoulder.
“
It
’
s not like you
’
d be the first rock
star with a kid.
”

“
Maybe.
”
I join him and lean against the
disgusting wall. The rest of the walls are blank, each as dirty as
the last. Besides our instruments and the leather couch, nothing
else fits in this decrepit room, but I suppose
it
’
s part of the charm. Impromptu gigs, late night
parties, drunken sessions and lazy afternoons, this room of squalor
is part of my upbringing. Playing a defining role in my youth;
maybe it
’
s fitting that I move on from it as I descend
into true adulthood.

“
I can
’
t believe
we
’
re still in this crappy practice
room.
”
I
say.

“
Oh, brother, how could we
leave? If these walls could talk
…
well,
they
’
d have something to say about some of the things
I
’
ve got up to in here.
”
He winks and nudges into
me.

“
I don
’
t want to
know.
”

“
Such a
prude.
”
He kicks his foot back and forth again, working up a frenzy
of dust and dirt.
“
But never Harriet.
”
He sighs.
“
I swear,
the fact I never brought her back here still eats away at me.
Seriously, how did she resist me all the way through
school?
”

“
She has
taste.
”

“
No, that can
’
t be it.
It must be a genuine illness.
”
He smiles.
“
Anyway,
there
’
s still time. I haven
’
t finished with
that girl yet. There
’
s no way
I
’
m living another fifty years without knowing what her
lips taste like
…
and skin
…
and her other tattoos
…
and
—“

“
Okay, Joe.
”

“
You know it
’
s going
to happen. It
’
s just a matter of
time.
”

“
Okay.
”
I smile but resist a
laugh.

“
You
’
ll see, brother.
You
’
ll see. That girl and me are destined for each
other.
”
He slaps one of the posters and rustles the paper.
“
Anyway,
how is everything? How
’
s things between you
and
B
?
”

“
They
’
re okay, I
guess. She misses you.
”

“
I
’
m sure she
does.
”
He winks again.

“
In your dreams, dreamer. She
only has eyes for me.
”

“
They tell a different tale when
they stalk me.
”

“
Such a delusional soul. But she
does miss you. You should have a drink with us this
week.
”

“
She can
’
t drink.
”

“
Well, we
’
ll have
her share.
”

Pushing off the wall, he drifts towards the drum
set.
“
Maybe.
I
’
m pretty damn busy at the moment. People to see. Bands
to sign. Songs to sing. Ladies to seduce. You know how it
is.
”

“
Sure do. How
’
s your
lady-killing ways at the moment? You haven
’
t shared any
disturbing stories with me for a while. Should I
worry?
”

“
I knew deep down you like
them.
”

I
laugh.
“
Not quite. I am beginning to think there might be a lass on
the scene
…”

“
Now you
’
re the
delusional one.
”

“
Fine, don
’
t tell
me,
”
I say, joining him by the drums and cymbals.
“
And about
that drink
…
how about tomorrow?
”

“
Maybe.
”

“
Come on. What else have you got
to do?
”

“
How is she?
”

“
Ask her
yourself.
”

Rolling his eyes, he sits on his amp decorated in a
multitude of stickers.
“
Fine, I
’
ll have a damn
drink with you both. I don
’
t know what the big
deal is. It
’
s not like the three
of us can go out together soon.
”

“
Come on, Joey.
Don
’
t be like this. It
’
s hard
enough.
”

He
lowers his head and sighs.
“
I
’
m sorry. I still
haven
’
t got my head around all of this. And when I
see
B
…
I
don
’
t know. What do I say? Things are different
now.
”

“
She
’
s still
B
.
”

“
I know
…
but
it
’
s different. I guess, I wasn
’
t ready
for
this
to end,
”
he says, moving his arms around the
room, his tattoos peeking out from under his white shirt
sleeves.