“You’re twenty-five and you just lost your father, it comes with the territory,” she said gently.
“Being here and living his life, it’s so dramatically different than my life in Ann Arbor. My father made decisions with his heart and my mom makes them with her mind and I can’t help but feel like I’m more like my mom, or I should be.”
She paused and looked straight ahead before speaking.
“You have to teach your heart and mind how to sing together… then you’ll hear the sound of your soul.”
It took me thirty seconds to process that single sentence, but once it sank in, I almost fell off my chair. I always appreciated Martha’s warmth, but I used to think her comments were esoteric crap. As I got older, I started finding profound meaning in what she had to say. Martha continued staring out the window. When I saw a little smile play on her lips I followed her gaze to see Will, who was standing across the street. He was in front of “Trax,” a store that sold rare vinyl and music memorabilia. He was wearing black jeans, his usual belt and wallet chain, and a plain white T-shirt. He was looking down with his hands in his pockets, talking shyly to a woman who looked to be in her early thirties. She had short black hair and a hip outfit and from what I could tell, she was pretty. She handed Will a piece of paper and then shook his hand; he pulled her in for a swift hug. When she walked away, he looked at the paper, then turned on his heel and trotted away exuberantly. I rolled my eyes.
Track 7: What Would J.C. Do?
The next week consisted mostly of me moping around my apartment alone. I wore the same outfit for four days straight. Everyone at Kell’s gave me pitying looks, but other than work-related topics, no one uttered a word to me. I was starting to feel like I lived alone—Will was home for all of five minutes that week and Jackson was becoming more and more sluggish. The engagement party was coming up that Saturday and since my standing dates with Robert were on Saturdays, I figured why not take him. It was time to introduce him to my pseudo-family. I planned to work and sleep until then, but Jenny wouldn’t have it. She insisted that I go to poetry night, saying that the grand finale was going to be Will playing a few songs. How could I resist?
That night the usual poetry party showed up. When Will and Tyler walked in together, Tyler came straight to where Jenny and I were behind the counter. Will immediately took a seat without acknowledging me. Halfway through the readings, a group of college girls walked in and sat down. They were giggling and eyeing him. Then the dark-haired woman I’d seen him with in front of Trax came in. She sat at the window bar and turned her stool to face the tiny, makeshift stage where a ninety-year-old man was doing a slam about waffles. When Will spotted her, he shot her the peace sign and turned back toward the stage. I didn’t know what to make of it, but she was obviously there to see Will, as was the table of giggling girls.
When it was time for Will to go on, Tyler helped him bring his amp and guitar in to set up. I had butterflies in my stomach. I could barely contain my excitement about hearing Will sing, but I was still a tad bitter that he hadn’t spoken to me. He seemed nervous as he adjusted the microphone.
One of the groupie girls moved her chair in for a closer look, inadvertently tugging on Will’s guitar cord in the process. “Hey, don’t do that!” The girl looked shocked and embarrassed. When Will noticed, he softened his expression. “Just give me some space, okay, baby?” he said to her with his sexiest smile. She nodded sheepishly.
After he finished tuning his guitar, he leaned into the microphone and spoke hesitantly. “This is a song for my friend.” He looked right at me… and then I fucked up again.
“Play Ziggy Stardust!” I blurted out.
Looking shattered, he narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head, then quickly changed his tuning. I knew he had decided on a different song and I wondered for a second if he was going to play my request.