“And he asked you to leave over that?”
“I think he was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he couldn’t be there for me. He started crying, Harry. I’ve never seen Johnny cry. It was so awful.”
I’d never seen Johnny cry, either. His default reaction to adversity was anger, not despair.
We were quiet for another minute; then I decided to go out on a ledge.
“Chey, why were you crying to begin with?”
CHEYENNE BELLE
When Harry asked me why I was crying, while we were tooling all over Westchester County in his car, I thought for a minute about telling him the truth. I felt like I needed to tell someone, but that seemed wrong to me. Johnny was the father, and he needed to know first. I would just have to figure it out, so I dodged the question.
“You know what we need?” I said instead. “We need to jam.”
There is nothing in the world, not even kissing, that brings a smile to the face of Harbinger Jones like the phrase We need to jam. Of all of us, that boy’s soul is most connected with the sacrament of music. Plus, playing a bunch of older Scar Boys tunes would wash away “Pleasant Sounds.” As much as I loved that song, I needed to get it out of my brain.
Anyway, at the mention of jamming, Harry seemed to forget his question about why I’d been crying.
HARBINGER JONES
I didn’t forget about the question. Chey made such a show of changing the topic so suddenly that I just let it drop.
CHEYENNE BELLE
It was too early for Richie to be home from school, so Harry and I went to the diner for lunch. I wasn’t feeling so hot, so I didn’t eat much, but we sat there for a long time. We didn’t say a whole lot, but that was okay. One of things I love about Harry is that the silences between us are almost never awkward.
HARBINGER JONES
The silences between us are almost always awkward.
CHEYENNE BELLE
When we finally got to Richie’s house he wasn’t there. Mr. Mac, his dad, told us that he’d come home after school, grabbed his skateboard, and left. We thanked him and went to Richie’s usual skating spot, the playground at PS 28, where Johnny and Richie went to grade school. (Even though they all lived close together, Harry was districted for a different school, PS some number I can’t remember.)
Sure enough, Richie was there, just kind of skating in circles by himself. He had a Walkman on his hip and headphones on his ears.
We sat and watched for a minute from the car.
“I envy that,” Harry said, as much to himself as to me.
“What do you mean?”
“Look at him. He’s completely lost in the moment. It’s like the world outside doesn’t exist.”
“And?”
“Don’t you wish you could feel like that sometimes?”
“Who, me?”
“No. I mean, maybe. I guess I mean me.”
I stared at him, thinking he must be kidding. When he looked over at me, I could see he was surprised.
“What?”
“Harry, have you ever seen yourself play the guitar?”
A flash of understanding made its way across his face, and he smiled. It’s a weird and unusual smile, but I still think it’s beautiful. He stepped out of the car to go get Richie.
I watched as Harry trudged to the playground. It’s amazing how he looks completely normal from the back. I mean, that’s got to be hard. Someone is behind you in line at the store, then you turn around, and wham!
Harry startled Richie, who fell off his board but laughed anyway. Harry helped him up, said something to him, and then they both looked at the car. Richie nodded and followed Harry back.
“What up, short stuff?” It was Richie’s standard greeting for me. “Are we picking up Johnny, too?”
I didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Harry did.
“John’s not feeling so hot today, so we thought we would jam with just the three of us. You know, like in Athens.”
Richie, being Richie, sat back and said, “Okay.” And that was that.
When we got to Harry’s house, Richie and I went to the basement while Harry went upstairs to talk to his mom about something. Richie took his seat behind the drums, and I sat down on my amp. I looked him in the eye.
Like I said earlier, Richie and I didn’t talk much, so he wasn’t really expecting anything from me. He was kind of in his own world when he noticed me staring him down.
“Yo,” he said.
“Yo,” I answered. “So what did Harry tell you about why we’re jamming on our day off?”
He raised one eyebrow and said, “He just told me that you were in a place that you needed to jam. As you know, I can respect that.”
“You didn’t ask why?”
“Didn’t need to. A dude—or dudette—needs to jam, you jam. Why, you pregnant or something?”
Holy crap, I was not expecting that, and it must’ve showed all over my face. I was too stunned to answer.