I can come with you.
Bad idea. Plus, don’t you have another bad album to record?
. . . .
I’m just kidding.
You’re right, I’m not good. But I love it, and maybe I’ll get better.
You can have my room if you want.
I’d need to get it fumigated first.
Ha!
Seriously though, if you postpone your trip until tomorrow, I’ll go home and pack and we’ll meet your birth mother together.
I should do this on my own.
Blade Morrison, flying solo.
Yeah, something like that.
. . . .
. . . .
Okay, well, get out of my car.
Bye, Storm.
Oh, I almost forgot, a gift for you, little brother.
A mixtape?
I know you still carry that CD player Mom gave you.
Thanks. What’s on it?
Best rock bands ever.
Guns N’ Roses?
Yeah, you’re a Morrison. We’re hard. Time to nix all that Tears for Fears crap.
What are you talking about? “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” is Top Five, easily.
Top Five bubble gum rock.
Rock is rock.
Said the boy who dreams of Meghan Trainor.
My big sister is a rock bigot! I had no idea.
I love you, Blade. I wish more than anything, you find what you’re looking for.
Me too.
Track 6: Welcome to the Jungle
ROCKERS: GUNS N’ ROSES / ALBUM: APPETITE FOR DESTRUCTION / LABEL: GEFFEN RECORDS / RECORDING DATE: JANUARY–APRIL, 1987 / STUDIOS IN LA: RUMBO STUDIOS, TAKE ONE STUDIO, THE RECORD PLANET, CAN-AM STUDIO
They say
Axl Rose wrote the lyrics
while visiting a friend and thinking back to when
he first arrived on the LA scene.
Before his fame.
Before the temptation.
Before the pain.
A dog-eat-dog world.
I’ve lost too much here, bled too much there, among the beasts.
And I’m not gonna die in this jungle.
You can’t bring me to my knees.
I’m leaving
all you savages behind.
Part Two:
West Africa
Cramped
Five hours
after takeoff
I have to give up
my cushy first class seat
with steak
and gelato
to board
a connecting flight
that only had
one seat left.
In coach.
Regrets
I realize
that finding my birth mom was a great idea in theory.
What will I say to her?
Who is my father?
What will she say to me?
Do you hate me?
I listen
to Storm’s mixtape, clinging to Sunny’s letter, wishing I were in my roomy home in my own
comfy bed.
Track 7: Enter Sandman
ROCKERS: METALLICA / ALBUM: METALLICA / LABEL: ELEKTRA RECORDING DATE: JUNE 16, 1991 STUDIO: ONE ON ONE STUDIOS, LOS ANGELES
This is what happens when you let Storm pick your music.
I hate the song, but it captures me in its web, taunts me
like a wrestler strutting
into the arena to fight.
Haunts me
like the men and women
marching
cold blooded into battle.
I can’t help but play it again, to feel the rage.
It jabs me to sleep
thinking of how against the world I feel
flying in
and out of it.
Dream Variation: The Ledge
It’s still red velvet on the table, but this time Chapel’s here seated in
a white tee
with SB
emblazoned
on it.
That’s an easy one, Scarlet B—, Rutherford says, before Mom interrupts him with a look
that says, Behave.
This makes me laugh.
Mom, still slicing the cookie
into a millions pieces, doesn’t say a word.
Sunny Bye, he adds, blowing a kiss to Mom
then disappearing with a fork
that looks
like a guitar.
Chapel is crying, or laughing,
I can’t tell.
When the cookie crumbs turn into
spiders
and crawl
off the table, I want them each to sting her
to make her feel the pain
I see when
I look
at her.
So Blue.
Sorry, babe, she says, and then she’s gone.
And then it’s just me and Mom.
And the dining room is now an open field.
And a big, red spider with a dreadful face is gunning
straight
for me.
Run, Mom whispers.
So I do.
I run
I run away
I run away, fast, I run away, fast, toward I run away, fast, toward the end.
There’s an end.
Finally, there’s an end with a ledge.
And there’s my mother.
And if I can get to her, and if I can jump, I’ll be saved.
And the world will make sense again.
Blade, how about you play something else?
Huh?
Metallica, really. What happened to my kinder, gentler, little rock and roller?
Wait, what are you doing here?
Sitting
next to me
thirty-thousand feet
over the Atlantic
on a ten-hour flight
to Ghana
to find
my mother
is
my mother?
Conversation?
You look confused.
What are you doing here?
I think you know the answer.
Uh, no, I don’t. Is this real?
It’s as real as you need it to be.
I miss you, Mom. We all miss you so much.
Things are outta control, it seems.
Way outta control.
That’s why you left?
I left to find my family.
. . . .
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean without knowing, I feel empty.
I can dig that.
I don’t understand. How are you here?
You’re asking the wrong question, Blade.
I am?
You’re at the crossroads, looking for a ride. The question is, where are you going?
Ghana.
Yeah, but when you get there, where?
According to the website, a village. In the east.
And when you find what you’re looking for?
I don’t know, but it’s gotta be better than this.
It won’t get better, until you help him.
Who?
Who do you think?
I’m done with trying to help him. He’s ruined my life too many times. I need to move on.
I’d ask you to play me a song, but, well, your guitar . . .
How do you know about that?
A mother knows. She always knows.
I’m still dreaming, aren’t I. This isn’t real.
Youngblood, this is as real as it gets. Just me and you flyin’
through the sky, between the moon and the deep blue sea.
Why’d you call me Youngblood?
That’s Jimi Hendrix.
I knew that. “Angel,” right?
Best song ever. You know why he wrote it?
Probably about a woman.
About his mother. He had this dream, and she was on a camel, and in it she told him she wasn’t gonna be seeing him too much anymore, and two years later— She died.
You figure out who the spider is?
I can’t even say her name.
Try again.
She broke my heart.
Stop running.
Huh? But, you been telling me to run.
Run toward, not away.
Away from what? I’m confused.
Wake up, Blade. Face the spider.
I wake up
as the plane lands,
and my ears pop
like knuckles.
I’m afraid
to open my eyes
and not find her here.
Welcome to Ghana, says the flight attendant.
We exit
onto the tarmac
under blinding sun
and even though
she’s gone
I feel promise.
The heat
swallows
me whole
even my sweat
is sweating.
The sign
in the entrance hall says
AKWAABA.
WELCOME.
But there is nothing
welcoming
about no AC
and soldiers
with AK-47s
checking me out
as I approach customs
drenched
and a little
scared.
Outside