“Of course.” Helpless, Erik touched James’s shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry. I know going home is never easy for you to begin with.”
James nodded, staring straight out through the windshield. He wore mirrored shades. A scruffy growth of facial hair marred the line of the goatee he usually kept so scrupulously neat. “All three brothers in the house. Waiting for me like vultures. Mom’s probably already drunk. I’m already an anxious wreck and I haven’t even gotten out of town. And I’ll miss two days of anatomy class which will be a bitch. But,” he said, slapping his hands down the steering wheel, “if Penny can go to war, I can damn well go to her memorial. Right?”
“Right.”
James grinned suddenly. “And if shit gets serious, I know where her old guns are kept.”
“Hey, don’t get yourself arrested before the concert,” Erik said, laughing.
“I’m kidding. I’ll be all right. What doesn’t kill us…doesn’t fucking kill us.”
“Drive safe, James.”
“See you in a few days.”
Erik thumped his fist twice on the roof of the car, then took off running. James tooted the horn again and pulled out.
It started falling apart soon after.
Early March sucker-punched them with arctic temperatures and snowstorms. Coursework and rehearsals intensified. Will was struggling with the ending of “Anthem” and struggling with James’s wounded and reproachful presence. James had gone dark since his sister’s memorial service. He was the omega dog now, passively pathetic as he vied for Will’s attentions, resorting either to martyred brooding or biting sarcasm when he couldn’t get it.
Then March spit on its hands and it started to rain. It rained for two solid weeks. The frigid dankness drove everyone into a funk. The air was a tangible, clammy and soporific substance. Skin absorbed it. Muscles sopped it up like a sponge. Half the students were irritable and antsy. The other half were lethargic, suspended in a wet, grey void. The rain beat incessantly on the windows and rooftops. Beat incessantly in heads and hearts.
“Anthem” continued to flounder. “I can’t end this goddamn thing,” Will said, cursing in two languages, nearly howling in frustration. Rehearsals were tense. In a creative slump, Will hadn’t the time or energy for neediness. Daisy, being naturally grounded and pragmatic, could hold the atmosphere calm, but just barely. She instinctively knew to keep still and quiet and let Will find his own way to water in the desert. She could follow him in French or English. If she had a suggestion, she knew how to unobtrusively make it and, even better, make it seem Will’s idea. She understood his directions but more importantly, she understood his silences. If he didn’t respond, she retreated with no hard feelings. His approval wasn’t necessary to validate her relationship with him.
James, on the other hand, needed constant validation. He sulked if his advice were rejected. Or he became argumentative. He spoke the wrong language or spoke too much. He stepped on toes and got in the way. Meanwhile, he was weeks behind in anatomy and dancing erratically in rehearsals for Who Cares? This put Daisy on edge, which put Erik on edge.
“Dude,” Will finally said to James. “You can’t come to my rehearsals anymore.” It was the first day of spring.
“I feel bad,” Daisy said to Erik. “But James has become impossible. Nobody wants him around. He’s so toxic. I bought him a cup of coffee and tried to talk to him afterward and he just broke down and cried. Said he was in love with Will and he didn’t know what to do.”
“Jesus, what a mess,” Erik said.
“He looks totally strung-out, too. Do you know if he’s still doing coke with David?”
“Only if he’s buying it. David’s not generous with his stash.”