He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “I did.” He unfolds the paper and says, “Let me hear the song.”
Dad plays the song and we watch Gavin’s face as he listens and reads the words on his paper. When the song is over he says, “It sounds great. The bridge is different.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I need a pen.”
Dad hands him one.
“Play it again,” Gavin says.
Gavin listens to the song again and he writes more words. This time when the song ends he stands up from the couch, and, without saying anything, he walks into the Quiet Room.
I’m lying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling. Gavin’s voice is coming through the speakers. I can hear when he clears his throat and when he does a little hum and when he coughs. The song starts and he sings his words, the new words he just wrote and the words he already had, and when it all comes together, it sounds like a song I’ve heard before, not in my room or in the courtyard, but on the radio or YouTube. It doesn’t feel like my song but it is my song. Our song. Dad’s song too.
Morning comes and you’re not here
An empty bed but I feel you near
Such a mess you left behind
Not so sure I’ll make it this time
I hate you more than you’ll ever know
Just come back and I’ll let it go
I feel the urge to cut and run
But you tied me up, can’t get undone
Keep running but I get nowhere
Keep swinging but I hit thin air
I hear you whisper in the back of my mind:
Start over, leave the past behind
Keep dwelling on what went wrong
Keep reaching for what is gone
I hear you whisper in the back of my mind:
Start over, leave the past behind
Life began when you arrived
What came before was a waste of time
Now I’m wondering where to go
Some answers I’ll never know
I could sail to the farthest place
But no one leaves without a trace
I think you’ve already sealed my fate
Can’t let you go, can never escape
Keep running but I get nowhere
Keep swinging but I hit thin air
I hear you whisper in the back of my mind:
Start over, leave the past behind
Keep dwelling on what went wrong
Keep singing the saddest song
I hear you whisper in the back of my mind:
Start over, leave the past behind
How do I go back home?
How do I go back home?
How do I go back home?
How do I go back home?
Alone.
I don’t know if it’s memorable but it’s beautiful and Gavin even used my line about singing the saddest song. After doing a few more vocal takes, he comes out of the Quiet Room.
Dad looks excited. “I forgot how rich your voice is.”
Gavin paces around the room. “There’s a line that’s still bothering me.”
It must be the same line from before. I notice he already changed it from get up and flee this place to sail to the farthest place. He’s walking back and forth through the basement and I’m busy thinking about the farthest place I know.
Monday, November 12, 2012: Mom is helping me make a model of our solar system and she makes sure I get Earth’s tilt exactly right so that the sun (an actual lightbulb) shines more on the North Pole than the South Pole.
Mom says, “This is just one solar system. There are billions of other solar systems in our galaxy. And there are billions more galaxies too. And each of those galaxies has billions of solar systems.”
I try to picture it all but it’s too much math.
Gavin is on the couch and he’s out of ideas.
“What about outer space?” I say. “It’s the farthest you can go and it rhymes with trace.”
Gavin looks up and Dad spins his chair around. Nobody’s talking.
And then Gavin says quietly, “Stars.” He turns to Dad. “When we look at them, we’re seeing the past, right?”
“That could work,” Dad says.
Gavin’s pen is moving fast. He jumps up off the couch and disappears into the Quiet Room. Dad gives me a wink and spins back to the computer. I lie down on the couch and shut my eyes and the song plays again and this time Gavin sings the new line:
I could sail into outer space
But even stars, they leave a trace
I’m feeling proud that Gavin used my idea even though the new line doesn’t make as much sense to me as the old one. But if Gavin is happy and Dad is happy, then I’m happy too. Actually, this is just about as happy as I’ve ever been in my whole life.
As soon as I realize how perfect it is, my happiness sinks a little, because I know this night will never happen again. After this, I’ll send my song into the contest and Dad will close the studio and Gavin will go back to California and I’ll go back to being alone. I know I’ll always have this night saved in my memory but memories are never as good as the real moment, just like a cover version of a song is hardly ever as good as the original.
But I have to tell myself to get out of my own head because the night isn’t over yet. The song isn’t finished. It’s all still happening and I better pay attention.
I listen to the song play over and over again and I never get tired of hearing it. Gavin’s voice sounds better each time. At one point, Dad says, “I like the double meaning of the word stars,” and Gavin says, “I didn’t even think of that,” and Dad says, “A guy at work asked if it was true that I knew you.” Gavin sings more and this time on the last chorus he changes part of the melody. And later Dad asks, “Everything cool?” and Gavin says, “I miss this, I forgot,” and Dad says, “What took us so long?” and I wonder the same thing. I never want Dad to leave the house again, or Gavin, and I wish we could all live down here and Mom could bring us food to eat and I’d even learn to like pizza if that’s what it would take. It’s like we’re a band, the three of us. We just need a name, something with a the at the beginning, like the Beatles.
And then Gavin goes back into the booth and he sings a harmony with himself and now there are two Gavins. The song gets fuller and fuller and it all plays like a movie that I’ll never get tired of watching. The song is so large now, it’s the most popular song in the world, and I see every baby and old man singing the words and the music is going deep into their systems. I’m above it all, watching it happen, floating in the clouds, or I’m on a city stage winning first place, or I’m in a golden slumber, I don’t know, I can be anywhere, because with Dad home and Gavin’s voice coming through the speakers, it’s so easy to drift away. But I don’t want to go too far, because this is exactly where I want to be.
Help!
22
“He got to our house late on Friday, January twenty-fifth, 2013,” Joan says. “But I didn’t actually see him that night. I was asleep.”