“Since when?” asks Paige.
“I’m sorry,” Ollie says. “I don’t think I can let you go on a show like that.”
“Why not?” Joan asks.
“Because those people are predators. Why don’t we make a video of you performing the song and we’ll put it up on YouTube?”
Ollie knows full well that no one will see that video. But I don’t blame him for wanting to protect her from the media circus.
“Please, Daddy.”
“She can handle it,” Jack says. “Look at her. She’s a tiger.”
The waitress approaches, but I wave her off.
“Dad, she’s a little girl,” Ollie says.
“So what? I see little girls singing on TV all the time.”
“There’s a little girl killing it right now on America’s Got Talent,” Nick says. And then, reading our faces, “I watch it with the kids.”
“It’s not her music they’re interested in,” Ollie says.
“Maybe not,” Jack says. “But you have to take what’s given. Your mother never got a chance to play in front of an audience like that.”
The mention of his wife quiets the table and reminds us why we’re all here tonight. From what I know, she was a weekend musician, never cracked her dream of being a full-time performer. Clearly that’s where Ollie caught his bug. Joan too.
Jack continues, but in a more conciliatory tone. “What can they possibly ask her, Ollie? What day was August twenty-second, 2010?”
“Sunday,” Joan answers.
“There you go,” Jack says. “If she wants to do it, why not let her try?”
“She already did,” Paige says. “I took her to see a doctor and it wasn’t the best experience. Besides, it doesn’t matter at this point. I already told them no.”
“Then I’m not going on vacation with you,” Joan says.
“That’s fine. You can stay with your cousins.”
“Everyone, calm down,” Ollie says, considering the menu for the hundredth time.
I wonder how Syd and I would’ve handled this situation as parents. Ultimately, I think I’d be the one forbidding it. Out of fear, what else.
Taking advantage of the break in conversation, Jack leans over to Ollie. “So when’s this vacation happening?”
“Next spring.”
Jack kneads his chin. “Yeah, that might be tough, bud. That’s our busy time.”
Paige drops her elbows on the table, leans in. “What’s that, Jack?”
“Nothing,” Ollie says.
“I was just saying that spring may be a problem,” Jack says. “Especially if Ollie is taking over scheduling.”
“I can handle it while he’s gone,” Nick says.
“We’ll figure it out,” Ollie says, locking eyes with Paige. She turns away, not liking what she sees. I know how much the vacation means to her. Back at the house she’s got half a dozen travel guides stacked up on the coffee table.
The busboy arrives and delivers flutes to the adults. The waitress, right behind him, fills each glass with champagne. When the servers have left, Jack raises his glass. The rest of the table follows.
“I’ll keep this short.” Jack’s broad shoulders rise with a breath and sink back into place. “I met Joanie at my friend Marvin’s wedding. She sang a song with the band and I was smitten. I was just a kid compared to her, but our ages didn’t matter. I asked her to dance, and the rest is history. We had forty-one beautiful years together. Even the last couple. I’m counting those too. I know you’re up there now, looking down on us, and I just want you to know I love you. I miss you. We all miss you. And there’s not a single day that goes by when you’re not with me. I mean that. Happy birthday, dear.”
Paige dabs her eye with a napkin. On my other side, Joan seems lost in one of her time warps, her body frozen, her hand gripping her water glass.
My mind drifts too. Syd’s favorite restaurant was up in Laurel Canyon. I can’t imagine ever setting foot in that place again. I don’t know how Jack manages, how he can come back to this place after coming here with his wife for so many years. As inspiring as it is to witness his resilience, the way I feel now, it’s hard to believe I’ll ever get to that point. Especially not after this latest setback.
But there will always be setbacks. There will always be reminders. Every calendar year there’s another birthday, another anniversary. The streets I walk down, the restaurants I eat in, the triangle-folded napkin resting on my lap, they all speak of the past. Sydney is everywhere, always.
I finish my champagne and nod to Jack in appreciation. He’s not the only one who’s made it through to the other side. My mother is right there with him, and so many others. Maybe the trick, when I’m finally ready, is to quit treating these reminders like treacherous chasms to leap over. And to one day, maybe, see them as good reasons to stop and celebrate.
25
I hold my key-chain flashlight in my mouth and shine it on my journal. It’s dark in the Quiet Room and I don’t want to turn the ceiling light on because then this place won’t be a good hiding spot anymore.
The Quiet Room is the perfect place to go when I’m feeling extra-lonely because only good memories have happened in here. It’s where I sit when Dad records my songs. As soon as you step inside this little room it’s like you’re the most important person in the world because every sound is blocked out except the sound you’re making.
Right now the only sound I’m making is with my pencil against the paper. There’s so much to write about and think about, like how Gavin doesn’t want to be my partner anymore now that we finished our song and we handed it in. I finally know how bummed the Beatles must have felt when they broke up and they had to do all those shows and interviews all alone without anyone else to share the spotlight with. It must have sucked.
And then there’s Dad, who I used to think understood me better than anyone else, because he’s the only one who listens so closely to music and the only one who remembers all the artists who were once big but aren’t anymore and the only one who knows how powerful one song can be. But it seems like he’s forgotten about all of that now.
It just won’t be the same without the studio. Enough has changed around here already. People think I shouldn’t miss things because I always have the memories of them saved in my brainbox, but the memories only make me miss the things more. That’s why it was so hard to act normal tonight in the restaurant while everyone drank out of their fancy glasses, because I actually saw Grandma Joan sitting at the table with us. I wanted to talk to her and tell her about my song but I couldn’t because she wasn’t really there.