Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1)

“Whatever you like, sweet thing. Well, I’m sorry to say the place ain’t exactly in prime condition, Kay. I had the boys here last night playin‘ cards until three in the mornin’. I didn’t get a chance to clean up or fix up the other bedroom yet.”

He stepped back and we gazed in at the small living room. The coffee table was covered with empty beer cans and a pizza box in which two dried pieces remained. There was a bowl with cigarette butts in it and various articles of clothing scattered over the sofa and the two easy chairs, each with thick arms and what looked like holes burned into them by dropped ashes. Pieces of newspaper were scattered about, and I saw what looked like a racetrack form under the table.

“What the place needs badly is a woman’s touch,” he said. Before Mother darling could say it, he flipped his forefinger at her like a pistol and added, “Make a good song.”

She laughed.

“Still the same old Cory. Well,” she said philosophically. “We didn’t expect it would be a picnic right from the start, now did we, Robin?”

“Never that,” I said dryly.

“Why don’t you go back to the car and start getting our things,” she told me. “I’ll help Cory get organized and then maybe he can come out and get the heavier pieces.”

“That’s a good suggestion,” he said. “It’s been a while since I was organized.”

I started away.

“Oh,” he said, looking out the door after me. “I forgot. Welcome to Nashville.”

“Thanks,” I said, and walked on.

I wished I could just keep going and never stop.

4

Settling into Nowhere

If ever I felt lost or out of place at Grandpa and Grandma’s in Granville, it was nothing compared to how I felt at Cory Lewis’s apartment. At least at my grandparents’ home, I could find space for myself, escape to my own music, into my own little world. Living in this apartment, I knew what bees must feel like in a hive, I thought. Nothing was mine. Nothing was truly private, and everyone’s conversation was buzzing in everyone’s ears whether he or she wanted it or not.

Besides the fact that my room was about one-third as big as the room I had at the farm, the real problem was, there was only one bathroom and because it wasn’t very big either, I had to keep most of my things in my room. I could see that the only time I would have any real privacy was when Mother darling and Cory had to go to the garage owned by Del Thomas, one of the other musicians, to practice and prepare their music. At least for a good part of those days, I would have the apartment to myself, not that there was much to do in it. There was only one television set and Cory wouldn’t pay for any cable or satellite reception, so the set was able to show only local stations pulled out of the air by a rabbit-ear antenna. Some improvement to the life we had, I thought. At least Grandpa had cable and I had my own television set there.

Mother darling saw it in my eyes.

“This is just a temporary residence for us, Robin. As soon as I start makin‘ big money, we’re gonna have a place of our own.”

“By then I’ll be on social security,” I said, and she came as close to slapping me as ever.

“It would help,” she said, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, “if you would be a little more encouragin‘. I’m doin’ this for both of us.”

“Right,” I said.

Cory watched our little arguments with a wide, stupid grin on his face. Most of the time he wouldn’t say much. He would just shake his head and go, “Robin Lyn.”

“I’m Robin,” I shouted at him. “Not Robin Lyn.”

“Heck, girl, most of the girls I know here got two first names.”

“I’m not from here.”

“Right. You’re from a bigger, more sophisticated town,” he said, and laughed. Mother darling laughed too. It wasn’t long before I felt like it was me against them. She sided with almost anything he said or did.

For my part, I couldn’t see where he was so connected and important in the music business. If he knew so many influential people, why was he living like this and why didn’t he have another singer, one with more experience or fame than Mother darling? I couldn’t believe how much hope and faith my mother was putting in him. From what I could see, he didn’t even seem as successful as the musicians Mother darling played with back in Granville. It was as if she was blind or just didn’t want to see. I actually felt sorry for her, but it wouldn’t be long before I would feel sorrier for myself.

In fact, I felt sorry for her the very first night there. Cory called his two other band members and told them to come over, supposedly to talk about their music and hear Mother darling sing and play her guitar. She got as nervous as a hen. It was as if she was already auditioning to play the Grand Ole Opry.

“What songs should I choose? Which ones do I do best?” she asked, more of herself than to me as she flitted about the small apartment, going from the room she was sharing with Cory to the bathroom and back, barely concerned at all about my room and how I was adjusting to this.

She paused once to say, “Oh, you have a view of the street from here. That’s more interestin‘. We’re lookin’ out on the courtyard.”