“Jarom said they’ve done a few shows in the park and the organizers invited them back. There’s not any money in it or anything, just exposure, but we want to do some of my songs.”
“That’s really cool. When is it?”
“Next week. On Saturday. It’ll be after our game and I wondered if you would want to go.” He seemed nervous to ask and I wondered why.
“Of course, I want to go. Why would you think otherwise?” I searched his face for clues to what he was thinking or feeling.
“I don’t know,” he said and I noticed his cheeks were red again after they’d already cooled from the exertion of exercising. Was he embarrassed?
“Why are you being so shy about this?” I asked.
He rose up onto his elbow and rested his head in his hand. I mirrored his position and he set his other hand on my waist. “I’m not. I’m excited about it.”
I got this weird feeling that made me kind of sick. “Do you not want me to go and you’re just asking because you feel like you have to?”
Asher frowned. “What? No. Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you’re being a weirdo.” Pushing off the ground, I sat up.
He scrambled to sit up, too. “I’m not trying to be.” Asher shook his head and raked both hands through his hair. “I have no idea what’s happening here.” He reached for my hands and held them tight as he stared directly into my eyes. “Jordan, I have a gig in the park next Saturday and more than anything I want my girlfriend there to support me. Will you please, please go?”
I studied his expression for any sign he didn’t mean what he said. I couldn’t find one, but I still felt unsettled.
“Of course, I’ll go.”
Asher exhaled a deep breath and threw his arms around me. “Thank you. I’m sorry,” he said into my neck. “Whatever that was, I’m sorry.”
I wanted to feel reassured, but part of me kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everything’s been so amazing, so easy. We felt perfect for each other, almost too good to be true. I didn’t want to go looking for trouble, but I admit to being on the look out. He’d become important. Everyday I got to know him more. Everyday he became more tightly woven into the pattern of my life and I worried about what would happen if he wanted to pull away. Would everything unravel? Would I be able to stitch it all back together?
I hoped I never found out.
Asher
How, in such a short span of time, did I get so involved? School. Hockey. The band. Mentoring Payton. Not to mention choir and jazz band.
And Jordan.
Especially Jordan.
It’s like my life in Minnesota never existed. I hadn’t looked back once. I realized my friends back there didn’t see me for me. They saw me as someone. Carly Ryan’s son. It had been impossible to hide my identity. Everyone knew, had always known. They asked questions.
Can you get me tickets to your mom’s next show?
You gonna be a singer just like her, Asher?
You think you’re better than everybody?
What’s it like having a mom who never comes to see you?
None of them had any idea what they were talking about. I’d come to terms with Carly Ryan. She didn’t want to be Carly Sloane, wife and mother. Maybe I wished she’d have figured herself out before she had me, but then, I wouldn’t be here. I guess, if anything, I owed her for giving birth to me and maybe that was enough.
Jordan’s had so many opportunities to ask me about my mom, but she hasn’t. One day I’d tell her how much that meant to me. Until then, I’d just be thankful.
“Dude, show me that part again,” Payton demanded. He’d come a long way in the month we’d been working together and not just musically. I liked to think we’d bonded and he really did look up to me as a mentor. Not that I presented the best example, but better than most.
“Like this.” I played the notes again, almost exaggerating my movements so he could see.
We’d learned to compensate for having opposite dominant hands. I showed him how to play left handed and he had to figure out how to adjust and play right handed, but it worked and ultimately the mechanics were the same. I’d also shown him some online videos he could watch and I could tell he had.