Starting from Scratch (Starting from 2)
“Before the booze and the meanness set in, I thought you were pretty cool. I liked your swagger. You looked badass and confident. I loved your stories about being on the road. I could have listened to you all day. I have memories of hearing you practice at night in the living room after we’d gone to bed. Sometimes I can still hear those songs, and they take me back to a time I wanted to be just like you. And now…fuck, I pray everyday that it never happens.”
Silence. It felt like I’d dropped a bomb and we were just waiting for it to go off. Five, four, three…
“I don’t blame you. It’s not a good life,” he said, breaking the heavy quiet. “But I found out the hard way that you can’t chase dreams and live in the real world, boy.”
“Why not? Why didn’t you try to have it all?”
“What makes you think I didn’t try?” he retorted.
“I never saw you try. I saw you walk away,” I countered angrily.
“Hmph. I did what I had to do for everyone’s sake.”
I let go of the doorknob and paced into the house. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin. I didn’t want to be near him, but I couldn’t walk away. I sensed a chink in his armor and some warped part of me wanted to see what was underneath all that ugliness.
“What happened? Let me guess…you failed.”
He furrowed his brow angrily and opened his mouth as if to blast me. And then...nothing. He slumped in defeat.
“Yeah, I failed. Time and time again. I chased a dream and the dream fell apart. I wanted to be the real thing. A rock star, a blues legend. Man, it was right there. I could see it, feel it...hell, some days, I could taste it. But I never caught it. I started out playing to fifty people at dive bars with a coupla other guys. Then it was one hundred, two hundred, three hundred. We traveled around the country, barely making a living, while we waited for the big record deal to come in. Lots of sharks out there...they tell you want to hear, but they leave you high and dry when the next big act comes ’round.” He shrugged with faux nonchalance. “And guess what? The big deal never came through. The audiences dried up, the money dried up, and every time I came home, something fell apart. Your mom was—”
“She was sick,” I hissed angrily.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I let her down. I failed. Over and over again. But you don’t have to make the same mistakes. Christ, if I’d listened to my old man, things would be different. I’d be a retired accountant living in Northridge. Your mom would be alive and—” he paused when his voice hitched—“none of this would have happened.”
“You can’t go back and change anything. The past is gone. It’s over and done. She’s gone and I’m not you.”
“But you’re enough like me to—”
“No!” I shook my head furiously. “I’m not. Don’t you get it? Music isn’t everything. I love it, but I have other things to live for. I’ll be okay if it doesn’t work out. I don’t need fame or fortune. Honestly, I don’t fuckin’ want any of it. I just want—”
“What do you want?”
Charlie.
The thought hit me so hard I sucked in a ragged breath and let it out slowly before responding. “I just want to be happy. And you know what? In spite of everything you’ve done and all the bullshit you’ve put me through, I wish you the same.”
“Happy doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Maybe not, but it’s enough for me. Maybe it’s more than enough. Good-bye, Dad.”
I closed the door behind me and breathed in the cool evening air and something that felt a lot like freedom. Like I’d been released from some invisible chains or let out of jail after a lifetime of imprisonment. It was time to let go of the bitterness and resentment. And begin again.
If I was truly free, I knew where I wanted to go first.
* * *
Oliver was right. I had to do something epic. I googled riddles, pranks, and practical jokes, quickly eliminating the ones that were super silly, raunchy, or too difficult to pull off. Simple was best. I made a quick trip to the grocery store before heading to practice the following morning. I spotted Charlie’s car at the bottom of the drive and strategically placed my purchases along the path from the front door. Then I headed into the house and stopped in my tracks at the sight of Charlie in corporate takeover mode, pacing the entry with his cell glued to his ear.
I sat at the bottom of the staircase and waited for him. He acknowledged me with a nod, but his furtive glances indicated I had his full attention. That was a good sign. I hoped.