The Fire Between High & Lo
Page 54
“I’m fine.”
“He’s been losing his appetite a bit. And he seems a bit moody lately,” Erika chimed in.
“That’s perfectly normal with everything that’s going on,” Dr. Yang assured her.
“I’m not moody,” Kellan barked.
Erika frowned. “You snapped at me yesterday, Kellan.”
“You were taking my temperature at three in the morning while I was sleeping.”
“You looked cold,” she whispered.
“And how are you doing, Erika? I know we spoke about how you handle your stress by sometimes breaking things…”
“Yeah. But I’m doing much better.”
Kellan laughed.
“I’m sorry?” Erika cocked an eyebrow at my brother. “Is something funny?”
“We have seven new lamps in our closet because one broke. You’re losing your mind.”
Wow. That was harsh.
I watched the embarrassment turn Erika’s cheeks red as she studied her shoes.
Dr. Yang wrote something in his notebook before turning to me. “What about you, Logan? Do you think Erika is handling Kellan’s illness in the best way possible?”
Erika huffed. “Right. Because a drug addict gets to judge me.”
That was harsh, too.
I sat up in my seat, glancing over to both Kellan and Erika before I replied. They both looked so exhausted. The same way Ma had. Kellan was digging his fingers into the sides of his chair, while Erika was fighting off the temptation to cry.
I cleared my throat. “Do I think it’s weird that Erika has mini-breakdowns where she breaks and buys? Yes. Do I think she judges people for not being or thinking exactly like her? Absolutely.” I could feel the daggers Erika was sending my way with her eyes, but I continued speaking. “But she loves him. She cleans up after me. Yelling about it, but she does it. Because she’s trying her best to make him comfortable. She might not be handling it to your definition or Kellan’s, or mine. Maybe not even the best way possible. But she’s doing her best. She wakes up every morning and tries to do her best. I don’t know if I’ve ever done my best…” I glanced down at the band on my arm. “But I’m trying. For these two, I’m trying to do my best. Which is all anyone can really do. When I was at the rehab clinic in Iowa, they had these quotes in every room by Ram Dass. In the front lobby there was this quote on the wall that said, ‘We’re all just walking each other home.’ I never really understood the meaning until right now.
“Because at the end of the day, we’re all lost. We’re all cracked. We’re all scarred. We’re all broken. We’re all just trying to figure out this thing called life, you know? Sometimes it feels so lonely, but then you remember your core tribe. The people who sometimes hate you, but never stop loving you. The people who always show up, no matter how many times you’ve fucked up and pushed them away. That’s your tribe. These people, these struggles, this is my tribe. So yeah, we fall apart, but we’ll fall together. We’ll stand up—together. Then, at the end of all the bullshit, all of the tears, all of the hurt, we’ll take a few steps at a time. Then we’ll take a few deep breaths, and we’ll walk each other home.”
***
After Kellan’s appointment, he and Erika went home to get some rest, and I walked around town all day, until night came and I found myself standing in front of Red’s Piano Bar. On a chalkboard sitting outside of the bar, I saw Alyssa’s name as the performer of the night, and a wave of pride washed over me. She’s doing it. She’s doing what she loves.
I stood at the back of Red’s Piano Bar, hidden away from Alyssa’s line of sight. She sat at the piano, her fingers moving back and forth across the keys, filling the bar with a beautiful melody that too few people in the world would ever experience. I listened closely, song after song, remembering how amazingly talented Alyssa was.
When it came to her final song, she sat up at the microphone sitting beside her, and spoke gently. “I finish every show with this song, because it means so much to my heart. It holds a lot of my soul within the lyrics, and always reminds me of a time when I once loved a boy… And for a few breaths, a few whispers, and a few moments, I think he loved me, too. Here’s Sam Smith’s ‘Life Support.’”
My chest tightened, and I sat up straighter.
Her fingers danced across the keys and I watched her body move as if she was becoming a part of the piano. It was as if she was nothing more but a willing vessel of art. I couldn’t imagine how she could’ve become any more astonishing. I couldn’t grasp how she could’ve stunned me even more.
But then she parted her lips.
The lyrics flowed from her lips with such ease. Her eyes shut as she sang; she was losing herself in the words, in the sounds, in herself, in our memories.
It was an honor to witness such a moment. Tears fell from her closed eyes as her shoulders swayed back and forth to the rhythm and sounds she crafted. There was something different about the artists in the world. It almost seemed as if they felt things differently, deeper maybe. They saw the world in color, while many only saw the blacks and whites.
My life was black and white before Alyssa showed up in it.
My feet took me closer to the stage, and I stood in front of her, listening to the words that I used to whisper into her ear when we were young. She was so beautiful, so free, when she played her music. When she let go, it had a way of making everyone around her feel as if they were free, too. For a few moments as she sang, I was convinced that the chains of life were removed. I was free right alongside her.
I knew Lori was being a great friend, protecting Alyssa the way she did, but what she didn’t know is that for me, Alyssa was it. She was the girl in my heart. Even though such a big part of me tried to deny the feelings I held for her, another part of me was still desperate with the want, the need, the love that only she was able to create in my soul.
Alyssa finished her song, thanked her listeners, and then turned toward the audience. I hadn’t moved. Her beautiful eyes found my stare. She took a deep breath and shivered a bit when she released it. Her footsteps toward me were tentative. When we stood in front of each other, we kind of smiled, yet kind of frowned, too.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey,” I replied.
We frowned and smiled.
“He’s been losing his appetite a bit. And he seems a bit moody lately,” Erika chimed in.
“That’s perfectly normal with everything that’s going on,” Dr. Yang assured her.
“I’m not moody,” Kellan barked.
Erika frowned. “You snapped at me yesterday, Kellan.”
“You were taking my temperature at three in the morning while I was sleeping.”
“You looked cold,” she whispered.
“And how are you doing, Erika? I know we spoke about how you handle your stress by sometimes breaking things…”
“Yeah. But I’m doing much better.”
Kellan laughed.
“I’m sorry?” Erika cocked an eyebrow at my brother. “Is something funny?”
“We have seven new lamps in our closet because one broke. You’re losing your mind.”
Wow. That was harsh.
I watched the embarrassment turn Erika’s cheeks red as she studied her shoes.
Dr. Yang wrote something in his notebook before turning to me. “What about you, Logan? Do you think Erika is handling Kellan’s illness in the best way possible?”
Erika huffed. “Right. Because a drug addict gets to judge me.”
That was harsh, too.
I sat up in my seat, glancing over to both Kellan and Erika before I replied. They both looked so exhausted. The same way Ma had. Kellan was digging his fingers into the sides of his chair, while Erika was fighting off the temptation to cry.
I cleared my throat. “Do I think it’s weird that Erika has mini-breakdowns where she breaks and buys? Yes. Do I think she judges people for not being or thinking exactly like her? Absolutely.” I could feel the daggers Erika was sending my way with her eyes, but I continued speaking. “But she loves him. She cleans up after me. Yelling about it, but she does it. Because she’s trying her best to make him comfortable. She might not be handling it to your definition or Kellan’s, or mine. Maybe not even the best way possible. But she’s doing her best. She wakes up every morning and tries to do her best. I don’t know if I’ve ever done my best…” I glanced down at the band on my arm. “But I’m trying. For these two, I’m trying to do my best. Which is all anyone can really do. When I was at the rehab clinic in Iowa, they had these quotes in every room by Ram Dass. In the front lobby there was this quote on the wall that said, ‘We’re all just walking each other home.’ I never really understood the meaning until right now.
“Because at the end of the day, we’re all lost. We’re all cracked. We’re all scarred. We’re all broken. We’re all just trying to figure out this thing called life, you know? Sometimes it feels so lonely, but then you remember your core tribe. The people who sometimes hate you, but never stop loving you. The people who always show up, no matter how many times you’ve fucked up and pushed them away. That’s your tribe. These people, these struggles, this is my tribe. So yeah, we fall apart, but we’ll fall together. We’ll stand up—together. Then, at the end of all the bullshit, all of the tears, all of the hurt, we’ll take a few steps at a time. Then we’ll take a few deep breaths, and we’ll walk each other home.”
***
After Kellan’s appointment, he and Erika went home to get some rest, and I walked around town all day, until night came and I found myself standing in front of Red’s Piano Bar. On a chalkboard sitting outside of the bar, I saw Alyssa’s name as the performer of the night, and a wave of pride washed over me. She’s doing it. She’s doing what she loves.
I stood at the back of Red’s Piano Bar, hidden away from Alyssa’s line of sight. She sat at the piano, her fingers moving back and forth across the keys, filling the bar with a beautiful melody that too few people in the world would ever experience. I listened closely, song after song, remembering how amazingly talented Alyssa was.
When it came to her final song, she sat up at the microphone sitting beside her, and spoke gently. “I finish every show with this song, because it means so much to my heart. It holds a lot of my soul within the lyrics, and always reminds me of a time when I once loved a boy… And for a few breaths, a few whispers, and a few moments, I think he loved me, too. Here’s Sam Smith’s ‘Life Support.’”
My chest tightened, and I sat up straighter.
Her fingers danced across the keys and I watched her body move as if she was becoming a part of the piano. It was as if she was nothing more but a willing vessel of art. I couldn’t imagine how she could’ve become any more astonishing. I couldn’t grasp how she could’ve stunned me even more.
But then she parted her lips.
The lyrics flowed from her lips with such ease. Her eyes shut as she sang; she was losing herself in the words, in the sounds, in herself, in our memories.
It was an honor to witness such a moment. Tears fell from her closed eyes as her shoulders swayed back and forth to the rhythm and sounds she crafted. There was something different about the artists in the world. It almost seemed as if they felt things differently, deeper maybe. They saw the world in color, while many only saw the blacks and whites.
My life was black and white before Alyssa showed up in it.
My feet took me closer to the stage, and I stood in front of her, listening to the words that I used to whisper into her ear when we were young. She was so beautiful, so free, when she played her music. When she let go, it had a way of making everyone around her feel as if they were free, too. For a few moments as she sang, I was convinced that the chains of life were removed. I was free right alongside her.
I knew Lori was being a great friend, protecting Alyssa the way she did, but what she didn’t know is that for me, Alyssa was it. She was the girl in my heart. Even though such a big part of me tried to deny the feelings I held for her, another part of me was still desperate with the want, the need, the love that only she was able to create in my soul.
Alyssa finished her song, thanked her listeners, and then turned toward the audience. I hadn’t moved. Her beautiful eyes found my stare. She took a deep breath and shivered a bit when she released it. Her footsteps toward me were tentative. When we stood in front of each other, we kind of smiled, yet kind of frowned, too.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey,” I replied.
We frowned and smiled.
