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Busy with what?
If my mother couldn’t cook or clean something, there wasn’t much else she would do. She hadn’t been busy, at least with anything other than household stuff, since the eighties.
“You should’ve let me talk to Emily,” Gabe said between songs. “That night we left. I knew I should’ve talked to her. I’m better at that kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have cut everything off like you did.”
We were back in our music studio in Nashville, going over everything for the tour but so far, it wasn’t going very well. I knew when we were in flow and right now, the only thing that had been flowing were the bad notes and bad vibes.
“Yeah, I feel like a total fucking asshole,” Dustin added. “Did you get through to her with any of your calls? She’s completely ghosted me.”
“No, she still won’t respond,” I told them.
I couldn’t admit that I’d only just tried calling her this morning. Ever since we drove away, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else. I did it to save my mom from knowing what we were planning. Natalie had threatened to tell her everything if I didn’t shut it all down. If anyone was going to tell our mom, it would be me, but I couldn’t do it. Not before I knew if this relationship we were all going for had any lasting ability. Our mom believed in traditional values, and I felt sure this relationship would take some difficult explaining, and well, I hadn’t been up for the task. Especially with Natalie yelling in my ear.
Why Natalie cared about my personal life was beyond me. I knew she liked to be in control and liked to be the center of attention, but this was way over the top, even for her.
I hadn’t spoken to her since we’d said goodbye when we landed. Bernard had called to tell us about the dance hall, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to care. Even Gabe and Dustin didn’t seem to care, so in the end, Bernard decided to let it go. Instead, he was negotiating to buy an empty sound studio. A big, empty sound studio where he intended to do his own Tony Robbins type of Zoom performances. Bernard didn’t blaze the path, but he was sure good at improving on the one that was already there.
“I should send her a text and apologize for being a dick,” Gabe said.
“Let’s take five,” I told our band. They didn’t need to hear the three of us bickering… again.
Once they left, Gabe said, “This isn’t working. We’re not into our own music. We sound like shit.”
“What the fuck?” Dustin said. “I don’t know why I agreed to let you and Natalie do this? I’m fucking going back to Sweet Whiskey and apologize to Emily. This is fucked.”
“You can’t. We have to practice, because right now, I have to agree with Gabe. We sound like shit. We can’t play anywhere until the tour. We shouldn’t have even played at my sister’s wedding.” I reminded them about our contract once again. Both Gabe and I sat on low stools, with our guitars settled in our laps. Not that we played them much when we performed in public, but when we practiced, it helped us with the tempo and key of each song.
It wasn’t just that Bernie blabbed everything I’d told him in confidence to my sister, but our manager got on our ass about us messing around in other venues before the tour. The two had nothing to do with each other, but everything came down on my shoulders at the same time, and I overreacted.
“But we did,” Gabe said. “And it went well, but what was up with your mom? Why didn’t she fly back home with your dad?”
I didn’t know what that was all about, but my dad could hardly react. It happened so fast.
“He said she told him right before she drove away in the backseat of an Uber, that it was her turn now, and he’d have to find a way to adjust.”
“Sounds serious. Her turn at what?” Dustin asked.
“I don’t know, exactly. She didn’t say, and my dad doesn’t want to talk about it.” I didn’t understand any of it, and because of all this shit, I could no longer sleep at night, which reflected in my attitude during the day, and my ability to remember lyrics and play our music.
“What I want to know is if your mom didn’t even go home with your dad, and if all this is about her not finding out that her son and his two best friends are in a consensual relationship with a woman, a woman she knows very well, I might add, why the fuck are we allowing your sister to call the shots?” Dustin asked, looking over from the keyboard he’d been sitting behind. “Why not just tell your mom the truth and get it over with? From what I know of Martha, she’s one tough lady. She’s had a lot of shit happen in her life, family deaths, parents she had to care for, and she apparently gave up her own musical career for some secret reason. Isn’t it time everybody goes fucking honest? Gabe and I have no issue telling our parents any of the fucking shit we do. I’m not trying to come off like we’re fucking better than you, or we’ve got our shit together, which most of the time, we don’t, but secrets never fucking work.”
“That’s a lot of fucks, even for you,” I told him.
“Yeah, well, I’m pissed at this whole thing,” he said, looking madder than I’d ever seen him.
“If Dustin wants to fly back, I’m going with him,” Gabe said. “Until this thing is resolved, none of us will be any good at our job anyway.”
“Look,” Dustin began. “While we’re on the topic of secrets, this needs to come out. I’m just going to say it… I had a brief affair with Natalie. It only lasted a couple weeks, and it was right before she and Bernie got serious. You can hate me all you want, but it happened. Can’t change that it happened, and I’m sick of trying to keep it from you.”
“Wow,” I said, shocked, but somehow not shocked. “Why did you think you couldn’t tell me?”
“She’s your sister, and she told me not to,” he said, while gazing down at the floor.
“Okay, is there anything else I should know?” I asked.
Gabe cleared his throat, and my stomach clenched. “I had a brief affair with her as well, but it didn’t last more than a couple days.”
“So you both slept with my sister, and neither one of you told me because… I’m guessing Nat insisted that you shouldn’t.”
