Page 76 of Goodbye Note

He sent the text and then stretched. Despite the tiny amount of bunk space, we weren’t touching.

I put headphones in and closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but I couldn’t stop, thinking about how close he was.

“Neither of us is going to sleep like this.”

I opened one eye. “Huh?”

“We are stiff. Barely taking up any room. I am on the edge.”

“There is plenty of room between us...” I said, not sure what he was getting at.

He grabbed my arm and dragged me closer, getting more comfortable until we were both sprawled out and half draped over one another. “This is what I meant. Is this what you were looking for?” Varian’s words were so defiant.It felt like a trap.“Well?” he asked when I didn’t answer.

“I thought we were going to sleep?”

“We are. But you’re not getting out of answering the question forever.”

How could I answer when I didn’t know myself?

TWENTY-TWO

VARIAN

I woke up groggy.

Muffled voices. Whisper yelling. I blinked and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Light shone through the cracks in the shades, but it wasn’t high enough yet to be more than a warm glow. I loved dawn, but where had Arik gone?

I scanned the small space, my eyes getting used to the light, finally finding him leaning at the far end of the kitchen, whispering into his phone.

“I don’t want to wake anyone else up. Can we talk about this later?”

I got up slowly, trying not to scare Arik.

His head turned in my direction the second I pushed to a stand. He put his hand over the receiver and mouthed, “Sorry.”

“Not a big deal.” I shrugged and pointed at the coffee pot.

He opened one of the cabinets and pointed. “I know. I’ll call more. It’s been a busy first couple of weeks. I am studying. I brought my LSAT books. At least one of them.” He muttered the last.

I got to making coffee and lifted my chin at him, whispering, “Who’s that?”

“My mom,” he said before replying to her, “I’m going back to school. It’s just one semester, and we talked about this. What has you so worked up?”

I leaned against the counter when I got the coffee going, not sure what to do. Not like I had any place to go, but I still felt bad listening.

He banged his head back into the cabinet and mouthed, “Tell the driver to pull over so I can throw myself off a bridge real quick… No, I didn’t say anything. People are starting to wake up on the bus. It’s a small space to be on the phone. That’s why I don’t call a lot.” He put the call on speaker. “So why bring all this up again?”

“Most touring musicians don’t make more than twenty or thirty thousand dollars a year. Is that what you want the rest of your life to look like? It’s hard on your body and your mental health. Wouldn’t you rather do something less intense and demanding? I just want you to really think about this lifestyle.”

“Mom, I like it.” Arik sighed, and I could tell he was already worn out.

“But will you like it in ten, fifteen, twenty years? It’s going to be so hard on your body and your mental health,” his mom continued.

“You say that, but when I think of sitting in an office for the rest of my life, I want to jump off a bridge. It’s not better for my mental health, and it’s not less work. The hours you and Dad work are just as bad. I see Dad coming home at nine, burned the fuck out. How would that be any better for my mental health?” Arik met my eyes and then rolled his.

“Money is the difference. It’s not an easy life being poor. You’ve never had to live like that, but your father and I grew up in households where we couldn’t afford basic things. It’s harder than you could ever know. Neither of us wants that for you.”

“I know, but it’s who I am. Music is the only thing that gives me any happiness at all. I’ve already made money. We’ll have royalties coming in, and our merch is selling. We are already getting more. Our manager just put in a huge order. The label is talking about a bigger tour after—” He cut himself off and made a face.

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