Page 60 of The Girl with No Name

“You really want to know?”

“I do.”

“I’m thinking about how there’s nothing like the feeling of making something—a song, a poem, a story—out of thin air, and seeing it move another person emotionally.”

Luna grins. She reaches out to put a hand on me, but hesitates. “Ilovethat that’s what you’re thinking about. You aresonot a normie.”

“Definitely not a normie.”

“Just keep going. Tell me more.”

“I’d love to wake up, drink coffee, make art, and not worry about money. But that’s not life, is it? That’s just not real.”

“Look around. All of these artists have achieved their dreams. They probably had the same doubts you did at some point. They just ignored them.”

“Well, that’s great for them. But it’s not in the cards for me.”

“Not if you think like that. You really don’t like your job, do you?”

“Do I hate it sometimes? Yes. But I’m good at it. And it’s a secure income.”

“But you sure spend a ton of time daydreaming about other things you could be doing.” She pokes my chest. “For a guy who wears a cross, you don’t have much faith in yourself—or in God’s plan for you—do you?”

“I’m happy, okay? I’ve got the girl. I’ve got the job. Stop it.”

She shakes her head. “Stop pointing out flaws in your thinking? You just said two seconds ago that you hate your job.”

I squint and shift my weight, switching my focus to the plethora of concertgoers who are filling up the field. “Who are you to tell me what I think?” I counter. “You don’t even give people your real name. Like you know what you’re doing. You’re on a trip with two random guys you met at a bar, blowing around like a butterfly in the wind. Andyou’regonna stand there and critiqueme?”

She pats my cheek. “Right. Iama butterfly in the wind. That’s beautiful, actually. I don’t know who I am or what I want right now. But at least I’m honest about it. I was in a situation before this where I realized how unhappy I was. I have faith that the universe will bring me to where I’m meant to be. At least I’m not lying to myself.”

“Oh, so I’m a liar now?”

“It’s more like a lack of self-awareness about the gap between your talent—who you could be—and who you are right now. You lie to yourself about what makes you happy.”

I feel my inner defenses coiling for a fight. “You don’t know a damn thing about what makes me happy. I’m secure. Secure job, secure girl. That counts for something.”

“You think? Because you sound as insecure as anyone I’ve ever met.”

Dunn saunters back over from the handwashing station. “It’s time for some fucking beers! What do y’all say to that?” He looks back and forth between the two of us. “I feel like I missed something.”

“Luna here was just telling me how to live my life. That’s all.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’ttellinghim. I was challenging him to think more in depth about what makes him happy and consider whether he has faith in himself.”

“Guys.” Dunn slings his arms over both our shoulders. “It’s eighty degrees and sunny. We’ve got Sheryl Crow on stage two in under an hour. Weezer after that, Turnpike Troubadours, the Red Lemons as the appetizer, and then, of course, Zach Bryan as the main course. Let’s not get so riled up. Let’s just vibe. No more deep-chat time. Dance time. Fun time.”

A huge cheer goes up from one area of the crowd about a hundred yards away from us.

“That’s Sheryl Crow!” Someone says, pointing at the stage.

“My set starts in forty-five minutes, y’all. Who’s ready to soak up the sun?” Sheryl says into the microphone.

An even bigger cheer erupts from the masses.

Dunn pats me on the chest. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s get those six months of therapy packed in today. I need this. Once I get back, it’s going to be a reality check. My wife’s going to have a baby. This is not going to be part of my life. You all need this. I need this. So let’s make a deal. Can we just enjoy the afternoon?”

I nod. “Hell yeah.”

---