Page 29 of Our Final Encore

“No,” he shakes his head. “It never got to that point.”

My body floods with relief. “Good to know.”

We lay there in silence for a few moments, his arms wrapped tightly around me, the sound of crickets chirping coming in through the cracked window. I yawn and roll over onto my side, a wave of tiredness crashing over me suddenly.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers in my ear before pulling the covers over us both.

“Aren’t you going to go back home?”

“I will soon. Go ahead and sleep.” He presses a soft kiss on my forehead, and for once I drift off to sleep almost instantly, without any worried thoughts crossing my mind.

SEVENTEEN

Alex

Age Eighteen

The past two years with Opal have been nothing short of a dream. I don’t know why I tiptoed around my feelings for her for so long. My fear of losing her as a friend was shortsighted and silly, looking back.

We fit together so easily, like two pieces of a puzzle. It’s impossible to imagine a life where she isn’t my girlfriend now.

Tonight is our senior prom, and as little interest as I have in spending any more time than necessary around these people, I’d do anything to make her smile. I know she’s been dreaming about dressing up for prom since she was a kid, and I wasn’t going to deprive her of the opportunity.

I straighten my tie, baby blue to match her dress, and push my hair back one more time, hoping the gel I put in it will actually hold all of it in place.

“You look sharp, son,” my dad says from his leather armchair as I pass through the living room. He was happy to hear aboutmy decision to attend prom, probably just because I’m bringing Opal. I think he likes her more than he likes me, and he hardly ever likes anyone, but who wouldn’t like her?

“Thanks, Dad.” I nod and give him a tight smile. He returns it and then turns his attention back to the television, a glass of whiskey in his hand. There’s still at least an hour before prom starts so I sit down at my kitchen table, where I know my father won’t be tempted to spark up a real conversation with me.

The red bubble on my Youtube app catches my attention and I open it out of curiosity. Lately I’ve tried not to check it religiously. That only leads to disappointment, and sometimes embarrassment. I post videos of my music on there almost daily now, but for the most part they only rack up a couple hundred views and maybe one or two comments if I’m lucky. Sometimes I feel like I might as well give up on that pipedream and figure out a real career path.

The thought of sitting at a desk every day for the next fifty years leaves a sour taste in my mouth, though. I want more, I always have. I don’t care if it means being broke and sleeping on the streets, it would be better than living a life that I hate. But then I think about Opal. Her plans to go to college, have a normal job and a normal life.I don’t want to live any life without her.

My old, cheap phone takes forever to load the app. I tap on my latest video and my eyes stretch open wide when I see that I have over 100 comments. That’s never happened before, ever.

I scroll through the comments, my eyes dancing over the screen animatedly. They’re overwhelmingly positive. My veins buzz with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. I’ve always wanted to have more eyes on my videos, but I never expected it to actually happen.

“What’s got you so excited?” Dad’s gruff voice breaks my concentration and I look up from my phone to see him topping off his glass with more Jack Daniel’s.

“Uh, nothing.” I shrug, swallowing a lump in my throat. “A few people liked my video on Youtube, I was just reading their comments.”

He nods slowly as he watches the amber liquid pour into the cup. “You thought any more about college?”

I hate when this topic arises, which is exactly why I avoid talking to him as much as I can. Maybe that’s selfish, he’s the only parent I really have, and I’m the only kid he has. But I hate feeling the disappointment radiating off of him any time he brings up school, or the future.

“Not much,” I say, eyes still on my phone screen.

“Opal’s going to UNT, isn’t she?”

Of course, Opal was accepted to the university an hour away from us and she’s planning to start there this fall. She’s decided to major in technical writing. I tried to convince her to go for creative writing, knowing that’s what she really wanted to study, but she refused, claiming it wasn’t realistic enough if she wants to find a job.

“She is.”

“You should think about applying, son. My GI bill will foot most of the cost.” Our eyes meet and I can sense the irritation in his serious expression. “You need to have a plan, Alexander.”

I hate that stupid name. I’ve always hated it, and that’s why I’ve always gone by Alex. But my dad pulls it out anytime he’s trying to get my attention. “I’ll think about it,” I lied. “I’m heading over to Opal’s now, I’ll see you later.”

He gives me a hint of a smile. “Be safe.”

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