Page 43 of Broken Chorus

“…then you’ll need to get with the program sooner rather than later.”

“You heard what I said, right?”

“And I’m choosing to ignore it. That’s not me pushing either, that’s me saying no one from the outside will ever be able to come in and sing our songs the way you can. You know the stories behind every one and what we were going through when we wrote them. You’ve got an amazing voice, goddammit, maybe even more powerful than Hawk’s when you’re not trying to stifle it, so let loose and be heard for once!”

Aaron snorted and rolled on his side, propped his head on his hand and stared across the balcony at him. “And just how would you know how I sound?”

“’cause you sat your ass on the control panel a couple nights back and accidently recorded yourself playing Midnight Crows. It was amazing and more than proved what me and Hawk have been saying for months. You can easily front this band! After hearing what I heard, there is no way in hell I’d want anyone else to do it and you’re a fuckin’ dick for never playing the guitar solo that way in practice.”

“I have.”

Kelly smacked his hand on the rail of the chair. “Oh bullshit, it hasn’t even been close. I played it for Hawk too, in case you were wondering, which might be the other reason he’s been so testy with you.”

“Joy. Thanks for that.”

“Aaron, you know he’s working on songs for us, right?”

“Yeah, I helped him with one.”

“Good. He read me a few pieces the other night. They’re rough, but he’ll work out the kinks. Do you really think he’s going to trust them to anyone but you?”

“You two play dirty, you know that?”

“Maybe, but sometimes, that’s the only thing that gets through to you.”

“Let’s say I do take his spot and the fans hate it so much they flood our website begging us to bring Hawk back, or worse, insisting that anyone including Big Bird and the rest of the Sesame Street cast would be a better fit than me?”

Kelly rolled on his side and glared at him until Aaron hung his head. “And what if you do, and they love it? You’ve never once considered that, have you?”

Silently, Aaron waited for him to drop it.

“Damn, Aaron, you really haven’t! It’s been nothing but negative shit filling your head since you agreed to do this, hasn’t it?”

“So what if it has?” Aaron growled. “I fail to see anything positive about my life right now. I’ve got nothing. Hawk’s slammed the door on me visiting and I swear he’s a step away from shutting me out of his life completely.”

“How close are you to slipping?” Kelly asked when Aaron closed his eyes and tried to tune him out.

“I bought a bottle of Jack,” Aaron admitted. “Cracked it open too.”

“Did you drink any?”

“Does licking the inside of the rim count?”

“No, but it comes close enough to be concerning. Where is it?”

“Under my bed.”

“I want that bottle. We’re gonna pour it out together, okay, then we’re gonna find a meeting. You need one. Pretty sure I need one too. I added Shawn’s number back into my phone, if that tells you anything.”

Okay, now that wasn’t good, Aaron thought as he locked eyes with him. “Yeah, that you’re thinking of getting fucked up.”

“Every damn day.”

“Maybe…look, do you ever think that what we’re trying to do with the band is gonna be what pushes us back over the edge?” Aaron asked. “Like maybe we can’t create without all the stuff we used to put into our bodies?”

“I refuse to accept that,” Kelly admitted, before huffing out a heavy sigh. “But I have considered the possibility.”

“I just…I feel like there’s this wall that I can’t push past anymore,” Aaron admitted. “When I’d get buzzed, or flat out hammered, this soft, floaty feeling would wash over me and I could hyper focus on the music and not think too hard about anything else. Hell, it was the only thing that mattered, well except you guys, ya know. Then everything fell apart and maybe I could have been okay with losing the band if we hadn’t decided on getting sober at the same time, but clear headed, everything just sucks. Some mornings I wake up and my first thought is to wonder what the point is. I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to motivate myself to move and yet, the next thought to follow is why do I have to? Why can’t I just lay there and do nothing? Only when I try that, I feel lazy and disgusted with myself. Like I’m all the things my grandparents said I was when they were telling me how disappointed they were in damn near everything about me, and the one thing they always praised me for, it…”

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