Page 26 of If Not for My Baby
My neck prickles as the elevator arrives, and I wheel my suitcase inside. “I know, our schedule’s been so crazy.”
“You sound a little off. You sure you’re just tired?”
“Yeah, of course.” But something about the dark elevator and the quiet whir of the cables feels like a confessional. “I mean…I kind of have no idea what’s going on with me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m having the most amazing time. The new cities, the people in the band, singing every single night. It’s like I’ve fallen into someone else’s life. A better life, honestly. But at the same time I miss you so much. Oh, and I really pissed off Mike. I just feel like I can’t do both—be here and succeed, and be the person I’ve always been. Is that dumb? And a few nights ago Halloran and I talked until two in the morning and he hasn’t acknowledged me since and now I’m sort of dying to talk to him but cannot explain why.”
I wait in silence but my mom says nothing. The car drops to the next floor. And the next. Still nothing.
“Mom?”
The elevator dings its arrival and when the doors crank open Indy and Wren are waiting by the rotating lobby doors. They wave and I wave back.
“…Hello? Honey? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, hello?”
“There you are. I think you cut out.”
I sigh. Probably for the best. “I was in an elevator. I must’ve lost you. Can I call you back tomorrow?”
“Of course, honey. Keep kicking butt, my little rock star!”
I hang up and join Indy and Wren, taken aback by the fact that I feel more comfortable around them than I just did on the phone with my own mother.
Later, when we pull off the freeway toward DC, I find I can’t pry my face from the bus windows. Not even for Grayson’s whines over Conor’s devastatingMario Kartwin. My nose is pressed so close to the glass it’s fogging beneath my breath, but I just weave to the side and glue myself to a new spot.
I can’t recall the names of the monuments, despite my elementary school teacher crawling out from my memory to remind me to review my flash cards. That famously tall and skinny one—like a pencil balancing on its eraser—presides over a dark, placid body of water. The setting sun paints the calm surface fiery orange and glittering gold, while the sky fades above from blue to violet to champagne pink. I can scarcely catch my breath—I’ve never been anywhere with this kind of history. Human rights I voted for have been signed into law on these manicured lawns.
Indy plops down next to me and the love seat depresses under her. “Feeling carsick? I have Pepto-Bismol.”
“We’re in Washington, DC,” I say.
“Cool, huh?”
“Very.” My breath fans across the glass again and it’s so foggy, I’m finally forced to tear my eyes away.
Halloran joined the group out here at some point while Iwas barnacled onto the window, and now that I’m looking athimI realize he’s staring atme. There’s something soft in his eyes—a wistfulness. He doesn’t seem to be listening to Conor and Grayson beside him.
“Hi,” I say, as calmly as my jackhammering heart will allow. Is it going to be like this every time we’re in the same room?
“It’s staggeringly beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, gesturing toward the landscape, awash in blues and golds.
“I just haven’t been to many places,” I say, low enough so the others can’t hear.
Halloran’s brows knit. “Don’t diminish your awe. The world’s a fine place; there’s plenty worth bein’ moved by.”
Before I can respond, the bus lurches to a stop and not a minute later the doors crank open, allowing Jen and Lionel to pop inside.
“Okay, team,” Jen says, eyes on her phone. “Night’s free, but, Tom, we have an early morning.The Morning Show with Joe Jenningsis filmed live at seven, so the car will be at the hotel to pick you up at five. Indy and Lionel, be ready then, too, please. Tom, he’ll interview you in front of the studio audience, and then you’ll do two songs, ‘Halcyon’ and ‘If Not for My Baby.’ ” Jen puts her phone away to appraise the rest of us. “Sound check for our show here is the next day at noon. And then we’ll leave straight for Pittsburgh. Copy?”
We all mumble our agreement before I hurry back to grab my suitcase from below my bunk. But I’m pumped. A free hotel room night will be the perfect way to get my mind off of—
“Clementine,” Jen calls from the front lounge. “Can I speak with you?”
If the twist in my gut is any indication, she might as well have saidtime for your root canal. I’m sure I’m in trouble, though I cannot fathom for what. I scoot past the rest of the band and follow Jen off the bus and down the block a ways, Lionel hot on my tail because of course he is. I wonder absently if Lionel sleeps each night at the foot of Jen’s bed.
Not even the refreshingly cool evening air and dusky sunlight filtering through the striped hotel awning can quiet my racing heart. I do not like making mistakes, and based on Jen’s facial expression, I’ve done just that.
And it gets worse:
