Page 287 of Rock Me All Night
"When did you hurt becauseyouhurt?"
"When Willow ran off with that asshole." His eyes turn down. "I didn't hear from her for days. I thought she was gone, forever, dead or ran away. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't even play my guitar. I only went looking for her boyfriend so I could make sure he hurt as bad as I did."
I close my eyes to picture teenage Drew in a fit of rage and agony. I never saw him feel anything like that, but I can still picture it so easily.
"When else?" I ask.
"When I got my first C."
"You got a C?"
"Yeah." He shifts away like he's embarrassed. "This algorithms class in college. I studied my ass off, but it did me no good."
"But you're a rock star."
"Back then, I was just a guy who killed it on the guitar." He turns back. Makes eye contact. "Still cared what my parents thought of me. Still had this idea I'd end up some Silicon Valley programmer who only played as a hobby."
"I can't picture that."
"Me either. That's why I've been so pushy about this teaching thing. Because I know how it feels to try to fit into a life someone else made for you."
"Do you ever doubt your ability to play?"
"You already had your question. But no. Not since I was a teenager." His gaze drifts to the pillows. "That hurt. When my mom stopped talking to me."
"What happened?"
"She said that if I took a year off from school to pursue the band, that she couldn't support me. For my own good supposedly. Of course, I dared her to follow through. Dared her to stop talking to me. I figured I'd give it a couple weeks and she'd realize how wrong she was. But she never did. Six months went by and nothing. Wasn't until my sister called to tell me I wasn't invited home for Christmas that I realized there was no turning back. I fucking lost it. Cried even."
"Really?"
"Really."
"But you always act so tough not being in touch with your parents," I say.
"It's better not to think about it. I can't change her mind. Dropping out officially sealed it. She's never talking to me again."
"But you're... you make a lot of money. Don't you?"
He laughs. "I have six figures in my bank account and seven invested in mutual funds. That's rock and roll, huh, mutual funds?"
God, he says it so effortlessly. I have seven figures. I'm a millionaire. No big deal.
"Did you ever tell your mom that?"
"Nah. She wouldn't care. Willow tried for a while to change her mind, but only thing she decided was that she'd kick Willow out if the subject stayed in the conversation." He pulls me closer. "Maybe she'll forgive me one day. Maybe not. Either way, I'm not apologizing for doing what I love."
"You could see her while we're in San Francisco."
"I'm not sure that I want to," Drew says.
I nestle into his body. "I'm sorry you went through that."
"Thanks." He runs his fingertips over my shoulders.
We're quiet for a long time.
Drew shifts. He runs his fingers through my hair. "Why didn't you tell me about your cutting sooner?"
