Page 74 of His Sound
18Never Again || The Midway State
JP
I treatMolly and I to room service breakfast the next day. She didn’t ask too many questions about last night or even seem all that upset—although considering she barely understood a quarter of what was said, that’s not surprising—but I still felt like I owed her something nice today.
“It’s been way too long since I’ve had waffles,” she tells me, eyes glued to the trail of maple syrup she’s drizzling over her plate. She’s sitting up against the headboard, tray balanced on her blanket-covered lap as she eats breakfast in bed.
“Get up here,” she urges. “If you’re going to get room service, you have to go all out and eat it in bed.”
I shake my head from where I’m sitting at the room’s tiny desk. “I’d spill everything. I don’t think I can sit still long enough.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” She jerks her chin at my lap, where I’m messing around withmon truc. “You haven’t put that thing down since last night. You okay?”
I stop rolling the ball over my thigh and set it next to me on the desk. “I’m okay.”
She’s not convinced. “You’ve seemed...off...since we left Montreal. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything? Dinner seemed, uh, intense last night, and then after...”
After we laid in our hotel bed in the dark, and when she started kissing my neck, I asked if we could just go to sleep. I felt like an asshole, but I was too worked up to give her the kind of attention she deserves. She fell asleep eventually, turned away from me on her side, but I stayed awake for a long, long time.
I forgot what being at my parent’s place is like, especially without Alain there. WhenPapacan keep himself busy discussing all my brother’s accomplishments, he usually leaves me alone. I’m like the court jester at family events, prancing around in the background, doing stupid shit people laugh at when they want a distraction. That’s my role. As soon as the serious discussions begin, I’m inadequate. I don’t measure up. I have nothing to contribute.
Even my own band sees me that way. I just show up and make interesting noises, embellishing other people’s creations. I’m not the mastermind; I’m the monkey, hopping around, charming the crowd and collecting coins.
That doesn’t make you a showcase son, no matter how many records you sell, and it definitely doesn’t make you a showcase boyfriend. You need something solid to build a real relationship on, and I’m always shifting, always moving, rolling through life like my fuckingpetit truc. Molly deserves someone who can sit still long enough to appreciate her properly. She deserves a boyfriend other people can take seriously. She deserves more than me, and I don’t know how I didn’t see it this clearly before.
My phone lights up on the desk beside me, and I swear under my breath when I see it’s a call fromPapa. Bastard has always had great timing.
“I have to take this,” I tell Molly, avoiding her eyes as I head out into the hall. I lean against the patterned wallpaper and press the ‘Accept’ button on my phone. “Salut, Papa.”
“Salut, Jean-Paul.”
A moment of silence passes.
“You can’t bring your little friend to the gala,” he tells me. “You understand that, don’t you?”
I sigh, knowing he doesn’t actually expect an answer.
“Don’t be obstinate, Jean-Paul. Our family has a place in this community, and we all need to uphold it. I know you don’t take much seriously, but I do know I at least raised you well enough to have some respect forthat.”
“I take Mollyseriously,” I mutter.
“Don’t mumble. What did you say?”
It’s like I’m fucking five years old to him.
“I said,” I repeat, louder this time, “that I take Mollyseriously—mylittle friend.”
“You don’t need to mock me. I know this is all a joke to you, but—”
I bang my fist on the wall. “It’s not! Don’t you see that it’s not this time? I brought agirlto meetyou. She means something to me,Papa, and I want her at that gala. I already invited her, and I’m not going toun-invite her just because you think English people—”
“It’s not about that,” he interrupts. “I don’t want you showing up with her because she’s not...she’s notenough, Jean-Paul. She’s just a McGill student who hasn’t even finished her degree yet. I know you feel like you have to settle for things. You settled for your music...hobby instead of finishing your degree, you—”
“My musichobbywent platinum,” I remind him.
I don’t think he even hears me. “The point is, Jean-Paul, you shouldn’t letitget the better of you. I taught you to be a fighter. I taught you to go after what you want.”
It. That’s what we’ve always called what’s wrong with me.Papasaid if you give something a name, you give it power.
