Page 8 of Drive
Dazed from my afternoon nap, I looked around my sister’s empty bedroom. I’d woken up restless that morning after another night on her quicksand couch and I’d exhausted my list of things to do. Again, I cleaned her spotless, one-bedroom apartment that, at that point, could’ve passed a white glove inspection. On my laptop, I’d filled out twenty applications and watched four hours of reruns ofVH1’sBehind the Music—my proverbial bible and the starting point of my obsession with the behind-the-scenes life of musicians. I loved the stories about those with the hardest struggles and their epic turning points.
With both Neil and Paige at work, I was forced to pace the complex in the nightmarish Texas heat outside the door until I found myself exhausted. I’d opted for a few hours on her mattress rather than the couch that swallowed me whole, so that I actually sleptinsideof it rather than on.
“Look at her go!” My mother’s voice was unmistakable as I shot up from bed, utterly confused. I could clearly hear my parents in my sister’s living room. When I emerged in a sleepy stupor, I was surprised to see Mom and Dad weren’t there. Instead, Paige sat on her couch laughing, with Reid next to her doing the same. Both their eyes were fixed on theTV.
“She’s got rhythm, that’s for sure!” my mother cooed with pride as realization dawned. Reid was the first to notice me standing in the hallway, and his eyes rolled over me before they moved back to the screen. I followed his stare and leapt toward my sister, who had the remote in her hands.
“Paige, what are you doing?”
“Your birthday video came,” she said, amused at my discomfort.
“I can see that,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why did you open it? Not cool.”
“God, you were cute,” she said, ignoring me as she lifted her chin toward the home movie. All eyes in the living room were on a miniature me, jamming on the kitchen floor of my parents’ house. I was sitting in a diaper, flailing chubby arms, and rocking away while Cameo’s “Word Up” blared through the surround sound Neil had just installed.
“My boo bear,” I heard my father chuckle. “Look at her go. She canreallymove.”
“Boo bear?” Reid asked.
I opened my mouth with something other than an answer, but Paige beat me to the punch. “She had no hair until she was two. And what she did have stood straight up on the top of her head. See?” Paige pointed at the screen. “Cute, right? She was rocking a mohawk before anyone else!” Paige nudged Reid before they both looked at me with matching grins.
Ignoring them, I got lost in the movie, watching as my parents fawned all over the fat, mostly bald toddler on the floor of their kitchen. My mother was drenched in youth as she kneeled on the tile, setting a large pot in front of me, along with a wooden spoon. She tapped it twice with the utensil before she handed it to me. Her dark hair flowed past her shoulders, and I felt the nostalgia punch when I noticed the dress she had on. It was stark white and laced with purple flowers. It still hung in her closet, yellowed and forgotten. Still, on screen, she was breathtaking as she urged me to hit the pot with the wooden spoon. Greedily, I took it from her and began to pound. No longer interested in Paige or Reid’s reaction, and camped in the solitary chair next to theTV, I watched my first attempt at being a musician, just as Paige took another jab.
“And you never got any better,” she joked.
“Some of us were born to be fans, I guess.” I sighed as I watched the spectacle. My father’s sarcastic and affectionate voice sounded as I began to really pound on the pot. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea,” he said to my mother as I went full-on rocker and threw my body into it.
“This is epic,” Reid said with a chuckle, his eyes glued to the screen. “Your parents seem cool.”
“They are,” Paige said fondly. “They really are.”
Mom smiled down at me as I did my best to make more music and let out an insanely loud shriek. “You’ve created a monster,” my father said as my mother looked straight into the camera. “One day you’ll be famous, Estella.”
“Just . . . well, maybe not as a drummer.” My father chuckled affectionately and unseen in the video just as I went ballistic, looking something like a chubby, olive Muppet as I roared on with purpose and gave the pot hell.
My parents laughed uncontrollably, as did Paige, Reid, and I before the video went to credits. It was a message that told me they loved me, to get a day job, and not to quit it—a reminder of my failed musical career. Following the joke, the rest of the credits revealed they were proud of me. I felt myself swell at the sentiment, company be damned, and wiped a tear from under my eye.
“I’m so fucking happy I was here to see that,” Reid said with a smug grin, his intentions on giving me hell at the first opportunity before he flicked his eyes to mine. “Happy birthday.”
“It’s not until Saturday, and don’t hate on my skills. I owned that pot,” I said as I reset my nap-tainted ponytail.
“She tried to play everything, and I meaneverything,” Paige said with a groan. “Drums, hell no, she sucked. The piano, well, she bit her teacher. And guitar, God, it was awful. She even got a French horn and tried high school band.”
“No shit,” Reid muttered with playful eyes before he bit his bottom lip to restrain his smile. He’d already given far more than I had seen in the week I’d known him.
“She was awful, but my parents just kept buying her instruments. She finally had to give up when she realized she couldn’t play the triangle for a living.”
I shot her the bird as Reid kept his eyes trained on me. It was there again, the static that whirred in my chest because of his scrutiny. I wanted nothing more than for him to look away.
“But she’s going to be a journalist instead,” Paige informed Reid. “Aren’t you, boo bear?” She smiled with the pride of a sister. “Stella decided to be the Encyclopedia Britannica of musicians and a critic.”
“Really?” Reid raised a brow.
Paige nodded. “Ask her anything, I’m dead serious. Ask heranything.”
“Let’s not ask me anything,” I said through a yawn while I eyed the clock, realizing I’d wasted another day getting nowhere.
Paige nodded toward the counter next to me. “They sent a card, too.”
