Page 64 of Hard Rock Temptation
“How are you holding up?” he asked, ducking his head to give me a concerned look.
Chris was a foot taller than me, and built like a linebacker. I’d always meant to ask why he went into music instead of sports. Then I would see the look on his face when he was wailing on his guitar, or playing on stage, and I knew the answer.
It was the same reason we were both on the same side of the band’s contentious debate.
“I’m doing okay,” I told him.
I avoided his eyes as I prepared the coffee machine. Not Anya’s fancy European espresso machine, of course. No one dared touch it after what we called “The Incident” when Finn tricked Corinna into using it, and, in the process, breaking it.
I hadn’t seen Finn since the band’s falling out, either. He had stayed over at his girlfriend’s house. He was usually over at Corinna’s on most days anyway, but this time I felt his absence keenly.
The house we all shared had always been lively and full of loud voices, laughter and music. Then Micah had moved out, and Zain moved in with his girlfriend, and Finn met Corinna. It had soon felt like Anya, Chris and I were rattling around in this vast place like the last few balls in a bingo machine at the end of game night.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chris asked as he filled his water bottle from the tap. We might have been millionaire rock stars but that didn’t mean we wanted to use bottled water and contribute to humanity’s destruction of nature. “You look a little…” Chris trailed off with a cough.
I looked up with a start, realizing I’d been staring into my empty coffee mug, lost in thought.
“If you’re trying to say I look like shit, I’m well aware,” I said with a weary snort.
“Your hair is more of a rat’s nest than usual,” he agreed with a small smile. He tilted his head, examining me. “You also have darker circles under your eyes than Anya usually does.”
I looked worse than our perpetually sleep-deprived, caffeine-addicted insomniac? I really must have looked awful.
“You look fine,” I noted, then winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate anything bad. I’m just saying, you seem to be handling this much better than the rest of us. You’re not hiding away or losing sleep.”
“It’s called healthy coping mechanisms.” He feigned a sage nod, then sobered up. “We’re going to get through this, Kay,” he said. “I know things seem bad right now, but these things happen. Bands fight. They disagree. They yell at each other and storm out.” He shrugged. “You’ve only ever been in Until We Break, but I’ve been in enough bands before to know that it’s part of the process.” There was a pained look on his face, his eyes going distant with reminiscence.
“We’ve never fought like this,” I said, turning to the coffee machine and fiddling with the handle. My stomach churned and twisted. “Not over something so important. Usually our fights are over stupid stuff. Anya being late to the studio because she tossed her alarm clock on the floor. Zain hogging the stage to noodle away on his guitar for ten minutes. Finn pulling a prank to cause havoc during an interview. All that stuff was just surface level crap. This, though?” I picked up the coffee pot and poured the coffee into my mug. My hand was trembling. “I told Micah this is about a fundamental difference in our philosophies.” My shoulders sagged. “Irreconcilable differences. Isn’t that what bands say when they break up?”
I took a sip from my mug as the backs of my eyes stung. The coffee was hot enough to scald my tongue, but I welcomed the sensation. Pain on the outside to distract from the pain on the inside.
I knew Chris wouldn’t say anything if I let a few tears slip. He would probably say something comforting and pat me on the back with a large, consoling palm. But I was trying to keepmyself together and I worried that if someone showed me the slightest bit of sympathy I might lose it completely.
“You and Micah are working through this, yeah?” Chris asked. Micah was currently at his mom’s place, keeping an eye on her after a bad spell. I’d stayed in the mansion, both because I didn’t want to intrude, and because I wanted to give us space. “If you two can make it through, the rest of us can as well.”
Chris put his hand on my shoulder, just like I had imagined he would. I hadn’t even needed to cry in front of him to know I needed that kind of consoling.
“I don’t want you to give up hope,” Chris said.
I took in a shuddering breath, trying to hold myself together.
“I love Micah,” I told him with a sniffle. “But I love this band, too. I loved it first. This band was my first love. My family. My life. If we break up... If we can’t get through this... If I don’t have this anymore…” The salty tears I’d tried to keep at bay fell down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Chris made a soft, pained sound and put a hand on the top of my hand, ruffling my rat’s nest of hair.
“You can’t let this band define your entire life, Kay,” Chris said quietly. “It’s not healthy.”
Healthy communication skills, healthy coping mechanisms… Zain always said he hated therapist platitudes, and I was beginning to understand why.
So what if I was letting the band define my life? What other alternative was there?
I had been in this band for almost half my life. I didn’t know what kind of person I would have ended up being without it. I didn’t know what kind of person Iwaswithout it.
Who was Kaylee Richter without the rest of Until We Break?
With one last pat, Chris took his full water bottle and left the kitchen, probably to return to our home gym where he spent most of his time when he wasn’t practicing. I stayed in the kitchen, sitting at the marble-topped island counter and nursed my beverage. The smell of coffee always reminded me of Anya, who seemed to subsist on caffeine and chocolate protein shakes.
Cooking is too much effort, she always said.
