Page 88 of Versions Of Us

“Yeah. EJ’s set starts in half hour so I need to go find the band.”

“Okay,” she replies. “I’ll talk to you later. We’ll figure this out.”

“Be safe,” I tell her.

She gives me a knowing look. “You too.”

I observe Mackenzie walking back to the esplanade until finally, she begins to blend with the crowd, becoming lost in a sea of people. Then I turn and make my way in the direction of the main stage.

I stride through the sideshow alley, passing the dodgem cars on my right and the carousel on my left. That’s when I see them again and it’s as though I’ve been hit at full force in the chest. It’s almost impossible to bear the gut-wrenching pain that gnaws at me seeing them both stagger out of the gates of the big zipper, Chase laughing as he hooks an arm around Kristen’s neck.

I try to push down the memories that resurface. Of me and Kristen doing the same thing years ago, stumbling our way behind Madame Zelda’s fortune-telling tent where we’d made out for an unknown amount of time, our heads dizzy from spending too much time on the big zipper. It’s hard to believe that not so long ago we were inseparable, unable to keep our hands to ourselves.

I can’t be thinking about this. In less than twenty minutes I’ll be on stage, and I need to be focused on the music and nothing else.

I haven’t played live with EJ since before he hit the big time. He draws way bigger crowds now than the ones I was used to performing for in our little garage band. It’s going to be hard enough to face the masses of people that will surely swarm the stage without Kristen interrupting my every thought.

I can do this. I have to do this.

I force my head to the ground and keep walking.

When I reach the main stage, EJ is waiting for me with the rest of the band. “Hey, man.” He slaps my palm with a solid handshake. “You good to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel while pulling three pairs of drum sticks out of my back pocket. Spares in case I break a couple. I’ve broken more than usual lately.

There’s a young girl on stage playing a keyboard and singing, a slight country twang to her voice. Liv watches her from the corner of the stage, clapping her hands and cheering her on. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s one of her students at the Music Box.

When she launches into her final song my nerves start to get the better of me. I’ve played for EJ so many times on stage, not to mention in the studio when I’d laid down the drum tracks for most of the songs on his first album. But that feels like a lifetime ago. In so many aspects of my life, I’m no longer enough.

I’m not enough for Kristen.

I hope I’m still enough for this.

“Okay. We’re on,” EJ says. “Same set list we practiced. Five songs. Then we go get beers.”

“Hell yeah,” Levi hollers. “Best pep talk you’ve given yet, EJ.”

I don’t look up at either one of them. Instead, I find my place on the stage behind the shiny silver and black drum kit, my palms already slick with sweat.

The entire crowd goes wild when EJ makes his way to the microphone, his turquoise fender slung around his neck. “What’s up Cliff Haven? You all having a great night?”

The response to this is more roaring and cheering which only gets louder when he announces the first song. There’s no denying that performing was what EJ was born to do. I’m proud of my friend and how far he’s come.

Normally, I’d feed off the energy of the crowd. Tonight, I do my best to drown it out. I tilt my head to the side, working out a kink in my neck and pull my shoulders back to stretch out the tension in my back and arms. Then I lift the sticks and count us in.

I don’t break any sticks in the first song. Instead, I forget where I am, and I forget this life I’m living that doesn’t resemble anything like the one I thought I’d have. I melt into the song, letting it be my escape from the spiralling mess that I’ve become. I find irony in the fact that in life I am lost, but up here I’m the leader, the steady driving beat that guides everyone else through.

I glance at the crowd and instantly regret it. Because the first thing I see is her, and she reminds me of everything.

She takes me back to nights at Steve’s Tavern when she would cheer me on from the table near the stage. And yeah, where sometimes I’d see her scowling at me because we’d had some stupid fight but knew we were going to make up before the night was over.

Only now she doesn’t look at me in either of those ways. She observes me like I’m a stranger, and I guess that’s what I am to her now. She doesn’t know this version of me, and I’ll never be able to go back to the way I was. I’ve been forever changed, shaped by circumstance. I know that in my core.

But despite the way this realisation fills me with despair, it ignites something from within. A tiny fire that had long ago lost its spark. I’m not sure I’ve ever believed I’m worthy of someone like her. And maybe I’m not. Maybe I’ll never be, but I want to be. I’ve never wanted it more.

I break two sticks in the fourth song. EJ’s material is softer than the stuff we used to play in the band together, but that doesn’t stop me from giving it everything.

Sweat beads on my forehead. I smile at the ache in my arms. I know my entire torso will be stiff tomorrow, but I welcome it. Drumming has always provided me with a way to release stress. It’s always made me feel alive, and tonight, even with everything that’s been happening and all the thoughts running through my mind, it’s no different.

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