Out of Tune

Chapter One

Music is a world within itself, with a language we all understand—Stevie Wonder

The name of the song was Victim of Knowledge. It was one of the only songs that Lennon McCormick's father had ever formally recorded. The song was a sad ballad, low and mournful. Fitting for that day as she travelled across the country, watching the world slip by far below the plane she was sitting in.

Clouds drifted by, like fluffy clumps of marshmallow fluff. Drifting over the wings of the plane. Lennon watched them go as she stared out the window, listening to her father's voice singing in her ear.

Elijah McCormick had written Victim of Knowledge on the day that his divorce with Lennon's mother – Paige – had been finalized and their relationship status had changed from 'it's complicated' to 'never going to happen again.'

When parents split up, they tell the children that nothing is really going to change. That's what Lennon had been told anyways.

We'll no longer all be living under the same roof but that's no big deal, her mother had said. You'll get to celebrate Christmas twice and have two birthday parties every year, but that just means two sets of presents, right? And, mommy and daddy will be happy, that's the best part. You'll no longer need to listen to us having screaming matches in the middle of the night when we think that you're asleep.

Okay, that last part no one had said to her. Lennon had figured that one out all on her own.

The reality was much different. She had noticed the absence of her father when he'd left the house they'd all shared together. Receiving two sets of presents actually sucked because one parent never really knew what it was that she was interested in. And not having to listen to your parents screaming at each other? That was a load of utter bullshit.

Lennon's parents had still screamed at each other, but only when she was getting dropped off at the other parent's house. They'd always waited until she was inside unpacking her things before getting started but it had never prevented Lennon from hearing the words of anger they'd spewed.

For Lennon, the divorce had arrived like a thunderstorm in the summer. Seemingly out of nowhere and intense. Her father had been all-but blindsided by her mother when it had come about. She'd claimed that he loved music far more than he would ever love her and that she could no longer handle being second place.

Lennon wasn't sure if this was necessarily true. Her dad loved music, and he'd loved her mother. However, what he hadn't been good at was expressing his feelings in simple words. Even saying 'I love you' had been difficult for him.

But, while he couldn't say it so easily while speaking, his songs always could. He never verified this, but Lennon knew that the majority of the songs he'd written over the years had been about her mother. Too often she'd come across a verse or a chorus that sounded exactly like her mom for it to be a coincidence.

Her mother, on the other hand, had been unable to see it. Or, if she did, just chose to ignore it. When Lennon had questioned her about it, she'd been scolded. Paige had claimed that her daughter was young and naïve and oblivious to the ways of life. Lennon's response had been less than satisfactory for she'd only snapped back that her mother was blinded by her newfound interest in the new male partner at her law firm.

It had come to little surprise that she'd been grounded for a month. Unsurprising only because she'd never been able to connect with her mother the way that she connected with her father. While her mother saw the world in tones of black and white, Lennon saw shades of grey everywhere.