Time And I

Three

I was thirteen when I found the Clubhouse. I'd known Buddy for a year. The bullying was really bad for both of us; me for being goth and him being a loser who didn't have any friends. He was lonely with none of his friends going to his middle school, and I was the new kid after Mom moved us out to the Green Lake suburbs. The fact I was goth made me a much bigger target compared to Buddy, but he was still a shy kid looking for a friend as much as I was.

I remember the day our teachers sat us next to each other. I never told Buddy, but I was sure our teacher purposefully put us together because he knew we could use someone. Buddy lived up to his name. He was a friend to everyone, even those who weren't to him. The motto "Kill them with kindness" was his life motto, which led to him becoming such a catch in high school. That and puberty's kindness.

Back when we were thirteen, we were walking downtown and spotted a small hole-in-the-wall department store with a man handing out fliers. He was operating a clubhouse for children interested in the arts. Musicians, actors, and artists all gathered there from the range of sixth graders to seniors in high school. Buddy wasn't much a fine arts fanatic (though he was a supporter) as he was a gamer and geek. We both enjoyed Nintendo and would watch shows like Community and 3rd Rock from the Sun.

The one thing that separated us was the fact that I always wanted to learn to play drums. In elementary school, I had to move every nine months because of Mom's job. I could never take lessons for long if I wanted to, and based on the places we moved to, it wasn't as though I could easily pack a drum kit and take it with us. She would have been okay with several other instruments, but drums were a no-go. Too bad I always wanted to be like Roger Taylor. He was the sexiest member of Queen, and I always found drummers to be the most attractive member of any band. I wanted to be that sex symbol.

It was through the clubhouse that I learned how to play the drums. Brody was fresh out of high school when he and his brother founded the clubhouse. It wasn't an actual store. Brody's uncle owned the strip mall and apartments it was connected to, so he gave him the clubhouse area for the hell of it to encourage adolescents to follow their artistic dreams. There weren't many of us, roughly twenty overall, but we had people come and go who needed a taste of creativity to liven their dull lives.

The clubhouse itself was separated into multiple sections. All musicians had to stay in the back where they'd be away from any actors trying to rehears, though they rarely came in. There were a few who went to high school with me, but they only ever came on Thursdays. I decided not to play on those days, giving it up for them. At least until it was after hours, and Brody and I would have our own jam session.

He knew how to play several instruments, including the cello and the accordion. He once played with "Weird Al" Yankovic when he stopped by on tour. He taught me what every beginner needed to know in order to play drums, and I taught myself the rest through constant practice at both school and the clubhouse. I was able to convince Mr. Manovich, the head of the music department, to let me play after school. So long as there was no band practice that day.

Brody was five years older than me, twenty-three. Everyone knew I treated him like a brother, but I viewed him more like a dad. His approval meant the world to me. When Jeanie graduated from high school, Mom moved without us. Dad only ever sent a card on what he thought was my birthday, and Mom only visited on holidays or special occasions. At least she would call.

So whenever I needed someone, Brody was right there. He'd wipe away my tears when I was sad and buy me ice cream to make me happy. He cried when he saw me wear my Eighth-Grade Dance dress. He was protective of me in a way that could only be described as paternal. He treated me like how I always imagined fathers would treat their daughters, and he took on that role with pride.