On the Edge of Tomorrow

Chapter 18

An unusual tension between Billy and me thickened the air as the van neared the tiny rock club. I wanted to believe it was pre-show jitters from Billy and not his worry focused on me. We headed into the belly of the beast, the divide between us that we had been avoiding since I arrived. 

I had been to many shows at dive clubs, but this one pressed into me. The scene remained the same—a dimly lit cardboard box room with black walls and a darkened ceiling, tables haphazardly dotted the space, and all the surfaces from the floor up were sticky from stale drinks. The quiet in the sleepy pre-check state deafened. The only sounds came from low conversations and the clink of beers being loaded into bar coolers for the multitude of people soon to converge on the joint.

Billy gripped my hand like a stony vice that felt obtuse compared to the gentle hold he had on me earlier. His gentleness must have been another victim of shifting moods. An odd scatter of bodies and flickering glances fluttered as we approached.

"Hey guys," Billy greeted with an ease that landed more attempted than achieved. "This is Lily."

I gave a tight nod as I childishly hid behind his shoulder. He dropped my clutch, letting his hand lift to my shoulder and flow down my arm in a gentle, soothing movement.

"You good?" He nodded towards a nearby stool.

I gave him another childlike nod before escaping to my corner.

The band orbited around Billy like planets around the sun. The slightest shift in his stance caused an equal and immediate change in those around him. It was unsettling and alluring. I glued my eyes to him and the motion of his lips as he chatted and joked with people near him. Then he pulled on his guitar, instinctively playing. The music came as seamless as he breathed to him. First, it came in starts and stops as he kicked through the pedals. Billy continued to murmur to those around him as he focused on the sound they made, absently tuning his guitar as he spoke to the drummer, mindlessly strumming as he chatted with the bassist. Then, without warning, they played as a unit.

The bursting sound was raw, untethered, and hypnotizing. The jumble of noises randomly broke into an unhinged riff from Billy. His body swayed and contorted as though he were trying to control an escaping monster from within his guitar. And then he moved on to his next whim with little more than a flutter of his feathery eyelashes. The others around him let the song unceremoniously drop once Billy's focus adjusted. 

I expected the movie soundcheck scene of 'one-two, one-two' to echo through the vacant venue when he stepped to the mic, but he engaged in a series of 'heys'; fast, slow, indistinct murmurs, strained highs. I had just gotten lulled into the series when he switched to the word 'take.' Over and over, in various ways, 'take' fell from his lips. The sound unsettled me and drew me back to the reality of the moment.

This wasn't another rock band with a pit stop in Portland. This was Billy, my Billy. My shy, tentative, Billy, the desperate gentlemen. But he was none of those things. He was the center, the axis of this world that revolved around him. The boy that soon everyone would know. He had a saunter to him, and his voice came strong like a TV preacher man. My stomach soured at the impending implosion that we faced. He wasn't a garage band kid; Billy wasn't just okay. He was an anomaly of talent.

In that moment of panic, Billy's eyes flashed to me. A brief break from the focus of his task, and he chose then. I tried to muster a smile, but it was tight and painful. He quickly returned his focus to his hands. His eyes didn't flicker to me again as he continued to murmur to those around him. For a moment, his bravado faltered until the beast of his guitar gathered his attention again. 

My eyes fell to the ground, and as they fell, a welcome buzzing drowned out the sound Billy created. The music that ricocheted around the room, threatening my life and my safety with every echo, became muted by some internal survival mechanism. I tightly closed my eyes and recalled the soothing smell of my Nana's blanket to ease me further, but it only mildly dissuaded the tears from spilling over my bottom eyelids. This was the anxiety I knew would implode, the tension that filled the ride here. The life he pursued screamed at me, a life I desperately wanted and hated with each heartbeat.