Daylight

Pet’s POV

It was a little weird having Ray along, I gotta admit. Shoshi seemed very happy and relaxed, that’s for sure—the reason for which I preferred not to dwell on.

Let’s get this straight now: I am not a prude. I just thought that marital bliss was maybe supposed to be a little more private. But I guess on a tour bus, you take what you can get.
I also have to admit, though, that I was secretly thrilled to see how uncomfortable Sal and Mo were. The two who were most interested in finding me a man were the ones who seemed to be having the hardest time dealing with a happily married couple—who were certainly doing exactly what they always told me that I should be doing.

Somewhere outside Des Moines, Mo’s phone rang. It was everyone in the Madmen, who were bored silly and wanted to chat us up. They sounded like they were having an amazing time, so we put the cell on speaker and talked to them until Mo’s battery died. A little while later, I was lazing in my bunk, and my phone rang.

It was my mom. I groaned inwardly and gritted my teeth before I answered.

“Petula? Is that you, honey?” Mom asked.
Who else would it be? I thought, but answered, “Of course it’s me, Mom. How’s things at home?”
“Oh fine, fine,” she said distractedly. “So where are you now?”
I looked out the window, like that was gonna tell me anything. “Somewhere in Iowa, I think.”
Her voice got shrill almost instantly. “You think?” she questioned. “Why don’t you know where you are?”
I sighed, trying to be patient. “Remember, Mom—I’m not driving the bus? We have a driver, named Tito. Our location is mainly his concern,” I said slowly.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” Mom snapped, just like I knew she would. May as well give her something to be angry at.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, though I didn’t think I’d said anything wrong. “So, uh, how’s Dad? How are Frankie and Sean? Are they there?”
“They’re at the park, swimming, I think,” Mom dismissed my mundane question, getting down to why she’d called in the first place. “So how are your—shows going?” she forced herself to ask.
Mom just could not imagine why I’d want to “throw away” my college education on music. I’m pretty sure that every time she asked that, what she really wanted to hear was that we sucked, and they were kicking us off Warped and sending us home.

I hated to dash her hopes.

“Things are going fine,” I reported happily. “We open on our stage, as I may’ve told you, since we’re the newest band, but we’re having a lot of fun, and the crowds seem to be getting bigger every time. It’s great.”
“Hmpf,” she grunted, disappointed. Then: “I heard it’s terribly hot,” she persisted. “How are all of you holding up?”
I mused on this for a minute and decided to spare her the details of Sal’s meltdown. “Ah, we have our moments, but we’re bearing up. The medical tent is a great refuge, just in case. They have air conditioning, and lots of sports drinks and cold water.”
“Have you seen Viv much?” Mom questioned me suddenly.
“Uh, not really,” I answered, realizing suddenly just how many days it’d been. “She’s off working most of the time. Sometimes she has dinner with us.”
“Hmpf,” my mother said again. What the hell was she on about? What did it matter where Aunt Viv was in relation to me? She was working, after all. I considered asking her, but I knew I’d never get a straight answer. Mom was a little weird on the subject of Viv sometimes. So I decided to change the subject.
“So what’s Dad doing?” I asked. “And did Frankie ever get a summer job? Did she take her road test yet for driving?”
Mom sighed heavily. Here it comes. “She didn’t find anything yet,” she complained. “I thought she could just work at Arn’s Drive-In, but she refused, even though they needed workers this year. Some of their girls graduated and went off to school. And so Dad’s been teaching Francesca to drive, little by little.”

(God forbid Mom should ever call Frankie by her nickname.)

“He seems to think she’ll be ready by August,” my mother continued. “And Sean—you remember your little brother?—is playing soccer until mid-July. His team seems to be doing well. He always says he wishes you were here to see him play.”
There’s that guilt thing again. I fought it away. I doubted he’d been asking for me anyway. Sean didn’t know I was alive most days; he was eleven and the only boy in the family. He lived and breathed soccer.
“Mom, I love him, and I wish I could be there too,” I said calmly. “But Dad can send me videos. It’s not like it’s Sean’s first year playing.”
I heard her sharp intake of breath as she prepared another verbal assault, but I cut across her protests. “And this is an important step for the band. It’s one of the things we need to do in order to get our name out there.”
“Isn’t that your manager’s responsibility?” she asked suspiciously.
I spared her the details of Shoshi’s condition as well. “Mom, all bands have to play in order to get anywhere. This is where we graduate from bars and clubs to something a little bigger.”
As usual, I was wasting my breath. “I just wish you’d gone on to grad school,” she sighed wistfully.
I resisted the urge to tell her I still could; no point in getting her hopes up. “Well, music is my life now, Mom. We’re doing well and having a great time. We don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Just then, thankfully, as Mom started to make unhappy noises about my career choice, my phone started beeping: low battery.
“Mom, I’m sorry, I better go, I gotta charge my phone up,” I said quickly. “Tell Dad and Frankie and Sean that I love them, and I’ll see you all in a few weeks when we stop at the fairgrounds, okay? See you, bye!”
“Good-bye,” I heard faintly from the other end, and I disconnected. I turned off the phone immediately, rolling over in my bunk and groaning.

My privacy curtain was yanked open suddenly by Sal. “Oh, thank God,” she gasped, “I thought maybe the marrieds had taken their party somewhere else. Sorry.”

I sat up. “And why exactly would you wanna look at that?” I couldn’t resist asking.
Sal turned red. “Just-just to warn them,” she stammered.
“Okay…” I replied.
Our bassist recovered. “So what was the groaning about? Phone sex?” she asked hopefully.
I took a long breath and rolled my eyes. “No…” I answered. “It was my mom.”
“Oh, sorry,” Sal said. She knew the whole thing pretty well. “Pain in the ass?”
“Not too bad, but I need a nap.”
“Good time for it,” Sal remarked. “We won’t be at the next place till a few hours from now, Tito said. Get some rest.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I yawned, rolling over again.