These Are the Fast Times

Melly

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Fall

“A bar, Melly? Really?” my mother questions me, putting dishes away as I sit at the kitchen table. I scowl at her back, but wipe my face clean of the look as soon as she turns around.

“Just for now,” I assure her, but I’m lying and she knows it.

“Melanie…”

“It’s at the same place where I work sound anyway,” I defend myself.

“Melly,” she says again, this time sitting down across from me. “Just because Michael-”

“Wait a second. You think this is about Michael?” I demand incredulously, interrupting her midsentence.

“Please, Melanie. Why else would you-”

“I like being a sound girl,” I interrupt defensively for the second time, scowling stubbornly.

“Are you still going to be a sound girl bartending on the side in ten years? Is he still going to be a musician teaching on the side? Are you going to love him in ten years? You have to think about your future, Melly. What are you going to do with your life?” she questions. She’s not saying it meanly, just sternly, but it still makes me blink back tears.

I stare at my hands silently, just wanting to go home and go to bed.

“I have to go,” I lie, standing up. “You know. Work.”

“Melly- please. Just think about it. You can go back to school, like Jake. You need a plan-”

“Why is it always about him?” I demand, my tone abruptly spiteful.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Melanie. Everything is not about your brother. Stop exaggerating.” She shuts her eyes and rubs her temples in exasperation.

“Whatever,” I childishly retort.

“Melly,” she states warningly.

Why is it that even after you’ve stopped living with your parents for over four years, visiting home can still make you feel like a child?

“Sorry,” I oblige grudgingly, but I leave anyway.

I don’t have work until later tonight, and thankfully no one’s there when I get home. I just want to be alone for awhile.

I change into comfortable clothes and decide to cook some food for myself before the boys get home and eat more than their fair share.

As I’m washing dishes, I hear the front door creak open. To my surprise, I only hear one set of footsteps and Michael joins me in the kitchen shortly after. I rinse the last bowl and wipe my hands dry. He smiles and kisses my cheek in greeting.

“Where’s Bill and Mike?” I ask, as he gets a bottle of water from the fridge.

“They went over to Sisky and Butcher’s,” he replies. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing. I don’t feel well,” I lie. He closes the fridge, walking over to hug me from behind.

“Call off work,” he suggests, kissing my neck, his breath giving me chills. I sigh and close my eyes, leaning against him. I don’t say anything for awhile; I just enjoy the feeling of his body pressed against mine, letting his kisses distract me from the not-so-enjoyable visit to my parents’ house this afternoon.

“I’m thinking about getting another job,” I say, finally. I turn in his arms to look at him and gage his reaction.

“Another one?” he asks, surprised. “You already have two.” I shrug.

“The sound stuff’s really slow right now. And bartending’s only a few nights a week, anyway.”

“We’re doing fine, Mels. We’ll be able to afford our own place soon,” he reassures me.

“No. I mean, that’s not…” I begin. I sigh inwardly. I drop the subject and start to get ready for work.

He walks me to the bar and my mood lifts a little.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I sit, watching on curiously as William tracks his vocals while everyone else plays along.

“What kind of mics are you using?” I ask conversationally, while they all take a break.

Kevin, their producer, smiles at my interest, and apparently doesn’t mind explaining practically every aspect of the recording techniques he’s using.

“Sorry if I’m asking too many questions,” I apologize, hoping my curiosity isn’t annoying.

“You’re not asking enough,” Kevin counters. “You need to hold on to this one, Chizzy,” he teases. “Beautiful and knows her way around audio.” Michael grins at me and I blush.

They’re done for the day not too long after, and Michael and I decide to head home while everyone else goes out for drinks at the bar down the street.

“So guess what?” Michael asks, smiling at me as we enter the apartment.

“What?” I reply curiously.

“Kevin said you should keep coming with us to the studio. They’re looking to hire another sound tech eventually. He says it doesn’t pay much at first, but…” He shrugs.

He trails off, and it gets me thinking.