Love in All the Wrong Places

Travis shook my hand and with a huge grin on his face asked if I had eaten breakfast yet. I told him I had, but that I didn’t mind tagging along if he hadn’t. He nodded in response and proceeded to walk to his breakfast destination.

Not long into our walk, I had to find out where he was from. His deep southern twang was clearly not from Nashville, maybe east Tennessee or somewhere deeper south than here, but definitely not Nashville. We don’t really have accents here, at least I didn’t think so. Well, we don’t have accents in the way that most people think of southern accents. You can tell in the way we pronounce words more than anything else and our occasional overuse of the word “y’all”.

When I asked him where he was from based on knowing he didn’t have a Nashville accent, he laughed, and with a more subdued accent answered that he was from Nashville.

"Yeah, uh, the accent more for tourists than anything else. Gotta keep the fans happy right? Ha. I mean, obviously that's not my real accent. I feel like it's so painfully obvious that it's fake...especially to a fellow native Nashvillian. I would've figured you'd know the difference. However, as a street performer, I guess I just feel the need to 'give the people what they want'. Even if that means putting on a ridiculous accent."

I had to laugh at that; just another way to feed into the stereotype that us Nashvillians were a bunch of hicks. It was truly humorous because we were the farthest thing from it. Regardless of what the media tries to have you believe about us.

We walked to a McDonalds a couple blocks over from where his corner was. He went to go stand in line and asked me to find a table to sit at. I found a small two-seater booth towards the back, against a window and waited for his return. He came over a few minutes later with a tray full of food and sat down across from me. As he was unpacking his food from their wrappings and organizing his food so he could eat, I took that time to study his features more. He looked to be in his early to mid-20s, had short sandy brown hair, wore a plaid short-sleeved button down tucked into his jeans. He wore a belt that adorned a giant silver belt buckle and wore brown cowboy boots. He truly went all out for the country boy look that’s for sure. He had tanned skin from sitting outside, and I noticed a very defined farmers tan on his arms that he tried to hide with the sleeves of his shirt. He had piercing green eyes that weren’t so much intimidating as they were inviting. I felt more at ease with him than I initially did with Jake. Jake. This was the first time I had thought of him since I left, and remembered he was one of the reasons I was here right now. At that realization, I dropped my head and focused on my folded hands that were now sitting in my lap. I bit my bottom lip in anxiety over all the drama that is still waiting for me in Chicago.

Travis seemed to notice my change in demeanor as he stopped what he was doing and mid-bite asked if I was okay. I looked up at him to see bits of egg from his burrito coming out of the corner of his mouth, his mouth full to the point of bulging, and a furrowed look on his brow. To most, this sight would repulse them, but I found it endearing.

As I studied his confused, egg-protruding expression, I just smiled and shook my head. I debated momentarily on whether I should fully tell him what was going on or not. I decided to simply leave it at, “I had to get away from some drama for a while. I had completely forgotten about it until just now, so that’s why I seemed so down”.

He nodded in understanding, seeming to pick up on me not really wanting to divulge information, and smiled through his mouthful of food. He sensed that I wanted a change of subject and began telling me about himself. He was indeed in his mid to early-20s, 23 to be exact, and is a struggling musician.

“Yeah, I’ve been playing in bars long before I was able to drink,” he laughed absent-mindedly. “Every performance I’ve ever done has always had such positive feedback. Everyone seems to love it. However, I’m too broke to go and record something independently to sell. I can barely pay rent on my 1 room apartment. I get by on tips and performances in bars around town. That’s all I know and I’m waiting for my big break. Trouble is, I can never pack the house because no one ever knows when I’m performing. If I can barely pay rent and already can’t afford to even record one song, how can I expect to pay for advertising for my shows? It’s a vicious cycle.” He then looked down dejectedly at his hands as he went to grab another burrito off his tray to eat.

I then had an idea. I’m a graphic designer wanting to work for bands. He’s a musician looking for a way to advertise his shows so he can pay his rent and make it big. I just want a place to stay while I figure all of my shit out. If he wouldn’t mind letting me stay at his place in exchange for promotional pieces, we could have ourselves a pretty sweet deal. Not to mention, when he does make it big, I could continue to be his designer, if he so chooses, and my work would get out there in the world. This could potentially be the jump start of both of our careers.

“Travis, I have a proposition for you.”

He looked up from his breakfast with a questioning look in his eye.

“You’re a broke musician looking for a way to promote your shows so you can make it big. I’m a graphic designer, wanting to work for bands, and currently seeking a place to stay. What would you say to me doing all of your promotional materials in exchange for crashing on your couch for a bit?”

I could see the gears in his head turning, and as he started to let this idea sink in, I could see his whole face begin to light up. He stuck his hand out to me and said, “As the great Humphrey Bogart once said, Christy, 'I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship'.”

***

The rest of the day before I had to leave to meet up with my parents was spent walking around town, learning more about each other, and figuring out how to divide expenses. I found out that Travis did not want to break out into country music. Thank God. Why he dressed and talked like a hick is beyond me because he wants to break into the rock scene. Keeping that in mind, I started to help him establish a brand and a look for himself; something he wore or some feature about him that would make him memorable besides his talent. John Lennon had his glasses, though he didn’t need them to be recognized, but it became part of his image starting in the later years of the Beatles. Elvis had his amazing duck-tailed hair and killer hip thrusts. Michael Jackson had his white sparkling glove, well, in the earlier part of his solo career. I won’t go into his transformation in appearance later in life. That’s a whole other conversation. Roger Daltrey had his long luxurious golden locks of hair. Heck, Guy Patterson of the Wonders had shades. "Shades" wasn't just a clever nickname. The point I’m making is each of these iconic artists had something signature about their appearance that was just an extension of who they were.

I needed to spend more time getting to know Travis before I could help him figure out what his signature look should be. Once we established his look, I could use that to create a brand for him containing a logo, his business card, and some posters to begin hanging up around town. Lucky for him, and myself as well, my summer internship during college at Hatch Prints downtown would serve us both well in terms of getting his posters printed. They did posters for shows at the Ryman all the time, and I knew the owner and still kept in touch with him over the last few years. He told me that anytime I needed to have some posters printed, to let him know. I would definitely use this offer to print posters for Travis. Who knows, maybe he could eventually get a show at the Ryman if he could get his big break.

We ambled around town all day, and I was so glad that we got along so well; especially since I would be living with him indefinitely. My phone had long since died and I didn’t have any way to charge it so it wasn’t until I saw the sun starting to set on the horizon that I asked Travis what time it was. When he told me it was 5:30, I got wide-eyed, apologized for having to leave so quickly and went to go home. That was until I realized I currently had no way, other than hailing a cab, to get there. I stopped in my tracks, and went to the curb to hail one of the rare taxis spotted around town. The beauty of Nashville is the smallness of the city and lack of cabs, except for the one time when I wished they were more prominent. I stood at the curb waiting to spot a cab when Travis chuckled under his breath and walked towards me.

“Uh Christy, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to hail a cab. I forgot I don’t have my car here. I took a bus when I left and am currently without transportation.”

“I see. Well, here’s the thing about being roommates, we can share rides. I have a car.”

“Travis, I’m not going to take your car. What if you need to get somewhere? I have no idea how long
I’ll be at my parent’s house and you’ll need it to get to your show tonight.”

“Christy, I wouldn’t have offered my car if I needed it. I don’t have a show tonight which is why I’ve spent the day doing absolutely nothing. If I had a show, I would be spending the day stressing about which songs to play and playing through them. Please. Take my car.”

I turned to look at him and he was smiling softly at me, encouraging me to take his car. Well, it wasn’t just the look he gave, but also the fact that he was dangling his keys out in between us, daring me to take them. I rolled my eyes and felt the right corner of my mouth lift up in a half smile as I took his keys and gave him a hug. I then wondered what plans he had for the night.

“Travis, since you’re not playing tonight, what are you gonna do?”

He laughed slightly and replied, “Not much really. May hit up a couple bars to set a gig, maybe kick back a couple long necks. I dunno. Nothing really planned. I typically play my day out by ear. Why?”

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t mind a home-cooked meal, and if you didn’t have plans, maybe you want to come with me to visit my parents.”

“Woah woah woah there! Don’t you think you’re moving this a bit fast there Christy? Meeting the parents already and we haven’t even known each other a day?” he inquired with an eyebrow raised.

My gosh he’s right. What was I thinking? Why would I ask him to come meet my parents? Way to make this situation awkward Christy. As I continued to mentally curse myself for my stupidity, Travis caught on to my panicking, and quickly tried to make it cease.

“Christy, woah. Hey, I was just joking. I would love to come meet your family! I was just giving you a hard time. Loosen up chica.” He laughed lightly and playfully nudged my shoulder to help me to “loosen up”.

It was at that point that I knew we would get along just fine. On our way to my parents’ house, we stopped by Wal-Mart so I could pick up a phone charger since I was currently without one. I planned on clothes shopping the following day. While we were there, I decided to pick up a pecan pie and bring home as an added touch. Once I made my purchases, we walked back out to his car and proceeded to make it to my parents’ house.

***

We arrived at my parents’ house after a bit of a drive. One thing about my old house, it’s a good 20 minutes from everything. Looking at the outside of the house, nothing has really changed other than the fact that the rose bushes are huge and blooming more than I’ve ever seen them bloom. We got out of the car, and made our way to the front of the house, and up the front stairs to the small split level house built into a hill. I rang the doorbell, surprised it still worked, and waited for my parents to open the door. I couldn’t remember if I still had the key to the house or not; not to mention if that key still worked. Our locks were getting old and I wasn’t sure if they’d been replaced since my last visit.
My mom was the one to open the door and was shocked to see me standing there, and even more so to see Travis standing there. I was about to introduce Travis to my mom when she took the pie from my hands and asked, “So is this the famous Jake we’ve heard so many great things about?”

Shit.

Without missing a beat, Travis smiles, looks at my mom, and says, “Yes, I am Jake. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. Sorry it’s taken so long to come down to meet you.”

I just stared at him in astonishment as my mom led us inside. He just looked at me with an odd look and acted as if what he just did was a normal response. All I could do at the time was mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. I needed to explain to him the story with Jake as soon as I could so he wouldn’t be blindly trying to be this guy he has no idea about.

My mom grabbed the pie from my hands and set it on the counter and showed us to the kitchen table where we would eat dinner. We rarely ate in the dining room unless there was more than four people eating; lifestyle of being an only child. Luckily my mom had made enough food to accommodate four people instead of just her and my father. We sat at the table and waited for my dad to come downstairs from washing his hands. He came into the kitchen and nearly fell over from shock of seeing me sit at my old spot at the dinner table.

“Surprise Daddy! I’m home!” I sheepishly said.

My dad then looked at Travis with a questioning look, which I knew meant that he was going to be interrogating him later. I would have to save the poor boy if I could. No need for him to go through the interrogations that Jake should be going through. He should be here right now. Especially since I love him; well, I did before I saw him cheating on me. Then again, no. I still love him, which is why this whole damn thing is so hard to deal with. Maybe Jessie was right all along. Maybe I do need to sort my shit out. Granted that was before any shit had hit the fan. Oh well. My goal right now is to help Travis survive dinner the best I can, and make it out unscathed. I only came to Nashville for some parental advice and to get away from Chicago until everything settled down. Here’s to hoping for the best.

My dad joined us at the table as my mom finished setting the food on the table. We then began to eat the dinner prepared for us; mixed vegetables, baked chicken, and pasta salad. I swear, my mom is one of the best cooks I know, and is great at creating meals from the most random items.
We barely began eating when the interrogation began.

“So Jake, tell me. How long have you and my daughter been officially dating?”

I wanted to hide under the table. Of course Travis wouldn’t know. He’s not Jake. How am I supposed to tell my parents that this is not Jake? Travis went ahead and lied to them by saying he was Jake. Stupid. I appreciated the effort of him trying to help me, but this can’t end well. Once I clear up who he actually is, my parents probably won’t trust him because he lied about who he was. That’s not helpful because of our current living conditions. They would demand I move back home and that is NOT happening! I can’t. Love my parents, but I can’t live with them. Not anymore. I began to sink further in my seat, praying that the floor would open up and swallow me so I could skip this weird dinner situation.

Travis took me by surprise. He sat there in contemplation for a few moments before choosing to answer. “Honestly sir, I couldn’t tell you how long we’ve been officially dating. I’ve never been great with dates, well, in terms of remembering anniversaries and such. However, I know I’ve been completely taken by your daughter since the moment I laid eyes on her and knew I would have to try my best to get her attention. I’ve been doing just that since I first saw her.”

I looked across the table at him, astonishment and thankfulness etched on my face. He looked up at me from under his long eyelashes and half smiled at me. I smiled a bit back at him, and caught a side glance at my dad who seemed content enough with Travis’s response and continued eating.

Thankfully he didn’t interrogate any further about our “relationship” and we carried on a casual conversation. After dinner, we relocated to the living room and continued talking for a few more hours. Travis got along with my parents wonderfully and they seemed to love him. Before we knew it, it was nearing 1am. Shocked by how long we’d been talking, we went to leave the house and head back to his place. We said our goodbyes to my parents and made our way back to his car.

Once we got in the car and before Travis had the chance to pull out of my driveway, I gave him a small, friendly peck on the cheek and thanked him for helping me out. He just smiled in response and nodded his head as he backed out of the driveway. I was thankful that he didn’t ask any pressing questions about who Jake was, and why my mom initially talked about him with such distaste. However that didn’t mean that he didn’t deserve to know what happened and who Jake is. I silently debated on when I should tell him and continued to wonder why he said he was Jake when he could have just as easily said he was Travis. I'm discovering that he is a very complex person to fully understand, and there are more layers to him than what initially meet the eye.