Generation Why Bother

Things became stagnant in all directions over the course of that next week. It wasn’t until Friday when certain things picked up again, and they seemed to come all at once. That morning as I was about to walk out the door to pick Tegan up so we could drive to school, my dad called me back, a tremor in his voice.

There I was, expecting a lecture on everything that was going on in my life at the moment. But standing there in his pajamas, he folded his hands and pressed them together in front of him, looking at the floor.

“Oshie…mijo…if it’s not too much trouble, could you, uh…ay…” he stammered.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. He almost never minced words, especially when it came to talking to me.

He broke eye contact with the carpet and then tilted his head at me. “Could you possibly ask Tegan’s mother if she…you know…would ever consider, eh…going out…”

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have laughed as hard as I did. But I was honestly proud of my dad at that moment. Even if I had a sneaking suspicion that he’d had a little crush on Ms. Tracey for years at that point (though we never talked about it, I always understood if he ever wanted to start dating again), the irony of it all coming together so suddenly was hilarious to me. “Awww, someone answer the phone, ‘cause I called it!” I said to nobody in particular.

My dad turned into a tomato and pushed my shoulder, forcing me toward the front door. “Yeah yeah, go on and get to school. Forget I said anything. I’ll just do it myself, okay?”

I winked at him as he shoved me out into the world, but on the inside I couldn’t help but feel proud of him. When it came to stuff like that, he basically lived under a rock. And even though he told me not to say anything, when Ms. Tracey answered the door to the Thompsons’ house and let me know that Tegan was almost ready to go, I just couldn’t hold it back.

“My dad’s gonna ask you something soon,” I blurted out, a goofy smirk all over my face.

She smiled back, but looked oblivious. “…Huh?”

From a distance, Tegan shouted, “Gee, I wonder what that could mean.”

If we were into fanfiction, we would’ve written it about our parents. We could have, too, knowing all the canon proof we had about them. Probably the only thing holding us back was the fact that it would be incredibly creepy and probably illegal. She and I both knew there was a little more than friendship between our parents; we were mature enough to not just not mind it – we subtly encouraged it.

Well, sometimes it was subtle.

The day progressed just like any other day at school. Endless work was thrown upon us in each class period, and it dragged into the weekend as homework. To make matters worse, we didn’t have our main comic fix to look forward to, so that put a damper on the already-boring weekend we expected. By the end of the day, we desperately needed pick-me-ups, and that’s how we agreed to swing by the band’s apartment to drop in and chitchat a little bit before heading home for the evening. We shot our parents texts to let them know, and then we were at the flat.

We didn’t hear anything from the outside, but when Chance answered, just sticking his head out, we got to hear a snippet of probably the loudest shouting match I’d ever heard up until that point. His face riddled with worry, Chance bit his lip and whimpered, “Uh, now’s not really a good time, you guys -”

One half of the source of the shouting match, Anthony ripped the door open, looking angrier than I’d ever seen his grumpy self. Chance jumped back and looked like he pooped his pants in fear. “No no no, let ‘em in! I wanna hear their take on this whole thing!” he growled.

From the background, a distant, “Fuck you!” from Andy was heard – the other half of that shouting match.

Anthony moved aside and ushered us in, a pained expression upon his face. Personally, I was too scared to not do what he said, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Tegan had the same thought process.

“I wanna make it known to Andy that he’s being a complete dipshit right now,” he hissed, “because he is purposely stressing himself out to the point where he can’t even sleep!”

Andy, standing on the other side of the living room near the exposed monitor, had his arms out and his palms up. His cheeks as red as a baboon’s butt, he squeaked, “Keep them outta this, you douchewaffle!”

Anthony ignored his fevered request and instead stood in front of Tegan and I, raising a finger as if to try to educate us. “Let me explain something to you two – Andy here has taken on the responsibility of directing our music video, planning out our next tour, writing for our next album even though we literally just released one in May -” He was about to go on, but he cut himself off, inhaling sharply and then dropping the sentence. “And a shit ton of other crap that he’s voluntarily loading himself down with, even though we have a perfectly good record company that can sort everything out for us!”

“Rai has his hands in other shit and you know it!” Andy fired back, veins popping out of his neck. (He only ever sounded this angry in their heavy songs.) “He’s not gonna wanna deal with us when he’s in Miami overseeing Violence Ladies and their recording and their publicity!”

“If that happens, which I’m perfectly sure it won’t, because he has a ton of people who are there to help us in case we need help with this kind of stuff,” Anthony retorted, “then we can just wait a little while. God, it’s like you don’t even know how to organize your own battles!”

“You fucking told me to chill out about the whole guardians issue, and that is literally what I’ve been doing. And now you’re telling me to stop giving a shit about the band?! I can’t just sit here and not give a shit!”

I’m pretty sure everybody in that entire apartment was uncomfortable. Chance had his arms folded and his shoulders hunched up, wincing with every word; Tegan was biting her nails. Mick was standing in the hallway, ogling at the scene with a hopeless face.

Anthony was pulling at his hair, leaned forward. “Then let us do something! Let us take the load off your shoulders! You always do this, and I always tell you that it’s not good for you and you know it. You always overextend, and you fail to realize that it never ends well!”

That must’ve struck a chord with Andy, because he just went silent. Rubbing his face, he paced in little circles for a moment, and when he pulled his hands away, the peach color his face normally was had returned. He locked eyes with Anthony, who had relaxed and stood up straight, although with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown.

With a sneer, Andy literally growled and showed his teeth.

Somehow, I guess that was a kind of signal to Anthony that this argument was over, because he just stared laughing like that invisible barrier between them had shattered. Andy joined him in laughter too, which may have killed the elephant in the room, but it didn’t quell the numerous questions I’m pretty sure everybody had.

“Fuck you for being a friend, you dick,” Andy grumbled, still smiling.

Anthony walked over and seriously hugged him – something I would never have expected from Anthony, let alone him doing it to Andy – and for a moment it was like they were in their own little world, like when they were biting each other’s heads off.

“No, but seriously, I’m gonna call Rai and see if he can send someone up to help us organize stuff while you sit back and just relax. You hear me?” Anthony threatened, hands on his hips.

Andy rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine.”

“Damn straight, fine.”

Anthony turned back to face me, Chance, and Tegan after briefly glancing at Mick, and then he apologized. “Sorry you guys had to see that. Uh…we normally keep that kind of stuff behind closed doors.”

“I still think you’re a little shit,” Andy grumbled, but his smirk said otherwise.

Mick came out of the shadows of the hallway and stepped up to them, putting his hands on their arms. “Okay, we don’t need any more fights here! Now kiss and make up.”

“The kissing can wait,” Anthony said plain as day. “And again, sorry for that…mess. I’d hate for you to think all we do is argue.”

“I was just waiting for it to come to a head,” Tegan said nervously. “Didn’t think it would happen in front of us.”

Andy brushed his hair back and agreed, “Neither did I.”

Anthony elbowed him in the rib. “You saw this coming from a mile away, you dick.”

“Shut up or I’ll actually rip your hair out instead of just threatening to,” he grunted back.

Mick, oblivious, sandwiched himself between them and leaned on their shoulders. “Ah, I’m just glad you guys worked it out. Even if it was weird as hell.”

Andy muttered something that sounded like, “Your face is weird as hell.”

It didn’t feel much like it at the moment, since it was such a weird way to end an ongoing argument, but Andy and Anthony had made up. It was probably one of those things that tied to the fact that they’d known each other forever and they were so in-tune with each other that they didn’t even have to say anything to know what was going on.

According to Mick that night when he messaged us on Facenook, it was like nothing had happened between them, and they were back to interacting regularly and busting each other’s balls. Well, whatever worked, I thought. Why knock something if works perfectly well for someone else?