Me, You

“Newport Music Hall,” I peered over my sunglasses, “Oldest standing rock venue in the United States.”

Somewhere in the middle of Ohio stood me and John in front of the line for whatever band that was playing that night.

2. Sneak into a concert.

We had no idea how it’d play out here. Of course, John was a frequent concert goer with his friends in bands. I, on the other hand, had only been to one, if the Jonas Brothers counted. John looked like he knew what he was doing. We weren’t in the front or back of the line because he said those were the people ticket scanners focus in on.

It was fucking hot for the Midwest. Having spent a couple of days away from the sweltering Arizona heat, this weather was a cruel reminder of where we came from.

John, fanning himself with a flyer from some hippie, slid down the wall to sit on the pavement, “We have not been sitting around for four hours just to see Weird Al Yankovic. What are we going to even do when we get inside?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who goes to concerts,” I sat down next to him.

“We could just sit at the bar,” He shrugged.

“Sounds like a plan,” I started to question if seeing Weird Al was really worth risking being thrown out of the venue. He was a fucking parody singer for Christ’s sake.

“Do you want to put this goal off for an actually decent performer?” John asked, receiving a few dirty looks from the people behind us.

“No, you didn’t let me postpone any of the other goals and I did not just get a sunburn for nothing,” I wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead, “We’ll stay. I highly doubt sneaking into concert venues in New York would be any easier either.”

“Whatever you say,” He dug through his pockets, “I need a smoke.”

But, before he could even take out his lighter, the doors open. The line moved quickly and we scrambled to keep up. We passed the doors of the venue, which was a relief. The pit was blocked by a lady with a ticket scanner. I started to get nervous until I looked around. The lack of security surprised me. There were people like us, who brushed passed the scanner lady.

We could check off goal number two our list. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as rebellious or sneaky as I hoped.

“Not exactly the exciting sneak in I expected,” John whispered, reading my mind. He grabbed my hand, “Come on, let’s go out onto the balcony.”

I followed him up the stairs and into a dim lighted section that looked out onto the general admission pit. Newport was much larger than it looked from the outside and surprisingly, there were a lot more people here than I thought.

“Beer?” John asked, “Or I guess the correct question to ask is, ‘How drunk do you want to get tonight?’”

“I don’t think I want to get drunk tonight. Maybe just one beer to cool down or something.”

“Cool, I’ll be right back.”

I walked towards the railing and peered over as the crowd below began filling one after the other in front of the stage. The crowd mostly consisted of middle aged men holding beers who were already stumbling in place.

I guess John’s definition of ‘be right back’ was much more different than mine. The first opener came and went, who was unfortunately not very memorable. By the time he returned with beers, the second opener was already through half their set.

“I thought you said you’d be right back?” He handed me one of the beers.

“I’m sorry, but I peeked at the merch and found this for you,” He turned slightly to grab a black t-shirt tucked into his back pocket. John held the shirt by the sleeves and revealed a Weird Al shirt that was mimicking Nirvana’s ‘Nevermind’ album.

I raised an eyebrow, “You thought of me when you saw this shirt of Weird Al Yankovic floating naked underwater?”

John sputtered, “I mean- uh, no. But like- I know you like Nirvana, and I thought it was funny. I’m-”

“It’s great, John,” I took it from him to get a good look at it, “It’s hilarious, thank you.”

He flushed and mumbled a ‘no problem.’ We silently watched the second opener finish his set. The lights came on as the crew walked on stage for Weird Al.

John didn’t say a word the entire time between sets. He looked sad, but I couldn’t think why he would. I mean, obviously this goal was a flop, not living up to the hype, and of all concerts, we were seeing ‘Weird Al’ Yankovic. I didn’t ask what was wrong knowing he’d tell me on his own. Eventually, he did. But, it wasn’t about the concert at all.

“I hate the thought of going home,” He whispered so quietly that I almost didn’t catch it.

“I know, we’re so dead to our parents,” I gave him a small smile.

“No,” He paused, staring out into the crowd, “I hate the thought of going home, knowing that we’d be off to college right after. I’m not even sad. It’s just that there is this anxious ache inside me and I have a feeling that it won’t be gone anytime soon.”

“You know I’ll visit you whenever I can,” I scooted closer to him, “We’re in this as a team. Me and you. Lou and John.”

“John and Lou,” He corrected me, smiling slightly. But, it faded just as quickly as it came, “Do you think you were meant to go to college?”

To be honest, I’d never truly thought about that. But, when he asked, it was obvious he knew his answer, “I- I think so, yeah... what about you?”

“No,” He looked at me, expressionless.

“Why not?”

“Believe it or not, I still keep secrets,” John laughed nervously, fiddling with his fingers, “It’s just- I want to do that-” He pointed down at Weird Al, performing on stage, “I want to perform in the oldest rock club, make music with good friends, I want to do something with what I love...”

“And college doesn’t have that for you, huh.” I finished the thought for him.

He smiled, “You always understand. I’m glad I got that off my chest.”

We stood silently, not speaking for the rest of the show. I felt guilty, not saying something after that. John never exactly had academic prowess, just simply getting along. I was no genius either. Earning the National Merit scholarship was out of pure luck. Yet not going to college never seemed like an option. But, I guess it was for John.

For the next hour and a half, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head. When the show was over, we filed out with the large mass and out onto the Columbus sidewalks. John turned the corner, where we parked the car in dark alley, which- in hindsight- wasn’t a good idea.

While he took long strides, I jogged to keep up with him. When I couldn’t anymore, I hunched over and let a breathy, “John.”

He stopped walking and turned to look at me.

“I have two things to say,” I leaned against the brick venue wall, “First, slow down. I am tired as fuck. Second, I want you to know that this is your choice- college, I mean. Like, I know you feel like you’re obligated to go since your family is perfect-”

“You’re not helping,” He rubbed his temples.

“Let me get to my point,” I huffed, “Hell, it’s strange I’m going because I don’t come from the perfect family, with the whole single parent shit. But, I wanted to and that’s my point. John, college is a choice, not an obligation. So, if your dream isn’t in the textbooks, but onstage, go for it. Go chase it.”

I was almost embarrassed, staring down at my feet, still hunched over. John wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug, one that squeezed the breath out of me. John chuckled and whispered, “It feels so good hearing that, Lou. Especially from you.”

I buried my face into his chest and mumbled, “I promised you that we were a team.”

“You’ll be there for me after the summer? You won’t leave me for good when you’re at Boston?”

“I’ll never leave.”