Status: Re-posting.
Dedication Takes a Lifetime
They Had Breakfast Together
After I got off the phone with Mom, I tried to go back to sleep, knowing I didn’t have to wake up for another five hours almost, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t go into that, knowing that I might return to that same dream, in that same place. And then what? I would wake up in a cold sweat and crying over things that weren’t real, and that I shouldn’t even want in the first place.
Grumbling, I slid out of bed and threw on a pair of grey sweatpants and a spaghetti strapped tank, sweeping my hair back in a ponytail and opening the bedroom door.
I was headed for the living room when a figure appeared at the end of the hallway, making me gasp. Alex. Oh, no no no; I could not deal with this yet. What was I going to say? How was I supposed to act? And why was I even so nervous? It wasn’t as if he knew what went on in my dreams.
He put his finger to his lips and whispered a shh, gesturing for me to follow him into the kitchen. I obliged reluctantly; the kitchen was probably the last place I wanted to be alone with him right now, all things considered. But when I got there, it was Alex that seemed awkward.
“Um,” he scratched the back of his head and stared at the various pictures stuck to the refrigerator. The refrigerator he pressed me against in my… Stop it! “We’re the only ones up,” he nodded his head through the doorway, and I peeked through into the living room. Zack and Rian were passed out in a pile of popcorn and corn chips, while Kal and Jack were cuddled up on the couch, her head resting on his chest. Absent from the picture were Jocelyn, Deveraux and, of course, my brother, who I assumed had all slept in their rooms.
When I looked back at Alex, his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and he looked like he was thinking hard about something. “Do you, uh… Do you want to go get some breakfast? Or something?”
I was taken aback. This was the same man that had been trying to make my life hell for the past four days, right? And now he wanted to call a truce over pancakes and pulpy orange juice? No. No way.
“Um, sure.” Okay, obviously I need to reintroduce my brain and my mouth. “But I thought you were going to go to the doctor today.”
He shrugged, “It doesn’t hurt as much as I did yesterday. So, breakfast,” he smiled feebly, and I wondered what he was nervous about. “My car?”
“Well, seeing as I don’t have one here, I’m gonna say yes,” I joked cautiously. He laughed lightly and I couldn’t help but smile a little. I didn’t know what was going on--for all I knew, it could be a horrible, horrible trap--but I was just curious enough to walk into it.
-- -- --
“You’re fucking cracked,” I practically shouted at Alex over the table while he fixed me in a stony glare. “I mean, I can forgive a lot of shit, but this is by far the worst thing that’s ever come out of your mouth. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”
“My bad,” he said sarcastically, “I should have known better than to think you could handle the honest truth.”
“Honest truth?!” I screeched, earning disapproving looks from the only other people in the restaurant--an sweet-looking elderly couple. “It’s ignorance, is what it is. I mean, there is no way in hell that The Cure is better than The Smiths.” I crossed my arms stubbornly.
We’d arrived at IHOP half an hour before after a short car ride, awkwardness barely covered by Echo & the Bunnymen blaring through the speakers. After being seated, the obvious discomfort between us was almost tangible, both of us silent, shifting often and staring at our menus like they’d hypnotized us. Finally, nearly ten minutes in, I’d made a comment about Echo, and it had all been downhill from there.
“Please,” Alex scoffed, “The Cure had so many more hits.”
I rolled my eyes, “Is that all music is to you? Hits? Mariah Carey has tons of hits, but that doesn’t mean that she’s better than Ani DiFranco, does it?”
“Sort of.”
“Bite your tongue!”
He shoved a huge bite of pancake in his mouth and made a face at me, which I had to laugh at. This was turning out to be nice, actually. We seemed to be getting along. It was apparent by the way we both spoke and moved and smiled carefully that we still had a long way to go, but at least this resembled progress.
Another twenty minutes later, we’d finished our food and were enjoying our coffee when he brought up the concert. “So the shows have been going good, haven’t they?”
I’d been wary of saying anything about that, because I didn’t want to give him a chance to tell me how much he hated my singing again. But he’d been the one to say it, and was looking to me for a response. I inhaled deeply and forced a smile, “Yeah, really great. I love An Experience With Molly Ringwald.”
“Oh, I know!” He said excitedly, “’Viva la Revolution’ is hilarious.”
I smiled, “It is. But I like ‘Havasupai’ better. You know, the ballad about the girl David met in Arizona?”
Alex’s forehead wrinkled. “Is that the one that goes, like… ‘You worked your magic on me and here’s your final act. You let the sickness steal your summer heart and I’ll never get you back,’ or something like that?”
I nodded, “Yeah, that’s the one.”
“It’s sad.”
“It’s about cancer.”
“Well, that explains it.” He finished the rest of his coffee and then raised his arms to stretch. He winced immediately and pulled his arms back down.
I gave him a sympathetic look, “You really should probably go to a doctor. You might have internal bleeding or a bruised rib or something.” His face twisted and I he opened his mouth, and for a moment I was sure that the old Alex was going to come out and spit his angry words at me.
But then his face relaxed and he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, “You’re probably right. C’mon,” he stood, throwing some bills down on the table, “I’ll take you back to the house first.” He offered me his hand, and I stared at it for a long beat. He was taking me to breakfast, laughing, being civil, taking my advice, and now offered actually physical contact?
This was weird. And I was still suspicious.
Regardless, though, I put my hand in his and allowed him to help me up out of the booth, following him back out to the car.
-- -- --
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T SING?!” I’d never heard Jack yell so loud. I grabbed the phone from his hand and pulled it away quickly, hoping I got there in time to spare Alex’s eardrums. I put it on speakerphone as Jack started pacing.
“Alex?” I said as the other began to crowd around, drawn in by Jack’s reaction. “It’s Annette; what’s going on?”
“I don’t want to fucking talk to you,” he growled, and I actually dropped the phone. It had only been an hour and a half since I’d last seen him, and as far as I knew, we’d been on good terms then.
Rian picked up the phone and put it on the coffee table, “What’s your problem, man? She didn’t do anything.”
“Oh no?” The singer sneered, “’Go to the hospital, Alex.’ So I went to the hospital, and they told me I have two cracked ribs and I could permanently injure myself if I try to move around a lot. That includes singing, playing guitar, jumping around; you totally screwed me, Annette.”
My jaw went slack, “Me? I think the cracked ribs--a product of your own stupidity, I might add--are the real culprit here, Alex.”
“Go to hell.”
“See you there.”
He made an indistinguishable noise, “I can’t believe I actually considered being civil to you, you no-name, no talent little bi--”
“Gaskarth!” Jack yelled, snatching up the phone once more. “Right now, I don’t care about your petty issues with Annette or what you think or whatever your problem is; what are we supposed to do about the show tonight?”
“Cancel it,” Alex grumbled.
Tomas stepped forward, shaking his head. He nudged Jack and pointed to me and Kal, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Jack raised his own eyebrows, and then a little goofy grin broke out across his face. “Um,” he said, getting more giddy by the second, “That won’t be necessary, bud. We’ve got it. Feel better.” He hung up before Alex could protest and turned to my brother, “So tell me more.”
Tomas smiled and sat down on the couch, reaching for his laptop. “Well, all we need to do is…” I stopped listening. Actually, I didn’t so much stop listening as I couldn’t focus. My face was red, my breath was heavy, and I felt like I was going to cry. I was so stupid. How could I possibly think he’d changed.
I felt Zack’s hand wrap around my bicep and start to tug me toward the backdoor, “Come with me; I‘ll make you feel better.” He shook a plastic baggie at me discretely. I smiled and slid my arm up so that I could take his hand in mine; Zack was my favorite now.
-- -- --
I paced back and forth, chewing on my thumbnail. Tomas and the three remaining members of All Time Low were in the living room, making calls to all of the other bands to set their big plan in motion while I’d gathered my own bandmates into the kitchen. My high had worn off and now I was flipping the Decaydance business card over between my fingers. “Is it too early to call?” I asked nervously.
Kal looked up at the kitchen clock. “Ten-thirty; I say it’s safe.” She handed me my Blackberry, “Put it on speaker, okay?” It was comforting, somehow, to know that she was as nervous about this as I was. Even Deveraux seemed twitchier than usual.
I sighed and punched in the number, almost chickening out before I finally punched the send button and put it on speakerphone. After four rings, someone answered. “Decaydance Records; this is Robert.”
I took a deep breath and put on my best business voice. “Hi, this is Annette Vader, I’m the lead singer for Defy the Omniscient. Millicent Pyrne gave me this number and told me to call today.”
There was silence on the other end, which made me even more nervous. Then a shuffling of papers and a small laugh, “Oh, right! Milli actually called me at home about you; very insistent that you get an audition and interview.”
“She,” I smiled, “She was?”
He made an affirming noise, “So I called Pete and he told me to schedule it, if you guys called. He’s pretty excited; Milli isn’t very easy to impress, you know. Kind of a hard ass, actually.”
I raised my eyebrow, “Are we thinking about the same person? Glasses, blonde hair, model pretty and totally sweet?”
“You had me until the ‘sweet’ part,” Robert laughed. “Anyway, we have a free slot in two weeks. Can you work on transportation on your own?”
“Yes!” I said quickly, then stopped. “Wait…to where?”
He laughed again, “September 7th. Three o’clock. Teapar Street. Los Angeles.”
My chest tightened, and I had to hold myself back from screaming. “Y-yes, sir; we’ll be there. Thankyou.”
“Look forward to seeing you.”
“You, too. Bye.” I clicked the phone off and then stared at Kal, who was watching me with eyes wider than mine. “Oh my god,” I breathed.
“Decaydance,” she said absently, shaking her head like she didn’t believe it.
“L.A.,” Jocelyn added with a little smile, “Wow. Defy the Omniscient is going to L.A. to meet Pete Wentz.”
“To audition for Pete Wentz,” Deveraux corrected in awe. “I wonder if he’ll let me touch him.”
We all stared at him, and Jocelyn rolled her eyes, “See, Aaron; that is why people always think you’re gay.”
He opened his mouth to reply, eyes dancing in amusement, when Tomas and Jack quite literally crashed through the doorway, falling to the floor as they both tried to reach us first. Tomas was hyper. This couldn’t be good. As he and Jack wrestled around, each cutting each other off as they attempted to explain, a piece of paper somehow made it to us. It read, in my brother’s girlishly neat handwriting:
Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don’t) - Martin Johnson
Keep the Change, You Filthy Animal - Yaël Sandvig
The Party Scene - Jeremy Lenzo & Derek Sanders
Coffee Shop Soundtrack - Jacob Crusinberry
Weightless - Hannah Wolff
Running From Lions - Brianna Schumacher
Too Much - Alex DeLeon
Stella - Charles Hennessy
Hello, Brooklyn - David Mikel
Sick Little Games - Annette Vader
Remembering Sunday - Zack Merrick & Cassadee Pope
Tomas and Jack straightened up as I passed the paper to Kal. My face have given away the mess of emotions I was feeling right now, because Tomas’s smile quickly faded to a nervous smirk and he shrugged, “Surprise?”
Grumbling, I slid out of bed and threw on a pair of grey sweatpants and a spaghetti strapped tank, sweeping my hair back in a ponytail and opening the bedroom door.
I was headed for the living room when a figure appeared at the end of the hallway, making me gasp. Alex. Oh, no no no; I could not deal with this yet. What was I going to say? How was I supposed to act? And why was I even so nervous? It wasn’t as if he knew what went on in my dreams.
He put his finger to his lips and whispered a shh, gesturing for me to follow him into the kitchen. I obliged reluctantly; the kitchen was probably the last place I wanted to be alone with him right now, all things considered. But when I got there, it was Alex that seemed awkward.
“Um,” he scratched the back of his head and stared at the various pictures stuck to the refrigerator. The refrigerator he pressed me against in my… Stop it! “We’re the only ones up,” he nodded his head through the doorway, and I peeked through into the living room. Zack and Rian were passed out in a pile of popcorn and corn chips, while Kal and Jack were cuddled up on the couch, her head resting on his chest. Absent from the picture were Jocelyn, Deveraux and, of course, my brother, who I assumed had all slept in their rooms.
When I looked back at Alex, his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and he looked like he was thinking hard about something. “Do you, uh… Do you want to go get some breakfast? Or something?”
I was taken aback. This was the same man that had been trying to make my life hell for the past four days, right? And now he wanted to call a truce over pancakes and pulpy orange juice? No. No way.
“Um, sure.” Okay, obviously I need to reintroduce my brain and my mouth. “But I thought you were going to go to the doctor today.”
He shrugged, “It doesn’t hurt as much as I did yesterday. So, breakfast,” he smiled feebly, and I wondered what he was nervous about. “My car?”
“Well, seeing as I don’t have one here, I’m gonna say yes,” I joked cautiously. He laughed lightly and I couldn’t help but smile a little. I didn’t know what was going on--for all I knew, it could be a horrible, horrible trap--but I was just curious enough to walk into it.
-- -- --
“You’re fucking cracked,” I practically shouted at Alex over the table while he fixed me in a stony glare. “I mean, I can forgive a lot of shit, but this is by far the worst thing that’s ever come out of your mouth. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”
“My bad,” he said sarcastically, “I should have known better than to think you could handle the honest truth.”
“Honest truth?!” I screeched, earning disapproving looks from the only other people in the restaurant--an sweet-looking elderly couple. “It’s ignorance, is what it is. I mean, there is no way in hell that The Cure is better than The Smiths.” I crossed my arms stubbornly.
We’d arrived at IHOP half an hour before after a short car ride, awkwardness barely covered by Echo & the Bunnymen blaring through the speakers. After being seated, the obvious discomfort between us was almost tangible, both of us silent, shifting often and staring at our menus like they’d hypnotized us. Finally, nearly ten minutes in, I’d made a comment about Echo, and it had all been downhill from there.
“Please,” Alex scoffed, “The Cure had so many more hits.”
I rolled my eyes, “Is that all music is to you? Hits? Mariah Carey has tons of hits, but that doesn’t mean that she’s better than Ani DiFranco, does it?”
“Sort of.”
“Bite your tongue!”
He shoved a huge bite of pancake in his mouth and made a face at me, which I had to laugh at. This was turning out to be nice, actually. We seemed to be getting along. It was apparent by the way we both spoke and moved and smiled carefully that we still had a long way to go, but at least this resembled progress.
Another twenty minutes later, we’d finished our food and were enjoying our coffee when he brought up the concert. “So the shows have been going good, haven’t they?”
I’d been wary of saying anything about that, because I didn’t want to give him a chance to tell me how much he hated my singing again. But he’d been the one to say it, and was looking to me for a response. I inhaled deeply and forced a smile, “Yeah, really great. I love An Experience With Molly Ringwald.”
“Oh, I know!” He said excitedly, “’Viva la Revolution’ is hilarious.”
I smiled, “It is. But I like ‘Havasupai’ better. You know, the ballad about the girl David met in Arizona?”
Alex’s forehead wrinkled. “Is that the one that goes, like… ‘You worked your magic on me and here’s your final act. You let the sickness steal your summer heart and I’ll never get you back,’ or something like that?”
I nodded, “Yeah, that’s the one.”
“It’s sad.”
“It’s about cancer.”
“Well, that explains it.” He finished the rest of his coffee and then raised his arms to stretch. He winced immediately and pulled his arms back down.
I gave him a sympathetic look, “You really should probably go to a doctor. You might have internal bleeding or a bruised rib or something.” His face twisted and I he opened his mouth, and for a moment I was sure that the old Alex was going to come out and spit his angry words at me.
But then his face relaxed and he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, “You’re probably right. C’mon,” he stood, throwing some bills down on the table, “I’ll take you back to the house first.” He offered me his hand, and I stared at it for a long beat. He was taking me to breakfast, laughing, being civil, taking my advice, and now offered actually physical contact?
This was weird. And I was still suspicious.
Regardless, though, I put my hand in his and allowed him to help me up out of the booth, following him back out to the car.
-- -- --
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T SING?!” I’d never heard Jack yell so loud. I grabbed the phone from his hand and pulled it away quickly, hoping I got there in time to spare Alex’s eardrums. I put it on speakerphone as Jack started pacing.
“Alex?” I said as the other began to crowd around, drawn in by Jack’s reaction. “It’s Annette; what’s going on?”
“I don’t want to fucking talk to you,” he growled, and I actually dropped the phone. It had only been an hour and a half since I’d last seen him, and as far as I knew, we’d been on good terms then.
Rian picked up the phone and put it on the coffee table, “What’s your problem, man? She didn’t do anything.”
“Oh no?” The singer sneered, “’Go to the hospital, Alex.’ So I went to the hospital, and they told me I have two cracked ribs and I could permanently injure myself if I try to move around a lot. That includes singing, playing guitar, jumping around; you totally screwed me, Annette.”
My jaw went slack, “Me? I think the cracked ribs--a product of your own stupidity, I might add--are the real culprit here, Alex.”
“Go to hell.”
“See you there.”
He made an indistinguishable noise, “I can’t believe I actually considered being civil to you, you no-name, no talent little bi--”
“Gaskarth!” Jack yelled, snatching up the phone once more. “Right now, I don’t care about your petty issues with Annette or what you think or whatever your problem is; what are we supposed to do about the show tonight?”
“Cancel it,” Alex grumbled.
Tomas stepped forward, shaking his head. He nudged Jack and pointed to me and Kal, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Jack raised his own eyebrows, and then a little goofy grin broke out across his face. “Um,” he said, getting more giddy by the second, “That won’t be necessary, bud. We’ve got it. Feel better.” He hung up before Alex could protest and turned to my brother, “So tell me more.”
Tomas smiled and sat down on the couch, reaching for his laptop. “Well, all we need to do is…” I stopped listening. Actually, I didn’t so much stop listening as I couldn’t focus. My face was red, my breath was heavy, and I felt like I was going to cry. I was so stupid. How could I possibly think he’d changed.
I felt Zack’s hand wrap around my bicep and start to tug me toward the backdoor, “Come with me; I‘ll make you feel better.” He shook a plastic baggie at me discretely. I smiled and slid my arm up so that I could take his hand in mine; Zack was my favorite now.
-- -- --
I paced back and forth, chewing on my thumbnail. Tomas and the three remaining members of All Time Low were in the living room, making calls to all of the other bands to set their big plan in motion while I’d gathered my own bandmates into the kitchen. My high had worn off and now I was flipping the Decaydance business card over between my fingers. “Is it too early to call?” I asked nervously.
Kal looked up at the kitchen clock. “Ten-thirty; I say it’s safe.” She handed me my Blackberry, “Put it on speaker, okay?” It was comforting, somehow, to know that she was as nervous about this as I was. Even Deveraux seemed twitchier than usual.
I sighed and punched in the number, almost chickening out before I finally punched the send button and put it on speakerphone. After four rings, someone answered. “Decaydance Records; this is Robert.”
I took a deep breath and put on my best business voice. “Hi, this is Annette Vader, I’m the lead singer for Defy the Omniscient. Millicent Pyrne gave me this number and told me to call today.”
There was silence on the other end, which made me even more nervous. Then a shuffling of papers and a small laugh, “Oh, right! Milli actually called me at home about you; very insistent that you get an audition and interview.”
“She,” I smiled, “She was?”
He made an affirming noise, “So I called Pete and he told me to schedule it, if you guys called. He’s pretty excited; Milli isn’t very easy to impress, you know. Kind of a hard ass, actually.”
I raised my eyebrow, “Are we thinking about the same person? Glasses, blonde hair, model pretty and totally sweet?”
“You had me until the ‘sweet’ part,” Robert laughed. “Anyway, we have a free slot in two weeks. Can you work on transportation on your own?”
“Yes!” I said quickly, then stopped. “Wait…to where?”
He laughed again, “September 7th. Three o’clock. Teapar Street. Los Angeles.”
My chest tightened, and I had to hold myself back from screaming. “Y-yes, sir; we’ll be there. Thankyou.”
“Look forward to seeing you.”
“You, too. Bye.” I clicked the phone off and then stared at Kal, who was watching me with eyes wider than mine. “Oh my god,” I breathed.
“Decaydance,” she said absently, shaking her head like she didn’t believe it.
“L.A.,” Jocelyn added with a little smile, “Wow. Defy the Omniscient is going to L.A. to meet Pete Wentz.”
“To audition for Pete Wentz,” Deveraux corrected in awe. “I wonder if he’ll let me touch him.”
We all stared at him, and Jocelyn rolled her eyes, “See, Aaron; that is why people always think you’re gay.”
He opened his mouth to reply, eyes dancing in amusement, when Tomas and Jack quite literally crashed through the doorway, falling to the floor as they both tried to reach us first. Tomas was hyper. This couldn’t be good. As he and Jack wrestled around, each cutting each other off as they attempted to explain, a piece of paper somehow made it to us. It read, in my brother’s girlishly neat handwriting:
Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don’t) - Martin Johnson
Keep the Change, You Filthy Animal - Yaël Sandvig
The Party Scene - Jeremy Lenzo & Derek Sanders
Coffee Shop Soundtrack - Jacob Crusinberry
Weightless - Hannah Wolff
Running From Lions - Brianna Schumacher
Too Much - Alex DeLeon
Stella - Charles Hennessy
Hello, Brooklyn - David Mikel
Sick Little Games - Annette Vader
Remembering Sunday - Zack Merrick & Cassadee Pope
Tomas and Jack straightened up as I passed the paper to Kal. My face have given away the mess of emotions I was feeling right now, because Tomas’s smile quickly faded to a nervous smirk and he shrugged, “Surprise?”