Your History of Silence

To be honest, Joel really didn’t remember most of his time singing at Suzanne’s. Maybe it was sheer boredom that his brain from storing long-term memory or maybe he just didn’t pay enough attention to what he was doing. He’d done all of the songs so many times at this point, he didn’t really have to think about them anymore.

He came out of his boredom-induced stupor as the first set ended, took his bow, and stepped off the stage before the band even finished the outro. He was particularly hungry tonight, since he’d fallen asleep that afternoon and woken up with barely enough time to get to work, and went straight for the salad bar, which was the only food he got for free there.

“That was some neat singing,” said a voice to his right as he loaded his plate with greens. He looked up and saw his twin brother standing there, also helping himself to salad. He was the most grungy person there, dressed in a sleeveless, black top and jeans with a chain hanging off the side.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” Joel said, looking back down at his plate. He had only a small amount of lettuce, but he piled the plate high with cucumbers, tomatoes, croutons, and cheese.

Benji followed him as he moved over to the salad dressings, which were being blocked by a blonde woman who couldn’t seem to decide what she wanted. “You owe me after all the gigs you’ve been late to.”

“I have never been late,” Joel protested. “Cut it close sometimes, but I was always onstage the same time as everyone else.”

“I know we need the dough, but you need to do something about that rat that bosses you around.”

“Benj, this is a good job for the money and hours. Do you really want me to quit?”

“I don’t want you to quit: I want you to get your hours straight. The Pour House gig is nice, but we need you for other gigs.”

“Just book daytime gigs.”

“When have you ever heard of a daytime gig?” Benji balked. “Joel, we’re never gonna get the hell out of here if you’re not 100% committed. And I…sorry, can I help you?”

Benji had leaned forward and was addressing the woman to Joel’s left. She flushed pink and said quickly, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

“Well, you—”

“It’s okay,” Joel interrupted, smiling at the woman. Now that he could see her face, it was apparent that she was young, probably in her late teens. “It’s hard not to listen to people arguing.”

“I still shouldn’t have been listening. It’s rude to invade a stranger’s conversation.”

“I’m Joel Madden, and this is my brother Benji.”

Joel offered the girl his hand and she gingerly shook it. “My name is Charlotte Rousseau.”

“See? Now we’re not strangers, so it’s not rude.” Charlotte giggled at that and quickly looked down at her plate.

“Wait,” said Benji excitedly. “Did you say Rousseau? As in Robert Rousseau?”

“That’s my father,” said Charlotte, eyeing Benji warily. She obviously wasn’t used to being addressed by someone outside of her wealthy-people inner circle. Especially people with so many tattoos and facial piercings.

“Robert Rousseau, the famous record producer, is your father?”

She smiled, looking politely puzzled. “Yes…?”

“This is incredible,” Benji gushed. “Your dad has produced some of the most famous records. It’s, like, my wildest dream to meet him and talk music with him.”

“Um, that’s flattering. Sorry, but I have to get back to my sister…as soon as I remember what kind of dressing she likes.” She looked back at the dressings for a long minute, then picked one and sprinkled it over the plate. She smiled at Joel again, bit her lip, and then said, “Come find me later, if you want.”

They watched her go and Benji whistled. “Wow. So, apparently I’m invisible and you’re a neon billboard.”

“What are you talking about?” Joel asked flatly, picking his salad dressing and unscrewing the cap.

“I’m talking about that ‘come find me later if you want,’” Benji giggled, his voice going into a girlie falsetto.

“Shut up, she was just being nice.”

Joel put the dressing back and made his way toward a table in the corner. Benji followed him, balking. “Are you fricking insane? Didn’t you see the blushing? The little smile? The flirty eyes?”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, go for it.” He leaned his elbows on the table and stared off into space. “Seriously, we could actually meet Robert Rousseau. Can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to use her. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“I know, I know, but hear me out,” said Benji quickly. “You wouldn’t be using her. You thought she was cute, right?”

Joel thought about it, picturing her in his mind’s eye. She was short and her hair had been a platinum blonde and curly and her eyes had been…blue? He couldn’t quite remember, but he remembered that she had definitely been pretty. “Yeah, she was.”

“So just ask her out because she’s cute. Take her on a few dates, invite her dad to one of our gigs, then dump her if you don’t end up falling in love with her.”

“I dunno, Benj.”

“Seriously,” Benji insisted, putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “You won’t be using her. No one’s going to get hurt.”

Joel sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Okay. I’ll go talk to her before my break’s over.”

“Atta boy,” Benji cheered, clapping Joel on the back. “Okay, I gotta go. Billy wants to bounce some guitar licks off of me.” He paused and added, “No gayness intended.”

He watched his brother go, relieved that he at least hadn’t been seen by Nathan, then turned his attention back to his food. He suddenly wasn’t so hungry anymore and he felt a deep twisting in his stomach. On the one hand, Charlotte had been cute and very nice. But Joel was afraid that he or she (or both of them) would get hurt if he handled the situation wrong.

Would I have asked her out if Benji hadn’t said anything? Joel asked himself. Probably not, but that was more due to a mild social anxiety he typically got when talking to woman. But would he have wanted to ask her out? He stared down at his salad, willing it to give him some answers to his unasked questions.

Not surprisingly, the salad had nothing to say.