Awkwardly Reversed

Although I’m wearing my clothes, feeling cold and exposed, yeah.

It was David Coffill. The very first guitarist of The Academy Is…, back when it was just The Academy. It was him and I that started the band together. Everything was going great. We had just gotten Sisky, and were off to a great start when he took total control of the band. He stopped showing up to practices when Sisky and I agreed on wanting every decision to be mutual, and having everyone play an equal role, instead of one front man. On our first tour, opening for Midtown, when we finally got another guitarist and drummer, he showed up late and disappeared as soon as we were going on. I had to play guitar for him for the rest of the shows.

He looked more dirty, like he hadn’t given a care in the world for the last few weeks. He was wearing a wrinkled blue v-neck, with light skinny jeans, that looked really beaten up. His facial hair was attacking his face like a bear, and his hair looked like he had just had sex. He was standing with some other guys who looked like they had all just done drugs together.

I glanced at him and he didn’t see me. Sisky nudged my shoulder as if I hadn’t already seen him. Just then, David shot us a nasty look, and started to walk over. His friends grabbed him by the shirt and said something in his ear. They let go, he rolled his eyes, and turned his body so he was facing the other way.

I looked at Michael and then at Sisky. I made a confused face and continued to walk forward. We reached the exit, and walked outside. It was pouring, so we ran to the car.

“Who was that guy?” Michael asked politely from behind the wheel.
“No one. I think he thought he knew us but he didn’t.” Sisky answered. He wasn’t even worth talking about to people that didn’t already know.
Michael nodded and drove off towards my apartment, after I told him where it was.
He turned the music up, and I noticed “Is It Me, Is It True?” by Midtown was playing. I started to bob my head.
“You’re a Midtown fan, too?” Michael spoke loudly over the song.
“Fan of them? We got to open for them!” I smiled widely.
“Are you serious? That’s amazing!”
“They are the nicest and most fun guys you will ever meet.” Sisky chimed in.
“I bet they are!” Michael said, still smiling. “Now, you guys released Almost Here before or after that tour?”
“Before.” I told him. “But we just lost our lead guitarist a week and a half ago. We’re holding auditions on Tuesday, because we’re going back on tour in 3 months.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Maybe you’ll find me there.” He glanced at his hand.
“That would be great, Michael. Auditions are 12-6, tomorrow, here.” Sisky told him.
Michael smiled again.

He pulled into my parking lot, and into a parking space.
“Alright, man, we’re here.”
“Thank you so much Michael. I can speak for Sisky and I that we really appreciate everything you’ve done for us last night and today.”
“No problem, Will. You guys are some of the most real people I’ve ever met. That in itself is a gift to me.” He shook my hand goodbye, and I waved at Sisky. I got out of the car and waved at both of them again.

When I reached my door, I pulled my key out and went inside. It felt nice to be home, finally. I plugged my phone into the charger, and the power turned back on again. I didn’t have any missed calls, voicemails, or texts.

I walked over to my couch and gently sat on it. It felt like I hadn’t been home in days, and I missed my cozy apartment. After a dangerous night, that may or may not have affected where I go on the streets of Chicago, being home felt good. I scanned the room for any differences, even though I knew there was none, and got comfy on the couch.

I closed my eyes and laid on my side with my head on a pillow. I fell asleep for what seemed like forever, and woke up in a jolt. I sat up and scratched my head. The clock said 7:56 PM. My stomach rumbled, and got up to rummage through the fridge. I noticed my phone had a text from 5:12. It was The Butcher. It read, ‘Billvy, I think I found a guitarist for TAI. He’s one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met. Call me later.’
I put the phone to my ear after I dialed his number, while opening the refrigerator.
“Hello?” He said.
“Hey man, what’s up?” I said, grabbing the leftover Thai tin box on the bottom shelf.
“About the guitarist. You’d love him. His name’s Gavin Valencia. He was telling me about how his guitar work is amazing, and how he’d love to work with us.”
“That’s cool. Tell him to go to the audition, and we’ll see what happens. I met some guy too. He’s Australian, and his name‘s Michael. You wouldn’t believe the kind of stuff he’s done for me and I just met him last night. I met him at-” I was cut off.
“Awesome, dude. Have him audition too. Don’t forget that they’re tomorrow.”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay, so I’ll see you then?” He hated talking on the phone, I could tell he was ending the conversation because he didn’t want to hear me ramble.
“Yeah, bye.” I said flatly.
“Bye, Bill.”

I threw the Thai food in the microwave and put my phone on the counter. I poured myself a glass of red wine and the timer beeped. I drank the wine quickly and practically swallowed the food in one bite.

I cleaned my mess up and went to go put pajamas on. I walked into my bedroom and flicked the light switch. As I took off my newish Smashing Pumpkins shirt, I was reminded of the scarring previous night. My pale, beat up, chest felt the coolness of my apartment air, and I got goosebumps. I threw an old, loose, band tee on, and a pair of pants with ‘Homer Simpson’ all over them with different expressions on his face.

I walked over to my bed and slowly sat down, until I could feel the mattress sink
in. I glanced around the room, and noticed how dark it was outside. The stillness of the room made me shiver.

I opened my end table drawer. It was filled with notebooks with lyrics I had written in the past. I thought to myself how long it’s been since I wrote anything.
I slowly flipped through the pages, beginning to feel the emotion of my written thoughts.

My ringtone echoed through my apartment, and made me jump. It was the chorus of “Friday I’m In Love” by The Cure. I got up, and ran to answer it.
It was my mother.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hi baby.” She said, as she sniffled.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“There’s something I need to tell you, but I can’t do it over the phone, because you’ll have too many questions.” She said weakly. “I’ve been holding off for 19 years, and your father and I can’t hold off any longer.” I’m 19 years old.
“Mom-” I started.
“Are you home?” She interrupted me.
“Yes, do you and dad want to come over now?” I scratched my head, and began to pace my kitchen.
“Yes, sweetie. We’ll be right over.” She hung up.

I set the phone back on the counter, and ran to my room to put my jeans and a fresh v-neck on.

I walked into the bathroom. I rubbed my eyes, and tried to think of what the news could be. I hopped up onto the counter and stared off into space for a while. I was brought back to reality when my doorbell rang.

My parents knew the door was unlocked and just let themselves in. I greeted my mom with a hug and my dad with a handshake.

I guided them over to my couch and I sat on the coffee table in front of them.
“You shouldn’t sit on such a nice table, Will.” She gave me a motherly look.
“I do it all the time, don’t worry about it. What’s going on?”
Both my parents looked to the ground, and the mood of the room grew uneasy.
My mother gently cleared her throat. She had always did that when something serious was about to be said.
“It’s about your father he-” I cut her off.
“Then can you let dad tell me?” I said.
She looked over at him, and he nodded. She reached for his hand, and held it confidently.
“Son, this may be hard for you to understand, or grasp, but I’m not your real father.”
I scratched my hairline. Silence came over us all.
I found myself staring at the ground.
About a minute passed, and I looked up again.
“Where is he?” I managed to say.
“Where is who?” My mother answered me.
“My father.” I didn’t move.
“I don’t know. He left me when you were only 6 months. He wasn’t ready for another kid. We had just had Caroline a year before you, and he didn’t want all the responsibility.” My mother paused. “He packed a bag of things, and left.” Pause. “He never came back after that. I haven’t heard from him ever since.”
I stared at the ground again.
“I know this is hard for you to grasp, William.” My “father” said.
“Why haven’t you told me all of these years?” I snapped at them.
“We were afraid something like this would happen, you getting angry with us, like we made the mistake.”
I viciously shook my head. I was furious.
“All these years, I called you my father and all you were was nothing but a liar!” I said, yelling, with tears coming to my eyes. “You were the only person I trusted and respected with everything I had, and deep down, there were secrets the whole time.”
I could see him bow his head in disappointment.
“William, I know I wasn’t your birth father, but he was never here. When he came around, I was always there to back him away from doing damage to you and your sister. I acted more like a father to you in one day than he did the entire time he spent with you.”
I darted my watery eyes around the room, and heard my phone vibrate on the table. I ignored it.
My parents were staring at me with concerned eyes, and I lost it. I kept crying until I felt a firm grasp on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, dad.” I whispered.
“Me too.” He said back.
I sobbed for a while, but I stopped when my phone vibrated again.
“Just get it.” My mother said to me.

I grabbed the phone, and it said 2 texts from The Butcher.
The first text read, “Don’t forget about the auditions.”
The second text read, “Make sure your apartment is clean.”

She stood up. “Well hun, it’s about time we got home.”
I got up too, and kissed my mother on the forehead and I shook my dad’s hand as they were heading for the exit.

My head cleared and I was in my own little world again. My own little world where I could think and dream about anything I wanted. I laid down on my bed, thinking about things, and quickly fell asleep. I woke up with Mike Carden shaking me.