“Thanks for asking, though. Night, buddy.”
“Night, sweet thing.”
The show at Dropzone was a success and even though we were performing under the name Bokononism, Will’s fans were on to him, so we had a good turnout. Because of all the solo shows, he had perfected the skill of live looping. It was actually quite remarkable. He would have a few instruments along with a recording device that he could control with foot pedals. He’d play a guitar riff or pluck the violin and record it live onstage to play in a loop while he was strumming another guitar and singing. Because it requires so much coordination and instrumental expertise, the process really wowed the audience. His gifts were incontestable when he was performing.
The Dropzone had an old grand piano with clunky keys and a rattling string reverberation that gave the sound a rich character. Will introduced me as his little sister, which threw me for a loop, but I went with it. It reminded me of the way Willie Nelson always introduces his piano-playing sister. I thought about Willie’s song “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground” as I watched Will strumming his guitar and singing with his eyes closed and his head tilted to the heavens. I thought that song could have been written for him.
After the show, we were swarmed by people asking when he was going to release an album. His only response was soon. I was approached by a good-looking guy named Mark who wanted to buy me a drink. Will must have overheard because he came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me. He bent down and whispered, “We gotta go,” and then placed a lingering kiss over my ear. Mark looked at me, somewhat disgusted. I had gotten used to Will touching me that way, so I ignored him. I looked at Mark and thought briefly that I might take him up on the offer just to spite Will for being the over-protective roommate.
“You guys aren’t really brother and sister, are you?” Mark asked with a smile.
“Yeah, we are,” Will said quickly and then smacked me on the ass. “Let’s hit it, sis.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “It was nice meeting you, Mark. Thanks for the offer, but we better get going.” Mark didn’t seem disappointed. If anything, I thought I caught a look of relief on his face as we walked away.
“Why’d you do that? He just wanted buy me a drink,” I said with mock disappointment.
“There are male groupies, too, Mia. Next thing you know he’ll be at the next performance with your portrait silkscreened on his T-shirt,” he said, laughing.
“I doubt that.”
Back at the apartment, I stood in Will’s doorway as he sat on his bed removing his shoes. “I have to be at Kell’s early tomorrow so I’m gonna get to bed.”
He stood up directly in front of me, head down, and took my hands in his.
When his gaze met mine, I saw peace in his eyes. “You were great tonight. Thank you, Mia.”
I felt my face flush. “You’re too kind. Really, you were amazing.” This time I threw my arms around his neck, reached up on my tippy toes, and gave him a big, long hug. He held me tight against him.
“Goodnight,” he said and then kissed my cheek.
I cried as I lay in my bed that night, thinking about how it wouldn’t be long before Will would go off and become a famous musician, leaving this little life we created behind. There would be models and celebrities vying for his attention and I would become just a blurry memory from the early years. I would see him in some interview on the internet talking about how he’d spent time in the East Village, playing in seedy venues and reading poetry in coffee shops. I cried because I knew that if I gave myself to Will, I would be left in pieces… left behind. The only way I could hang on was to be his friend, even though every part of me wanted more.
Track 13: The Sound of His Soul
On Thursday, I woke up feeling an unreasonable amount of excitement about going to the recording studio where Will was working on his demo. I took Jackson for a slow, meandering walk through the park. He was becoming more and more listless during our outings. Jackson always had sad eyes, but they were starting to look hollow. I knew he was growing old fast and that day I begged him to hang on for another year.
“I need you, buddy, now more than ever,” I said to him. He wagged his tail and I felt my heart lift a little. It would be a good day; I could feel it, and for the first time in a while I looked forward to working hard at something; music never really felt like work anyway.
When I got to the studio, Will greeted me with enthusiasm. He had already completed two songs and just needed the piano track for the third to complete his demo. He was including my song, which he named “Pray,” along with “All Fine” and finally the song “Polarize” that I would be working on.
“Hey, baby,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. He quickly grabbed my hand and led me through the studio and past a few people sitting at on a couch in the lobby area. “This is Mia, everyone!” he shouted and then pulled me through a door and motioned for me to sit down at the mixing console. Frank was there and another man who I assumed was the engineer. “Mia, this is Jeff. Jeff, Mia.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand. I looked up at Frank and smiled. He winked back at me but remained quiet in the corner. I directed my attention to Will, who was all business, moving the dials and pressing buttons. I could barely wrap my head around what he was doing.
“Listen, you have hear this and tell me what you think,” he said. It was my song playing and it sounded better than I could have possibly imagined it. As Will’s vocal began to rise in the second verse, I got chills; goose bumps covered my body. He held each note so long and steady and controlled; I couldn’t think of any way to make the song better.