Stacy's Song (15 page)

“Have you told that boy you're quitting yet?”

I shifted uneasily. “Sort of.”

He rose to his full stature, imposing as a granite cliff. “You have or you haven't?”

“I have, but Michael wanted me to reconsider.”

“Stacy, that's ridiculous! You can't have it all. We let you do whatever you want, but there has to be limits. Going to college is an absolute necessity these days. You can't have a decent career without an education.”

“I understand that, but suppose I want to major in music? Mom did.”

“And education as well,” he pointed out.

“I cou
ld do the same. The thing is, I
love music. I love it a lot more than cheerleading.”

I think he saw where I was going with that because his eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“I want to quit cheerleading instead of the band.”

“That's absurd!”

“No, it's not. I'm not that into cheering, but to the band, I matter. Lots of girls would make good cheerleaders, much better ones. The thing is, music is very important to me and so is the band. I don't want to drop it.”

“You want to be a musician? Do you know what kind of life that is?” His eyes seemed to bulge like a bullfrog's.

“No, but I might want to find out.”

That was just too much for him, I guess. He smashed his fist against the wall, leaving an indentation in it.

“Keith, please,” my mother said. She touched his arm in an imploring gesture.

“If I don't hit the wall, I'll hit her,” he warned, pointing at me. He glowered in my general direction. I had a glimmering of how the accused witches felt in Salem. “You want a life of glamour, don't you? Well, it's not all fame and fortune, little girl! There's no stability to that kind of life, and even if you have a lot of talent, so what? Lots of musicians do and they never make it. Or if they get lucky and do hit, it lasts for a short time only. There have been so many one hit wonders. They live on the road, traveling from seedy place to place like hobos, performing in one cheap dive after another. Maybe that's a good enough life for the likes of Michael Norris, but it's not good enough for you.”

“Michael has terrific talent. I believe in him. I believe we can succeed.”

“He's a lowlife,” my father shouted.

“Because he
wears dark glasses and has
long
hair
?”

“I never trust a boy who wears his hair longer than most girls.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Appearances are deceiving.”

“Appearance reflects character, young lady. Maybe you think these retro hippie types are more romantic than a good solid kid like Greg, but you're wrong.”

“Dad, you
don't understand.”

“Generation gap, right? The entire older generation is suffering from senile dementia.”

“I never said that! You're just going to have to
put some faith in me, because I
think I know what's best for myself. You've raised me the way you thought was right. Now you're going to have to trust me to start making my own choices.”

“She's right, Keith. We have raised her with good values. Stacy's not a child anymore. We have to start placing our faith in our daughter and allowing her to make her own decisions.” Mother put her hand supportively on my shoulder.

“She's still a child,” my father said. “And I don't trust or like that Norris boy.”

“Daddy, I haven't decided yet whether or not I'll stay with the band. But there's an agent who wants us to sign with him. He's got a major recording company interested.”

“I don't like the sound of that. You could be taken advantage of. You're just kids, after all.”

“That's true, but that won't happen if we have a good lawyer representing our interests.”

My parents exchanged a look.

“She's your daughter all right,” my mother said. Then she kissed my father on the cheek with a gentle laugh.

“You're ganging up on me. I felt exactly this way when I lost my first important case,” Dad observed. “Never mind music, Stacy, you should take up law. You were meant to argue in the courtroom.” He put his arm around my shoulder and I dared to breathe again.

 

There were no lights on at the Norris house, but then I hadn't expected any. The afternoon had darkened; the sky clouded over. The door to the house was open as before and I walked in unannounced. The living room looked gloomy with no trace of Christmas decorations in sight. It was disheartening.

Michael was down on the floor doing push-ups. He wore a knit shirt and I could see his muscles rippling powerfully beneath the cotton cloth. Whatever else, he had not lost his athletic physique. When he concluded, I announced myself. He stood up, breathless and flushed.

“You do an awful lot of those at one time,” I observed.

“Sets of fifty.” He groped around for his dark glasses, which he'd left on the coffee table, and put them on.

“Why so many push-ups?”

“Why not?”

I crossed the room and came toward him. “I brought some small gifts for Liz, Jimmy and—you. Where can I put them?”

“On top of the piano would be fine. That was thoughtful of you. I figured you'd forgotten us by now.”

“Not possible,” I said.

He looked uneasy. “There's a gift for you too. The way that things are, I'm not sure Liz did the right thing. You'll see what I mean.” He felt his way around the room until he found what he was looking for, a large wrapped package with a bright red bow tucked away in one corner of the room near the dark blue drapes. I seemed to know what it was just from the shape, but I took the proffered package and opened it anyway.

“An electric guitar. It's beautiful! You shouldn't have. It costs way too much.”

“It's from all three of us. Take it with no strings attached
,
if you'll forgive the bad pun. Liz bought it before we knew you were leaving us. So don't think it was meant to influence you. You don't owe anybody anything.”

“Sounds like you've had a change of heart,” I said, “li
ke you
don't want me to stay with the group.” I worried my lower lip.

“I never said that,” he shot back defensively. “I'm just saying you're not obligated.”

I wanted to tell him how I'd felt committed from the first time he played his music for me, but I was smart enough to hold my tongue for once.

“I don't think I ought to accept this because I don't know that I'll be able to stay with the band.”

“That's what I expected,” he said with a note of resignation.

“You
don't care, then?” Why was I accusing him that way? I shouldn't have pushed him. It wasn't fair, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

His face colored. “Look, I know we're no competition for your other life. You're involved with Greg and he wants you. Liz tells me you're popular at school. You have a doting family. We've got nothing to offer you, nothing you want. You can have status, at least the world's idea of it. You can have a safe, easy, normal life. You've always been pampered and coddled and I'm sure that's the way you want to keep it.”

I grew angry with him. “Is that what you think of me, that I'm some kind of spoiled brat—some airhead fluff-ball? You told me not to feel sorry for you. Well, I won't because you do such a good job of it for yourself!”

“I didn't mean to insult you,” he said, his tone placating.

“You do it without trying. You're unfair, Michael.”

“All I meant to say was that I understand why you wouldn't want to stay with the band. And I'm sorry about the present.”

“Don't tell me what I think or
what I'm supposed to feel! I'm
tired of people doing that to me, most of all you.”

Long shadows circled the bold lines of his face. “Okay, I won't.”

“You probably only want me to stay with the band because of the music company's offer,” I accused.

“Right, you got it!” He looked as if he were grinding down on his back teeth.

“At least you admit it.” I folded my arms defensively over my chest, hugging my body for warmth.

“Sure, anything you want to hear. I'll let you off the hook. Told you before you're not obligated.”

“I know that!” I was angry with him, just as he was at me. He was just co
ntrolling it better. “You don't
care at all about me. All you want is to be successful.”

“You got that right.”

I felt like hitting him. “Go to h
ades
, Michael!”

He laughed sa
rdonically. “I thought you knew. I'm already there.
”

I turned to go, hurriedly walking toward the front door, blinded by tears of rage. But when I got outside, I saw that the sky had turned white and frozen rain was falling. I slowed my pace and took the steps one at a time. A thin sheet of ice had formed over the steps making them treacherous and slippery. As I finished negotiating them, I heard Michael's voice at the top of the steps calling my name. I kept walking, but then I heard him again and I turned around. He was coming down, but he couldn't see the ice or how dangerous it was.

“Stacy! Wait!” he called.

I tried to warn him, to tell him to stop; by then it was too late. He skidded off the steps, careening through the air like someone taking off a ski jump. He shouted my name as he flew through the air. I watched frozen and shocked as he landed with a thud on the frozen ground below.

I ran and bent over him, my body shaking. “
Michael
, a
re you all right?”

He nodde
d. “I think so. Let me
see if everything still works. Oops, forgot I can't see, can I?” He tried to get up, but then groaned for a moment.

“What is it? Arm, leg?”

“I'm just sore. I was lucky enough to land on my best padded spot.”

I felt relieved, and with that feeling came the need to release the tension and laugh, to laugh at him and myself. So I laughed until the tears came.

“What's so hilarious?” he said with an indignant frown. “I'm glad you find the sight of me practically breaking my neck so amusing. I can ju
st imagine your reaction if I'd
cracked something. You'd be hysterical.”

“Well, it was funny. Y
ou virtually sailed through space.”

He pulled me down beside him on the ground. I started laughing again and then he joined in. I finally regained enough control to speak again. There were tears in my eyes.

“It's snowing.”

“Come back inside. I think you and I ought to talk some more.” He let out a soft moan as he got stiffly to his feet, rubbing his backside. He held out his hand to me.

I took the hand he offered and held it tight. We negotiated the icy steps together with care. “Cold out there, isn't it?” he said with a shiver, closing the front door firmly behind us.

His clothes were soaked through.

“Why don't you go upstairs and change while I fix us a hot drink?”

I took
off my coat, which was also
wet. While he was gone, I went out to the kitchen and found an old copper kettle. I put up some water to boil and then looked around for some tea bags or instant coffee. I found tea bags in the cupbo
ard and set about fixing us each a cup
. All the time
,
I remembered how I had come to him in the summer and how I felt about him then. I had a sense of
déja vu
.
Was I a f
ool, or what? Was I just letting myself in for heartache again? Well, I wouldn't be stupid this time. I was going to put re-enforced concrete around my heart. No more getting hurt by a guy who was troubled and didn't know what he wanted.

Michael came down the steps having changed into a red and black flannel shirt and faded jeans. I brought him a cup of tea.

“How do you take your tea?” I asked him.

“Doesn't matter. Plain is fine.”

“Good, because I didn't find any milk or sugar.”

“Thanks, this is
good,” he said and sipped the dark brew.

We sat in quiet contemplation for a while, neither of us knowing quite what to say to the other.

Then I put down my cup and found
myself ready to talk again. “I
came to tell you I would stay with you and help in any way I could.”

He lifted his head, ears perked like a puppy. “Won't that cause a problem with your father?”

“My dad said I had to cut down on my activitie
s. But he
can't force me to give up the band. I told him that I won't be cheerleading anymore. That'll give me the time I need to study. I also decided to ask the honor society for a tutor. I need help and unlike some people, I'm not ashamed to admit it.”

“And your old man didn't chain you to your bedpost?”

“Nope. He did give me a stern lecture, but my mom got involved and sided with me. In her own way, she knows how to manage Dad. She avoids confrontations, but she still gets him to listen. My mom has lots of common sense.”

“Wasn't it Einstein who said common sense is not so common?”

“If you say so.”

Michael actually smiled in my direction. He put the teacup down. “No more cheerleading? Won't that hurt your relationship with Greg?” He was trying to keep his tone casual but there was intensity to his voice.

I hesitated. “Greg and I won't be dating anymore.”

“Guess I
should say I'm sorry, but I'm
not. So I won't pretend I am. I'm not a hypocrite.”

“Were you jealous of him?”

He looked uncomfortable and got to his feet. “Not in the way you think. I thought we were going to lose you because of him.”

“You were hurtful to me.”

“I know. I'm sick in the head. I was so afraid of losing you that I did everything that would push you away and make you leave.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

He came closer to me. “I told you I was crazy.”

“I hadn't noticed.”

“I got jealous of Greg because he had you and I didn't.”

“You were the one who said you didn't want anything but a professional relationship between us.”

“That's true. I still don't. I have no right to be jealous, but I am anyway.”

“Well then I
don't understand. If you don't care about me, why should you behave so miserably if someone else does? You are frustrating and illogical.”

His hands reached out and touched mine. His fingers were long and slender yet very strong. “I guess I don't control my feelings very well, do I?”

“Where I'm concerned, I didn't know you had any feelings, except maybe disapproval.”

“I acted that way because I knew I wasn't good enough for you.”

I stared at him open-mouthed. “That's garbage!”

“It doesn't smell, does it?”

“Sure, it does!” I turned away from him. “Look, let's just skip it. I think I like it better when you're nasty to me, because at least I know where I stand. Anyway, I will stay with the band, but on my terms. I won't let you boss me around anymore. Is that understood? No more running our sessions like a dictatorship. I'll come to rehearsal and do all I can to help, but my schoolwork has to come first. I'm going to college no matter what.”

I had never talked to anyone that way before. But I wasn't letting Michael walk all over me. I guess I am my father's daughter. “One other thing, I've found a reputable lawyer to look over contracts for us.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A lawyer? How did you manage that? Are you sure he's responsible? A lot of these guys are shifty and will take advantage of kids.”

“Oh, this attorney is the best. I ought to know. He's my dad.”

Michael looked surprised. “Your father? Forget it! He'll wreck the whole deal.”

“You're wrong.”

“He hates me. He doesn't want you to have any part of this.”

“Maybe not, but he knows this is what I want. And
he doesn't hate you. He doesn't
know you yet. I'm sure you'll win him over with your charisma and tremendous charm.”

He knew I was teasing and laughed out loud.

“Just like Greg, right? You
really
aren't going to see that guy anymore?” He asked the question as if he hardly believed what I'd said.

“That's right. I dumped him. I'm probably the only girl who ever did, but he doesn't seem to be taking it too hard. He asked if I minded him dating Karen.”

Michael smiled and I admired the fine dimple in his cheek. “That sounds like Greg all right.” His face became serious again, his mouth turning down at the corners.