Still, I feel this disconnect with my dad over something as trivial as joining a band. I’m not there, professionally or even emotionally. I’m not invested in my career, let alone wanting to have someone else’s career rest on my shoulders. Thinking about that pressure alone is enough to give me an anxiety attack.
It’s not enough to keep me from playing right now though. I listen to the beat my dad and Liam are playing and start in. Our campsite gets a bit louder, but it’s worth it, hearing our melody echo through the river.
“I feel incredibly left out,” Noah says. There was a time when all of us played instruments. Peyton can still bang the drums pretty hard, but it’s not her passion. Elle, at one point, wanted to be a singer but changed her mind. As for Noah, sports were always in his path, but he did learn to play the guitar.
“I’ll share,” I tell him, handing over my baby, but Noah refuses her.
“There’s no way I can match what they’re doing,” he points to our dads. “You play, and I’ll write lyrics in
my head.”
This makes me laugh. Noah the songwriter, that’ll be the day.
Sleep, it’s what I didn’t do while camping. Each night we stayed up late, talking about nothing in particular, sometimes going long minutes without even saying a word, just staring into the fire, only to wake up the second the sun peeked over the trees and started heating our tents. I missed my bed and the air conditioner the most. The rest of my week was peaceful, and I feel rejuvenated.
To do what, I’m not sure. Maybe figure my life out. I’m certain my parents would appreciate that. The band thing for me is out of the question. I have friends who are in bands, and they constantly complain about the drama, the fighting, and the hook-ups, which inevitably screw up the dynamic of the group. No one needs that stuff in their lives, least of all me. I have sisters to keep me entertained.
However, my parents never intended for me to live off my trust fund, which means I need to figure something out. I could go to college, get a degree in something meaningful where I have to put on a suit and tie everyday… but just the thought makes my stomach roll. I know for certain, I don’t want to end up on some reality version of Kids of Famous People Became Losers or have one of my sisters get interviewed and when asked about me, they’ll have to lie and say ‘he’s doing really well, working on his own projects’… in his forties.
I don’t want to be the subject of entertainment fodder, but I also don’t have a clue as to what I want to do with my life. None of it makes sense, and while I know I could easily follow in my dad’s footsteps, I’m not sure I want to.
After bathing in the ice-cold river, my shower feels like heaven. My peers, the others who grew up in the industry with me, all have these over the top apartments. I chose something mediocre. I have stock appliances, a tub shower combination that looks like it’s from the 80s and there’s even wood paneling on one of the walls. Granted, Elle painted that the day she moved in.
Speaking of Elle, I need to change the locks now that she’s moved out because my dad is sitting on my couch. Unless of course, I didn’t lock the door.
“Hey.” I rub the towel over my hair. “Door unlocked?”
“Elle left her key at the house.”
Duly noted, it’s time to change the locks.
I dress quickly, although I’m not eager to find out what my dad wants, especially considering we were just together.
“So, what’s up?” I ask, making my way into the kitchen. I grab a bottle of water, show it to him, but he shakes his head.
“I’m trying out a new bike.”
“Say what?” I ask, almost choking on my water. “Does Mom know?”
Dad shakes his head. “I wanted to see if I liked it first. My other one, repairs are getting costly. I’d like to have it restored and only drive it when your mom insists on it.”
“Makes sense. It’s pretty old, but like I said the other day, there’s a lot of history with it.”
He nods. “But these new ones… Liam just got one and I’m jealous.”
Now I’m laughing. Dad, Liam, and JD are like the Joneses, always having to one-up the next person by getting the best of everything.
“All right, well show me your bike.” I follow my dad out to the parking lot and sure enough, there’s a Harley-Davidson Sport Glide in matte black. I walk around this beauty of a bike, completely in awe. “Damn, Dad, this bike is legit.”
“I know,” he says sheepishly. He runs his hand over his beanie and looks at me sort of weird.
“You ordered this beforehand, didn’t you? When you saw it at the motor show?”
He nods.
“And Mom doesn’t know.”
He shakes his head.