She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I would have been sitting in a beer garden, missing out on this too.”
Eventually, we left the garden and kept wandering. The day was going faster than I wanted it to, both because of how much I loved this city and how much I wanted to keep wandering with Tali.
“It occurred to me I still owe you ten answers,” I said.
Her eyebrow lifted as she turned to me. “Oh yeah? No strings attached?”
“Nah, you can ask me anything. I’m pretty much an open book.”
“How’s your mom?” she asked.
I groaned. “She’s fine as far as I know. We email a few times a year, but she’s an alcoholic and a trigger for me, so I have to steer clear.”
“Do you…?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her stomach.
I laid my hand on her shoulder. “Ask.”
Tali sighed. “Do you think I’m a trigger?”
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her off to the side, under the shade of a tree. “No, I don’t. You wereneverthe reason I went searching for a high.”
“When did you start?”
“I dabbled since I was twelve or thirteen. Ben and I used to lift Percs from my mom. I got into heavier shit after high school, but I restricted it to when I partied.”
She rubbed her lips together, eyes roaming my face. I kinda regretted started these questions, even though I owed her every answer she asked for. I just hoped my drug addiction wasn’t the only thing she cared to know about me.
“You’ve got seven more,” I said.
“Are you going to make music again?”
Relief flooded my chest, then a slight panic ripped it away. “Loaded question.”
She tilted her head, and her dark, shampoo commercial hair spilled over one shoulder. “Is it?”
I got so caught up in looking at her, it took me a beat to answer. “The desire is there, but going on the road is another trigger for me.”
“Just as a musician?”
“Yeah. It’s different when the load is on my shoulders. When I’m working backstage, in the dark, the only pressure is getting my job done. I don’t have to worry about the crowd, the success of the tour, and the people depending on my success to bring home money to their families. I still play small clubs every few months, to keep my foot in the door, but usually, it’s just me and my guitar, maybe a couple backup musicians. Low-key, no pressure.”
She nodded as I spoke, understanding me in a way only someone who’d lived this life could. “So, you want to put out music, play local clubs, but no touring? That’s a tall order for any label to fulfill.”
“Exactly. Which is why I’m thinking of doing it myself. When the tour’s over, I’m going to take some time and focus on making music. I’ve started writing again, so I’m itching to put it all together.”
“I can’t wait to hear it. Jude, look.” She pointed across the street, where a few people were taking pictures of a graffitied wall. “I think I know what that is.”
She grabbed my hand, and we ran across the street, barely escaping a cab barreling at full speed.
“It’s the John Lennon wall. I’ve always wanted to see this,” she said.
The wall in front of us was covered in layers of graffiti, and right in the middle was a spray painted portrait of the former Beatles front man.
“I haven’t seen it before either.” If my voice sounded shakier than normal, it was because Tali was so distracted with reading the messages people had painted onto the wall, she’d forgotten to drop my hand.
Her fingers tightened in mine when she touched one of the messages on the wall with her free hand. “I love this.”
“You are what you love, not who loves you,” I read. “That’s good stuff.”