My sleep that night was restless, to say the least. I remember looking in a window and seeing some guys in uniforms talking to my parents, and before I could grasp what was happening, I saw the same uniforms talking to Sarah and Jesse, and their parents. The scene then changed, and I was standing in front of a door of what was little more than a cabin in the middle of nowhere. I put my hand to the knob, but it floated right though, like I was a ghost or something. I walked through the door, and saw a familiar figure sitting at a table. I heard myself call out "Alex!" and I rushed to him, but he hadn't heard me, and when I tried to hug him, I fell right through him, as I had passed through the door to gain entrance. I saw then that he was writing, and I leaned over his shoulder to read. Dear Janice, it started, I've had a lot of time to think, and I hope you will not be upset at me for what I am planning. I know my parents must be worried sick, and I sense that the repercussions of my actions have had an effect on all involved. I don't know when I will next see you, but I hope it is soon. I feel I've let my parents and everyone down, so I will face up to it, and enlist. I will probably be punished for dodging, but I imagine that I must deserve it. They tell me that I am safe here, but I am constantly looking over my shoulder, sure that I have been found and will be arrested. Please pray for this soldier, pray that I can come back. I'm sorry it all happened this way, and I hope I haven't cost you anything. By this time, I was crying, and as the scene faded away, I managed to catch a glimpse of the last line, and I thought it said, I love you.
I sat straight up in bed, and tears were streaming down my face. It was still dark out, and I felt completely alone. I curled into a ball and cried for a couple minutes, then sat up again. That was why. Mom and dad didn't trust me anymore because of Alex. They must have guessed that I knew, or maybe someone had said that I probably knew. Or maybe it was just the thought that one of my friends, a person they themselves had trusted, had done that. Dad hadn't said anything about it, but that had to be it. And Alex... was this true? Was it a nightmare or a prophecy? I had given him my aunt's address, so he would probably mail the letter here. If he wrote it. If he mailed it. Somehow, I had that eerie feeling that told me that it was real, that for whatever reason, I had been clued in on this.
I laid back down and tried to catch some more sleep, but I couldn't. I was exhausted, but I was also too tense now to rest at all. I looked at the clock and saw that it was shortly after five. Aunt Janice would wake up in another hour and a half. I tended to set my alarm for seven-thirty, but it was sometimes as late as eight-thirty when I stumbled out of bed and raced to be at Apple by nine. I had the feeling that I wouldn't have a problem with that today.
I went to the kitchen and made myself some tea and tried to find some food, but there really wasn't much. Well, I had some time to kill. I fished through my closet and pulled out a dress I hadn't worn in awhile, and was surprised to find that it was even looser on me now than it ever had been. I really needed to eat a little more often. I grabbed my bag and scribbled a quick note to Aunt Janice, then set off for the market.
It was still quite early when I arrived at Apple. It must have been just after eight. No one else was in the lobby, but I suspected that a few of the studios were occupied. I made my way upstairs to the office, which was, of course, empty. I set to cleaning it up, a neverending task which only seemed to have an effect for an hour or two after the fact. I found stray papers to file, a few messages that would need to be taken care of, and what I suspected must have been food not too long ago.
I emptied the trash can and put in a new liner, and went to wash my hands. And when I came back into the office, I sat down and laid my head on my desk.
The next thing I knew, I heard a familiar voice calling my name as from a distance, but I couldn't quite... Alex?
"George!" I said as I bolted up.
"Good morning to you, too," he said with a laugh. He looked around at the room. "How long have you been here?"
"Um..." I looked at the clock. Wow. "A little over an hour," I said. He raised an eyebrow at me. "I couldn't sleep, so I finally just got up, tried to waste some time, but still got here early."
"You looked like you were sleeping just fine to me."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, really. So," he said, pulling another chair over next to me and sitting down, "Something's wrong."
Well, I would have to tell him, anyway. "I, ah, I'll have to quit in a month." His face showed a vague concern and sympathy. I told him about my conversation with my father, my reluctance to tell John, Craig, or Phillip yet, and then, almost as an afterthought, I told him about my dream. "So I think I understand why my dad wants me back, but I'm still not happy about it, and I'm frustrated because, in truth, there's nothing I can do about it. Yet."
He leaned back in his chair and gave a low whistle. "I guess the most I can say is that you know you'll have a job here if -- when -- you come back. And, of course, I go to California sometimes, and it's probably one of the most confusing places I've ever been to... I always need someone who lives there to help me get around."
"Does this mean I'd get to drive?" I said with a laugh.
"What, is there something wrong with my driving?" He countered, continuing the banter.
"Oh, no, nothing. Much. I have to know. Do you ever get speeding tickets?"
"Not really."
"Not really? Sometimes? More often than most people?"
"Some police officers are actually fans."
"You'd think they'd pull you over just to get your signature on the ticket."
"Who says they don't?"
"Okay, that's an incredibly weird thought for this early in the morning. What's on the agenda for today?"
I almost dreaded going home that afternoon. I walked slowly, as if killing time would change what the mail brought. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that there was nothing for me in the day's mail.
I shook my head at myself for being so paranoid over a simple dream. I had to forget about it. If it had a purpose, it must have just been to explain to myself why my dad was clamping down on me all of a sudden. I had known that, deep down. After all, dreams are just one's subconscious mind making itself conscious, right?
I fixed myself a sandwich before I went over to Phillip's.
"Okay, Janice, where's Phillip?"
"How should I know?" I whispered. "You know I haven't seen him since last night."
John frowned, and whispered to me, "Well, our judge there doesn't look very happy, and Craig looks almost ready to kill."
"I know, I know. I can't imagine--"
Phillip then burst in amidst a swirl of apologies. He seemed calm enough, but when I caught his eye, I knew something was up. I decided to ask him about it later. Meanwhile, the owner just looked relieved that we were actually less than a half hour late in starting.
"Okay," he said as we made a final sound check. "Dazzle me."
"Okay, huddle," Craig said. Obediently, we huddled together and quickly, in hushed voices, made sure we all knew which songs we would play. A couple easy ones to warm up on, then, hopefully, the owner wouldn't be so sick of us that he threw us out.
Well, he seemed okay after our warmup, so we went into a couple that John had written. We finished, and he nodded his head slightly. He looked then at me. "You," he said, "you sing?"
"Me?" Not the best of comebacks, but the only one that came to mind. I had contributed a little harmony to a couple of the songs, but mostly, I just stayed back and let the guys do the dazzling.
"Yes, you. Sing something."
I didn't know what to do. I looked over at John, and he looked as surprised as I felt. Me? Sing? Whatever for? John took a step closer to me and whispered, "Okay, what do you want to sing?"
This was really going out on a limb, since we hadn't ever practiced any songs with me really singing. I was more comfortable just lending harmonies, anyway. And right now, when I thought of songs I could sing, all I could think of were folk songs. Maybe John guessed that, though.
"How about 'The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down'?"
"You know that one?" I asked, even more suprised than before. He and Craig had given me the impression that they disdained folkie type music. But John nodded, so I agreed. We told Phillip and Craig, but neither of them knew the song well enough to play it. It wasn't that critical, though, since it was a folk song and thereby did not require drums or bass.
So, heart pounding and hoping I didn't screw up our chances for getting the gig, I stepped over to stand opposite John.
"The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" is written from a man's perspective, but I had heard several women, most notably Joan Baez, sing it. I said a quick prayer that I would remember the song, then nodded to John, and we started playing.
I caught a quick hint of surprise on the owner's face, as if perhaps he hadn't expected a folk song, or maybe he had thought I was British.
"You take what you need and leave the rest, but they should never have taken the very best..." By this time, the music had become such a part of me that the fluttering had stopped. It was me and the music, and that was all that mattered. "Like my brother above me, I took a rebel stand... He was eightteen, proud and brave, but a Yankee laid him in his grave..." It was as if I had forgotten about everything except the beauty of the song... "The night they drove old dixie down, and all the bells were ringing... the night they drove old dixie down, and all the people were singing..." As I finished, I knew that it had been good. We had to get the gig, we just had to...
I looked nervously at John, who was smiling at me. I beamed with pride.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Craig, and I turned to see him and Phillip both grinning at me.
I knew then that it wasn't my imagination. I had done well.
I turned to face the owner of the club, who was now standing right in front of the stage, rather than sitting at the table several yards back from it.
"Okay, you start tonight at seven. I want the girl to sing, but please try to get some songs that rock a little more. I don't mind slowing it down every so often, but they leave if it's too slow." He paused. "And be on time."
"Yes sir, of course, sir, thank you so much, sir!" we all said. This was it! We had a gig! As we walked out toting our guitars, I felt that I was barely touching the ground, if at all.
We caught a cab over to Phillip's flat, and I dropped my guitar down as I entered, then jumped and twirled around gleefully. The guys all seemed pretty calm, which seemed logical to me. As far as I could tell, this gig stuff was old hat for Phillip, and I knew John had had gigs before. Craig, of course, would stay calm just to look cool. I could have done that, but... I didn't care! I was happy! My first gig... who'd have thought?
I was caught a little off guard, then, when John also dropped his guitar and picked me up and twirled me around. "Our lucky Bluebird!" He said with a laugh. His green eyes danced merrily, and for a moment, I wondered if they were saying what I thought they were.
Then Craig and Phillip were there, laughing and congratulating each other, and the moment was over.
John set me down and I was immediately swept up in a joyous hug by Craig, who, amidst the celebration, forgot to be cool and forgot also that I wasn't his favorite person.
"Hang on a minute, wait!" Phillip said. He had to try several times before he actually got our attention. "Thank you. Okay, let's not let this get out of hand. We've still got a gig to play in a few hours, and we should really be ready for it. I say we should do some rehearsals." said nothing, but I really didn't want to. I'd be spending how long holding a guitar tonight? By tomorrow, my fingers would probably be fairly sore. They were no longer the soft fingers of a beginner, but they hadn't the rock-hard callouses of a pro.
"Lighten up, Phillip," John then said. It was a bit of a shock to hear him say that. "We'll be playing for hours. We're more likely to mess up if we exhaust ourselves now than if we go in cold."
Phillip paused momentarily, as if surprised that he'd been question, but recovered quickly and nodded. "Point. Okay, but let's save the partying until afterwards, or else we'll really screw up."
I cleared my throat, and their attention was on me. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go back to my aunt's and catch a nap, maybe have a sandwich before tonight. Shall I meet you there or here?"
"Why don't we meet here?" Craig said. "We really should run through a couple more songs while no one's looking, you know?"
The rest of us nodded, and I took my leave.
I was only about a block away when I heard, "Hey Birdie, wait up!"
I stopped and turned to see John jogging up to me. "Hey, what's up?"
"Just thought I'd walk you home," he said.
I chuckled. "Yes, this area is ever so dangerous at this time..."
He grinned and reached over to give one of my braids a quick tug. I tossed my head and he had to step back to avoid being smacked by my hair.
We laughed and joked the rest of the way to my aunt's apartment, and then he said he'd see me later, and left.
Well, that was weird, I thought to myself. John had always been nice and polite, but this was the first time he had actually been friendly. It was nice, but it did kind of remind me of back home. I started thinking then of the others, but I pushed the thought out of my mind. I went into the kitchen and found some food, and then I went to take a short nap.
Chapter 8 - - - - Chapter 10