“Yup. When the Karnal Death tour was canceled, I heard all kinds of shit about that, like it’s God telling us that what we’re doing is wrong.”
“But that had nothing to do with you,” I protest in confusion. “You guys weren’t the ones who did anything wrong.”
“Tell that to my parents. Anyway, we don’t talk much. My mom reaches out once in a while but it’s more out of obligation, I think, than anything else. She wants me to meet a nice girl, settle down, move back to Minnesota, and teach music at the local high school or something.”
“So, they acknowledge that you’re talented, they just don’t want you to play guitar in a rock band.”
“Exactly.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Well, if you ever need a place to be on Thanksgiving, you know where to find us.”
“I’ll be in Europe this year. We’re leaving mid-September.”
Chapter 11
Tate
Something changes in her demeanor as soon as I mention leaving for Europe.
Probably because any hope we had of seeing each other again pretty much went out the window. Granted, it’s only the end of June so there’s still plenty of time for me to get her out to a show, but what’s the point? It’s pretty clear we both have responsibilities that will keep us apart no matter what we want.
“Europe sounds amazing,” she says quietly. “I spent a semester abroad my senior year of college. In Edinburgh. I think that was the best four months of my life.”
“I’ll bet it was incredible.”
She nods. “It was amazing. The city, the classes, the people… Patrick and I hoped to go back together at some point but that didn’t happen since Mom got her diagnosis right after we graduated.”
“Is Patrick an ex?”
“Yeah.” She wrinkles her nose. “My college boyfriend. We were serious, like talking about moving to Philadelphia together and getting engaged serious. So, he was the big one who broke my heart, saying that he didn’t sign on to be a caregiver at twenty-two. In retrospect, I can’t blame him. It hurt at the time, but it’s been six years. I’m over it now, but it’s happened more than once since then.”
“Well, it was his loss. Not only are you a great catch, but your mom is amazing. It’s not her fault she has that awful disease.”
“I know. That’s the part I don’t understand. But he got a job in Philadelphia. The plan was for me to go with him, but I couldn’t take Mom out of state. And back then, she wasn’t sick enough to be put in a nursing home, so how could I leave her? If we moved, I’d have to work, and who would watch out for her? At least here we have neighbors to check in on her. Anyway, let’s not talk about that. It’s depressing.”
“I’m sorry, honey.” I reach across the table and lay my hand on hers.
“Not your fault.” She smiles, and I’m reminded again of how pretty she is. How sweet. How good the last thirty-six hours have been.
If only there was a universe where we could make it last even a little bit longer.
But I have to get to Montreal, and she’s needed here.
No one ever said adulting was a walk in the park.
“What will your day be like tomorrow?” she asks as we eat.
“Well, if there are no delays, I’ll get to Montreal in time to check into the hotel and change. We’ll probably have an early dinner and then head to the venue for soundcheck. I don’t have my schedule in front of me, but I think we go on at nine, so we usually hang at the club until it’s time to play because it’s a hassle going back and forth to the hotel.”
“How long do you play?”
“Our set is ten songs, and we space them out a little with some banter, a few solos, to make the show about ninety minutes.”
“Is that short?”
