Travis Starnes
patreon
Dissonance - Chapter 34
🕑 Added 2023-01-24 01:16:12 +0000 UTCApologizes, the original posted version of this was from the previous chapters. This is the corrected text.
I sat in the Phillips home, on their couch, waiting for the police. All Dad had to do was call the sheriff, and they would come pick me up. I might have been a minor, but I was sixteen, halfway to seventeen, and I’d just caused serious bodily injury. Yes, he’d swung first, but I didn’t think that would matter.
The police never came. Instead, Mom showed up at the door thirty minutes after I ran inside. I was pretty sure it wasn’t the police when, instead of a fist pounding on the door, I heard the doorbell, but I hadn’t expected my mother to be on the other side of the door.
“What did you do?” were the first words out of her mouth.
I was torn. Part of me wanted to admit that I’d gone there to hurt him, but the rest of me wanted to yell at her for not stepping in and being a parent, protecting me from him.
“Things got out of hand,” I heard myself say.
I turned and walked back into the house, leaving it up to her whether she followed me in or not. After a pause, she did, closing the door behind her and following me to the couch, although she chose to sit in one of the chairs opposite the couch that I sat on.
“He’s in the hospital.”
“Good. Next time he won’t take a swing at you.”
“You know what kind of temper he has. Why would you go over there to confront him after what happened the last time.”
“You’re kidding me, right? He takes a swing at me, and you’re here mad at me for defending myself,” I said, getting heated. “I’m your child. You have a responsibility to protect me from him, not to protect him from me.”
“Charlie, you’ve been training in martial arts for over a year and we’ve already had a problem with you hurting people. You knew what would happen when you went over there. What if he decided he wanted to go to the police about it.”
“Let him.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I just don’t get how you can defend him, and I don’t even mean him trying to hit me. You spent all of last year telling me I needed to focus on school and how you didn’t want me to end up like him, and then you almost let him pull me out of school.”
“I took care of that.”
“Did you? Do you know why he fired Warren, my manager? Because Warren was willing to work around my school schedule, instead of pushing for me to drop out of school and play full-time. He almost certainly wants Brent to come back, so he has someone on his side, pushing me to switch to homeschooling.”
“You can’t know that’s why he did it.”
“I do, because he told me that’s why he did it. He said he needed to make the best decisions for my career and that I didn’t need a manager that wouldn’t push me to reach my full potential.”
“Well, he has been doing this his whole life, and you’re still a kid. Maybe it isn’t a bad thing he’s trying to look out for you.”
“Do you think I should be home-schooled?” I asked.
When I’d talked to her at the beginning of the week, it sounded like she still thought school was the best thing for me, but now she was covering for his decision instead, or at least wasn’t coming out against it. I didn’t doubt that he’d been working on her to get her to change her mind, but I hoped she would be able to resist him, since she always seemed to believe in my finishing high school.
After a very long pause, she said, “There are a lot of options still available with homeschooling or even a GED.”
“So you’ve given up on me going to college?”
“I didn’t say that. I just think it’s worth hearing your father out. He makes a lot of good points. Besides, when I said I didn’t want to drop out of school, I had no idea you’d make it as far as you have with your music. Both Kent and your father were very impressed by your sales numbers, and they all think it’s a sign that you can really make it in this career.”
“Get out,” I said, struggling to keep myself under control.
“Charlie, I really think we should talk about …”
“GET … OUT!” I screamed, my throat burning from the effort.
She jumped back in the chair, shocked. After a few seconds of clutching her purse to her chest, she frowned, got up, and left.
I was shaking, my fingers digging into the couch as I fought to get myself under control, practicing the slow breathing that Chef had me do during meditation. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to destroy something, just to let it all out.
That’s what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t what I needed to do. I needed to figure out how to protect myself. I’d already realized I couldn’t rely on my mother to make decisions in my best interest, and now it was clear I couldn’t rely on her not to make decisions that went directly against what was in my best interest.
I know I was slow. It would probably be apparent to anyone looking at my situation that my parents were on the verge of screwing up my whole life, but I hadn’t wanted to give up hope that my mom would support me, at least. She’d always been my biggest cheerleader and had always demanded I make smart choices. She’d sacrificed and worked herself to the bone after Dad went away. Even though I knew it was foolish, I’d hoped that person would come back. I’d refused to accept the reality of the situation, because accepting that meant giving up any hope I had in her.
I got myself under control and picked up my phone. I knew as soon as I dialed it that I’d be losing any chance of a future with Mom in my life. Or at least I’d be starting that process. But I couldn’t put it off any longer.
I dialed the phone, and thankfully, Chef picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, Charlie, is everything okay? Did you get your car sorted out?”
“I need help,” I said, my voice wavering.
The adrenaline was still coursing through my system, and I was barely holding it together.
“What happened?” he asked, hearing the desperation in my voice.
I took a deep breath. I didn’t need to break down and I didn’t need a shoulder to cry on. I actually needed help, and to get it, I had to be level-headed.
“I … this is going to be a long conversation. Is there any way you can pick me up? I still need to play tonight, I’m not going to let the band down, but I need advice. Badly.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said, and hung up.
I knew he was already out the door. I appreciated how ready he was to drop everything for me. I should have told him a long time ago what was going on. I knew he’d do whatever he had to do to help me out, and was probably going to point out that when I told him what was going on.
He was better than his word, and must have sped the whole way, because the doorbell rang after four minutes and thirty-nine seconds. I’d managed to calm down some, waiting, but as soon as I saw him, I felt myself starting to shake. Maybe it was leftover adrenaline or maybe just Chef being there gave me a glimmer of a way out, but I started getting choked up.
“I …”
“Come get in the car,” he said, interrupting me, turning and walking away before I could say anything else.
“I was trying to say …” I said, my voice a little more under control, when I got in the passenger seat.
“Just wait. Let’s get to the Blue Ridge first.”
I nodded and stared out the window as he drove, then followed him up to his apartment when we got there.
“I …” I started, only to be interrupted again.
“Sit,” he said, pointing at the couch.
It wasn’t until I noticed him reaching for his kettle that I saw it had steam coming out of it. Either he’d been in the middle of making tea when I’d called, or he’d had someone come up and make it for him while he came to get me, because he put the teapot and two small cups on a tray and brought them over to the small coffee table in front of his couch. I’d had tea with him many times over the last year and a half, but that had always been after a training session, when he’d wanted to talk about the philosophy of Buddhism or the principles of Kung Fu.
I’d already learned that one of the rules of this practice was that I was to quietly sit until told to speak. In Shaolin, having tea with your master wasn’t just about drinking the tea or being social. It was a ritual with specific rules that had to be followed.
“Drink,” he said.
I did as he ordered, taking small sips. I’ll admit to not loving hot tea. It was bitter and watery and wasn't something I’d drink for myself. I did, however, appreciate having it with Chef. Besides always learning something when we had tea, I also knew this was a big part of his growing up in the temple. He saw it as an honor to have tea with his masters, and so I knew he was honoring me by having tea with me.
I still had a lot I wanted to talk about, but I trusted him to let me get to it when he thought I was ready.
After I drank a little more and sat the cup down, he said, “Close your eyes. Slow your breathing. Focus on your center.”
Those were the beginning steps of meditation, which wasn’t what I wanted to do right now. I trusted him, but I was also anxious to at least start solving the problem with my parents.
“Chef, I …” I started to say, and was cut off immediately.
“Děng,” he said in Chinese. “Close your eyes. Slow your breathing. Focus on your center.”
I half sighed, half growled in frustration, but did as he said. I focused on my breathing, my concentration going to my diaphragm. Chest expanding as I breathed in, holding it while continuing to focus on my center, chest compressed as I breathed out slowly through my nose while I counted to ten. Hands lose on my knees, back straight, head up. Breathing in and out, trying not think about anything else.
Normally, I struggled with clearing my mind, something was always tumbling around in there, and I would have thought that would be doubly true now, considering everything that was happening. Instead, I felt my mind really settle down. Maybe it was because I was trying so hard to focus on my breathing or maybe it was because I was so exhausted emotionally, I didn’t have the energy to do anything else.
I don’t really know how long I sat there, breathing, but I almost jumped when he spoke again, breaking the silence.
“Open your eyes. How do you feel?”
“Better,” I said, and it was actually true.
I was still upset, but I was under control for the first time since getting off the phone with Kent.
“Good. A calm mind makes calm decisions. Now, tell me what’s happening.”
“You know my dad came back, right?”
“Yes. I also know you’re staying at the Phillips’s, so that must not be going well, but you haven’t seemed like you wanted to talk about it.”
“I didn’t. I think I was hoping he would disappear and things could go back to normal. I know it’s stupid …”
“No, it’s understandable. No one likes confrontation, especially when family is involved. There is a reason denial is the first stage of grief. Most people’s first reaction is to run from the things that scare us or are difficult. It’s understandable.”
“I guess. I don’t really know how to explain this. I guess … you have to know how things were before Dad got arrested. While Mom has always tried to do the right thing, she’s never been able to say no to him. She never wanted to live on the road, but it was his dream, so she went along for the ride, even after I came along. It’s why she settled down the moment he was out of the picture. She couldn’t even say no when …”
I stopped, but Chef didn’t say anything. He just sat there, a placid look on his face, not staring me down, but not looking away, holding his cup of tea. I did look down. I needed to explain everything, so he could give me good advice, but I hadn’t really admitted this to anyone, and even though I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, I still felt tainted somehow.
“She couldn’t say no, even when he hit her. Or me. Dad has a temper, and it gets worse when he drinks. I don’t think he’s drinking now, but he did a lot before he went to prison.”
“Has he hit either of you since he’s been back?”
“He hit Mom once that I know of. I was there, and was so surprised by it, I just stood there and let it happen. When he tried to kick her, I bounced his head off the fridge. He tried to hit me again earlier today, and I dislocated his elbow. I know I shouldn’t have hit him. I think I was justified in the first instance, and didn’t hurt him then, not really. The second time …”
I trailed off, not sure I wanted to finish that sentence.
“We’ll talk about that in a moment. Why did he hit your mother?”
“She tried to break up a fight between us. That time, it was because he pulled money out of the band's bank account to buy himself a guitar. Mom gave him access, and didn’t tell me. I told him to never do it again. He hates to be challenged and got in my face. I’m sorry to say, I did the same thing, instead of de-escalating. Mom came in, and tried to get in between us to break it up. That’s when he hit her. He’s probably done it again since then, but I haven’t been there to see it, I haven’t been talking to Mom much and haven’t seen her, so I don’t know.”
“I’m surprised she’d tell you if he hit her. That isn’t the kind of thing an abused spouse normally admits to.”
“She wouldn’t, but if I saw her in person, I would be able to tell. I could always tell.”
“I see. And today?”
“He’s been trying to pull me out of school so I can do music full time. At first, he was just saying I should do it, after the last manager I had brought it up, but Monday he actually called the school and told them he wanted to pull me out of school and switch me to homeschooling. Mom called the school and told them never mind, but I don’t think she told him until after she did it. When I talked to her today, she backtracked and said he might be right and I should consider it. You don’t know what a one-eighty that is. She almost didn’t let me play with Willie, because she was concerned it would get in the way of my schooling, and now she’s suggesting I should give homeschooling a chance? Dad must have hit the roof after he found out, and gone after her. She was still against homeschooling on Monday, so it’s the only reason I can think of for her to change her opinion like that in just a couple of days.”
“That happened Monday, right? Why the confrontation today?”
“He fired my new manager, the one that got us booked in Nashville. He called the label directly, without talking to me. Kent called me to find out what was going on, and that’s how I learned about it. The label is now worried I might have stage parents who are going to cause problems. He even suggested if things get out of hand, they might drop me, even if my sales are good. I knew I shouldn’t go over to confront him, but I was so angry, and couldn’t figure out what to do. Kent said that since I’m a minor and they’re my parents, ultimately they get the last say about what happens in my career, at least for another year and a half. Dad’s all set to make me his meal ticket, and he’s annoyed I keep trying to stop him.”
“Why does he want to fire your new manager?”
“Because Warren was willing to work around my school schedule, and Dad wants someone who will push me to quit.”
“I see, and is that everything?”
“Yeah, mostly. Mom also has access to my bank account. He hasn’t taken anything out of it yet, but considering he’s already taken money out of the band account, I wouldn’t put it past him. I’m having to live with another family because I don’t feel safe in their house, I don’t trust them to do the right thing either with school or my career, and I don’t trust he won’t take every penny I’ve made and spend it on more guitars or whatever else he wants for himself. I feel trapped, because the law says there’s nothing I can do to stop him.”
“There are things you can do.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Before I describe these to you, I want you to realize there are downsides to them. I don’t want you just to hear the positive things that can come from a decision like I’m going to describe. I want you to really hear the downsides, and I want you to think about it before you make any big leaps. Talk to Mrs. Phillips. She’s a smart woman, and will be able to give you a different perspective you might find useful.”
“Okay,” I said. “What are my options.”
“You could file for emancipation. Even as a minor, you have rights. If you were younger, it probably wouldn’t be an option and your only choice would be to enter the foster care system, but you’re sixteen and you have legitimate prospects to be able to support yourself without the help of your parents. I’m also pretty sure you could argue the competence angle based on how you’ve handled everything with the label.”
“Emancipation? Like freeing myself?”
“It’s when the courts declare your parents unfit to act as your guardians, and you become legally an adult, at least in some circumstances. You’re still considered a minor in most areas, but you are allowed to do things like open accounts in your name, sign for things, and you aren’t required to have a legal guardian.”
“Really? That would solve most of the problems Dad is causing.”
“I know, but it has some very large downsides, like I said. I want you to stop and listen to me very carefully before you go full steam ahead.”
“Okay.”
“The biggest one is, if you do go through with it, you can’t unring that bell. You will almost certainly be destroying any chance of a relationship with your parents. I’ve watched a couple of kids go through this, and their families never recovered from the split. You’re asking a court to find them legally unfit to be your parents, which will also follow them around for the rest of their lives. It’s a giant black mark.”
“They are unfit to be my parents. Even when I was little, she’d defend Dad and get on me for making him mad enough to make him hit me. I was a child. She even came to his defense today, saying I should just do what he said and drop out of school, not caring what I wanted. The bell’s already been rung. I’m just trying to get out before it falls on me.”
“I understand, and that’s not unreasonable. I’m just suggesting you don’t act without thinking, at least for a little bit, about what will happen.”
“Fine,” I said, trying to not sound too petulant. “I’ll spend some time thinking about it. If I do want to do this, what would I have to do?”
“You’d need a lawyer to do it for you. It’s going to require a hearing before a judge at the very least, and the courts are not something you can just fake your way through. You and your parents will be adversaries on this, so if they get a lawyer and you don’t, the odds of you successfully getting emancipated get even lower. If you decide to do it, I suggest we call Arthur Eaves, and he’ll help us with the next steps. Most likely, he’ll find a family attorney for you to use, maybe even the one who helped your friend, who is better suited for this kind of case. I’m warning you now, it will be expensive. I know you’re worried about your parents emptying your account while they have access to it, and that is honestly a problem. I can start paying you for your gigs in cash, and I’d suggest you stop depositing it for now. That won’t help with any payments from the record label, but at least you’d have that money to live on. I can also help cover your legal costs. I trust you and know you’ll be good for it, especially if you do get emancipated and have access to future payments from the label.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I want to help you Charlie, and I wish you would have come to me sooner. Just because I think you should take a few days to consider how serious this is, and talk to other people you trust, doesn’t mean I won’t help you do it, or even that I think it’s a bad idea.”
“I know. I guess I just felt like I should handle it on my own.”
“I know. With all the responsibilities you’ve been given, you’ve been pushed into the responsibilities of adulthood much faster than other kids your age. That doesn’t mean you have to handle it all on your own. You have a support structure here. Use it.”
“I will. Thanks Chef.”
Although I didn’t exactly feel better after talking to him, I did feel like I had options again, which at least took enough of the strain off to let me focus on playing tonight. Or it would have, had I not opened the door from the kitchen, only to see my father next to the stage talking to Marco. It had been only three and a half hours since I’d hurt him, and his arm was already in a sling. I was almost certain the arm wasn’t broken, but it still must have hurt like hell. Any sane person would have stayed at home, recuperating. Instead, his father was here.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was doing. Since I was adamant that the band has an equal say to me in what we do, he’d decided he could use them to go around me, probably thinking if they all decided to start pressuring me to tour full-time, I’d eventually give in. I was pretty sure Lyla wouldn’t agree to that, but he’d been smart and started with Marco. He’d only been to the one show and never hung out with us socially, so the only way he could have known Marco was the weak link was if Brent had told him.
He saw me as soon as I came out of the kitchen and high-tailed it out of the restaurant. He didn’t run exactly, but he wasn’t far from it. I let him go since there wasn’t any good reason for me to chase him out of the building. I was still a little shaken about how close I’d come to seriously hurting him, and didn’t want to put myself in a position like that again. He wasn’t worth it.
“What did he want?” I asked Marco instead.
“Nothing. He was just introducing himself. He said he was helping your mother manage your career and wanted to hear what we thought about our touring schedule.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“That I thought we should be out there every weekend, traveling to new cities. I saw the numbers you sent us. We have to strike while the iron is hot. I know you have this whole thing about staying in school or whatever, but even your own father agrees with me, and said they’d already considered changing you to homeschooling so we could make it happen.”
“Do you know what else my father wants to do? He thinks I’m an idiot for giving you all equal shares, since the contract is only in my own name. He wants to pay you for each time you play as local gig musicians. He said he’d be happy to have you travel with me, but you’d have to pay for your own hotels and still be paid as local talent. I stopped him before he did any of that. Do you think I should go back and tell him never mind and that I agree with all his plans? Maybe he’s right, I should switch to homeschooling and start keeping all the money from the gigs for myself.”
“What? You wouldn’t do that?”
“Of course not, Marco. I told you guys as far as I was concerned we are all equal partners in this, and I meant it. I’m a man of my word. Which means I also need to honor my mother’s request that I finish high school and go to college. You knew this was the deal when you signed on. I’m doing my best to keep us working every weekend, including being here tonight. I’ve had a shitty day, but I still came up here, because I owe it to the audience and I owe it to you to follow through on my obligations.”
“Ohh.”
“Maybe before you jump to take an offer, you’ll stop and consider what you’re actually agreeing to.”
“I didn’t know.”
“No problem. Let’s get ready to play,” I said.
Comments
Idaho Spud56
Another fine chapter. Thanks.
Travis Starnes
Yep, I put in the wrong text by accident. The new text is up now.
Steve Anderson
Deja vu all over again.....
